פירוש על קידושין 58:31

The Beraisa taught: to teach him Torah. From where do we know this? That it says in the Pasuk: That you should teach your sons. If someone was not taught by his father, he should teach himself, as the Pasuk says: and you should learn. How do I know the mother is not obligated to teach Torah?... Since the word “you shall teach” can also be written “you shall learn”: those who are required to learn torah are required to teach torah; those who are not required to learn are not required to teach. How do I know that she doesn't have an obligation to teach torah to herself? Since the word “you shall teach” can also be written “you shall learn”: those whom others are required to teach are required to teach themselves; those whom others are not required to teach are not required to teach themselves. A woman does not have to learn Torah because no one has to teach her. And where do we know this? Because it says in the Pasuk your sons, and not your daughters. The Rabbanan taught: If he can learn OR his son, he comes before his son. Rabbi Yehuda says:If your son is an interested person, smart, and has a good memory, then your son comes before you.

R. Yirmiyah limits the dispute in the baraita. If the father really has only five selas, then he redeems himself and not his son. There is only a dispute if the father has five selas that are free and five selas that have a lien over them, meaning he used them to secure a loan or he sold them. According to R. Judah, the “lien” of the Kohen on the five selas owed for the redemption of the father is like a debt written in a document, and therefore it can be collected even from property encumbered with a lien. So the priests would seize five selas worth of land and with this the father would be redeemed. The father can then use the free five selas to redeem himself. But the other rabbis hold that the debt of the five selas cannot be taken from encumbered property. Therefore, he really only has five selas with which he is to redeem himself.

R. Yirmiyah limits the dispute in the baraita. If the father really has only five selas, then he redeems himself and not his son. There is only a dispute if the father has five selas that are free and five selas that have a lien over them, meaning he used them to secure a loan or he sold them. According to R. Judah, the “lien” of the Kohen on the five selas owed for the redemption of the father is like a debt written in a document, and therefore it can be collected even from property encumbered with a lien. So the priests would seize five selas worth of land and with this the father would be redeemed. The father can then use the free five selas to redeem himself. But the other rabbis hold that the debt of the five selas cannot be taken from encumbered property. Therefore, he really only has five selas with which he is to redeem himself.

R. Yirmiyah limits the dispute in the baraita. If the father really has only five selas, then he redeems himself and not his son. There is only a dispute if the father has five selas that are free and five selas that have a lien over them, meaning he used them to secure a loan or he sold them. According to R. Judah, the “lien” of the Kohen on the five selas owed for the redemption of the father is like a debt written in a document, and therefore it can be collected even from property encumbered with a lien. So the priests would seize five selas worth of land and with this the father would be redeemed. The father can then use the free five selas to redeem himself. But the other rabbis hold that the debt of the five selas cannot be taken from encumbered property. Therefore, he really only has five selas with which he is to redeem himself.

The rabbis now engage in a “which mitzvah takes priority” discussion. Here we have a dispute over which takes priority—redeeming one’s son, or spending the money to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem during one of the festivals.

R. Judah explains why the mitzvah of the pilgrimage takes precedence. But the rabbis do not explain their opinion. Therefore, the Talmud explains that it simply follows the order of the verse—first the verse says redeem your son, and then it instructs people to go on the pilgrimage.

When it comes to redeeming the first born, the first born is determined by the mother. So if a man has five sons from five different wives, he must redeem them all. But when it comes to inheritance, it follows the father. Only his own first born son inherits a double portion.

When it comes to redeeming the first born, the first born is determined by the mother. So if a man has five sons from five different wives, he must redeem them all. But when it comes to inheritance, it follows the father. Only his own first born son inherits a double portion.

The Talmud provides a source obligating a father to teach his son Torah. And as with the other mitzvot, if the father does not teach the son, the son must learn himself.

Since the rabbis read the word “your children” as if it is written “your sons” they derive that fathers are not obligated to teach their daughters. And since they are not obligated to teach their daughters, the daughters (eventually mothers) are not obligated to teach their sons.

