The Talmud and I
by Velvel "Wally" Spiegler

After devoting years of Tuesday evenings to learning Gemara (aramaic for Talmudic teaching), I began my romance with the Talmud. About ten of us sat around an oak conference table in the meeting room adjoining the rabbi's study. The subject, for the first year, was selections from the Tractate Chulin, the Talmudic discourse concerned with dietary regulations including animals, fowl, fish eggs and milk products. The first discussion centered around a Mishnah in chapter eight that explored whether a drop of milk that fell on a piece of meat and imparted a flavor is forbidden.

The Mishnah, the recapitulation of Torah, is the early compilation of law, dating back some 500 years B.C.E or earlier. The Talmud consists of literally thousands of these legal tidbits, each one developed, expanded and argued by the early sages. They consisted of the Tannaim, the earlier authorities whose work comprised the Mishna and the Amoraim whose teachings were compiled in the Gemara.  I entered the world of Talmud, at that time, to prove to myself, if in fact, I could meet its rigorous intellectual demands. I'm not sure I was successful, but I think I came away with something else.

In those years, I struggled with the text getting deeply entangled with its hair-splitting arguments, but never feeling that I got much out of it. After all, what's the probability that a drop of milk would impart flavor to a piece of meat? What tests today can verify it and furthermore how many people today really care? I continued learning as I still do today but I now see Talmud in a new light. The eminent, Rabbi Adin Steinsalz, the compiler of the latest translation of the still uncompleted Talmud into contemporary Hebrew (the Gemara was traditionally written in Aramaic) and English undertook this colossal project because of his conviction that Talmud is the most enlightened source of Jewish knowledge and wisdom.

 I discovered that Talmud teaches how to sustain balance. The study of law, which is what Talmud is about, brings to mind the symbolic scales of justice which contain the definition of spiritual fulfillment. The balance point represents our own personal center. It's an eternal moment, like “when Moses gazed, and there was a bush all aflame, and the bush was not consumed”. (Genesis 3:2)  In that instant when he knew the unity of consumed and not consumed, only then did God call out to him from the bush. We all have those rare moments when we are in equilibrium, present in God's balanced light; then there is no longer a difference between desires or aversions, good or evil; everything is just God. When we are out of balance, we feel out of sorts; we feel different, physically and emotionally. At those times we're more prone to illness.

I also learned something about discipline. No spiritual undertaking has ever been successful without a program of disciplined concentration. Talmud study has been the traditional curriculum for training rabbis. Imagine this scene inside a Yeshiva; it could take place here or in Israel.  A large, musty hall with high arched ceilings is crammed with wooden desks. At each desk chavrusa (learning partners) chant explanations of the Mishnah to one other. Years of this practice, day in and day out except Shabbat, train would-be rabbis to attain depths of learning discipline attainable by no other means.

Nothing worthwhile is ever achieved without regimented discipline. Could you imagine a virtuoso pianist or a world class athlete who neglected disciplined practice? It demands a certain level of discipline just to live life with virtuosity. Perhaps such discipline, as a result of centuries of learning, altered our DNA to enable Jews to accomplish remarkable achievements in medicine, art, science and business, despite our meager numbers.

Aside from religious duty, Talmud is a lifetime of interesting study. Very few ever master it all, but the joy is found on the path rather than at the destination. Its text is not easy to enter; it is written in a kind of shorthand to ease the task of memorization. Talmud is our oral Torah; prior to the compilation of the Mishnah, it was committed to memory and verbally transmitted from teacher to disciple. You'll need some help if you’re interested in entering the fascinating world of Talmud. Your rabbi would be your best resource and on the Internet check out www.maqom.com or subscribe to The Weekly Daf at dafyomi@vjlists.com.
I don't mean to discourage anyone from learning a little Gemara; it can be an incredibly stimulating challenge.

I'm constantly amazed to find its pages crammed with wisdom that simply appears serendipitously. For example, the Jewish concept of contemplation (kavannah) is detailed in the tractate on blessings. Wise aphorisms like "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?" is found in Pirke Avot (Chapters of the Fathers), an anthology of rabbinical sayings included in the Mishnah. The Talmud may not be particularly spiritually stimulating, there are qualities about it, however, that provoke the inner workings of the soul, that aspect of ourselves that connects us to God. Its debates go on and on endlessly honing learning skills and keeping the mind alert and razor-sharp. Take a chance, open the book. Who knows, behind that unsuspecting exterior may lurk a Talmud chochem (a scholar).