Chullin 66

Hook

The Saffron Sky and the Golden Harvest

Imagine the sky over the basalt hills of Sana'a or the red clay valleys of the Moroccan Atlas turning a deep, shimmering gold. It is not the sunset, but a rhythmic, humming cloud of desert locusts (Schistocerca gregaria) sweeping across the horizon. For most agricultural societies, this sight was a harbinger of ruin, a biblical plague that stripped the earth bare. But for the Jewish communities of Yemen and Morocco, it was also a moment of divine visitation and unexpected abundance. As the swarm descended, children and elders alike would run into the fields with woven sacks, their voices rising in excitement. They did not see merely a pestilence; they saw a kosher harvest sent directly from the heavens. Back in the kitchens, these locusts would be toasted with sea salt on clay griddles, their crisp, nutty aroma filling the alleyways.

This is the living tapestry of Sephardi and Mizrahi Torah—a tradition where the most intricate legal debates of the Talmud are not preserved as dry, academic puzzles on a dusty shelf, but as tasted, sung, and lived realities. In the Sephardic heritage, the boundary between the study hall (beit midrash) and the kitchen table is beautifully porous. The physical world, with all its diverse fauna and shifting seasons, is a canvas for the fulfillment of the divine will, demonstrating how an ancient biblical mesorah (unbroken chain of tradition) can survive the trials of exile and blossom into a celebration of life.

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Context

To understand how the laws of kosher grasshoppers and fish developed from the text of the Talmud into the daily practices of these communities, we must ground ourselves in three distinct historical coordinates of the Sephardi and Mizrahi world:

• The Place: The Rugged Landscapes of Yemen and Morocco
  Our journey spans from the high, dry plateaus of Southwest Arabia—specifically the ancient Jewish quarters of Sana'a, Aden, and the rural villages of Shar'ab—to the sweeping plains of the Sous Valley and the rugged Atlas Mountains of Morocco. These geographic regions share a unique ecological feature: they lie directly in the migratory path of the desert locust. Unlike the temperate, damp climates of Northern and Eastern Europe, where locust swarms are virtually unknown, the Jews of these Mediterranean and Arabian lands lived in constant, intimate contact with the shifting wildlife of the semi-arid Afro-Asian desert belt.

• The Era: From the Gaonic Period to the Mid-Twentieth Century
  While the foundational texts of these practices trace back to the Talmudic era (3rd–6th centuries CE), the preservation and codification of these unique culinary traditions flourished during the Gaonic period (8th–11th centuries) in the great academies of Iraq, and continued through the codifications of the Spanish exiles after 1492. It remained a vibrant, practical reality up until the mass migrations of the mid-twentieth century (such as Operation On Eagles' Wings for Yemenite Jewry and the mass aliyah of Moroccan Jews in the 1950s and 60s), which transplanted these ancient regional traditions into the modern state of Israel and across the global Sephardic diaspora.

• The Community: The Guardians of the Living Mesorah
  The primary actors in this tradition are the Temanim (Yemenite Jews) and the Mugrabim (Moroccan Jews). For centuries, these communities maintained a highly sophisticated, localized system of oral transmission. While other Jewish communities across the globe lost the practical knowledge of which grasshoppers were kosher due to geographical displacement and the absence of the insects in their locales, the sages and laypeople of Yemen and Morocco kept the physical signs, names, and preparation methods alive. They did this through an unbroken chain of mother-to-daughter and father-to-son instruction, verified continuously by the ruling rabbinical courts of cities like Sana'a, Fez, and Marrakech.

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Text Snapshot

The Talmudic source that serves as the blueprint for this living tradition is found in Chullin 66a. Here, the sages engage in a meticulous analysis of the biblical verses in Leviticus 11:21 to determine the exact physical characteristics that render a grasshopper or a fish fit for Jewish consumption.

