Chullin 127

Hook

Imagine a cold winter morning in the stone-paved alleys of Jerusalem’s Nachlaot neighborhood, long before the sun rises. Inside the Ades Synagogue, the air is thick with the scent of jasmine, cardamom-spiced coffee, and the warm breath of a community gathered in the dark. Suddenly, a voice rises, riding the microtones of Maqam Rast—the musical mode of beginnings, of creation itself. The congregation joins in, their voices weaving a tapestry of longing and praise that has traveled from Aleppo to Egypt, from Spain to the Land of Israel. They are singing the Baqashot—the dawn petitions—and at the heart of their song is a profound, ecstatic wonder at the sheer biodiversity of the cosmos. It is the very same wonder that seized Rabbi Akiva in the pages of the Talmud when he contemplated the mysteries of the natural world and cried out: "How great are Your works, O Lord!"

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Context

To understand the Sephardi and Mizrahi approach to the natural world, to Talmudic zoology, and to the poetic elevation of physical reality, we must ground ourselves in three distinct coordinates of history, geography, and culture:

• Place: The Mediterranean Basin and the Judeo-Arabic Sphere. Our journey spans from the sun-drenched courtyards of Al-Andalus (Muslim Spain) to the bustling markets of Aleppo, Damascus, Baghdad, and Cairo. In these lands, Jews did not live in intellectual isolation; they shared a common language—Arabic—and a common philosophical vocabulary with their Muslim and Christian neighbors. The study of medicine, astronomy, botany, and zoology was not seen as a distraction from Torah, but as its ultimate handmaiden.
• Era: The Golden Age to the Ottoman Renaissance (10th–18th Centuries). This period witnessed the synthesis of scientific rationalism and deep mystical devotion. It begins with the philosophical giants of Spain like Rabbi Solomon ibn Gabirol and Maimonides, passes through the catastrophic expulsion of 1492, and blossoms anew in the kabbalistic safe havens of Safed and the musical guilds of the Ottoman Empire.
• Community: The Musta’arabi, Megorashim, and Mizrahi Sages. These communities—the indigenous Arabic-speaking Jews of the Middle East (Musta'arabim), the exiled Spanish Jews who integrated among them (Megorashim), and the wider Mizrahi diaspora—developed a holistic worldview. They viewed the cosmos as a unified, living sanctuary. For them, halakha (law), philosophy, science, and piyut (liturgical poetry) were not separate disciplines, but different dialects of a single, divine language.

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Text Snapshot

In the tractate of Chullin 127a, the Talmud engages in a highly detailed, taxonomic discussion regarding the ritual impurity (tum'ah) of the "eight creeping animals" (sheriym) enumerated in Leviticus 11:29-30. The Sages grapple with the boundaries of species, the differences between land and sea creatures, and the legendary beasts of antiquity.

Here is the core of our text, interwoven with the classic commentaries that shaped Sephardic and Mizrahi learning:

The Sages taught in a baraita: The verse: “The great lizard after its kinds” (Leviticus 11:29) includes in the category of creeping animals the arvad, a type of snake, and also the creeping animals called nefilim and salamander [salamandera].

Apropos the salamander, which was thought to generate from fire, the baraita continues: When Rabbi Akiva would reach this verse in Leviticus, he would say in exclamation: “How great are Your works, O Lord” (Psalms 104:24). You have creatures that grow in the sea and you have creatures that grow on land. If those in the sea would ascend to the land they would immediately die. If those that are on land would descend to the sea they would immediately die.

Similarly, you have creatures that grow in the fire and you have creatures that grow in the air. If those in the fire would ascend to the air they would immediately die. If those in the air would descend to the fire they would immediately die. Therefore, “how great are Your works, O Lord.”

The Sages taught in a baraita: For every animal that exists on land there is an equivalent animal in the sea, except for the weasel...

