When I think about the last 7.5 years of learning Daf Yomi, I see how it has become an inseparable part of my life both the physical and the spiritual. Although I had almost no background in Talmud study, I have been able to learn what I consider the most important book in the history of the world. It simply contains everything. Every topic one could ever imagine or encounter in life is addressed in the Talmud, and the knowledge that I have acquired is something that can never be taken away from me. That’s what Hadran is all about. Our thoughts are upon it, and it’s thoughts are upon us. I am so thankful for the Steinsaltz English version of the Talmud and Michelle’s English classes and all of the people who make Hadran possible, and the extra shiurim that gave me access to material that until now was only available to those in Yeshiva or Kollel. In gratitude, I decided to celebrate my siyum by providing a scholarship for a Talmud teacher to deepen her knowledge so that she can give it back to us. Sometimes, while traveling or visiting my kids at Mechina, I was the only woman in the Daf Yomi shiur they were offering on shabbat, but this is changing fast.
Looking back—I have a kind of photographic memory, so I can vividly remember days learning the laws of sacrifices while walking up my very steep road in Vermont, contemplating the complicated laws of Yevamot while sitting outside in a café facing the Matterhorn as my family skied, or being in Rome exactly on the day we were learning about the Coliseum. I remember rainy days when I had to drive at 7:15, listening to parts of Kiddushin in the car, and having to turn down the sound because the subject wasn’t exactly for little ears. I remember being on the Daf before, during and after many ballistic missile sirens, and jumping out of my seat with the sonic booms. I remember closing the camera when my soldier walked in unexpectedly, or when my new puppy started dragging all of my yarn out of the boxes and eating my socks. I recall that my son and I started the new Daf Yomi cycle together and that somewhere about 2 years ago, he had to drop off and take care of the bad guys. I recall being able to actually help my younger kids with their gemara, having already learned some of the sugiyot they had in school and the excitement I felt when we got to famous debates and disputes that I had heard about. I remember some days being amazed and frightened about the rabbis’ description of the “birth pangs of Moshiach” and feeling like we were right in the middle of it.
In archaeology, there are two kinds of exploration. First there is the survey. You walk across a piece of land, picking up the pottery shards to get an idea of what happened there. Once you feel you understand the basic time and space issues, you can pick a place to conduct an excavation. I feel this first cycle of Daf Yomi was my survey. I got a taste of everything Jewish tradition has to offer and it enriched my weekly synagogue attendance, and all types of shiurim where people brought up Talmudic sugiyot. There was nothing that I hadn’t heard of. Now I intend to dig deeper, using the extra materials and improving my own abilities to use the Hebrew Daf, and to delve more into the commentaries. I am looking forward to reading all of the little post it notes and flags I wrote on during the first cycle, to see if I am still thinking the same way or if my views have changed and developed.
I tried to listen to the whole of every daf, even when I had to jump off early or join late and make it up, but in case I missed a few sentences or paragraphs, I will rely on the Talmudic principle of levud. (If you don’t know what that is, come learn Masechet Eiruvin with us!)
The most important lesson I take from these years is that the Talmud is relevant simultaneously to life 2000 years ago, and life today, because the Torah and the divinely inspired work of the sages are not limited in space and time. Sometimes our modern ear finds it hard to accept some things we learn, but we have to search for that kernel of truth that must exist. To explain Daf Yomi to someone who hasn’t learned it yet is very challenging. For us veterans, the fact that the gemara discusses what you do when a mouse falls into your beer, or when the snake puts its venom in your wine is just normal, because all kinds of crazy things happen in life, and you’ve got to be prepared. Living through the last five years alone, we’ve all seen things on the scale of flying camels. I am thankful that I had the privilege of learning Torah lishma, Torah for its own sake.
The Daf helps in every aspect of my life–with kashrut, appreciating the details of wedding ceremonies, making the prayers of Rosh Hashana more memorable, thinking about the importance of words and vows, how I have to be careful not to mix my wool and linen when weaving, and make sure to space out the vegetables when planting my garden. Because the Talmud deals with every aspect of our world and even the world to come, it reminds me that there is always an opportunity to do better, to be careful and “go around the vineyard,” to infuse more purity into the world, to be more precise with words and deeds, to elevate the mundane, to think about how someone else sees a situation and what the experience of others is like–the orphan, the widow, the blind or deaf person, the slave, the woman whose father sold her as a bride. No two people learn the same daf, even though we are all on the same daf. Everyone brings his or her experience to the words and ideas we learn every day. Several times a week, I say to myself or out loud, “The Talmud talks about that.”
And now I am going to sum up the last 7.5 years, and the whole of the Talmud in one word: Achrayut–Responsibility. The Talmud teaches us what our responsibilities are toward G-d, toward our immediate and extended families, our communities and the entire world. The whole point of Talmud study is to discuss and debate these responsibilities and hopefully come to a conclusion about the halakha–but not always–some dilemmas will remain until Eliyahu Hanavi resolves them for us. The Talmud understands human behavior, and sometimes it expects just the minimum from us. And other times, we see that acting beyond the letter of the law is laudable or even preferable. We shouldn’t take vows because we have a lot of restrictions in our lives already, but sometimes it seems like a good idea, as in the story of Queen Helene, who vowed to be a Nazirite if her son returned from the war safe and sound. I think everyone who has a soldier in this war can relate.
I would like to dedicate my learning to all of those soldiers and civilians who started this Daf yomi cycle and didn’t get to finish, and to some dear friends we lost along the way. We just learned a few days ago (Horayot Daf 6)
— אין מיתה בציבור
They finished their job in this world, but we the congregation have to continue in their merit and their memory. I plan to continue to learn the daf every day for the rest of my life (G-d willing). There is so much more to discover on those pages. I hope some of you will consider taking on the challenge. It is so worth every moment.
Hadran Alach Masechet Horayot, Seder Nezikin and Talmud Bavli!
