
Jason Adam Katzenstein drew this for the November 17, 2014 edition of The New Yorker magazine. (https://condenaststore.com/featured/i-have-a-confession-jason-adam-katzenstein.html). If you like this one, check out this other one by Sam Gross from the November 30, 1998 edition of The New Yorker: https://www.cartoonstock.com/blog/sam-gross-limited-edition-signed-i-dont-care-if-she-is-a-tape-dispenser-i-love-her-prints/
Weasels of the Talmud “on one foot”:
The rabbis of the Talmud bring up weasels a number of times. They tend to come up as animals that can fit into small spaces and like to bite / eat lots of things.
Weasels and Passover
On the evening of the fourteenth [of Nissan] they search the house for chametz by the light of a lamp. Every place into which chametz is not brought does not require searching, So why did they rule: two rows of the wine cellar [must be searched]? [This is actually] a place into which chametz might be taken. Bet Shammai say: two rows over the front of the whole cellar; But Bet Hillel say: the two outer rows, which are the uppermost.
Context: This is from the Mishnah, Masechet (Tractate) Pesachim, which is about Passover. It is the very beginning of the tractate, discussing how to ensure that the Torah’s rule about not having chametz (leavened products) in your house during Passover (Deuteronomy 16:4) is followed. This is the origin of the custom of B’dikat Chametz, searching the house for chametz the night before the first Seder.
But what if a weasel brings chametz into your house?
Context: This is the very next part of the Mishnah. In it, they play out the ramifications of worrying about weasels.
Does it make a difference if there’s a mouse instead of a weasel?
Weasels and Passover: The More Complicated Version
The Gemara proceeds to analyze a more fundamental aspect of the mishna: And do we say that one need not be concerned that perhaps a weasel dragged the leaven? But isn’t it taught in the last clause, in the next mishna: With regard to the leaven that one leaves after the search, he should place it in a concealed location, so that it will not require searching after it? Apparently, there is concern lest a weasel take some of the remaining leaven.
Context: This is from the Babylonian Talmud, Masechet (Tractate) Pesachim, which is about Passover. Here the Gemara (the part of the Talmud after the Mishnah) discusses our text from the Mishnah regarding weasels. It notices that the last part of the next mishnah says that after you search, any chametz that you find must be concealed in case it disappears before you can burn it, thus necessitating another search for it.
The Mishnah says that you don’t have to worry about weasels dragging chametz around, but the next part of the Mishnah also seems to be worried about the chametz disappearing. How do you reconcile these two?
Abaye said: This is not difficult; this ruling is referring to the fourteenth of Nisan, whereas that ruling is referring to the thirteenth. The Gemara elaborates: On the thirteenth of Nisan, when bread is still found in every house, the weasel does not conceal the leaven, and therefore there is no concern that perhaps the weasel dragged the leaven elsewhere and concealed it. However, on the fourteenth of Nisan, when bread is not found in any of the houses, the weasel hides the leaven.
Context: This is the next part of the Gemara. It seems that according to Abaye, the two sayings of the Mishnah are not in contradiction because one saying (about not worrying about weasels bringing chametz from house to house) is about the 13th of Nisan, when there is still chametz around in houses. On this day, weasels just leave their chametz lying around if they bring it from house to house. The other saying (about hiding your found chametz until you can burn it) is about the 14th of Nisan, when weasels find chametz that is lying around but then conceal it once they have found it.
How do the weasels know which day of the month it is?
Rava said in surprise: And is the weasel a prophetess that knows that now is the fourteenth of Nisan and no one will bake until the evening, and it leaves over bread and conceals it in its hole? Rather, Rava rejected Abaye’s answer and said: With regard to the leaven that one leaves after the search, he should place it in a concealed location, lest a weasel take it before us and it will require searching after it. Only if one actually sees the weasel take the leaven, is he required to search after it.