במאי קמיפלגי? בחגב שראשו ארוך קמיפלגי.
תנא דבי רב סבר: "אשר לו כרעים" - כלל, "ארבה סלעם חרגול וחגב" - פרט, "למינהו" - חזר וכלל.
כלל ופרט וכלל - אי אתה דן אלא כעין הפרט: מה הפרט מפורש שיש לו ארבעה סימנים... אף כל שיש לו ארבעה סימנים.
תנא דבי רבי ישמעאל סבר: "אשר לו כרעים" - כלל, "ארבה סלעם חרגול וחגב" - פרט, "למינהו" - חזר וכלל...
דבר אחר: מה הפרט מפורש שאין ראשו ארוך, אף כל שאין ראשו ארוך...
אמר רבי אבהו, וכן תנא דבי רבי ישמעאל: "להגדיל תורה ולהאדיר"...

Translation and Textual Breakdown

The Gemara asks: With regard to what do the tanna of the study hall (the School of Rav) and the tanna of the school of Rabbi Yishmael disagree? They disagree with regard to a grasshopper whose head is long. According to the tanna of the study hall it is prohibited, and according to the tanna of the school of Rabbi Yishmael it is permitted.

The Gemara elaborates: The tanna of the study hall holds that the biblical passage is structured as a "generalization and a detail" (klall u'prat). The phrase "which have jointed legs" Leviticus 11:21 is a generalization. The specific species mentioned—"the arbeh (locust), the solam (bald locust), the chargol (cricket), and the chagav (grasshopper)"—along with the phrase "after its kinds" that appears after each, are a detail.

As a rule of hermeneutics, in any instance of a generalization and a detail, the generalization includes only that which is spelled out in the detail. Therefore, only grasshoppers of the same species as those detailed in the verse are kosher. Since all the named species have short, rounded heads, any grasshopper with a long, elongated head is forbidden.

By contrast, the tanna of the school of Rabbi Yishmael holds that the passage is structured as a generalization, a detail, and a generalization (klall u'prat u'klall). The phrase "which have jointed legs" is the first generalization. The four species are the detail. And the phrase "after its kinds" is the second generalization.

According to this rule of interpretation, you may deduce that the verse refers only to items similar to the detail. The verse therefore amplifies the law to include any grasshopper that is similar to the named species in even one aspect—namely, that it possesses the four basic physical signs listed in the Mishnah, even if its head is long and elongated.

Following this, the Gemara transitions to the signs of kosher fish: And with regard to fish, any fish that has a fin (senappir) and a scale (kaskeset) is kosher. The Gemara asks: Since we have a rule that any fish with scales also has fins, why did the Torah need to write both? Why not just write "scales"?

Rabbi Abbahu said, and so the tanna of the school of Rabbi Yishmael taught: The Holy One, Blessed be He, wished to bestow good upon the Jewish people. Therefore, He made their Torah abundant and expanded some aspects of it more than strictly necessary, as it is written: "The Lord was pleased, for His righteousness' sake, to make Torah great and glorious" Isaiah 42:21.

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Classical Commentary Insights

To unpack this rich Talmudic debate, we turn to the classic commentators, whose insights shed light on how these texts were studied in the Sephardic world.

Rashi on Chullin 66a:1:1

Rashi, the master of concise explanation, clarifies the core of the dispute:

במאי קא מיפלגי תנא דבי ר' ישמעאל - דמייתי ליה סלעם לרבויי ראשו ארוך ואייתר ליה חגב למעוטי צרצור ותנא דברייתא קמייתא דמיבעי ליה כולהו לגופייהו:

Translation:
"With regard to what do they disagree? The tanna of the school of Rabbi Yishmael"—who uses the mention of the solam to include a grasshopper whose head is long, leaving the word chagav to exclude the tsirtsur (cricket). Whereas the tanna of the first baraita (the School of Rav) requires all the mentioned species for their own specific definitions, without using them for these hermeneutical expansions.

Rashi on Chullin 66a:1:2

Rashi also explains the terminology used for the different schools:

תנא דבי רב - קרי לברייתא קמייתא ששנויה בתורת כהנים דמקרי ספרא דבי רב לפי שהיה שגור בבית המדרש בפי כולם אבל ברייתא דתנא דבי ר"י לא היתה שגורה אלא בפי תלמידיו:

Translation:
"The tanna of the school of Rav"—refers to the first baraita which is taught in the Torat Kohanim (the Halakhic Midrash on Leviticus), also called Sifra de-vei Rav, because it was fluent and widely rehearsed in the mouths of everyone in the study hall. In contrast, the baraita of the school of Rabbi Yishmael was not as widely rehearsed, except in the mouths of his specific disciples.

