Chullin 85

Welcome

Welcome to this exploration of one of the most fascinating and intellectually vibrant texts in the Jewish library. For centuries, the Jewish people have turned to the Talmud—not just as a dry manual of do's and don'ts, but as a living, breathing canvas for ethical inquiry, community building, and personal refinement. The passage we are looking at today, from a tractate called Chullin Chullin 85a, matters deeply because it shows how ancient wisdom tackles the messy, beautiful complexities of our world. It reveals a culture that refuses to ignore life’s grey areas, choosing instead to meet uncertainty with profound empathy, intellectual rigor, and an unwavering respect for all living things.

---

Context

To understand this text, it helps to step back and look at the world from which it emerged. Here are three key points to ground our reading:

• Who, When, and Where: This text is a transcript of discussions that took place between the second and fifth centuries CE. The speakers are Rabbinic Sages living in the Land of Israel and Babylonia (modern-day Iraq). Rather than presenting a single, dogmatic voice, the text captures a multi-generational debate where different perspectives are preserved, honored, and thoroughly analyzed.
• The Textual Landscape: This passage belongs to the Talmud, which is a massive, multi-volume compilation of Jewish law, ethics, and philosophy. Specifically, we are reading from the Mishnah (an ancient compilation of Jewish oral laws) and the Gemara (the Rabbinic commentary analyzing the Mishnah). Together, they form a vast dialogue that seeks to apply the ethical teachings of the Hebrew Bible to the practical realities of daily life.
• Defining the Core Subject: The primary discussion here revolves around a beautiful, ancient ritual called kisuy hadam (the practice of covering animal blood with earth after slaughter). In the biblical tradition, blood represents the vital life force of a creature Leviticus 17:11. Covering it is an act of deep humility and respect, acknowledging the gravity of taking a life for human sustenance. The Sages in this passage are debating exactly when, how, and for which animals this respectful ritual must be performed.

---

Text Snapshot

The following passage from the Talmud Chullin 85a highlights a debate about what to do when we encounter creatures of uncertain identity, and whether an imperfect or "unfit" action still carries spiritual and ethical significance:

"Rather, it must be that the uncertainty... concerns whether a particular individual is a man or a woman, e.g., a tumtum [an individual of indeterminate physical sex]... Although a woman is not obligated in the sounding of the shofar [a ritual horn blown on high holidays], a tumtum is in fact obligated, despite the uncertainty... It is therefore possible to derive... that if one slaughters a koy [an animal of uncertain wild or domesticated status]... one covers its blood."

---

Values Lens

When we look beneath the surface of these ancient legal arguments, we find a treasure trove of universal human values. The Sages were not merely arguing about ancient farming practices or ritual technicalities; they were using these concrete examples to work through profound questions about human dignity, the nature of action, and our relationship with the natural world.

Value 1: Honoring Ambiguity and Creating Space for the Unclassifiable

One of the most striking aspects of this Talmudic passage is its comfort with ambiguity. In our modern world, we often crave neat, binary categories. We want things to be black or white, male or female, wild or tame, correct or incorrect. When something falls into the middle, we often feel anxious, and our temptation is to force it into a box where it does not fit, or to ignore it entirely.

The Sages of the Talmud take a radically different approach. In this text, they discuss two fascinating "in-between" entities:

1. The Tumtum: An individual born with indeterminate physical sex.
2. The Koy: An animal that possesses characteristics of both a domesticated sheep and a wild deer, making its biological classification uncertain.

Instead of viewing these beings as errors of nature or legal inconveniences, the Sages treat them with immense serious-mindedness. They do not cast them out of the community or exempt them from spiritual life. For instance, when discussing the shofar—the ram's horn blown on the Jewish New Year—the Sages note that while women are traditionally exempt from this particular time-bound obligation, a person of indeterminate sex is fully obligated to hear it Chullin 85a:1.

As the great modern scholar Adin Steinsaltz notes in his commentary on this passage, the Sages lean toward inclusion and stringency when dealing with doubt Chullin 85a:1. They ask: How can we ensure this person is fully integrated into the spiritual life of the community, despite the biological ambiguity?

Similarly, because they are unsure whether the koy is a wild beast (whose blood must be covered after slaughter) or a domesticated animal (whose blood does not require covering), they rule that one must cover its blood anyway. They do not let uncertainty lead to inaction or a disregard for life.

