Chullin 85

Hook

Have you ever felt like you had to do something perfectly, or else there was no point in doing it at all?

We live in a world that is absolutely obsessed with perfection. We are constantly bombarded with images of flawless lifestyles, seamless careers, and perfectly curated feeds. If we cannot commit to a rigorous, ninety-minute workout, we might skip the gym entirely. If we do not have the time to cook a gourmet, organic meal from scratch, we might give up and order greasy takeout. We love neat boxes, clear-cut categories, and flawless execution.

But real life is rarely neat. Real life is wonderfully, beautifully, and sometimes frustratingly messy. It is lived in the grey areas, in the transitions, and in our noble but imperfect attempts to do good.

What if our mistakes, our half-measures, and our "close-but-not-quite" moments actually hold deep, sacred value? What if the universe does not demand flawless execution from us, but instead honors the messy reality of our trying?

This week, we are diving into a fascinating page of the Talmud—an ancient collection of rabbinic debates and Jewish teachings—specifically Chullin 85a. This text tackles this exact human dilemma through the lens of ancient laws. The rabbis of the Talmud look at various grey areas: animals that do not fit into neat categories, people whose gender identity is beautifully complex, and actions that do not go exactly as planned. Through these seemingly dry legal debates, they ask a profound question that we still struggle with today: does an imperfect action still count? Let's explore how these ancient discussions can help us embrace our own beautifully imperfect lives today.

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Context

Welcome to the lively, noisy, and deeply thoughtful world of the Talmud! Before we jump into the text itself, let’s set the stage so you feel right at home with who is speaking, when this happened, and what these terms actually mean.

• Who is talking: This text features a spirited debate between some of the heavyweights of early Jewish thought. We meet Rabbi Meir, a second-century sage famous for his brilliant, out-of-the-box logic, and his contemporary Rabbi Shimon, who is known for looking at the deep intentions behind our actions. We also hear from Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the famous second-century editor-in-chief of the Mishnah, which is the foundational code of Jewish law.
• When and Where: This conversation took place in the Land of Israel during the second and third centuries of the Common Era. This was a time of massive transition. The Great Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed, and the Jewish community was rebuilding their lives and their spiritual practices from the ground up. They were writing down their oral traditions to ensure they would never be lost.
• Where in the Bookshelf: This text comes from Tractate Chullin, a volume of the Talmud. Tractate Chullin primarily deals with non-sacred animal slaughter and the everyday dietary laws of keeping kosher.
• Key Terms to Know:
  • Talmud: A multi-volume collection of ancient Jewish legal and storytelling debates. (11 words)
  • Mishnah: The first written collection of Jewish oral traditions and laws. (10 words)
  • Gemara: Rabbinic commentary and debates that unpack and explain the Mishnah. (10 words)
  • Mitzvah: A divine commandment or sacred deed that connects us to God. (10 words)
  • Kosher: Food that satisfies the requirements of Jewish ritual dietary law. (10 words)
  • Tereifa: An animal with a fatal defect that makes it non-kosher. (10 words)
  • Tumtum: A person with indeterminate or hidden physical sex characteristics. (9 words)
  • Koy: An animal whose status as wild or domesticated is uncertain. (10 words)
  • Shechita: The Jewish ritual method of slaughtering animals humanely. (8 words)
  • Shofar: A ram's horn blown like a trumpet during sacred times. (10 words)
  • Rosh HaShana: The Jewish New Year, a holy day of reflection and prayer. (11 words)
  • Shabbat: The Jewish day of rest, from Friday night to Saturday night. (11 words)

Now that we have our bearings, let’s look at the text itself.

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Text Snapshot

Below is a snapshot of the debate from Chullin 85a. You can view the full page and explore its surrounding context on Sefaria: https://www.sefaria.org/Chullin_85.

MISHNA: In the case of one who slaughters an undomesticated animal or a bird and it is discovered to be a tereifa [an animal with a fatal injury]... Rabbi Meir deems one obligated to cover its blood, and the Rabbis deem one exempt...