This distinction highlights the pedagogical landscape of the early academies. The Sifra de-vei Rav represented the mainstream, standardized curriculum of the Babylonian academies, whereas Rabbi Yishmael’s methodology represented a specialized, highly analytical school of hermeneutics.

Tosafot on Chullin 66a:1:1

The Tosafists raise a vital practical question regarding the slaughter of grasshoppers, drawing on a wide array of Talmudic proofs:

בסוף שמעתא פי' בקונטרס דחגבים הללו אין טעונין שחיטה שהרי אחר דגים הזכירן הכתוב... בהלכות גדולות כך פי'... ובכמה מקומות בש"ס מוכח דשרו בלא שחיטה... חגב טמא אין מצניעין לקטן דלמא מיית ואכיל ליה אבל חגב טהור אין לחוש... קאמר אוציא דם דגים וחגבים שכולם היתר ומפרש דאין טעונין שחיטה... אוכל אדם דגים וחגבים בין חיים ובין מתים ואינו חושש...

Translation:
"At the end of the passage, the Kuntres (Rashi) explained that these grasshoppers do not require ritual slaughter (shechita), for the verse mentions them adjacent to fish... This is also the explanation in the Halakhot Gedolot... And in several places in the Talmud it is proven that they are permitted without shechita... [For example,] 'A tamei grasshopper may not be hidden away for a child lest it die and he eat it, but regarding a tahor grasshopper we have no such concern' Shabbat 90b... And it says, 'I exclude the blood of fish and grasshoppers, which are entirely permitted,' explaining that they do not require shechita Keritot 21a... And we learned in the Tosefta: 'A person may eat fish and grasshoppers whether they are alive or dead, and need not worry'..."

This Tosafot is crucial because it establishes the foundational law governing the consumption of kosher insects: unlike mammals and poultry, grasshoppers require no ritual slaughter (shechita). They are considered entirely fit for consumption from the moment they are gathered, provided they belong to a kosher species. This halakhic reality made them a highly accessible, portable, and immediate source of nourishment for desert-dwelling communities.

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Minhag/Melody

The Living Mesorah of the Hagav

In the Yemenite and Moroccan traditions, the dry legal classifications of Chullin 66a take on vibrant, sensory forms. While the Talmud debates the geometry of a grasshopper’s head—whether it is long or short—the Jews of Yemen had a direct, empirical vocabulary for these creatures.

To a Yemenite Jew, the kosher desert locust is known in Arabic as the diba (or jarad in classical Arabic). They did not need to measure the head of the insect with calipers because they possessed an active, living mesorah (tradition) that identified this specific species as the biblical arbeh.

The identification process was meticulous yet deeply integrated into folk knowledge. According to the Mishnah in Mishnah Chullin 3:7, a kosher grasshopper must possess four primary signs:

1. Four walking legs.
2. Four wings.
3. Two jointed leaping legs (kerayim).
4. Wings that cover the majority of its body.

But the Yemenite mesorah added a beautiful, visual mnemonic that was taught to children in the heder (local schoolroom, known in Yemen as the m'ari): on the thorax of the kosher desert locust, there is a distinct pattern of lines that resembles the Hebrew letter Chet (ח). This letter, the elders explained, stood for Chagav (grasshopper) or Chai (life). It was a literal stamp of kashrut written by the hand of Heaven onto the very body of the insect.

       \   /      <- Antennae
     ( o _ o )    <- Short, rounded head (Tanna de-vei Rav)
      /  |  \
     /   |   \
    |   [ח]   |   <- The "Chet" mark on the thorax
    |=========|   <- Wings covering the body
     / |   | \
    /  |   |  \   <- Leaping legs (Kerayim)

In Morocco, particularly in the southern regions of the Sous Valley, the arrival of the locusts (el-jarad) was met with a similar, highly organized response. When a swarm was sighted, the local rabbi would go out to inspect the first catches. The Moroccan Jews distinguished between the jarad (the kosher desert locust) and other, non-kosher species of grasshoppers, which they called bofat or tsirtsur. Once the rabbi verified that the swarm was indeed the kosher species, the entire community was permitted to harvest them.