Context: This is the next part of the text. Rava doesn’t think that weasels can tell time, so he deals with the apparent contradiction in the Mishnah by saying that when the Mishnah says that we don’t have to worry about weasels bringing chametz from house to house, this is about not fretting over imaged problems. However, the other text (about hading chametz until you can burn it) is to teach us that since weasels could bring chametz from house to house, you should hide it so that they don’t get to it, and if they do get to it and you see them take the chametz then you should search for the chametz again.
Weasels and Passover: The Most Complicated Version
Rava raised a dilemma: If one saw a mouse enter with a loaf in its mouth, and he saw a mouse leave with a loaf in its mouth, what is the halakha? The Gemara elaborates: Do we say that this mouse that entered is that same mouse that left and there is no more leaven left in the house? Or perhaps it is a different mouse.
Context: Same tractate of the Talmud, a page later. Having discussed weasels bringing chametz into chametz-free houses, the Rabbis now turn to other creatures who could do the same thing.
In the situation described here, does the house need to be cleaned again?
Context: The text immediately following the previous one.
In the situation described here, does the house need to be cleaned again?
The Gemara continues to suggest variations on this case: And if you say that mice do not take from each other, as one mouse is generally not significantly stronger than another, if one saw a mouse enter with a loaf of bread in its mouth and a weasel leave with a loaf of bread in its mouth, what is the halakha? Do I say that the weasel certainly took it from the mouse, as it is larger and stronger? Or perhaps it is a different loaf, for if it is so, that the weasel took the loaf from the mouse, the mouse itself would also be found in its mouth, as the weasel would presumably take not only the loaf of bread but the mouse as well.
Context: The text immediately following the previous one. We have the return of the weasel!
In the situation described here, does the house need to be cleaned again?
And if you say that we accept the contention that if it is so, that if the weasel took it from the mouse the mouse itself would be in its mouth, in regard to a case where one saw a mouse enter with a loaf of bread in its mouth and a weasel leave with both a loaf of bread and a mouse in its mouth, what is the halakha? Do I say that this is certainly the same mouse and loaf, or perhaps even this conclusion can be disputed: If it is so, that this is the same mouse, the loaf would have been found in the mouse’s mouth rather than in the weasel’s mouth. Consequently, this must be a different loaf of bread. Or perhaps the loaf of bread fell from the mouse’s mouth due to its fear and the weasel took it separately. No satisfactory answer was found for these dilemmas and the Gemara concludes: Let them stand unresolved.
Context: The text immediately following the previous one.
The Aramaic term for “the dilemma shall stand unresolved” is “Teyku”. This is an acronym for “Tishbi Yitaretz Kushiyot Uba’ayot”, meaning “The Tishbi will resolve difficulties and problems”. “The Tishbi” refers to Elijah the prophet, and it is not that he will personally resolve the issues but that they will be resolved in the Messianic era (which he is supposed to announce). In modern Hebrew, “teyku” is the term for a tie in a sports game.
This is a 2020 version of this story, written by Joy Nelkin Wieder. In this version, the weasel is replaced by a cat.
Here’s the background information on how The Passover Mouse came to be. It’s a 2020 interview with the author, Joy Nelken Wieder.
A Weasel Story
And Rabbi Ami said: Come and see how great the faithful people are, and how God assists them. From where is it derived? From the story of the weasel and the pit. Once a young man saved a girl who had fallen into a pit. After rescuing her they swore to remain faithful to each other, and they declared the pit and a passing weasel their witnesses. As time went by the young man forgot his vow and married another woman. They had two children, both of whom died tragically, one by falling into a pit and the other when he was bitten by a weasel. Their unusual deaths led the young man to realize his error and he returned to the first woman. And if this is the outcome for one who believes in signs from a pit and a weasel, all the more so for one who has faith in the Holy Blessed One.
Context: This is from the Babylonian Talmud, Masechet (Tractate) Ta’anit, which is about fasting. A fast would sometimes be called when there wasn’t enough rain, and this would lead to prayers by the affected people. Rabbi Ami had several sayings about people who were faithful believers in G-d and how their prayers would be sincere and thus answered.