This reveals a profound ethical value: the refusal to marginalize the unclassifiable. In a world that often demands conformity, this ancient text models a way of thinking that honors the "in-between" spaces of existence. It teaches us that when we encounter people, ideas, or situations that do not fit into our pre-existing categories, our duty is not to erase their uniqueness, but to expand our frameworks to make room for them.

Value 2: The Anatomy of an Action—Form Versus Function

At the heart of Chullin 85 is a deep, philosophical debate between two legendary scholars, Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Shimon, regarding the definition of a human action.

The debate centers on a scenario where someone performs shechitah (the kosher method of humane animal slaughter), but the slaughter is later discovered to be "ineffective" or "unfit" Chullin 85a:7. Perhaps the animal was found to have a terminal physical defect (a tereifa), or perhaps the slaughter was performed under prohibited circumstances.

• Rabbi Meir’s View: Even though the meat cannot be eaten, the physical act of slaughtering is still legally and spiritually recognized as an "act of slaughter." Because the physical form of the deed was completed, the person is still obligated to perform the respectful ritual of covering the blood.
• Rabbi Shimon’s View: If the slaughter does not result in food that is fit for consumption, then the act is completely empty. In his eyes, an act of slaughter that does not lead to life-giving nourishment is not considered an act of slaughter at all. Therefore, there is no obligation to cover the blood.

This is not just a disagreement about ritual law; it is a profound exploration of human deeds. We can understand this better through the commentary of the Dor Revi'i (written by the 19th-century Hungarian scholar Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner) Chullin 85a:2:1-2. He explains that this dispute touches on a fundamental question: Is the value of our actions found in the objective physical effort we put forward, or is it found solely in the functional outcome of those actions?

Think about this in everyday human terms. If you spend hours pouring your heart into writing a letter of comfort to a grieving friend, but the letter gets lost in the mail and is never read, was your action meaningful?

• According to Rabbi Meir’s line of reasoning, the answer is a resounding yes. The physical act of love, care, and effort has intrinsic value. The universe registers the deed itself, regardless of whether it achieved its ultimate goal.
• According to Rabbi Shimon’s line of reasoning, the value of an action is deeply tied to its real-world utility and outcome. If it did not bring about the intended comfort or nourishment, we must refocus our energy on actions that do.

The Talmud does not simply choose one side and discard the other. Instead, the redactor of the Mishnah, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, beautifully balances both views Chullin 85a:9. He rules like Rabbi Meir in one area of law (regarding the prohibition of slaughtering a mother animal and its offspring on the same day) and like Rabbi Shimon in another (regarding the covering of the blood).

This balanced ruling, as highlighted by the commentary of the Ritva (a 13th-century Spanish scholar), reminds us that human life requires both perspectives Chullin 85a:3. Sometimes we must honor the pure effort of our hands, recognizing that our intentions and physical deeds have weight, even when they fall short of perfection. At other times, we must be pragmatic, focusing on the actual, functional impact of our choices on the world around us.

Value 3: Mindful Living and the Ethics of Restraint

A third crucial value elevated in this text is the sanctity of life and the ethical treatment of the animal kingdom. In the ancient world, animal slaughter was a routine part of life, but Jewish law went to extraordinary lengths to ensure it never became mindless or cruel.

The requirement to cover the blood of wild animals and birds is a powerful exercise in mindfulness. Blood, as the physical carrier of life, is sacred. When a human being takes the life of a bird or a wild beast for food, they are not permitted to simply walk away, leaving the blood exposed on the ground. They must pause, take soil, and gently cover it Leviticus 17:13. This act forces the slaughterer to look at the ground, connect with the earth, and acknowledge that a life was sacrificed to sustain their own. It is a ritual of quiet apology and profound gratitude.

We see this value illustrated in a colorful story in Chullin 85 about Rabbi Hiyya and his flax Chullin 85a:15. Rabbi Hiyya's flax crop was being destroyed by moths. He went to his teacher, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi, who suggested a practical solution: soak the flax in a tub of water, and slaughter a bird over the water so the smell of the blood would lure the moths out of the crop.

But this practical solution immediately triggered an ethical and legal dilemma for the Sages: If you slaughter a bird, you are obligated by Torah law to cover its blood. If you let the blood drip into the water to catch moths, you are using the blood for a practical purpose instead of covering it. How can we balance practical human needs with our ethical obligation to show respect for the taken life?