The Insight of the Commentators

To appreciate the depth of this text, we must look at how our master commentators unpacked these words. Rashi, whose commentary is foundational to all Jewish study, clarifies the linguistic and physical reality of these creatures. On the phrase "the creeping" (hashoretz), Rashi explains:

ת"ל השורץ - הוה ליה למימר וזה לכם הטמא בשרץ הארץ וכתיב בשרץ השורץ על הארץ אייתר ליה השורץ לדרוש כל מקום שהוא יכול לשרוץ לרחוש ולנוע והרי אף בים הוא שט שמינו עכבר הארץ הלכך ע"כ על הארץ למין הארץ הוא דאתא ולאו למעוטי ירד לים:

“The verse states 'the creeping' [hashoretz] — It should have said, 'And this is for you the impure among the creeping things of the earth,' but it is written, 'among the creeping things that creep upon the earth.' The extra word 'the creeping' is available to expound: anywhere that it is able to creep, move, and stir—and behold, even in the sea it floats, for its species is the land mouse. Therefore, of necessity, 'upon the earth' comes to exclude the species of the sea [the sea mouse itself] and not to exclude a land mouse that merely descended into the sea.” (Rashi on Chullin 127a:1:1)

Here, Rashi delineates the boundary between species that share a name but belong to entirely different ecological systems. The great 19th-century Jerusalemite Talmudist, the Rashash (Rabbi Shmuel Strashun), offers a precise textual emendation to this Rashi, demonstrating the meticulous care with which Sephardic and Middle Eastern academies preserved and corrected the Talmudic text:

רש"י ד"ה ת"ל השורץ - הל"ל וזה לכם הטמא בשרץ על הארץ. כצ"ל:

“Rashi, starting with the words ‘The verse states...’: It should have said, ‘And this is for you the impure among the creeping things upon the earth.’ This is how it should be read.” (Rashash on Chullin 127a:2)

When the Talmud turns to Rabbi Akiva’s ecstatic exclamation upon reading the verse concerning the salamander, Rashi explains simply:

לפסוק זה - משום דמיירי בסלמנדרא:

“For this verse — because it deals with the salamander [which is generated from fire].” (Rashi on Chullin 127a:10:1)

And on the phrase "creatures that grow in the fire," Rashi adds:

יש לך בריות גדלות באור - סלמנדרא:

“You have creatures that grow in the fire — this refers to the salamander.” (Rashi on Chullin 127a:11:1)

In the modern era, Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, whose roots trace back to the venerable Sephardic families of Jerusalem, captures the scientific and philosophical grandeur of Rabbi Akiva’s insight. He explains that Rabbi Akiva was not merely noting a biological curiosity, but expressing a profound ecological theology:

כשהיה ר' עקיבא מגיע לפסוק זה שבפרשת השרצים המטמאים, היה אומר: "מה רבו מעשיך ה' "! יש לך בריות הגדלות בים ויש לך בריות הגדלות ביבשה, אלה שגדלות בים — אילמלי היו עולות ביבשה, היו מיד מתות. אלו שגדלות ביבשה — אילמלי היו יורדות לים, היו מיד מתות. וכמו כן, יש לך בריות הגדלות באור, ויש לך בריות הגדלות באויר, אלה שגדלות באור — אילמלי היו עולות לאויר, היו מיד מתות. וכן אלה שגדלות באויר — אילמלי היו יורדות לאור, היו מיד מתות, הרי זה "מה רבו מעשיך ה'".

“When Rabbi Akiva would reach this verse in the portion of the impure creeping things, he would say: ‘How great are Your works, O Lord!’ You have creatures that grow in the sea and you have creatures that grow on land; those that grow in the sea—if they were to ascend to the land, they would immediately die. Those that grow on land—if they were to descend to the sea, they would immediately die. And likewise, you have creatures that grow in fire, and you have creatures that grow in the air; those that grow in fire—if they were to ascend to the air, they would immediately die. And so too those that grow in the air—if they were to descend to the fire, they would immediately die. Behold, this is the meaning of ‘How great are Your works, O Lord.’” (Steinsaltz on Chullin 127a:10-11)

