[PSA: I realize in retrospect that the first three paragraphs are mostly about showing off my b'kius in Monty Python and to lampoon the accountant profession. Both laudable goals, but you may wish to either fast forward past those, or stop reading after that. I try to be accommodating.]
No unintentional offense to my friends who are accountants, but before davening at the vasikin minyan in Chicago, my feeling toward that profession had been best expressed by a Monty Python sketch about an accountant seeking career counseling:
Bava Kamma was, in fact, pretty interesting. I started Bava Metzia on a high, figuring that if 5th graders could learn it, then certainly I could. I was wrong; Bava Metzia started off as one of the most difficult masechtos I have ever learned. I was opining to a talmid chocham about how depressing it was to not even be as smart as a 5th grader. He noted to me that 5th graders learn the second perek; everyone knows the first perek is ridiculously hard. I was both elated and abashed. Elated that I was not mistaken that this seemed really was hard; abashed that I hadn't remembered clearly what my son had learned in 5th grade.
Still, had I been searching for advice on how to daven effectively, Bava Metzia would not have been my go-to; maybe Brachos, maybe Yoma or Rosh HaShanna, but definitely not Bava Metzia. Shockingly, I would have been wrong. The ninth chapter discusses the fiduciary relationships between land owners and those who work the field for him; whether as hired hands, or sharecroppers, or renters. There is a discussion on daf 106a regarding a renter who decided to plant barley instead of wheat (as originally agreed with the land owner) after a dry wind causes a blight in all the fields in the area. The renter wants a discount on his rent; he argues: even if I had planted wheat, the crop would still have suffered the blight that everyone else experienced, so you should reduce my rental obligation. The land owner claims back that he davened for wheat, not barley; therefore the renter has no valid claim since he didn't plant wheat.
The gemara presents the case and then begins its conclusion with "well, logically speaking..." I don't know about you, but when I saw those words I was confident that the renter had a reasonable claim. Shockingly (you'd think I'd get over my shock at some point, wouldn't you?), I was wrong. The gemara concludes and the halacha is that the land owner has the upper hand. He davened for wheat, not barley and the renter abrogated their agreement, so he cannot throw himself on the mercy of the court to claim "Act of G - d". Or maybe I should say, the land owner can rightfully claim, "Act of G - d"; so pay up.
One more detail, Tosafos on the bottom of that daf notes that this argument only works because there was a specific agreement. If that land owner had told him to plant whatever he wanted, he cannot later argue that he davened for success in all his endeavors. Expecting to be answered for that kind of request is considered relying on a big miracle. Expecting to be answered for a specific request, though, is only called a ניסא זוטא/small miracle. So while you are not allowed to rely on a miracle, you can -- apparently -- bank on a small one.
No unintentional offense to my friends who are accountants, but before davening at the vasikin minyan in Chicago, my feeling toward that profession had been best expressed by a Monty Python sketch about an accountant seeking career counseling:
Well, er, yes Mr Anchovy, but you see your report here says that you are an extremely dull person. You see, our experts describe you as an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful. And whereas in most professions these would be considerable drawbacks, in chartered accountancy they are a positive boon.(For the rest, just Google "monty python accountant lion tamer"; 'nuff said.) Suffice it to say, with an attitude like that, the Bavas (or, as we referred them them in Texas, the bubbas) were not high on my list of masechtos I just couldn't wait to get to learn. As it turns out, HaShem has blessed me with many close friends who are accountants and almost (almost...) none of them fit that description. So I figured maybe the Bavas wouldn't be so bad, after all.
Bava Kamma was, in fact, pretty interesting. I started Bava Metzia on a high, figuring that if 5th graders could learn it, then certainly I could. I was wrong; Bava Metzia started off as one of the most difficult masechtos I have ever learned. I was opining to a talmid chocham about how depressing it was to not even be as smart as a 5th grader. He noted to me that 5th graders learn the second perek; everyone knows the first perek is ridiculously hard. I was both elated and abashed. Elated that I was not mistaken that this seemed really was hard; abashed that I hadn't remembered clearly what my son had learned in 5th grade.
Still, had I been searching for advice on how to daven effectively, Bava Metzia would not have been my go-to; maybe Brachos, maybe Yoma or Rosh HaShanna, but definitely not Bava Metzia. Shockingly, I would have been wrong. The ninth chapter discusses the fiduciary relationships between land owners and those who work the field for him; whether as hired hands, or sharecroppers, or renters. There is a discussion on daf 106a regarding a renter who decided to plant barley instead of wheat (as originally agreed with the land owner) after a dry wind causes a blight in all the fields in the area. The renter wants a discount on his rent; he argues: even if I had planted wheat, the crop would still have suffered the blight that everyone else experienced, so you should reduce my rental obligation. The land owner claims back that he davened for wheat, not barley; therefore the renter has no valid claim since he didn't plant wheat.
The gemara presents the case and then begins its conclusion with "well, logically speaking..." I don't know about you, but when I saw those words I was confident that the renter had a reasonable claim. Shockingly (you'd think I'd get over my shock at some point, wouldn't you?), I was wrong. The gemara concludes and the halacha is that the land owner has the upper hand. He davened for wheat, not barley and the renter abrogated their agreement, so he cannot throw himself on the mercy of the court to claim "Act of G - d". Or maybe I should say, the land owner can rightfully claim, "Act of G - d"; so pay up.
One more detail, Tosafos on the bottom of that daf notes that this argument only works because there was a specific agreement. If that land owner had told him to plant whatever he wanted, he cannot later argue that he davened for success in all his endeavors. Expecting to be answered for that kind of request is considered relying on a big miracle. Expecting to be answered for a specific request, though, is only called a ניסא זוטא/small miracle. So while you are not allowed to rely on a miracle, you can -- apparently -- bank on a small one.
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