Daily Rambam Accelerated · Sephardi & Mizrahi Heritage · Standard
Mishneh Torah, Second Tithes and Fourth Year's Fruit 2-4
Hook
Imagine standing on a sun-drenched cliffside in Alexandria, Beirut, or Jaffa, holding a single, humble copper coin between your fingers. Below you, the Mediterranean Sea—the Yam HaGadol—stretches out in an endless expanse of deep, shimmering turquoise. With a quiet blessing, you toss the coin into the wind. It catches the light of the Levant before slicing through the surface of the water, settling forever into the sandy depths of the sea floor.
This is not an act of superstition or a forgotten pagan ritual; it is the physical culmination of an intricate legal system of agricultural devotion. In the Sephardi and Mizrahi imagination, the laws of Ma'aser Sheni (the Second Tithe) are not abstract, theoretical puzzles to be solved only in the study hall. They are a tangible, rhythmic dialogue between the soil of the Land of Israel, the markets of the Mediterranean basin, and the enduring sanctity of Jerusalem. By casting a tiny coin into the sea, the contemporary Jew bridges the gap between the everyday act of eating and the celestial courts of the Temple, transforming a simple meal into an altar of remembrance.
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Context
To fully appreciate the texture of these laws, we must ground ourselves in the historical soil from which they grew and the communities that preserved their practical application.
- Place: Fustat (Old Cairo), Egypt. It was here, in the bustling heart of the medieval Islamic world, that Rabbi Moses ben Maimon (the Rambam) drafted his monumental code, the Mishneh Torah. From his study, he could hear the calls of merchants along the Nile, carrying spices, grain, and oils across the Mediterranean networks that linked Egypt, North Africa, and the Land of Israel.
- Era: The late twelfth century (c. 1170–1180 CE). This was a period of intense Judeo-Arabic intellectual synthesis. Jewish communities did not view the Arabic language or Mediterranean trade as foreign to Torah; rather, they used these tools to codify, systemize, and live out their ancestral traditions with unprecedented clarity and philosophical depth.
- Community: The Musta'rabim (indigenous Arabic-speaking Jews of the Middle East) alongside the waves of Andalusian (Spanish) and North African scholars. For these communities, the agricultural laws of the Land of Israel were not distant, theoretical myths. Many lived just days away from the borders of the Holy Land, and their merchants regularly imported Israeli produce, making the laws of tithing a constant, living reality in their homes and marketplaces.
Text Snapshot
The following passage from the Rambam's Mishneh Torah outlines the delicate balance between the ideal state of eating the Second Tithe in a rebuilt Jerusalem and the creative, compassionate legal solutions designed for our prolonged exile:
"The second tithe should be eaten by its owners within the walls of Jerusalem, as Deuteronomy 14:23 states: 'And you shall eat before God, your Lord, in the place He chooses to cause His name to dwell.' It must be observed whether the Temple is standing or it is not standing. Nevertheless, we partake of it only while the Temple is standing... It is pious behavior to redeem the second tithe for its full value in the same manner as it should be redeemed while the Temple is standing. Our Sages, [however,] ruled that, in the present age, if one desires, he may redeem a maneh's worth of produce for a p'rutah as an initial and preferable measure... That p'rutah should be discarded in the Mediterranean Sea."
— Mishneh Torah, Second Tithes and Fourth Year's Fruit 2:1-2
Insight 1: The Continuity of Sanctity
The great modern commentator Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, in his notes on this passage, highlights a fundamental principle of the Rambam's worldview: the requirement to separate the Second Tithe applies both when the Temple stands and when it does not ("ונוהג בפני הבית ושלא בפני הבית"). The destruction of the physical Temple did not dissolve the holiness of the land or the Jewish people's obligation to acknowledge God as the ultimate landowner.
Insight 2: Received Tradition as Legal Bedrock
When the Rambam writes that we do not eat the tithe today, he bases this on "mipi hashemu'ah" ("מפי השמועה"), which Steinsaltz translates as the received oral tradition of the Sages. This oral legacy teaches that just as the firstborn animal (bechor) can only be eaten when the Temple is standing and its blood can be sprinkled on the Altar Mishneh Torah, Firstborns 1:2, so too the Second Tithe is bound to the era of active Temple service.