The Culinary Alchemy of the Desert

The gathering of the locusts was an art form in itself. Because grasshoppers are cold-blooded, they become stiff and immobile during the cool hours of the night and early morning. The community would set out before dawn, carrying large woven baskets. They would find the locusts clinging to the branches of trees and shrubs, completely dormant. It was a simple matter of shaking the branches and gathering the sleeping insects by the thousands.

The preparation of the ḥagavim was a joyous, communal event that combined culinary skill with strict adherence to halakha:

• The Boiling: Large copper cauldrons of heavily salted water were set over open wood fires in the courtyards. The live locusts were plunged into the boiling water. This served a double purpose: it killed them instantly and seasoned them deeply.
• The Toasting: After boiling, the locusts were spread out on the flat clay roofs of the houses to dry in the intense Arabian or North African sun. Alternatively, they were tossed on a hot tabun (clay oven) or griddle until they became dry and brittle.
• The Cleaning: Once dried, the wings, small legs, and heads were easily pinched off. The remaining body—rich in protein and boasting a flavor that community members describe as a cross between roasted almonds, dried fish, and crispy potato skins—was ready to eat.
• The Storage: Because they were completely dehydrated and salted, these locusts could be stored in large earthenware jars for months without spoiling. They served as a vital nutritional reserve during times of drought and famine when crops failed.

Singing the Diwan: Sustenance in the Sands

This physical sustenance was deeply intertwined with spiritual song. In the Yemenite tradition, poetry and song are not performance arts; they are the oxygen of religious life. The songs of the Yemenite Jews are compiled in the Diwan, a sacred hymnal containing the Hebrew, Aramaic, and Arabic poetry of the great 17th-century sage Rabbi Shalom Shabazi and his predecessors.

When a locust swarm arrived, it was a time of intense theological reflection. On one hand, the swarm threatened the crops; on the other hand, it provided immediate, abundant food. The community would gather in the synagogues and homes, singing the shirot (metred songs) from the Diwan.

One of the most famous piyutim sung during times of agricultural anxiety and hope is S'eeli Teiman ("Ask of Yemen") or Im Ninalu ("Even if the gates of the wealthy are locked, the gates of Heaven are never locked"). The melody of these songs is characterized by a haunting, microtonal vocal delivery, accompanied not by melodic instruments (which were banned in Yemen as a sign of mourning for the destruction of the Temple), but by the rhythmic beating of a metal tin or copper tray (sahn), and the rhythmic swaying of the singers.

אִם נִנְעֲלוּ שַׁעֲרֵי נְדִיבִים / שַׁעֲרֵי מָרוֹם לֹא נִנְעֲלוּ
אֵל חַי הָרָאשֶׁה עַל כְּרוּבִים / כֻּלָּם בְּרוּחוֹ יַעֲלוּ...

As the sahn resounded with a sharp, metallic ring, the community would sing of their absolute dependence on El Chai (the Living God). They saw the ḥagavim as a physical manifestation of this piyut: even when the gates of agricultural abundance were locked by drought, the gates of Heaven were opened, raining down edible, kosher manna in the form of the desert locust. The act of eating the ḥagav became a physical thanksgiving, a lived commentary on the verse, "You open Your hand and satisfy every living thing with favor" Psalms 145:16.

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To Make the Torah Great and Glorious

This integration of the physical and the spiritual brings us back to the beautiful teaching of Rabbi Abbahu in our Text Snapshot:

"The Holy One, Blessed be He, wished to bestow good upon the Jewish people. Therefore, He made their Torah abundant... 'to make Torah great and glorious'" Isaiah 42:21.

In the Sephardic worldview, the abundance of commandments (mitzvot) and physical signs—such as the requirement of both fins and scales for fish, or the complex anatomical signs of the grasshopper—is not a burden. It is a profound act of divine love.

Rabbi Abbahu, who lived in the vibrant, cosmopolitan coastal city of Caesarea, was intimately familiar with the diverse culinary cultures of the Roman-Byzantine world. He understood that by sanctifying our physical acts—specifically what we choose to put into our bodies—the Torah elevates the mundane act of eating into a temple service.

