Hedging Your Pretzels: b.Hullin 14

In which you can retroactively decide what things were designated for based on what they were used for

Today’s mishnah is a bit amusing, perhaps: meat slaughtered on Shabbat or Yom Kippur is kosher, but the person is to be put to death. The Gemara takes some fun turns, though. Rav Huna quotes Rav (and others say, Rabbi Yehuda) as saying that the meat should be avoided during the holiday. The reason some think it’s Rabbi Yehuda is that he allowed serving squash to animals and trefa meat to dogs, though he thinks that cutting the carcass on the holiday is forbidden; it should be pre-cut in advance.

Abaye says it all depends on the original purpose of the meat. The mishna deals with food dedicated to people; Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion deals with food originally meant for people, but then reassigned to dogs. But Rabbi Abba disagrees: animals are not designed to be anyone’s food—they are designed for breeding. The animals disagree: they are “designed” to live a happy life.

So, asks Abaye, how come we slaughter animals on holidays? Rabbi Abba explains: if eventually the animal is slaughtered, it clarifies that it was intended for slaughter; if it is left alive, it clarified that it was not. If you think this sounds made up, you’ll be comforted that Abaye agrees with you, and he offers proof from the Tosefta (Demai 8:7): Rabbi Meir thinks it’s okay to hold up a jug of wine, say, “I’m going to eventually separate an offering out of this” and, without actually separating the offering, drink the wine—but Rabbi Yehuda disagrees! Does this imply he doesn’t like the idea of hindsight designations? That’s not the issue, Abaye retorts: he was worried that the wineskin would burst before the drinker has a chance to make the offering. Rather, Rabbi Yehuda’s fondness for hindsight designations is deduced from a teaching of Ayo (אַיּוֹ).

The text doesn’t say what Ayo actually taught, so I took a look at the Steinsatlz additions. Steinsaltz explains that Ayo’s teaching pertains to the following scenario:

Man and Dude, two impressive Torah scholars, are scheduled to give lectures on Shabbat on opposite sides of the city. Bro hasn’t yet decided which lecture to attend (no, folks, they’re not going to record the lectures for him to watch later). So he pre-plans the eruv territory by placing food on both sides of the city, so that he can make his choice in the moment and walk either direction. But, Rabbi Yehuda explains, Bro hasn’t made the whole city into an eruv: rather, he says, “if I decide to attend Dude’s lecture, then the eruv that counts is the one to the east; if I decide on Man’s lecture, then the eruv that counts is to the west.” In other words, you could say that Bro is hedging his pretzels.

Rabbi Yohanan thinks that the stipulation only works under the following conditions:

There’s only one lecture scheduled—Dude’s—but the townspeople don’t know whether Dude will lecture on the East or the West side. Bro makes the conditional eruv with his pretzels, and the moment Dude shows up (וּכְבָר בָּא חָכָם), that determines which way the eruv goes (because the condition was set beforehand). In other words, Bro isn’t hedging his pretzels; rather, he allows Dude’s appearance to be the deciding factor.

Okay, says Rav Yosef, forget about the pretzels. Rabbi Yehuda’s opinion about the prohibition to consume the animal on the holiday comes from a different place. There’s a mishnah in b.Shabbat 124b (we will get there eventually) that says that any dish that can be moved on Shabbat, its shards are also movable provided that they “do some kind of labor,” e.g., used for covering something. The Gemara limits this to a labor similar to their purpose before the dish broke—meaning that if the dish was not prepared for this new purpose, the shards cannot be moved. Abaye thinks the cases are not comparable: animals are raised as food whereas dishes are not created with a purpose to use the shards.

Another possibility is that Rabbi Yehuda analogized from a mishnah in b.Shabbat 143b: it is not allowed to squeeze fruits on Shabbat—and if they somehow get squeezed, the liquid is impermissible on Shabbat. Rabbi Yehuda recurred to purpose: if the fruit were meant to be eaten and the squeezing was a fluke, it is allowed (e.g., olives and grapes); if they were meant to be squeezed, you may not squeeze them.

Another effort at an analogy references a baraita that says that one may move an unused lamp on Shabbat, but not one that was previously used. Others think this is a misinterpretation, and Rabbi Yehuda actually meant that only the Shabbat candle lit on that particular Shabbat is unmovable. The analogy is imperfect, though, because the lighting of the lamp indicates its purpose.

Rav Ashi thinks that Rabbi Yehuda’s original rule applies only to the cook him/herself. If the cooking happens accidentally, it is okay for the cook to eat; if it was done intentionally, it is not okay. After polling some other opinions about this, the Gemara points out that the rule does not apply equally to Shabbat and Yom Kippur: on the latter day, you’re not supposed to eat anything anyway.