Finally, Rashi explains the Talmudic play on words regarding the dry land and the weasel:

יושבי חלד - יושבי הארץ שהוא מקום מיושב לחולדות:

“‘Inhabitants of the world [cheled]’ — the inhabitants of the earth, which is the sole settled habitat for weasels [chuldot].” (Rashi on Chullin 127a:12:1)

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Minhag/Melody

In the Sephardic and Mizrahi world, the intellectual contemplation of nature’s diversity is never left as a dry, academic exercise. It is immediately translated into song. The exclamation of Rabbi Akiva—Mah rabu ma'asekha Hashem ("How great are Your works, O Lord!")—is not just a quote from Psalms 104:24; it is the beating heart of the Sephardic liturgical experience.

The Liturgy of the Baqashot

For centuries, in the Jewish communities of Aleppo (Syria), Casablanca (Morocco), Cairo (Egypt), and Jerusalem, the winter Sabbaths were elevated by the practice of Baqashot. These are collections of sacred poems, composed by the greatest mystics and poets of the Golden Age and the Safed Kabbalistic Renaissance, sung in the early hours of Saturday morning.

The performance of the Baqashot is a highly structured, communal art form. It is built entirely upon the Arabic classical music system known as the Maqamat. The Maqamat (plural of maqam) are more than just musical scales; they are emotional and spiritual pathways, each associated with a specific theme, mood, and time of day.

When the singers of the Baqashot gather at 3:00 AM, the air is freezing, but the atmosphere inside the synagogue is electric. The singing is unaccompanied by instruments, in keeping with the sanctity of Shabbat, meaning the human voice must carry the entire weight of the cosmos. The lead cantor (paitan) guides the congregation through a series of piyutim that mirror the very themes of Chullin 127a: the elements of fire, air, water, and earth, and the wondrous creatures that inhabit them.

Maqam Rast and the Song of Creation

To sing of creation, the paitanim choose Maqam Rast. In the Arabic musical tradition, Rast means "truth," "directness," or "alignment." It is considered the father of all maqamat, representing the steady, balanced foundation of the physical universe. When we sing of the earth, the sea, and the heavens, we sing in Rast.

One of the most famous piyutim sung during the winter Baqashot cycle is Yodu Lekha Ra'ayunai ("My Thoughts Shall Praise You"), composed by the great 16th-century poet Rabbi Israel Najara of Safed and Gaza. Rabbi Israel Najara was a master of the maqam system, and he specifically wrote his poems to be sung to the popular melodies of his day—Turkish, Arabic, and Spanish tunes—subverting the secular music of the streets to serve the highest spiritual heights.

In Yodu Lekha Ra'ayunai, the lyrics describe the harmony of the physical world:

"יוֹדוּ לְךָ רַעְיוֹנַי, כָּל עַצְמוֹתַי וּבְשָׂרִי... יוֹצֵר הַכֹּל בְּמַאֲמָר, מַעֲשֵׂהוּ מַה נָּאווּ..."

"My thoughts shall praise You, all my bones and my flesh... Who creates everything with a single utterance, how beautiful are His works..."

As the congregation sings this melody in Maqam Rast, they are not just remembering Rabbi Akiva’s exclamation; they are physically experiencing it. The music rises and falls like the waves of the sea; it crackles with the intensity of fire; it floats with the light, airy grace of the wind. The physical act of singing becomes a metabolic transformation, where the biological breath of the human body—which, like the creatures of the air, would die if submerged in water—is offered back to the Creator as a sacrifice of song.

Perek Shirah: The Cosmic Choir

Another beautiful custom deeply rooted in Sephardic and Mizrahi life is the recitation of Perek Shirah (The Chapter of Song). This is an ancient midrashic text in which every element of the natural world—the heavens, the earth, the deserts, the seas, the rivers, the creeping things, the beasts, and the birds—is assigned a biblical verse of praise that constitutes its unique "song."