Minhag/Melody
The Melodic Architecture of Longing: Maqam Saba and the Land's Tithes
In the liturgical traditions of the Sephardic and Mizrahi world—particularly the Jerusalem-Sephardic and Syrian traditions of Aleppo (Halab)—the study of Torah and the chanting of prayers are inseparable from the system of Maqamat (melodic modes). The Maqamat are not merely musical scales; they are emotional landscapes, each assigned to specific Torah portions, holidays, and spiritual themes.
For portions of the Torah that deal with the laws of tithes, agricultural offerings, and the borders of Jerusalem—such as Parashat Re'eh Deuteronomy 14:22-29—the Syrian cantors traditionally employ Maqam Saba.
Maqam Saba is a unique, microtonal scale that evokes a profound sense of solemnity, yearning, and covenantal intimacy. It is the sound of a soul reaching across a vast distance, expressing both the pain of exile (galut) and the absolute certainty of redemption. When we read the Rambam’s rulings on how we must treat the Second Tithe today—separating it with devotion but being unable to eat it within the physical walls of Jerusalem—Maqam Saba provides the perfect sonic vessel for this bittersweet reality.
The melody does not descend into hopeless despair; rather, it mimics the very action of the law itself. Just as we separate the tithe and cast the redemption coin into the sea as an act of faith, the cantor’s voice rises in a dramatic, microtonal arc, pleading for the restoration of the land's ancient harmony.
Piyut as a Legal Vessel: The Verses of Rabbi Israel Najara
To understand how these agricultural laws permeated the hearts of the common folk, one must look to the piyutim (sacred poems) composed by the master poets of the Sephardic Golden Age and the Ottoman-era Levant. Foremost among these was Rabbi Israel Najara (c. 1555–1625 CE), who was born in Damascus, served as a rabbi in Gaza, and whose poems spread to every corner of the Sephardic world, from Morocco to Yemen.
Najara’s poetry frequently weaves complex halachic concepts into romantic metaphors of love between the Jewish people (the bride) and God (the groom). In several of his poems, the agricultural produce of the Land of Israel—the wheat, the wine, and the olive oil—is described not merely as food, but as the physical tokens of this divine marriage.
When Sephardic Jews gathered in the early hours of the morning for Baqaot (nightly petitions of song) in Aleppo, Damascus, or Jerusalem, they sang of the "grain, wine, and oil" (dagan, tirosh, ve-yitzhar) mentioned in the laws of the Second Tithe Deuteronomy 12:17. Singing these verses was a way of testifying that even in exile, the love affair between Israel and its Land remained fully alive. The poetry transformed the legal reality of the Mishneh Torah into a passionate love song, keeping the memory of the Judean hills fresh in the minds of urban merchants and craftsmen living in the Diaspora.
The Cast Coin and the Great Sea: The Mediterranean as a Sanctified Vault
The specific practice of discarding the redemption coin into the Mediterranean Sea (Yam HaGadol) holds a prominent place in the Sephardic imagination. In the coastal communities of North Africa—particularly in cities like Tunis, Algiers, and Mogador (Essaouira)—this law was understood with literal, physical reverence.
The Mediterranean was not viewed as a barrier separating the Jews from their homeland, but rather as a highway of holiness. When a Jewish family in Tunis purchased fruits imported from the Land of Israel, they would carefully separate the tithes. Since they could not bring the produce to Jerusalem, they would perform the redemption ceremony (pidyon) using a small copper coin.
Rather than simply throwing the coin into a local sewer or trash bin—which was seen as disrespectful to the holiness transferred onto the coin—the head of the household would walk down to the harbor. Standing on the docks, looking east toward the Land of Israel, they would toss the coin into the deep blue waters of the sea.
This practice linked the physical geography of the Diaspora directly to the halachic landscape of the Talmud. The sea became a vast, natural treasury, holding the redeemed sanctity of Israel’s crops in its depths until the day when the walls of Jerusalem would be rebuilt and the earth would once again yield its fruit in complete ritual purity.
The Judeo-Arabic and Ladino Legacy of Agricultural Devotion
In the vernacular languages of the Sephardic diaspora—Judeo-Arabic (al-Yahudiyya) and Ladino (Spanyolit)—the study of these agricultural laws was made accessible to everyone, including women and children who did not read classical Hebrew.
In the classic Ladino work Me'am Lo'ez, initiated by Rabbi Yaakov Culi in Constantinople in 1730, the laws of Ma'aser Sheni are explained with exquisite tenderness. The text describes how the Second Tithe was designed to elevate the spiritual life of the agricultural laborer. Instead of remaining isolated in their rural villages, the farmers were commanded to travel to the cosmopolitan center of Jerusalem to spend their tithe money on food, wine, and spiritual joy.
