Avodah Zarah 76

Today we come to the final page of Tractate Avodah Zarah. For the last 2.5 months, we have followed the rabbis as they outlined an abundance of laws driven by one central concern: that Jews should keep a healthy distance from the idol worship that, in rabbinic times and before, was ubiquitous in the lands where Jews lived. The tractate opened with rules governing when Jews could do business with non-Jews. And for the last many pages, it has discussed rules for handling kosher food and wine and cooking utensils that came into contact with non-Jewish food and wine and cooking utensils. The issue in all these cases was the same: Non-Jewish businesses and foodstuffs and kitchenware could all be used for idolatrous purposes and it’s vital that Jews avoid supporting idol worship or consuming food that might have been tainted by it. 

Idolatry, as we know, is a cardinal sin in Judaism, one that Jews are expected to die rather than violate. But to a surprising extent, the rabbis carved out many exceptions and limitations to the often stringent rules presented in the Mishnah. For example, just a few pages ago we learned a mishnah that stated rather unequivocally that any amount of idolatrous wine that was mixed with other wine renders the entire mixture forbidden. But in the Gemara we learn of a well-known tradition that virtually any amount of idolatrous wine can be poured — poured! — into permitted wine, provided the rate of mixing is slow. 

These sorts of leniencies can be understood as concessions to the reality that Jews lived among non-Jews who may well be idolators. Doing business with them, sharing wine production equipment and much else were simply unavoidable. If the rules outlined in the mishnah were followed to the letter, the hardship would be considerable. 

But even when limited, the fact of these extensive regulations alone serves to cast something of a shadow over dealings between Jews and non-Jews. Drinking wine and breaking bread with non-Jews — two of the most elemental acts of human social interaction — can’t just simply happen. Much care must be taken not to run afoul of the law, even the rabbinically limited law. Did the gentile food that touched the Jewish food impart flavor to it or not? Was the flavor effect positive or negative? How much gentile wine seeped into the Jewish wine? Was the Jewish wine left unattended? For how long? Applying these laws in the real world requires a lot of attention, much more than we’re likely to want to exercise before pouring a drink with a neighbor. 

The level of exactitude required in casual social interactions forms the subtext of this story we encounter at the close of the tractate: 

Like that incident involving Mar Yehuda and Bati bar Tuvi, who were sitting before King Shapur. They brought an etrog before them. The king cut and ate, and then cut and gave it to Bati bar Tuvi. He then stuck the knife ten times in the ground, cut and gave it to Mar Yehuda. 

Bati bar Tuvi said to him: And is that man not Jewish? 

King Shapur said to him: I am certain of that master, but I am not certain of that master.

There are those who say that King Shapur said to him: Remember what you did last night.

Two Jews are seated at the table of the Persian King Shapur, who brings out a citron. The king cuts a slice for himself and one for Bati bar Tuvi. But before he offers a slice to Mar Yehuda, he thrusts the knife into the ground ten times, the prescribed method for rendering a non-Jewish utensil kosher. He then cuts another slice and offers it to Mar Yehuda. 

This prompts Bati bar Tuvi to object: Aren’t I Jewish too? Why weren’t you concerned about kashering the knife before offering me a slice of citron? To which the king replies that he is sure of Mar Yehuda’s fidelity to Jewish law, but he’s less sure about Bati bar Tuvi. In some versions of the story, the king explains himself with an oblique reference to a supposed Persian tradition of offering guests a woman to enjoy for the night. Mar Yehuda declined the offer, but Bati bar Tuvi accepted, suggesting that he’s not so punctilious in his observance after all. 

In a choice that’s surely not unintentional, the tractate closes with this story that vividly illustrates the Talmud’s concern about overly intimate relations between Jews and their non-Jewish neighbors. Making it too easy to fraternize with gentiles could lead to emulation of their less savory practices. On the flip side, forcing Jews to be attentive to minute details of Jewish law before having a drink or using an oven that once belonged to a non-Jew not only makes both those things less likely, but also forces Jews to be mindful of God and tradition precisely at the moment they might be about to get comfortable and let down their guard. If the laws of Avodah Zarah achieve anything, it’s to make that somewhat less likely.

Read all of Avodah Zarah 76 on Sefaria.

This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on September 2, 2025. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.