There is a version of this story, building on the one in the Talmud, where it is the man’s first wife who thinks that something is going on — she urges her husband to divorce her and marry his originally betrothed wife who had been faithfully waiting for him all this time. Here is one take on that: https://youtu.be/r0udVF_ZI4U?feature=shared
What is the moral of this story?
A Weasel Improbability
בלעתהו חולדה והוציאתו מהו הוציאתו הא אפיקתיה אלא בלעתו והוציאתו והכניסתו והקיאתו ויצא מאליו מהו … תיקו
Rava raises additional dilemmas: If a weasel entered the womb and swallowed the fetus there, and then exited the womb, bringing the fetus out in its stomach, what is the halakha? The Gemara interjects: Is there any doubt about a case where the weasel brought the fetus out in its stomach? In such a case it is the weasel that brought it out, and it is certainly not regarded as though the fetus opened the womb. Rather, the dilemma concerns a case where the weasel swallowed the fetus and brought it out, and then brought it back into the womb and vomited it out while inside the womb, and the fetus subsequently emerged of its own accord. What is the halakha in this case? …The Gemara does not provide a resolution for these dilemmas and concludes: The dilemma shall stand unresolved.
Context: This is from the Babylonian Talmud, Masechet (Tractate) Chullin, which is about animals, mostly the slaughter and eating of non-consecrated animals. An animal would be considered “consecrated” if it was the first animal to “open the womb” of it’s mother (it only counts if the baby is male). Here, Rava is proposing a situation to see if it would count as the calf “opening the womb” or not.
Why do you think this situation was left for the Messiah to resolve?
For a 1901 Jewish Encyclopedia article about Weasels, see https://www.studylight.org/encyclopedias/eng/tje/w/weasel.html
In 1991, Johnny Carson used a weasel to predict the winners of the Oscars. The weasel got all but one winner correct. For more information, see: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6441056/trivia/
Appendix A: Womb Raider
In this week’s ‘Daf Yomi,’ Talmudic rabbis imagine a situation involving a weasel, a cow’s womb, a fetus, vomit, and a firstborn calf. Naturally.
Literary critic Adam Kirsch is reading a page of Talmud a day, along with Jews around the world.
American lawyers have a saying that “hard cases make bad law.” Laws are supposed to be framed broadly and clearly, stating rules that can be applied in the majority of cases; but there will always be a few problems that are so complicated and unusual that it’s hard to apply the usual rules. The saying suggests that it’s better to let those exceptions stand as exceptions, rather than twist the rule so that it will cover every possible contingency.
One of the things that can make Talmudic reasoning feel so foreign is that the rabbis take exactly the opposite approach. They love hard cases; in fact, they will frequently invent hypothetical situations that are improbable and convoluted, precisely in order to test the outer limits of legal concepts. When people use the word “Talmudic” to describe reasoning that is overly complicated and detached from the real world, it is this kind of hypothetical argument that they have in mind.
Over the course of my Talmud study, a few such examples have stuck with me because of their sheer weirdness. For instance, the rabbis asked in Tractate Sukkah if it is permitted to use an elephant as one wall of a sukkah. (The answer is yes, provided it’s a dead elephant, since a living one might walk away.) This week’s Daf Yomi reading, in Chapter 4 of Tractate Chullin, featured a similarly bizarre thought experiment. In Chullin 70a, the rabbis imagine a situation in which a weasel climbs into the womb of a cow that is pregnant for the first time, swallows the fetus, crawls out of the womb, then reenters it and vomits the fetus out, and then the fetus is born naturally. In this case, they ask, is the calf considered a firstborn animal for the purposes of tithing?
It’s safe to say that in the entire history of the Jewish people, this series of events has never happened. Indeed, the notes to the Koren Talmud explain that the commentaries grant the situation is impossible; the reason the rabbis invented it was to obey the commandment “Expound on new understandings of Torah and receive reward.” Talmudic study and legal reasoning are inherently meritorious activities, and the rabbis love to engage in them for their own sake, even when they’re not trying to solve a real-world problem.