GEMARA: Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi saw as correct the statement of Rabbi Meir with regard to the prohibition against slaughtering a mother and its offspring on the same day... And he saw as correct the statement of Rabbi Shimon with regard to the mitzvah [sacred deed] of covering the blood...

The Gemara asks: What is the reason that Rabbi Meir holds that an ineffective slaughter is considered an act of slaughter? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: He derives it from sacrificial animals slaughtered outside the Temple...

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Close Reading

Now, let's slow down and unpack this fascinating text together. At first glance, this page of the Talmud might look like a hyper-technical debate about ancient ritual slaughter and animal categories. But when we look closer with the help of classical commentaries, we find beautiful, timeless insights about identity, imperfection, and how we navigate our complex lives.

Insight 1: Embracing the Grey Areas (The Koy and the Tumtum)

The Talmudic discussion begins with a puzzle about ambiguity. The rabbis are discussing a koy—an animal that is a cross between a wild beast (like a deer) and a domesticated beast (like a goat). Why does this matter? Because in Jewish tradition, if you slaughter a wild beast, you are commanded to perform the mitzvah [sacred deed] of covering its spilled blood with earth. If you slaughter a domesticated beast, you do not cover the blood.

So, what do you do with a koy, which is a bit of both? It is a walking grey area!

To figure this out, the Talmud compares the koy to a human category: the tumtum [a person with indeterminate sex]. On Rosh HaShana [the Jewish New Year], men are obligated to hear the blasts of the shofar [a ram's horn trumpet], while women are traditionally exempt from this specific time-bound commandment. But what about a tumtum, whose gender is ambiguous?

Let’s look at how the great medieval commentator Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki) explains this. In his commentary on Rashi on Chullin 85a:1:1, he writes:

אלא ספק איש - ודוחה יום טוב גמור: "Rather, a doubtful man—and it overrides a full Festival."

Rashi is pointing out something revolutionary. Because a tumtum might be a man, we do not sidelight them. We do not say, "Well, since we aren't sure, let's just skip it." Instead, we blow the shofar [a ram's horn trumpet] for them, even on a major festival day when unnecessary labor is prohibited. We override the usual holiday restrictions to make space for their potential obligation.

The modern commentary by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz in Steinsaltz on Chullin 85a:1 expands on this beautifully:

אלא צריך אתה לומר שמדובר ב ספק איש ספק אשה, כגון טומטום, וביום טוב ודאי. שלמרות שאשה פטורה מתקיעת שופר, טומטום שהוא ספק איש ספק אישה — חייב בתקיעת שופר. ומכאן יש ללמוד שגם כוי, שהוא ספק בהמה ספק חיה — טעון כיסוי ביום טוב. "Rather, you must say that we are dealing with a doubtful man or doubtful woman, such as a tumtum, and on a definite Festival. For although a woman is exempt from sounding the shofar, a tumtum who is a doubtful man or doubtful woman is obligated in sounding the shofar. And from here we can derive that a koy, which is a doubtful domestic animal or doubtful wild animal, requires covering of the blood on a Festival."

Think about what is happening here. The Talmud is refusing to let doubt lead to inaction. In the face of uncertainty—whether it is an animal that doesn't fit our biological categories, or a human being whose physical body doesn't fit our gender binaries—the Talmud's instinct is to lean in, include, and perform the sacred action anyway.

For us today, this is a powerful reminder that we do not need to have everything figured out to participate in sacred moments. You don't need to have a perfect, uncomplicated identity or a flawless understanding of your path to show up. The grey areas of our lives are not barriers to holiness; they are the very places where holiness happens.

Insight 2: Does an Imperfect Action Still Count? (The Unfit Slaughter Debate)

The second major discussion on our page moves from ambiguous identities to imperfect actions.

Imagine you are trying to perform shechita [Jewish ritual animal slaughter]. You do everything by the book, but right after the cut, you discover the animal had a hidden, fatal internal wound. Legally, this animal is a tereifa [a fatally injured non-kosher animal] and cannot be eaten. Your act of slaughter did not achieve its primary goal of producing kosher [permitted] food.

