parsha bit: Ki Teitzei

[cellio]

This week's parsha includes laws of returning lost or forgotten objects. The talmud tells the following story to illustrate: Once a man was passing the home of Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa and left some hens behind. Rabbi Chanina refused to eat the hens' eggs, and in time the hens multiplied. When they became too many for him to keep, he sold them and bought goats. Later the man returned, saying he had lost his hens. Rabbi Chanina asked for a sign to identify them, which the man provided. Rabbi Chanina then gave him the goats. (Ta'anit 25a)

I find a few things interesting about this:

The lesson seems to be that we not only hold the lost item but, when that makes sense, increase its value. One could have reasonably argued that when the man showed up Chanina owed him a hen, but that's not what happened.

We sometimes hear stories of how someone abandoned what he was doing to search high and low for the owner of a lost item, and in fact the talmud has a lot to say about this -- that it is inconvenient to search for the owner doesn't excuse us from doing it anyway. In this story Chanina waits but doesn't search. It's possible that the rabbis go on to argue about how he didn't do enough (the talmud is big and contains many cross-references, so for all I know there's a discussion of this story in tractate sanhedrin or something), but in the discussion in this part of the talmud, Chanina is clearly considered to have done a good thing. (Those goats brought him other rewards before the man came to claim them.)

Chanina didn't just take the man's word for it; he asked for a sign. A man's word is important, but we needn't decline to ask for proof. That said, I wonder what kind of sign the man could have given, or how much proof it's appropriate to seek for a mere chicken. I commented to the rabbi this morning that I was curious about the sign, especially as the chicken was no longer there ("it had a little white spot below its beak..." or the like). He suggested that this might go to show Chanina's observance of details, that he could match a description of a long-gone hen. Another possibility occurred to me: any sign might have been good enough, and the point was to ask the man for something (on the theory that a cheat would demur rather than giving a sign that would turn out not to apply).

Comments

[osewalrus.livejournal.com]

The lesson seems to be that we not only hold the lost item but, when that makes sense, increase its value. One could have reasonably argued that when the man showed up Chanina owed him a hen, but that's not what happened.

I think there is a difference between trying to increase the value and not coopting the produced income for oneself. Chanina did not try to increase the value of the chicken. Rather, he refused to take the "revenue" from the chicken (the eggs) for his own benefit. Because the "revenue" continued to increase, Chanina was required to "reinvest" it to avoid a burden on himself.

There is also a possibility that Chanina's conduct is given as an example of one who goes beyond the strict duty of the law, rather than what the law requires. Often the Talmud will state a base principle of the minimum requirement, then provide an example of one who went beyond the minimum, to illustrate that it is praiseworthy to behave in accordance with the principle of the law not merely its letter.

As for the sign, the sign could be something related to the chicken but not actually of the chicken itself. i.e., I lost it on such and such a specific day, and can prove I was here only on the day that the chicken was discovered. According to Babah Mitziah (which I admit I learned way, way long ago), a sign for a lost object can also include details about the place or way it was lost as well as details about the object itself. This is important with regard to "generic" items which might not otherwise have a sign, but are lost in an unusual place or in an unusual manner. E.g. I leave my generic watch in the Men's room. The watch has nothing particular to distinguish it from similar watches, but the fact that I can identify I lost in a specific place gives some credence to my claim.

[murphstein.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed reading this. Thanks for sharing.

PS - The world's laziest cats say "hi."