In Sephardic kabbalistic circles, particularly those influenced by the teachings of the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria) in 16th-century Safed, Perek Shirah was not viewed as a simple children's story, but as a highly potent, mystical liturgy. Sages like Rabbi Moses Alsheich and Rabbi Joseph Albo wrote extensive commentaries on Perek Shirah, explaining that every physical creature on earth is the physical manifestation of a supernal, spiritual channel. When a human being recites the song of the mouse, the salamander, or the sea monster, they are aligning themselves with the spiritual source of that creature, drawing down divine abundance (shefa) into the physical world.

In the Sephardic printing of Perek Shirah, the song of the creeping things—the very sheriym discussed in Chullin 127a—is of paramount importance. The mouse, which the Talmud describes in its various biological and legendary forms (including the spontaneously generating earth-mouse), sings:

"וְאַתָּה קָדוֹשׁ, יוֹשֵׁב תְּהִלּוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל."

"And You are holy, enthroned upon the praises of Israel." (Psalms 22:4)

By singing the praises of the cosmos, the Sephardic Jew declares that there is nothing in this world that is truly "impure" in its essence; even the creeping things that carry ritual impurity are, in their spiritual root, singing a song of pure holiness to the Creator.

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Contrast

The study of Talmudic zoology and the natural sciences reveals a fascinating, respectful contrast between the classical Sephardic/Mizrahi approach and the traditional Ashkenazic approach. This difference is not one of superiority, but of intellectual culture and philosophical framing.

The Sephardic Integrative Approach

The Sephardic and Mizrahi tradition is fundamentally integrative. Rooted in the Judeo-Arabic philosophical tradition, masters like Maimonides (Rambam) argued that there is a complete harmony between the "Book of Nature" (the physical universe) and the "Book of God" (the Torah). In his monumental legal code, the Mishneh Torah, in the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah, Rambam writes:

"והיאך היא הדרך לאהבתו ויראתו? בשעה שיתבונן האדם במעשיו ובברואיו הנפלאים הגדולים, וראה מהם חכמתו שאין לה ערך ולא קץ--מיד הוא אוהב ומשבח ומפאר ומתאווה תאווה גדולה לידע השם הגדול..."

"And what is the path to loving Him and fearing Him? At the time when a person contemplates His wondrous and great deeds and creations, and sees in them His wisdom which is without limit or end—immediately he loves, praises, glorifies, and is seized with a great desire to know the Great Name..." (Mishneh Torah, Yesodei HaTorah 2:2)

For a Sephardic sage, therefore, when the Talmud in Chullin 127a discusses a "mouse that is half-flesh and half-earth" (spontaneous generation) or a "salamander born of fire," the goal is not to isolate these passages from the science of the day. Rather, they are examined through a lens that blends empirical observation with deep allegorical and philosophical meaning.

If contemporary science challenges a literal reading of these biological phenomena, Sephardic thinkers—following the path of Rambam—are comfortable reading these Talmudic passages as allegories of divine creation, or as halakhic categories that remain legally binding even if our physical understanding of the universe shifts. They do not see a threat to the integrity of the Torah when scientific paradigms evolve, because they believe that the Creator of the universe and the Giver of the Torah are one and the same.

The Ashkenazic Dialectical Approach

In contrast, the classic Ashkenazic approach—particularly as it developed in the medieval academies of Northern France and Germany (the Tosafists) and later in the Eastern European Yeshiva world—tends to be more dialectical and text-internal.

The Tosafists approach Chullin 127a with a laser focus on the internal mechanics of the text. Their primary question is not: How does the biology of the sea mouse harmonize with the Neo-Platonic order of the cosmos? Rather, their question is: How does the halakhic definition of a sea mouse in Chullin reconcile with the laws of ritual purity in Tractate Kelim or Tractate Ohalot?