The fact that a fish must have both fins and scales, even though any fish with scales automatically has fins, is not a redundancy. It is an invitation to look closer, to study the architecture of creation, and to find the divine signature in the silver scales of a sea bream or the jointed legs of a desert locust. The Torah is made "great and glorious" because it leaves no corner of the physical world unexamined, no human experience unsanctified.

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Contrast

The Silent Sky vs. The Living Tradition

The halakhic history of kosher grasshoppers offers a fascinating study in contrast between the Sephardi/Mizrahi world and the Ashkenazi world. It highlights how geography, climate, and the presence or absence of a living oral tradition shape the practical application of Jewish law.

Feature	Yemenite / Moroccan Tradition (Mizrahi)	Ashkenazi Tradition
Geographic Exposure	High; located in the active migratory paths of the desert locust (Schistocerca gregaria).	Low to none; Northern and Eastern Europe are outside the habitat of migratory locusts.
Mesorah (Oral Chain)	Unbroken; active, daily, and generational knowledge of names, signs, and species.	Interrupted; lost over centuries due to lack of physical contact with the insects.
Halakhic Rulings	Permitted; based on continuous local rabbinic verification of the species.	Forbidden; restricted due to the lack of an active, verifiable identification tradition.
Key Textual Authority	Shulchan Aruch (Rabbi Yosef Karo); local customs of Sana'a and Fez.	Rema (Rabbi Moshe Isserles) Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 85:1.

In the Ashkenazi world, because the cold, damp European climate prevented locust swarms from ever reaching their fields, the physical reality of the chagav receded from daily life. Over the centuries, the specific visual and oral traditions required to identify which grasshoppers were kosher were lost.

Consequently, the great Ashkenazi codifier, Rabbi Moshe Isserles (the Rema), recorded a cautious ruling that became standard for all Ashkenazi Jews:

"We do not eat them because we are no longer expert in their names and signs, and we do not have an unbroken tradition (mesorah) regarding them" Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah 85:1.

This Ashkenazi approach is deeply respectful and logical: out of fear of violating a biblical prohibition by accidentally eating a non-kosher insect, the community chose to withdraw from the practice entirely. They chose the path of caution, protecting the integrity of the Torah through restraint.

By contrast, the Jews of Yemen and Morocco did not have to worry about a lack of expertise. For them, the mesorah was never a theoretical reconstruction; it was an uninterrupted reality. A Yemenite grandmother could identify a kosher diba with the same absolute certainty that an Ashkenazi grandmother could identify a potato or a chicken.

To force the Yemenite community to stop eating the locusts would actually be a destruction of Torah, because it would mean letting a precious, Sinaitic tradition die out.

Thus, we see two beautiful, equally holy paths of halakhic integrity:

• The Ashkenazi path of sacred caution, preserving the Torah by refraining from that which has become uncertain.
• The Yemenite/Moroccan path of sacred memory, preserving the Torah by actively maintaining and celebrating a living, unbroken chain of physical knowledge.

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The Swordfish Saga: Scales of Controversy

A parallel contrast exists in the realm of kosher fish, specifically regarding the swordfish (Xiphias gladius). This debate brings the words of Chullin 66a regarding fish that "shed their scales when they rise from the water" into sharp, contemporary focus.

       _______________________________________________
      /                                               \____
=====<  (o)                             ===================D
      \_______________________________________________/
                      ||             ||
                 No adult scales     Juvenile scales present

According to our Text Snapshot, the Gemara states:

"Likewise, if it has scales now but will shed them when it is caught and rises from the water... it is permitted" Chullin 66a.

In the Mediterranean Sephardic world—including the Jewish communities of Turkey, Greece, and Italy—the swordfish was historically considered a highly prized, kosher fish. The great Sephardic halakhic authority Rabbi Chaim Benveniste (1603–1673), author of the monumental halakhic work Knesset HaGedolah, ruled unequivocally that the swordfish is kosher.