Since the rabbis read the word “your children” as if it is written “your sons” they derive that fathers are not obligated to teach their daughters. And since they are not obligated to teach their daughters, the daughters (eventually mothers) are not obligated to teach their sons.

Again, we have a dispute over which takes precedence—father or son. I think that is question is really interesting for parents who constantly have to make choices as to where to allocate their resources. Does one save every penny for the enrichment of one’s children, or does one also spend money on their own activities? It’s a question I would guess most parents face quite frequently.

This wonderful story is here because R. Ya’akov decides that it is better for him to learn than his dull son. But the story itself has a life of its own. I’ll make a few remarks. First of all, the story exhibits an ambiguous attitude towards the father, who prefers to leave his son at home. On the one hand, he kills the demon. But on the other, people seem willing to let him risk his life in order to try to kill the demon. R. Ya’akov is saved in the end, but it takes a miracle, and tomorrow that miracle might not happen. Were the townsmen justified in what they did? Did R. Ya’akov do the right thing? As is often true with Talmudic aggadot, there are no easy answers to these questions.

This wonderful story is here because R. Ya’akov decides that it is better for him to learn than his dull son. But the story itself has a life of its own. I’ll make a few remarks. First of all, the story exhibits an ambiguous attitude towards the father, who prefers to leave his son at home. On the one hand, he kills the demon. But on the other, people seem willing to let him risk his life in order to try to kill the demon. R. Ya’akov is saved in the end, but it takes a miracle, and tomorrow that miracle might not happen. Were the townsmen justified in what they did? Did R. Ya’akov do the right thing? As is often true with Talmudic aggadot, there are no easy answers to these questions.

This wonderful story is here because R. Ya’akov decides that it is better for him to learn than his dull son. But the story itself has a life of its own. I’ll make a few remarks. First of all, the story exhibits an ambiguous attitude towards the father, who prefers to leave his son at home. On the one hand, he kills the demon. But on the other, people seem willing to let him risk his life in order to try to kill the demon. R. Ya’akov is saved in the end, but it takes a miracle, and tomorrow that miracle might not happen. Were the townsmen justified in what they did? Did R. Ya’akov do the right thing? As is often true with Talmudic aggadot, there are no easy answers to these questions.

In Eretz Yisrael they seem to have preferred learning Torah for some time and then getting married later (hard to know when). This allows the student/rabbi to learn full time without a “millstone” around his neck. [Let’s face it, marriage is a responsibility for both partners, and it is hard to be completely dedicated to a project while one is also responsible for a family]. In Babylonia, they marry and then head off to the Yeshiva to learn.

In Eretz Yisrael they seem to have preferred learning Torah for some time and then getting married later (hard to know when). This allows the student/rabbi to learn full time without a “millstone” around his neck. [Let’s face it, marriage is a responsibility for both partners, and it is hard to be completely dedicated to a project while one is also responsible for a family]. In Babylonia, they marry and then head off to the Yeshiva to learn.

R. Huna does not even want to look at a man who is unmarried and is older than 20. This is in line with the Babylonian point of view, that men should marry at a relatively young age.

R. Huna does not even want to look at a man who is unmarried and is older than 20. This is in line with the Babylonian point of view, that men should marry at a relatively young age.

A word of warning about sources like this and the ones that come before and after. The rabbis clearly want men to marry by the age of twenty. This does not mean that men did so. Indeed, I could argue that this source implies that men were not marrying before twenty—otherwise why exhort them to do so.

Here we can get a sense of why the rabbis urge men (boys) to marry so early—to ward off “Satan.” This is probably a way of expressing the sexual urge. Unmarried boys over the age of puberty will almost certainly either masturbate or engage in illicit sex, both activities the rabbis did not condone. To prevent this, it would be best to marry as young as 14. But again, this does not mean that people actually did so.