Does your action still count as a "slaughter" in the eyes of Jewish law, or is it a total write-off?

This is where our two sages, Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Shimon, go head-to-head:

• Rabbi Meir says: Yes! An unfit slaughter is still legally considered an act of slaughter. The effort and the action still hold status.
• Rabbi Shimon says: No. If it doesn't lead to a kosher [permitted] meal, it doesn't count as a valid slaughter.

Let’s look at how the Talmud tries to understand Rabbi Meir's logic. Steinsaltz on Chullin 85a:10 explains:

ושואלים: מאי טעמא של ר' מאיר באותו ואת בנו? אמר ר' יהושע בן לוי: גמר בגזירה שווה שחיטה שחיטה משחוטי חוץ... "And they ask: What is Rabbi Meir's reason regarding 'it and its offspring'? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: He derives it through a verbal analogy of 'slaughter' and 'slaughter' from sacrificial animals slaughtered outside..."

Rabbi Meir connects this to the laws of sacrifices brought outside the Temple courtyard. Even though bringing a sacrifice outside the proper place is spiritually "unfit" and forbidden, the Torah [the first five biblical books] still calls it an act of "slaughter."

The medieval commentator Rabbeinu Gershom, in Rabbeinu Gershom on Chullin 85a:4, simplifies this beautifully:

מה התם שחיטה שאינה ראויה שמה שחיטה. כלומר שחוטי חוץ שחיטה שאינה ראויה היא וקרי ליה שחיטה: "Just as there, an unfit slaughter is called slaughter. That is to say, slaughter outside the Temple is an unfit slaughter, yet the Torah calls it slaughter."

And Steinsaltz on Chullin 85a:11 adds:

מה התם, בשחיטת חוץ — שחיטה שאינה ראויה לאכילה שמה שחיטה... אף הכא נמי, לענין אותו ואת בנו — שחיטה שאינה ראויה שמה שחיטה להתחייב עליה. "Just as there, regarding slaughter outside, a slaughter that is unfit for eating is still called slaughter... so too here, regarding 'it and its offspring,' an unfit slaughter is called slaughter..."

For Rabbi Meir, the status of an action is not defined solely by its ultimate, perfect outcome. The physical act of making the cut, the intention, and the framework of the deed still matter. It is still recognized.

On the other hand, Rabbi Shimon believes that an action must achieve its intended, practical goal to be real. Rashi, commenting on Rabbi Shimon's view in Rashi on Chullin 85a:12:1, writes:

מה להלן שחיטה ראויה - כדכתיב (בראשית מג) כי אתי יאכלו: "Just as there, it must be a fit slaughter, as it is written (Genesis 43:16): 'for they shall eat with me.'"

Rabbi Shimon points to the story of Joseph in Genesis 43:16, where the word "slaughter" is used in the context of preparing a feast. To Rabbi Shimon, if you can't sit down and eat the meal, the slaughter never truly happened.

This debate is a beautiful metaphor for our own lives. Who do you agree with?

• Are you like Rabbi Shimon, believing that if an endeavor doesn't succeed in its ultimate goal, it was a waste of time?
• Or are you like Rabbi Meir, who believes that the very act of trying, the energy we pour into our deeds, and the steps we take have intrinsic value, even if the final result is flawed?

The Talmud validates both perspectives, but as we will see, it leans toward a very compassionate middle ground.

Insight 3: The Wisdom of the Split Decision (Why Context is Everything)

How does Jewish law resolve this debate? This is where the plot thickens. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, the great editor of the Mishnah [the oral law code], does something unexpected. He doesn't just pick one rabbi and apply their rule across the board.

Instead, he splits the difference. In one area of law (the prohibition of slaughtering an animal and its offspring on the same day), he rules like Rabbi Meir—the imperfect action does count. In another area of law (the obligation to cover the blood), he rules like Rabbi Shimon—the imperfect action does not count.

Why would he do this? Isn't that legally inconsistent?

