According to Deuteronomy, farmers were required to bring the first fruits of their fields to the Temple annually as a gift to God. They were to travel to Jerusalem with these fruits in a basket, then hand the basket over to the priest while formally reciting the (abbreviated) story of the Jewish people (Deuteronomy 26:5–10). The recitation ended with: “Wherefore I now bring the first fruits of the soil which You, Lord, have given me.” (26:10)
On today’s daf, the rabbis ask: What does it mean to say that God gave someone the soil? Is only a landowner required to bring their first fruits (but not, for example, a renter)? And how much land does one actually have to own to be obligated? To answer these questions, the Talmud first cites an early dispute from Mishnah Bikkurim, a tractate all about bringing first fruits.
One who buys two trees in the field of another, he brings the first fruits but does not recite. Rabbi Meir says: He brings and recites.
Rabbi Meir thinks that if you buy two trees in someone else’s field, you own enough of the land (or at least of the trees that grow on the land) to be able to declare that God gave you the land on which these fruits were grown. The anonymous first opinion, by contrast, is that two trees obligate one to bring the first fruits, but not to declare that they own the land. For this tanna, owning trees that grow on the land, and owning the land itself seem to be related, but different.
Mishnah Bikkurim doesn’t have a talmudic tractate, so in Daf Yomi study we only encounter it when it is quoted in other tractates. Today, we’re lucky enough to get a talmudic dispute about this mishnah, a (very) mini-Talmud Bikkurim, even.
First, the Talmud teaches us that Rabbi Meir’s interpretation of land ownership was even more expansive than the mishnah suggests:
Rav Yehuda says that Shmuel says: Rabbi Meir would obligate even one who buys fruit from the marketplace.
According to Rabbi Meir, someone who doesn’t own land or even trees, but buys all their produce at the store, would still be obligated to bring first fruits and to declare that they are the product of “the soil that God has given me.” An agricultural ritual becomes a ritual for people who aren’t involved in agriculture at all. The Talmud next asks how Rabbi Meir could have come to this conclusion, first quoting biblical verses that seem to suggest that land ownership is required for the ritual, and then explaining how they actually teach a different law entirely. Let’s look at two examples:
But isn’t it written: “Which you shall bring in from your land” (Deuteronomy 26:2)? That serves to exclude land in the Diaspora…
But isn’t it written: “which You, Lord, have given me” (Deuteronomy 26:10)? That you have given me money, and with that money I bought.
Though these verses could be read as insisting that only landowners are obligated to bring first fruits, Rabbi Meir seems to be reading these verses as obligating everyone in the land of Israel to bring first fruits, regardless of whether they own land.
There’s something very economically inclusive about Rabbi Meir’s position. If everyone, regardless of whether they can afford to own land, is obligated to perform the first fruits ritual at the Temple, and indeed to make the formal recitation, then there is greater access to mitzvot. And there’s less of a chance of shaming those who can’t afford to buy land: Presumably everyone else at the Temple that day would be able to hear the recitations and to see who brought fruit but didn’t make the recitation.
But the Talmud continues:
Rabba raises an objection: One who buys one tree in the field of another brings first fruits but does not recite, as he did not acquire any land — this is the statement of Rabbi Meir. This is a conclusive refutation.
Apparently, Rabbi Meir insisted that one who owns two trees owned enough land to honestly state that God gave him land. But one who only owns one tree in someone else’s field does not — and logically, then, one who just purchased fruit in the market does not either. While Rabbi Meir remains more economically inclusive, the Talmud’s discussion ends by insisting that economic inclusion has limits, and is bounded by some degree of actual land ownership.
Read all of Bava Batra 81 on Sefaria.
This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on September 14, 2024. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.
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