Daf Ditty Pesachim 9: Hulda

The martens constitute the genus Martes within the subfamily Guloninae, in
the family Mustelidae. They have bushy tails and large paws with partially
retractile claws. The fur varies from yellowish to dark brown, depending on the
species, and is valued by trappers for the fur trade. Martens are slender, agile
animals, adapted to living in the taiga, and inhabit coniferous and
northern deciduous forests across the Northern Hemisphere.

Jeremiah prophesied in the streets of Jerusalem; Zephaniah delivered his

prophecies in the synagogues; and Huldah had a school for women in
Jerusalem, whom she taught the word of G-d insofar as it pertained to Jewish
women, mothers and daughters.

Pesikta Rabbati 26

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MISHNA: After conducting the search, one need not be concerned that perhaps a marten
dragged leaven from house to house, or from place to place, placing leaven in a house that was
already searched. As if so, one need also be concerned that perhaps leaven might have been
dragged from courtyard to courtyard and from city to city. In that case, there is no end to the
matter, and it would be impossible to rely on any search for leaven.

GEMARA: The Gemara infers from the mishna: The reason that one need not search again is
that we did not see the marten drag the leaven from the house; however, if we saw the marten

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drag leaven from the house, we are indeed concerned that it dragged the leaven into the second
house, and it therefore requires searching for leaven.

Rabbi Zeira said: This is not difficult, as in this case, where no search is required, it is referring
to flesh, whereas in that case, where one is required to search again, it is referring to bread. Rabbi
Zeira elaborates: With regard to flesh, a marten does not leave remnants behind, and therefore
the stillborn would have been entirely consumed. With regard to bread, however, the marten
leaves remnants behind, requiring an additional search.

Rava said: What is this comparison? These cases are not comparable. Granted, there, with
regard to the stillborn, one could say that it was in the house and one could say that it was not in
the house. And even if you say it was there, say that the marten ate it. The very presence of the
stillborn in the house is based on an assumption, and even if it was there, it was probably
consumed. However here, where one definitely saw the marten take the bread, who will say
that the marten ate it? It is a conflict between an uncertainty whether or not the marten ate the
bread, and a certainty that the bread was there. The principle is that an uncertainty does not
override a certainty.

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The Gemara proceeds to analyze a more fundamental aspect of the mishna: And do we say that
one need not be concerned that perhaps a marten dragged the leaven? But isn’t it taught in
the last clause, in the next mishna: With regard to the leaven that one leaves after the search, he
should place it in a concealed location, so that it will not require searching after it. Apparently,
there is concern lest a marten take some of the remaining leaven.

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The Gemara proceeds to analyze a more fundamental aspect of the mishna: And do we say that
one need not be concerned that perhaps a marten dragged the leaven? But isn’t it taught in
the last clause, in the next mishna: With regard to the leaven that one leaves after the search, he
should place it in a concealed location, so that it will not require searching after it. Apparently,
there is concern lest a marten take some of the remaining leaven.

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Abaye said: This is not difficult; this ruling is referring to the fourteenth of Nisan, whereas that
ruling is referring to the thirteenth. The Gemara elaborates: On the thirteenth of Nisan, when
bread is still found in every house, the marten does not conceal the leaven, and therefore there
is no concern that perhaps the marten dragged the leaven elsewhere and concealed it. However,
on the fourteenth of Nisan, when bread is not found in any of the houses, the marten hides the
leaven.

Rava said in surprise: And is the marten a prophetess that knows that now is the fourteenth
of Nisan and no one will bake until the evening, and it leaves over bread and conceals it in its
hole? Rather, Rava rejected Abaye’s answer and said: With regard to the leaven that one leaves
after the search, he should place it in a concealed location, lest a marten take it before us, and
it will require searching after it. Only if one actually sees the marten take the leaven, is he
required to search after it.

RASHI

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It was taught in a baraita in accordance with the opinion of Rava: One who wishes to eat
leavened bread after his search, what should he do? With regard to the leaven that one leaves
after the search, he should place it in a concealed location, so that a marten will not come and
takes it before us, and he will need to search the house after it.