The brilliant 19th-century commentator known as the Dor Revi'i (Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner) addresses this exact question in Dor Revi'i on Chullin 85a:2:1-2:

עוד שם גמר׳ מ״ט דר״מ באוא״ב וכו׳... אבל עתה דרואה שרבנו הקדוש פוסק כאן כמר וכאן כמר ע״כ דאין טעם הדבר שוה בכל אלו, ולכן צריך להמציא דרשות חלוקות לכל או״א כדי שיוצדק טעם לפסק רבנו הקדוש, דראה לפסוק כאן כמר וכאן כמר... "Additionally there in the Gemara, what is Rabbi Meir's reason... but now that we see that our holy teacher [Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi] rules here like this master and there like that master, we must conclude that the underlying reason is not identical in all of these cases. Therefore, we must find distinct explanations for each one to justify the ruling..."

The Dor Revi'i teaches us a profound lesson about wisdom versus rigidity. A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds. Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi understood that life is too complex for blanket, copy-paste rules.

In some areas of life, we need to hold ourselves to Rabbi Shimon's standard of concrete outcomes. If we are building a bridge, performing surgery, or doing our taxes, we want a perfect, fit outcome. "Almost right" doesn't cut it.

But in other areas of life—especially in our relationships, our spiritual lives, and our personal growth—we desperately need Rabbi Meir's compassionate lens. We need to know that our imperfect, messy, "unfit" attempts to show up, to love, and to do good still count.

By splitting his rulings, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi teaches us that wisdom lies in knowing which standard to apply to which moment. We are allowed to be masterpieces and works-in-progress all at the same time.

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Apply It

How do we take this ancient wisdom about grey areas and imperfect actions and bring it into our busy, modern lives? Let's try a simple, daily practice that takes less than a minute.

The 60-Second "Imperfect Offering" Practice

This week, give yourself permission to do one small, sacred thing imperfectly. We often let "perfect" become the enemy of "good." This practice is about reclaiming the beauty of the attempt.

• Step 1: Identify your "Unfit Slaughter." Think of one small, positive habit you have been avoiding because you don't have the time or energy to do it perfectly. It could be meditating, exercising, reading, tidying up, or connecting with a loved one.
• Step 2: Do it poorly for 60 seconds.
  • Option A: Do a 60-second stretch in your pajamas instead of a full workout.
  • Option B: Sit in silence and take just three deep breaths instead of a full meditation session.
  • Option C: Send a quick text that says, "Thinking of you! No need to reply, just wanted to send some love," instead of waiting for a long, perfect phone call.
  • Option D: Read just one paragraph of a book you want to finish.
• Step 3: Say the Meir Mantra. As you finish your 60-second action, take a deep breath and say to yourself: "Like Rabbi Meir taught, the imperfect action still counts."

By doing this, you are training your brain to value consistency and effort over flawless execution. You are teaching yourself that showing up, even in a messy grey area, is a holy act.

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Chevruta Mini

In Jewish tradition, we don't study alone. We study in a chevruta [a learning partner for studying texts]. This allows us to bounce ideas off each other, challenge our assumptions, and hear different perspectives.

Find a friend, a family member, or a partner this week, share this text with them, and discuss these two questions together. If you are learning solo, try journaling your thoughts!

1. The "Close Enough" Dilemma: Think back to a time in your life when you poured your heart into something (a project, a relationship, a personal goal) but the final outcome was "unfit" or didn't turn out the way you planned. Looking back, do you agree more with Rabbi Meir (that your effort and the process had intrinsic, lasting value) or Rabbi Shimon (that without the successful outcome, it didn't really count)? Why?
2. Navigating the Grey: The Talmud compares the koy (the ambiguous animal) to the tumtum (the person of indeterminate gender) to show how we must make space for uncertainty in our communities. Where in your life right now are you facing a "grey area" where you don't fit into a neat, comfortable category? How can you show yourself more compassion and space in that ambiguity?

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Takeaway

Remember this: Your imperfect attempts to do good are not failures; they are sacred, valuable steps on the path of a beautifully human life.