To resolve this, the Sages did not simply ignore the law for the sake of convenience. Instead, they looked for creative, legally sound ways to solve the moth problem without desecrating the ritual of covering the blood. They suggested either rendering the bird a tereifa (an animal with a fatal defect) before slaughter, or using a method of killing that did not halakhically qualify as a formal slaughter Chullin 85a:15.

This story teaches us a beautiful lesson about restraint and the rejection of ethical shortcuts. It would have been incredibly easy for these Sages to say, "Well, this is an emergency; my crop is dying, so the rules of animal respect don't apply right now." Instead, they insisted on finding a path that respected both human livelihood and the moral boundaries established by the tradition. It reminds us that our ethical commitments are most thoroughly tested not when things are easy, but when they inconvenience our daily lives or our economic interests.

---

Everyday Bridge

While Chullin 85 deals with ancient agricultural settings, the core human values it champions are incredibly relevant to our modern, everyday lives. You do not need to be Jewish, nor do you need to practice ritual animal slaughter, to bring the wisdom of this text into your world. Here are two practical ways to build a bridge to these concepts:

1. Practice the "Covering the Blood" Principle in Modern Consumption

In our globalized economy, we are incredibly disconnected from the sources of our food, clothing, and technology. We buy meat wrapped in plastic, clothes made in factories thousands of miles away, and smartphones assembled from minerals mined in difficult conditions. The human and environmental "blood"—the vital life force, labor, and ecological cost—of these products is entirely hidden from our sight.

You can practice the essence of kisuy hadam by introducing a moment of mindful pause before you consume:

• Acknowledge the Source: Before eating a meal, wearing a new piece of clothing, or turning on a new device, take five seconds of silence to think about the living beings, the human labor, and the natural resources that were sacrificed to bring this comfort to you.
• Express Gratitude: Turn that pause into a quiet thank-you to the earth and the hands that worked to sustain your life.
• Reduce Waste: Respect the life and labor behind your possessions by using them fully, repairing them when broken, and refusing to treat them as cheap, disposable items.

2. Create Space for the "In-Between" in Your Relationships

Just as the Sages painstakingly built legal and social pathways to include the tumtum and the koy, we can actively work to welcome people who do not fit into neat social, cultural, or political boxes.

• Avoid Quick Labeling: When you meet someone whose political views, cultural background, or personal identity seems complex or contradictory, resist the urge to immediately categorize them as an "insider" or an "outsider."
• Listen to the Story: Ask open-ended questions and allow people to exist in their complexity. Acknowledge that a person’s identity, much like the koy, can be beautifully unique and impossible to define with a single word.
• Build Inclusive Spaces: In your workplace, school, or community, look for ways to adapt your environment so that those who feel they are "in-between" or on the margins are given a voice and a meaningful seat at the table.

---

Conversation Starter

If you have a Jewish friend or neighbor and want to connect with them over these shared human values, here are two warm, respectful questions you can use to start a beautiful conversation:

1. "I was reading a passage from the Talmud in tractate Chullin about how the ancient Sages navigated cases of uncertainty, like the koy—an animal that is half-wild and half-domesticated—or the tumtum. I was so moved by how the tradition doesn't ignore the grey areas of life, but instead builds thoughtful space for them. How do you feel this Jewish approach to ambiguity and complexity influences the way you navigate uncertainty in your own life?"
2. "The ritual of covering the blood after slaughter seems like such a profound exercise in mindfulness and respect for nature. Even though most of us don't slaughter our own food today, how do you think that ancient value of recognizing the 'life force' in our food shapes modern Jewish views on environmental ethics and mindful eating?"

---

Takeaway

At its core, Chullin 85 is a masterclass in the art of paying attention. It reminds us that a meaningful life is built on a foundation of deep mindfulness, where no detail of existence is too small to escape our ethical concern. Whether we are navigating the complex grey areas of human identity, weighing the value of our everyday actions, or practicing gratitude for the resources we consume, this ancient text invites us to slow down. It challenges us to look closely at the world around us, to treat the vulnerable and the unclassifiable with tender dignity, and to always cover the hidden costs of our lives with a layer of quiet, humble respect.