Rather, such rabbinic thought experiments are designed to test the borderline between different concepts and categories. In this case, the question the rabbis are thinking about is how to define a firstborn offspring, which is important because the firstborn of every animal is supposed to be sacrificed to God. As Exodus 13:2 says, “Consecrate to Me every firstborn, that which opens the womb.”
This language suggests that what defines a firstborn child is that it “opens” the mother’s womb for the first time. But is it possible, the rabbis wonder, for a child to be born without actually opening its mother’s womb? Is physical contact between the child and the walls of the birth canal required to open the womb in a legal sense? It is to test this idea that the rabbis offer up a series of hypotheticals. “Rava raises a dilemma: If one wrapped the fetus in the bast of a palm tree while it was still in the womb, what is the halacha?” What if a midwife reached into the womb and pulled the baby out in her hands? Indeed, what about the afterbirth that usually surrounds a baby when it is born—doesn’t this interpose between the child and the flesh of the mother, so that it is technically the afterbirth, rather than the child, that “opens” the womb?
It is in the course of this argument that Rava imagines the case of a weasel that enters a cow’s womb and absconds with the fetus. In this case, the fetus emerges from the womb without touching its opening, since it is concealed inside the weasel’s stomach. If “the weasel brought it out,” the Gemara says, the child is not considered to have opened its mother’s womb, and it can’t be considered a firstborn offspring. Then the Gemara adds another wrinkle, imagining that the weasel reenters the womb and vomits out the fetus so that it can be born normally. In that case, the child has actually exited the mother’s womb twice, once inside the weasel and once in the normal way. So which exit is considered its actual birth?
Nor is this the end of the Talmud’s imaginative inquiry. What would happen if “one pressed together the openings of two wombs of two animals giving birth to firstborns, and a fetus exited from the womb of this animal and entered the womb of that animal, and then emerged from the womb of the second animal, after which the second animal gave birth to its fetus”? Is the second fetus to emerge considered a firstborn child, or do we say that the womb of the second animal had already been opened by the fetus that crawled into it from the first animal?
Taken literally, this sounds preposterous, and the Gemara responds to the problem as it often does with very hard cases: teiku, “it shall stand” unresolved. But this is a good example of how the Talmud’s conceptual inquiries can prove to be useful in ways that the rabbis themselves could not have anticipated. After all, this is really a debate about what defines birth and parentage: Is it the relationship between the mother and the child, or is it the physical act of emerging from the mother’s womb? And while these issues might have seemed abstract in the year 400 CE, today they are at the cutting edge of debates about surrogacy and in vitro fertilization, which involve a fetus “migrating” from one womb to another.
Then there is the related issue of abortion, whose place in Jewish law is very different from the way it is thought about by, for instance, Catholics. Earlier in Chapter 4 of Tractate Chullin, the rabbis analyze a situation where a pregnant cow is slaughtered and its dead fetus is extracted. Is the calf considered an independent being? If so, it cannot be eaten, because Jewish law does not allow eating the carcass of a dead animal; it would have to be slaughtered to be kosher, and it is impossible to slaughter a calf that is already dead. But if it is considered a part of its mother’s body, then it can be eaten, because it would be validated by the kosher slaughter of its mother.
In this case, it all turns out to depend on whether any part of the fetus emerges from the womb during the slaughtering process, since that helps to determine when it is technically “born.” But the whole debate has obvious implications for the law of abortion, since it raises the issue of when a fetus is considered an independent life. It turns out that the Talmud’s hard cases, weird as they sometimes seem, can turn out to be crucial in the real world.
***
Adam Kirsch embarked on the Daf Yomi cycle of daily Talmud study in August 2012. To catch up on the complete archive, click here.
https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/belief/articles/womb-raider-daf-yomi-266
Appendix B: Other Weasels of the Talmud
And it was also taught in a baraita that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar said: It is not necessary to protect a live day-old baby from a weasel or from mice, for they run away from the baby. But if Og, the king of Bashan, is dead, it is necessary to protect even him from a weasel or from mice, as it is stated: “And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth, and upon every bird of the heavens” (Genesis 9:2). The Gemara explains: As long as a person is alive, he is feared by the animals. Once he dies, he is no longer feared.
