Chullin 124

Today, the Gemara continues discussing ritual impurity transmitted through touching various parts of an impure animal carcass. As the discussion wends on, it becomes more and more complicated and riddled with disagreements. None of that is new for the Talmud. However, a resulting discussion on today’s daf sheds light on one rabbi’s response to a colleague asking one too many questions. 

Rav Avya the Elder asked Rabba bar Rav Huna: The mishnah below teaches that with regard to a sealed thigh bone of an unslaughtered carcass and of a creeping animal (one who touches it remains pure). According to the opinion of Rabbi Yishmael, what is the halakhah as to whether it imparts impurity via carrying?

Let’s catch up. The marrow within the thigh bone conveys impurity through touch. But if sealed away and not leaking out, according to the mishnah, the bone itself does not convey impurity. Rav Avya the Elder asks Rabba bar Rav Huna a question about Rabbi Yishmael’s opinion on this scenario when applied to impurity contracted not through touch but through carrying. He doesn’t wait for an answer, though. Instead, he presses on: 

Perhaps Rabbi Yishmael maintains the principle: That which conveys impurity via contact, conveys impurity via carrying; that which does not convey impurity via contact, does not convey impurity via carrying. 

Having posed this answer to his own question, Rav Avya continues breathlessly:

Or perhaps Rabbi Yishmael does not maintain this principle. 

At this point, Rav Avya seemingly pauses for breath, because Rabba bar Rav Huna finally responds — but not in the way we might expect. 

Rabba bar Rav Huna said to him: Look, a raven is flying!

Instead of addressing the matter at hand, Rabba bar Rav Huna shuts down the conversation through distraction — much as one might with a toddler. 

And that might have been the end of it, except it turns out someone witnessed this exchange and demanded an answer of his own. That someone was Rabba bar Rav Huna’s son, Rava. 

Rava said to his father: But isn’t this Rav Avya the Elder of Pumbedita, whom the master (you) would praise to us, saying that he is a great man? 

Those of us who are parents know that kids see (and remember) everything. Here, Rava reminds his father that in the past, he complimented Rav Avya the Elder and praised him as a great man. If this is a scholar held in high regard, asks Rava, why did you treat him so disrespectfully? 

Unlike Rav Avya, Rava receives a real answer: 

Rabba bar Rav Huna said to him: Today I am in a state best described by the verse: “Let me lean against the stout trunks; let me couch among the apple trees” (Song of Songs 2:5), meaning: I am tired, and he asked me about a matter that requires reasoning.

Turning this exchange into a teachable moment, Rabba bar Rav Huna explains to his son that he’s just too tired to give the matter the consideration it deserves, and so he needs to wait until he’s refreshed enough to do so. 

But why didn’t Rabba bar Rav Huna just tell his colleague that, instead of shutting him down? 

Interestingly, this isn’t the first time such an exchange has occurred between these two: A parallel text on Beitzah 21a regarding joint ownership of an animal between a Jew and a gentile ends in the exact same way, with Rabba bar Rav Huna pointing to a passing bird.

What’s going on here? One possibility is that Rabba bar Rav Huna, the head of the academy at Sura, has simply had it with the nonstop questions from his colleague, an elder at the academy of Pumbedita. A kinder explanation, and one more in line with the text, is that he’s exhausted from a full day of teaching (Rashi suggests that the day in question is Shabbat HaGadol, the Sabbath before Passover, when a substantive scholarly lecture is typically given) and has no patience for an after-hours discussion of halakhic minutiae. 

So what’s a teacher to do when a colleague or student has just one more question, but she’s hit the proverbial wall? (Asking for a friend.) In answer, I’d like to leave us with the wisdom of the 15th-century Spanish Rabbi Isaac ben Moses Arama, known for his seminal work, Akeidat Yitzhak. Commenting on our passage, Rabbi Arama cautions: “Man requires his body in order to survive, just as the tree needs the soil for its growth and the ability to produce fruit. Any human being likely to yield fruit, i.e., good deeds, is not to be destroyed in this struggle between the material and the spiritual forces of man.”

In other words, in order to give our best to our work, we need to know our limits and practice self-care. That includes calling it a day and going to relax under the nearest apple tree where we can enjoy a little birdwatching.

Read all of Chullin 124 on Sefaria.

This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on September 1, 2026. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.