The Me'am Lo'ez explains to its Ladino-speaking readers that the purpose of this mitzvah was to create a society where farmers and scholars sat at the same tables, sharing the bounty of the earth while discussing the deep wisdom of the Torah. In the Sephardic home, reading these descriptions on Shabbat afternoons transformed the act of eating into a sacred, communal ideal, reminding every family that their table was a miniature version of the Jerusalem courtyard.
Contrast
The Eternal Sanctity of Jerusalem's Borders
A fascinating point of discussion arises when we examine how different halachic traditions understand the physical boundaries of Jerusalem and how they interact with the laws of the Second Tithe.
In Mishneh Torah, Second Tithes and Fourth Year's Fruit 2:4, the Rambam rules:
"Just as we do not partake of the second tithe in the present era in Jerusalem, so too, we do not redeem it there, nor transfer its holiness, or sell it. If [produce which is the second tithe] is brought into Jerusalem in the present era, it should not be removed from there. Instead, we leave it there until it rots."
To understand this stringency, we must turn to the commentary of the Ohr Sameach (written by the Eastern European sage Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk) on this very halachah. The Ohr Sameach unpacks a deep talmudic debate regarding the nature of Jerusalem’s sanctity.
According to the Rambam, the holiness of Jerusalem established by King Solomon was never nullified by the Babylonian or Roman destructions Mishneh Torah, Sanctuary 6:15. Because the Divine Presence (Shechinah) never leaves the Temple Mount, the geographic area within the ancient walls of Jerusalem retains its full, biblical sanctity even today.
This leads to a dramatic legal consequence: if you bring untithed produce (tevel) into the old city of Jerusalem today, the "partitions" of the city immediately "capture" or "absorb" the produce ("קלטו מחיצות"), as discussed in Makkot 19b. Once inside, the produce is locked into its holy status.
But because the Temple is not standing, we cannot eat it; and because we are in Jerusalem, we cannot redeem it for money (as the Torah says you may only redeem it "when the place is too far from you" Deuteronomy 14:24). Thus, the food is caught in a halachic deadlock and must be left to rot.
To prevent this tragic waste of food, the Rambam notes that the Sages enacted a clever preventative measure: we do not separate the Second Tithe while the produce is physically inside the walls of Jerusalem today. Instead, we take the untithed produce out of the city limits, separate the tithe in the surrounding valleys, and then immediately redeem it onto a coin, rendering the food permitted to be eaten anywhere.
This view of Jerusalem’s permanent, unchanging sanctity is a cornerstone of Sephardic halachic decision-making, codified by Rabbi Yosef Karo in the Shulchan Aruch Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De'ah 331:135. It presents a beautiful, highly physical relationship with the geography of Jerusalem, treating the ancient city limits not as historical ruins, but as active, invisible walls of holiness that react to the presence of Jewish agricultural yield.
The Coin of Redemption: Copper vs. Silver
Another respectful point of contrast lies in the mechanical execution of the redemption ceremony (pidyon) in the modern era, particularly when comparing the Sephardic rulings of the Rambam with the Ashkenazic customs that developed in Central and Eastern Europe.
The Rambam, following the opinion of the Geonim of Babylonia, rules that in the present era, one may redeem a vast amount of produce (even worth a maneh—one hundred silver coins) for a single, minimal copper coin called a p'rutah Mishneh Torah, Second Tithes and Fourth Year's Fruit 2:2. This is permitted as an initial, preferred measure (lechatchilah) today because the produce is ultimately destined for destruction, and we do not wish to cause unnecessary financial loss to the owner.
In contrast, some Ashkenazic authorities, referencing the objections of the Ra'avad (Rabbi Abraham ben David of Posquières), express hesitation about using copper coins for the redemption of sacred food. They argue that biblically, redemption should ideally occur using silver coinage (kessef), as implied by the verse: "And you shall exchange it for silver" Deuteronomy 14:25.
While Ashkenazic practice today also utilizes copper coins for practical tithing (often utilizing a designated silver coin onto which the copper coin's sanctity is eventually transferred), the historical Sephardic approach is remarkably direct and elegant. It embraces the use of the copper p'rutah immediately, emphasizing the accessibility of the mitzvah for every individual, regardless of their financial standing.