With regard to the verse: “And the elders of Moab and the elders of Midian set out with their divinations in their hands, and they came to Balaam” (Numbers 22:7), it was taught in a baraita: Midian and Moab had previously never had peace between them, and they were always at war with each other. What led them to make peace at that time? There is a parable of two dogs that were with the flock, and they were hostile to one another. A wolf came and attacked one. The other one said: If I do not help him, today he kills him and tomorrow he comes to attack me. They both went and killed the wolf. Moab and Midian joined together to face the potential common threat, the Jewish people. Rav Pappa says that this is in accordance with the adage that people say: A weasel and a cat made a wedding from the fat of the luckless. Despite their hatred of one another, they join together for their mutual benefit at the expense of a third party.
These are the entities whose skin has the same halakhic status as their flesh: The skin of a dead person, which imparts impurity like his flesh; and the skin of a domesticated pig, which is soft and eaten by gentiles, and imparts the impurity of an animal carcass like its flesh. Rabbi Yehuda says: Even the skin of a wild boar has the same status. And the halakhic status of the skin of all of the following animals is also like that of their flesh: The skin of the hump of a young camel that did not yet toughen; and the skin of the head of a young calf; and the hide of the hooves; and the skin of the womb; and the skin of an animal fetus in the womb of a slaughtered animal; and the skin beneath the tail of a ewe; and the skin of the gecko, and the desert monitor, and the lizard, and the skink, four of the eight creeping animals that impart ritual impurity after death. Rabbi Yehuda says: The halakhic status of the skin of the lizard is like that of the skin of the weasel and is not like that of its flesh. And with regard to all of these skins, in a case where one tanned them or spread them on the ground and trod upon them for the period of time required for tanning, they are no longer classified as flesh and are ritually pure, except for the skin of a person, which maintains the status of flesh. Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Nuri says: All eight creeping animals enumerated in the Torah have skins whose halakhic status is not that of flesh.
מַרְחִיקִין אֶת הַסֻּלָּם מִן הַשּׁוֹבָךְ אַרְבַּע אַמּוֹת, כְּדֵי שֶׁלֹּא תִקְפֹּץ הַנְּמִיָּה, וְאֶת הַכֹּתֶל מִן הַמַּזְחִילָה אַרְבַּע אַמּוֹת, כְּדֵי שֶׁיְּהֵא זוֹקֵף אֶת הַסֻּלָּם. מַרְחִיקִין אֶת הַשּׁוֹבָךְ מִן הָעִיר חֲמִשִּׁים אַמָּה. וְלֹא יַעֲשֶׂה אָדָם שׁוֹבָךְ בְּתוֹךְ שֶׁלּוֹ, אֶלָּא אִם כֵּן יֶשׁ לוֹ חֲמִשִּׁים אַמָּה לְכָל רוּחַ. רַבִּי יְהוּדָה אוֹמֵר, בֵּית אַרְבַּעַת כּוֹרִין, מְלֹא שֶׁגֶר הַיּוֹנָה. וְאִם לְקָחוֹ, אֲפִלּוּ בֵית רֹבַע, הֲרֵי הוּא בְחֶזְקָתוֹ:
A person’s ladder must not be kept within four cubits of [his neighbor’s] dovecote, lest a weasel (a small animal that eats doves) should jump in. His wall may not be built four cubits from [his neighbor’s] roof-gutter, so that the other can set up his ladder [to clean it out]. A dovecote may not be kept within fifty cubits of a town, and none may build a dovecote in his own domain unless his ground extends fifty cubits in every direction. Rabbi Judah says: Four kor’s space of ground, which is the length of a pigeon’s flight. But if he had bought it [and it was built already in that place] and there was only a quarter-kab’s space of ground, he has a right to the dovecote.