Instead, Rava answers that the ‫ משנה‬on ‫ י דף‬recommends hiding the ‫ חמץ‬just in case we would
actually see a ‫ חולדה‬take it, in which case we would definitely have to be concerned about it

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Ein Safek Motzi Mi-yedei Vadai
Harav Mosheh Lichtenstein writes:1

A. R. Zeira and Rava

The mishna in our daf states that no additional precautionary steps are required after the
conclusion of bedikat chametz, since the house is considered chametz-free and the possibility of a
mischievous rodent coming in from the cold with all of the neighborhood chametz need not be
taken into account.

The mishna's formulation, however, that one need not concern himself with unfounded speculation
or conspiracy theories, implies that there IS an obligation to perform a repeat inspection if such a
scenario is indeed known to have occurred. The gemara, though, questions this ruling; for although
the chametz is known to have entered the house, it is not self-evident that it still exists, for it may
have been subsequently eaten by the rodent. After all, since the piece of bread was presumably
brought there to be eaten, it is eminently reasonable that it indeed fulfilled its purpose and is no
more. To back up this claim, the gemara cites a beraita that the house of a non-Jew is not suspected
of containing concealed "tum'at met" if pigs and weasels abound, even though it is otherwise
treated as the possible burial site of aborted fetuses, since it is presumed that the animals have
disposed of the concealed tum'a. Two answers are given by the gemara to this question; the first
one, provided by R. Zeira, claims that the flesh, if there was any, was eaten in its entirety, while
part of the bread may have been left over and cannot automatically be assumed as non-existent.
Rava, on the other hand, points out that in the case of the hidden chametz, the chametz was known
to have entered the house and, therefore, it must be established with certainty that the chametz was
removed, while the presence of tum'a in the house of a non-Jew is no more than a suspicion (safek)
which can be dealt with by means of a corresponding doubt that the tum'a is no more there. Put
into halakhic terminology, the case of chametz is defined as "ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai," since
the chametz is "vadai" while its subsequent destruction is only an assumption which cannot suffice
to change, without definite proof, the house's status.

Both replies (R. Zeira and Rava) assume that if there is a doubt whether bedikat chametz was
effective or not, the house must be re-examined. This line of reasoning, though, raises an obvious

1
https://www.etzion.org.il/en/ein-safek-motzi-mi-yedei-vadai

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question; bedikat chametz is a mitzva mi-derabanan and therefore its safek, like all other cases of
sefeika de-rabanan, should be le-kula and not le-chumra. In other words, in case of doubt, a bedikat
chametz need not be repeated.

To solve this problem, two separate approaches were adopted by Rishonim. The first, represented
by the Tosafot and the Ba'al Ha-Ma'or, accepts the premise of the question that the normal
guidelines regarding sefeikot are applicable to bedikat chametz and, therefore, the gemara's
discussion, which assumes that the safek is le-chumra, must be limited to instances in which the
issur chametz is mi-de'oraita and not mi-derabanan (i.e., chametz which hasn't undergone the
mechanism of bitul).

If we accept this approach, the premise of Rava and R. Zeira has to be that the issue involving the
chametz is not an issur de-rabanan but rather an issur de'oraita whose safek is le-chumra. Both
chametz and tum'a are mi-de'oraita, the difference between them being that chametz is a single
safek and le-chumra, while in the case of tum'a there is a sfek sefeka (double/multiple doubt) which
decides the case le-kula. The phrase "ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai" mentioned by Rava need not
signify anything more than the determination that there isn't a dual element of safek as in tum'a,
since the presence of the chametz, unlike the tum'a, has been established beyond doubt (vadai) and
the single safek cannot bring about a kula in a known safek de'oraita.