He and other Mediterranean sages observed that while an adult, mature swordfish swimming in the sea appears to have smooth, scaleless skin, the juvenile swordfish possesses distinct, microscopic scales. Furthermore, when the adult swordfish is caught and dragged into the boat, it sheds its remaining scales due to its violent thrashing. This physical phenomenon aligned perfectly with the Talmudic description of fish like the akunas or the atunas which shed their scales upon leaving the water.

For centuries, Sephardic Jews in Izmir, Salonica, and Rome enjoyed swordfish as a staple of their Shabbat meals. However, in the mid-twentieth century, several prominent Ashkenazi halakhic authorities and modern kashrut agencies in America and Israel reassessed the biology of the swordfish. They argued that the "scales" of the juvenile swordfish are actually deeply embedded bony tubercles that cannot be easily removed without tearing the skin—a requirement for the halakhic definition of kaskeset (scales) established by some commentators.

This led to a widespread Ashkenazi ban on swordfish, which persists today in most mainstream kosher certifications.

Once again, we see a respectful contrast in halakhic methodology:

• The Sephardic approach leans heavily on historical continuity, local empirical observation, and the authoritative rulings of Mediterranean sages who lived in daily contact with coastal fishing industries.
• The Ashkenazi approach applies a highly structured, textual definition of scale morphology, prioritizing stringency and caution in the face of modern scientific descriptions.

Both approaches represent a profound desire to align one's physical life with the divine will, demonstrating how the same page of Chullin 66a can bear different, beautiful fruits across the global Jewish family.

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Home Practice

Cultivating a Conscious Palate

While you may not be ready or able to source kosher-certified desert locusts for your next dinner party, you can bring the profound, sensory-rich, and historically aware spirit of the Sephardi/Mizrahi heritage into your home today.

Here is one small, beautiful adoption that anyone can try:

The "Sinaitic Mindfulness" Table Blessing

The next time you prepare fish for Shabbat, or when you introduce a new, uniquely shaped fruit or vegetable into your kitchen, transform the preparation into an act of Lehagdil Torah u'l'ha'adir—to make the Torah great and glorious.

               [ THE THREE-STEP MINDFULNESS PRACTICE ]

1. THE INSPECTION:
   Before cooking, pause and look at the physical architecture of the food.
   If it is a whole fish (like sea bream or snapper), run your fingers over
   the scales. Feel their texture. Point out the fins. 

2. THE TALMUDIC CORRELATION:
   Share a brief word of Torah at your table. Recall the words of Chullin 66a:
   "Any fish that has scales certainly has fins." Connect this to Rabbi Abbahu's
   teaching that God gave us these physical signs as a gift of love, to train
   our eyes to see the divine design in the everyday.

3. THE MELODY OF GRATITUDE:
   When you sit down to eat, do not rush. Sing a classic Sephardic piyut or
   a song of gratitude (such as a song from the Yemenite Diwan or a Moroccan
   melody for Eshet Chayil). Let the physical flavor of the food and the
   spiritual beauty of the song blend together.

By slowing down and consciously observing the physical signs of our food, we step out of the modern, industrial alienation that disconnects us from what we eat. We step into the shoes of our ancestors in Yemen and Morocco, who looked at the natural world not as something to be ignored or feared, but as a direct, physical love letter from the Creator.

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Takeaway

The legacy of Sephardi and Mizrahi heritage is a powerful reminder that our relationship with God is meant to be lived with all five of our senses. The legal disputes of Chullin 66a—the geometry of a grasshopper’s head, the shedding of fish scales, the hermeneutical rules of Rabbi Yishmael—are not abstract, mathematical equations. They are the spiritual DNA of our physical world.

When we study these texts through the lens of the Yemenite and Moroccan mesorah, we discover a Judaism that is:

• Empirical: Rooted in a deep, scientific, and practical knowledge of the earth.
• Resilient: Capable of transforming a desert plague into a joyous, salted feast of survival.
• Joyous: Always ready to burst into song, matching the rhythm of the sahn with the hunger of the soul.

Let us carry this pride and texture forward. Let us look at our tables, our traditions, and our natural world with the wide, appreciative eyes of Rabbi Abbahu, recognizing that every detail of the Torah is a gift designed to make our lives "great and glorious."