The Gemara answers: It is in accordance with the opinion of this tanna, as it was taught in a baraita that Isi ben Yehuda says: With regard to that which the Torah said: “And no man shall covet your land, when you go up to appear before God your Lord three times in the year” (Exodus 34:24), this teaches that your cow shall graze in the meadow and no beast will harm it, and your rooster shall peck in the garbage dump and no weasel shall harm it. In other words, your property will be protected while everyone ascends to Jerusalem for the Festival, despite the fact that the farm will not be defended.
The Gemara raises a difficulty: But why is this so? Let us say that the weasel ate the bread it took. Didn’t we learn in a mishna: The residences of gentiles are ritually impure, as their wives may have miscarried, and due to the fact that gentiles would bury their stillborn babies in their houses, all their residences are deemed ritually impure due to the possibility of impurity imparted by a corpse. And how long must a gentile have stayed in a residence for the residence to require searching? He must have lived there for forty days. The reason is that until forty days after conception the miscarried fetus is not classified as a stillborn, as it is not sufficiently developed before that stage.
Rabbi Zeira said: This is not difficult, as in this case, where no search is required, it is referring to flesh, whereas in that case, where one is required to search again, it is referring to bread. Rabbi Zeira elaborates: With regard to flesh, a weasel does not leave remnants behind, and therefore the stillborn would have been entirely consumed. With regard to bread, however, the weasel leaves remnants behind, requiring an additional search.
This mishna continues: And this decree applies even though the gentile resident has no wife. In issuing the decree, the Sages did not distinguish between a married couple and a single man, so that people would not err in its application (Me’iri). And any place where a weasel or a pig can enter unimpeded need not be searched, as presumably if a stillborn was buried there, one of these animals would have taken it. As this mishna indicates that there is a presumption that weasels eat whatever they find, the Gemara suggests that the same should apply to leaven. Therefore, even if one actually saw the weasel take the bread, he can assume that the animal ate it, obviating the need for an additional search.
Rava said: What is this comparison? These cases are not comparable. Granted, there, with regard to the stillborn, one could say that it was in the house and one could say that it was not in the house. And even if you say it was there, say that the weasel ate it. The very presence of the stillborn in the house is based on an assumption, and even if it was there, it was probably consumed. However, here, where one definitely saw the weasel take the bread, who will say that the weasel ate it? It is a conflict between an uncertainty whether or not the weasel ate the bread, and a certainty that the bread was there. The principle is that an uncertainty does not override a certainty.
and a priest came and glanced at the baby to ascertain whether it is male or whether it is female, as a woman who has just given birth, even to a stillborn, is ritually impure for different lengths of time, depending on whether she gave birth to a male or a female (see Leviticus 12). And the incident came before the Sages, to rule whether or not the priest contracted ritual impurity when standing over the corpse, and they deemed him ritually pure. The basis for this ruling was due to the fact that as a weasel and a polecat [bardelas] are found there, it is likely that the baby was dragged away before the priest arrived at the pit.
And yet here, where it is certain that she threw the stillborn baby into the pit, and it is uncertain whether a weasel or polecat dragged it away and it is uncertain whether it did not drag it away at that time, the Sages nevertheless ruled that an uncertainty comes and overrides a certainty. The Gemara rejects this contention: Do not say in the baraita that she certainly threw a stillborn into a pit; rather, say that she threw an object similar to a stillborn into a pit. Perhaps it was not a stillborn baby; it might have simply been congealed blood, which does not transmit impurity. And therefore, this is a conflict between uncertainty and uncertainty. It is unclear whether there was anything in the pit that could have rendered the priest ritually impure, and even if there was, it might have already been dragged away.
And if you wish, say instead: There it is not a conflict between certainty and uncertainty; rather it is between certainty and certainty. Since a weasel and a polecat are found there, they certainly dragged it away at that time, without delay. Although weasels leave part of their food, in any case they certainly dragged the baby to their holes at that time. Another version of this answer: Although we do not say that they certainly ate the stillborn, we do say that they certainly dragged it to their holes. Consequently, the ruling in this case does not contradict the general principle that an uncertainty does not override a certainty.