The Ra'avad, however, explains that doubts regarding bedikat chametz must be decided le-chumra
and are not governed by the regular rules of sefeikot which would have been le-kula in a sefeika
de-rabanan. For the mitzva of bedika, according to this interpretation, is not only to search for stray
pieces of chametz which may cause problems during Pesach, but to positively ascertain that the
house is clean. If there is a possibility that there is chametz in the house, the house cannot be
declared chametz-free. Although the doubt would normally be disregarded and a heter provided if
the focus of our attention was how to act when in doubt (e.g., a safek regarding the validity of an
eruv or a question as to eating milk after meat etc.); nevertheless, this state of doubt cannot be
considered non-existent and therefore the house cannot achieve the status of a bayit baduk
(inspected and certified as undoubtedly chametz-free), and therefore another bedika must be
performed.

This approach, which regards sefeikot in bedikat chametz as rendering the bedika worthless since
the purpose of bedika is to certify as undisputed and undoubted fact that there is no chametz in the

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house, doesn't have to burden the sugya with limitations which are not mentioned in it, for although
bedika is mi-derabanan, its safek is le-chumra. The meaning of Rava's statement that ein safek
motzi mi-ydei vadai is not that the safek is confronted with the severity of a known issur de'oraita,
but rather the assertion of this very principle, that in every case of a safek regarding bedikat
chametz the possibility of the heter implicit in the safek is meaningless, since the safek cannot
confer upon the house the status of an inspected and certified place, and therefore it remains as if
no bedika at all has been done (i.e., vadai uninspected). Rava's line of reasoning that chametz is
an issur vadai uninfluenced by the rules of sefeika derabanan is based upon the concept of bedika
developed by the Ra'avad.

R. Zeira does not contrast chametz and tum'a as vadai vs. safek; the only difference between the
two cases is a practical one, rooted in the dietary behavior of the mice and weasels. At first glance,
his opinion is highly problematic since Rava's point as to the different starting points of the two
sefeikot seems quite obvious. [Indeed, R. David claims that R. Zeira subsequently accepted Rava's
opinion and retracted his own; however, he has no textual basis for this claim, aside from his
concern with R. Zeira's logic in the face of Rava's distinction.] Therefore, it would seem that R.
Zeira, who agrees with Rava as to the status of sefeikot in chametz, should be understood as
applying a similar standard to the case of tum'a. In his opinion, the halakha of tum'a in the dwelling
place of a non-Jew, though deriving from a suspicion of concealed tum'a, was transformed into an
absolute halakha (gezeira) that it is ritually impure, unless otherwise established; thus, its safek,
too, is le-chumra and the comparison between it and chametz is in place.

B. Ein Safek Motzi Mi-ydei Vadai

The gemara, after presenting R. Zeira and Rava's claims, embarks upon an examination of Rava's
statement that ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai, testing it against a number of cases which seem to
deny this rule and answering them so that the principle of ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai can be
accepted. However, though the sugya confronts the apparent contradictions from other cases, it
does not provide us with any parameters regarding the application of this rule nor does it explain
the rationale behind it. Simply put, what is the meaning of ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai? Is it just
a fancy way of stating that under certain circumstances a safek is le-chumra; if so, why phrase it
in such a manner that seems to indicate an independent precept? Alternately, if indeed it is a
separate rule, as seems clear from our sugya, how does it fit into the basic guidelines regarding
sefeikot? Is there a rov (majority) le-heter or le-issur or not?

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The gemara's formulation the rule, which presents it as a usurping doubt attempting to overthrow
an existing state of affairs, seems to indicate that the issue is not based upon the degree of
probability supporting each alternative, but rather revolves around the fact that the current status
quo is established as such and will remain thus until the situation is proven to have changed. The
problem with the safek is not that it is less probable than the alternative of the vadai, for this exactly
is the point which is now in doubt, but rather that an established situation is not replaced or
considered uncertain by the mere casting of doubt, though, statistically, the odds are equal. In brief,
it is a logical-legal rule and not a statistical attempt to ascertain the most probable scenario.

