A very long Mishna makes up most of amud (a). So far we have considered what people should do when the rain has not fallen. But what about other calamities? This mishna tells us when to "cry out" - when to declare immediate fast days. These might even be on Shabbat. It begins with a description of crops that are problematic. At what point do we fast and "cry out"? From houses collapsing to wolves being seen in inhabited neighbourhoods; from pestilence and blight to gentile attacks and flooding rivers, we are allowed to cry out for help.
We also are shown several general examples of "crying out". Choni HaMe'aggel was asked by his community to beg G-d for rain. He drew a circle around himself and said that he would remain there until G-d brought rain to the community. When a light shower fell, he asked for more. When copious amounts fell quickly, he asked for less. And then a steady amount of rain fell for a long time. When the people asked him to beg G-d to stop the rain, he suggested that they wait until the rain rose above the level of the Claimant's Stone. Shimon Ben Shettach, King Alexander Yannai's brother-in-law and the Nasi, wanted to criticize Choni but could not do so because of the great results.
Finally, this Mishna also speaks about when we should end our fasting if our requests are answered.
The Gemara begins to take apart this Mishna by examining the notion of vegetation that has dried out. They look to signs of drying out. They wonder about how we might determine what is a food shortage and what is a famine. The rabbis consider which types of rainfall might be helpful or detrimental to the crops and to the trees; to the people and to the animals. They consider the time of year that this might happen and the needs of the community at that time. A note reminds us that we should not pray for rain in the summer months, because we are not to pray for miracles.
Any event that will result in death is cause to "sound the alarm" immediately. However, the rabbis share their different opinions about when the alarm should be sounded around events that might or might not result in death. And when trees might not produce fruit during the Sabbatical year, we may need to sound the alarm immediately as well. Why would this be an emergency? Without that fruit, the poor will starve. And so this is treated as an emergency as well. An alternative interpretation is that we are sounding the alarm on behalf of the Gentiles who are not subject to the laws of the Sabbatical year.
Finally, we Rabbi Elazar ben Parata teaches from a baraita that since the Temple fell, the rains have not been sufficient for our needs. Steinsaltz shares two interpretations of this statement. First, we learn that there may have been a prayer said in the Temple service that focused on rainfall. Without the opportunity to say that prayer, we have not had enough rain. The second interpretation suggests that the thread that was hanging in the Temple used to tell us whether or not our sins were appeased by Azazel. We could see the string turn while and know that our sins were forgiven and we could see the string stay red and know that we had to pray further for forgiveness. Without this sign, G-d would have to find another way to show us that our sins were not forgiven -- this would be done through withholding or 'playing with' the rain.
My Judaism does not expect G-d to hear my individual prayers - or even my community's prayers. How would these rabbis explain G-d's response to the people's prayers on the Holocaust that went unanswered? Instead, I participate in prayer that is less specific; dedicated to G-d's good will and our willingness to act in the name of that good will. Those prayers always are answered - there is always some goodness present, even in the worst of times.
To take this one step further, I wonder if people who try to keep all of the mitzvot in today's world believe that one mistake might be punished by G-d. Might they believe that they have that degree of direct communication with G-d? If so, they would experience a very different way of living as a Jew.
I began Daf Yomi (Koren translation) in August of 2012 with the help of an online group that is now defunct. This blog is intended to help me structure and focus my thoughts as I grapple with the text. I am happy to connect with others who are interested in the social and halachic implications of our oral tradition. Respectful input is welcome.
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