In the modern Yeshiva world of Eastern Europe (such as the schools of Volozhin, Brisk, and Mir), this approach was refined into a highly abstract, conceptual system of analysis (lomdus). To a Brisker scholar, the "mouse that is half-flesh and half-earth" is not a biological entity to be studied with a microscope; it is a conceptual legal category. The question is whether the "half-earth" portion of the mouse is defined by the Torah as "pure" because it is inanimate soil, or "impure" because it is functionally attached to a living organism. The physical reality of the mouse is secondary to the conceptual, legal definitions generated by the divine decree of the text.

Two Paths to the One King

Both of these approaches are holy, and both preserve the sanctity of the Torah:

• The Ashkenazic path protects the Torah from being subject to the whims of shifting scientific theories. By keeping the analysis text-internal and highly conceptual, it ensures that the halakha remains a pristine, self-contained divine system that stands above the changing currents of human knowledge.
• The Sephardic path protects the unity of the cosmos. By insisting that science and Torah must speak to one another, it ensures that the Jew never experiences a cognitive dissonance between their spiritual devotion and their physical reality. It invites the Jew to look at a microscope, a starry sky, or a deep-sea creature, and immediately hear the melody of Maqam Rast rising from the depths of the earth.

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Home Practice

You do not need to be a master cantor in Aleppo or a medieval philosopher in Spain to bring the rich, sensory-friendly spirit of Sephardic mindfulness into your daily life. Here is one simple, beautiful practice you can adopt in your home to connect with the lessons of Chullin 127a:

The Blessing of Astonishment: Creating a "Mah Rabu" Habit

In our fast-paced, digital world, we often lose our capacity for wonder. We look at screens instead of the sky; we see nature as a resource to be consumed rather than a sanctuary to be contemplated.

To combat this, you can adopt the Sephardic practice of the Blessing of Astonishment, utilizing the exact exclamation of Rabbi Akiva:

1. Seek the Bizarre and the Beautiful: Once a week (perhaps on Friday afternoon as you prepare for Shabbat, or on Sunday morning during a walk), make a conscious effort to find one element of the natural world that astonishes you. It could be the intricate, geometric pattern of a leaf in your backyard, the bizarre and alien shape of a deep-sea creature in a nature documentary, or even the complex biology of a household pet.

2. Pause and Contemplate: Stop what you are doing. Put down your phone. Look at this creature or natural phenomenon for sixty seconds. Reflect on the fact that this creature—just like the salamander in the fire or the sea mouse in the depths—has its own unique ecological niche, its own way of breathing, its own way of surviving.

3. Recite the Verse with Intention: Take a deep, physical breath, feeling the air fill your lungs. Then, recite the Hebrew verse of Rabbi Akiva’s wonder with joy and pride:

   "מָה רַבּוּ מַעֲשֶׂיךָ ה', כֻּלָּם בְּחָכְמָה עָשִׂיתָ, מָלְאָה הָאָרֶץ קִנְיָנֶךָ."

   “Mah rabu ma’asekha Hashem, kulam b’chokhmah asita, mal’ah ha’aretz kinyanekha.”

   "How great are Your works, O Lord! In wisdom You have made them all; the earth is full of Your creations." (Psalms 104:24)

By making this a regular practice, you are training your mind to see the world not as a mundane, secular space, but as a living canvas of divine artistry. You are bringing the warm, expansive spirit of the Sephardic Baqashot directly into your living room.

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Takeaway

The discussion in Chullin 127a begins with the dusty, intricate laws of ritual impurity, navigating the taxonomy of mice, weasels, and lizards. Yet, in the hands of the Sages, and through the lived heritage of the Sephardi and Mizrahi communities, these laws are transformed into a cosmic song of praise.

We learn that there is no corner of the universe—neither the depths of the sea, the dry land, the heights of the air, nor the heat of the fire—that is empty of the Divine Presence. Everything that creeps, swims, flies, or burns has its place in the grand design.

As we close this study, let us carry the melody of Maqam Rast with us. Let us look at the world with the eyes of Rabbi Akiva, seeing the marvelous diversity of creation not as a challenge to our faith, but as its ultimate confirmation. May we always find the strength to lift our voices and sing: Mah rabu ma'asekha Hashem—"How great are Your works, O Lord!"