A Comparative Tapestry of Ritual Disposal
The destination of the redeemed coin also highlights a beautiful divergence in custom:
- The Sephardic Practice: Guided by the Rambam's explicit language, the preferred method is to discard the coin into the Mediterranean Sea (Yam HaGadol), or in landlocked regions, to grind the coin to dust and throw it into a fast-moving river so it can never be retrieved and mistakenly used for secular purposes. This practice emphasizes a clean, active return of the holy spark back to the natural elements of the earth.
- The Ashkenazic Practice: Developed largely in European lands far from the Mediterranean, the common practice became to take the coin used for redemption, wrap it carefully in plastic or paper to prevent accidental use, and simply discard it in the trash, or to accumulate the coins in a safe place until they rust and become unusable.
Both customs share the same goal—guarding the sanctity of the redemption process—but the Sephardic custom retains a dramatic, elemental connection to the great waters, reflecting the maritime geography of the Mediterranean basin.
Home Practice
Bringing the Tithes to Your Kitchen Table
While the full biblical system of tithing applies only to crops grown within the halachic boundaries of the Land of Israel, anyone can bring the consciousness of Ma'aser Sheni into their home through a simple, beautiful practice of mindfulness and symbolic tithing.
Whether you are purchasing beautiful Israeli citrus, olives, or wines in the Diaspora, or simply wishing to connect your own backyard garden harvest to the ancient rhythms of Jerusalem, you can perform a modern, simplified version of this ritual.
THE MODERN REDEMPTION PATHWAY
[ Step 1: Secure Your Israeli Produce ]
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[ Step 2: Separate a Small, Symbolic Portion ]
(Set aside slightly more than 1% of the food)
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[ Step 3: Prepare the Redemption Coin ]
(Hold a copper penny or nickel in your hand)
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[ Step 4: Recite the Formula ]
"The holiness of this tithe is transferred to
this copper coin."
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[ Step 5: Respectfully Dispose of Both ]
(Wrap the food portion; safely discard or save the coin)
Step-by-Step Guide to Symbolic Tithing
- Acquire the Produce: Purchase produce imported from Israel (such as Jaffa oranges, Galilee wines, or Israeli dates).
- Set Aside the Tithe: Place the food on your counter. Separate a small portion of the food (just over one percent of the total volume) to represent the Terumah and Ma'aser (the priestly and levitical portions).
- Prepare the Coin: Take a simple copper coin (such as a penny or nickel in the United States, or a low-value local coin) and hold it in your right hand.
- The Declaration: Recite the traditional formula of redemption (available in most Sephardic prayer books or online guides for Hafrashat Terumot u-Ma'asrot):
"May the holiness of the Second Tithe and the Fourth-Year plantings contained within this produce be transferred onto this coin."
- The Disposal:
- Place the separated portion of food (which is now ritually unusable) in a bag and discard it respectfully.
- Take the coin, wrap it in a small piece of foil or paper, and place it in a designated jar. When the jar is full, or when you are near a large body of natural water, you can cast the coins into the water, or simply deface them with a hammer so they cannot be spent, and discard them.
By taking these few moments before eating, you transform your kitchen into a space of active mindfulness. You remind yourself that the earth does not belong to us; we are merely guests at the Divine table, keeping the pathways to Jerusalem open and clear.
Takeaway
The laws of the Second Tithe teach us a profound spiritual lesson that lies at the very heart of Sephardi and Mizrahi Jewish philosophy: holiness is not an all-or-nothing proposition.
When the Temple was destroyed and the Jewish people were cast into the four corners of the earth, it would have been easy to surrender to despair. We could have locked the agricultural laws away in the archives of history, treating them as dead relics of a bygone golden age.
Instead, our Sages—led by the luminous, practical genius of the Rambam—constructed a bridge of light across the chasm of exile. They insisted that even in our broken reality, we must continue to separate the tithes. They gave us the legal tools to redeem a fortune of sacred produce for a single, modest copper coin, and they instructed us to cast that coin into the Great Sea.
This act is a stunning declaration of faith. It asserts that the earth beneath our feet remains holy, that our relationship with the Land of Israel is unbroken, and that every meal we eat can be elevated to an act of cosmic stewardship. The next time you enjoy the fruits of the earth, remember the coin resting in the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean. Hear the echoes of Ma'am Saba rising from the ancient synagogues of Aleppo, and know that the walls of Jerusalem are not merely built of stone—they are rebuilt, brick by brick, through every blessing we recite, every boundary we respect, and every spark of holiness we choose to elevate.
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