This understanding of ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai is clearly brought out in the sugya in Yevamot.
The gemara there (38a) discusses the various possibilities regarding yerusha (inheritance) in the
case of a woman who underwent yibum immediately after her husband's death, without waiting
the required three-month waiting period, and bore a child within nine months of her former
husband's death. The child is considered a safek, since he may be either the full-term baby of the
original husband or the premature one of the brother who performed the yibum. The first case dealt
with by the gemara is the inheritance of the child's grandfather. The child demands that he receive
half, as the share of the dead brother who he claims was his father, while the live brother retorts
that he is his son, undeserving of any share, and that the dead brother's half is his, due to his status
as the yavam. The gemara's ruling in this case is that the child doesn't receive anything, because
his status as an inheritor is doubtful, while the brother is a definite heir and, therefore, the rule of
ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai applies. However, in the following two cases which the sugya
presents, the doubtful child is not engaged in direct dispute with the brother whose position as an
heir is unequivocal, but with his children or his father (i.e., the child's grandfather), and the
gemara's conclusion in these instances is that the estate should be treated according to the laws
governing disputed property. The statistical probability is identical in all three cases; yet the
gemara applies the rule of ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai in only one of the three, since its point is
not to choose the more probable or reasonable claim, but to provide a logical mechanism to deal
with these problems. Thus, where there is a conflict between the claim of an established heir and
an aspiring one, he who is the safek loses, since the logical method determines that what has been
positively established cannot be undermined by doubts or suspicion which have not been proven.

Let us further note two salient characteristics of this case. Firstly, it is more probable that the child
is the son of the dead brother; full-term pregnancies are more common than premature babies, as
the gemara itself is well aware (Sanhedrin 69a). Moreover, the gemara doesn't hesitate to apply

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ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai to a monetary dispute, even though the rules of probability are
disregarded in dinei mammonot. Both points (especially the first; the second may require certain
qualifications which are beyond the scope of this shiur) point to one conclusion - the ruling that
ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai establishes the vadai as a certainty and not as a preferred course of
action in a doubtful situation. Therefore, though the safek may be more probable, it is nevertheless
rejected and totally disregarded, since the possibility of the vadai, not to be undermined by the
statistical element, is logically determined to be the only possibility. The safek is refused its day
in court, thereby paralyzing its possible statistical advantage, and denying it of any status at all.

The Rishonim in our sugya in Pesachim explicitly make this point, that ein safek motzi mi-ydei
vadai is applied even in cases where the safek is a common occurrence with a high degree of
probability which is relied upon in other areas of hilkhot safek. Thus, Tosafot explain that the
possibility that the weasel ate the food is highly probable, thereby suspending the normal
regulation that safek tum'a bi-reshut ha-yachid is le-chumra; nevertheless, the rule of ein safek
motzi mi-ydei vadai remains in effect. The rationale is simple: safek tum'a recognizes the existence
of a state of doubt while ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai denies this very point. Therefore, though
safek tum'a is a guideline for dealing with a safek, it can be offset by other principles regarding
proper conduct cases of safek, especially if these are not as arbitrary as the mechanism of safek
tum'a. However, ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai is a logical denial of the state of safek, leaving no
possibility for the "probable choice/high likelihood" mechanism of sefeikot to express itself.

If our analysis is correct, the crucial factor in ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai is the establishment of
the initial state of vadai, for it is this state of affairs which is responsible for the eventual outcome.
This, inevitably, raises the question of defining an established situation and determining that it
functions as a bona fide vadai that need not be concerned with sefeikot which arrive on the scene
afterwards. Based upon the fact that we are dealing with an issue of legal process based upon rules
of logic which are independent of probability, it would seem reasonable, though not absolutely
necessary, to claim that an undisputed factual starting point would not suffice to define a given
situation as vadai; this would occur only where a legal entity has been established and a positive
halakhic status exists. Therefore, a status reflecting a halakhic concept or entity ("chalot shem")
rather than a mere starting point is required to establish and utilize the mechanism of ein safek
motzi mi-ydei vadai.

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However, though the idea that a pre-existing status is required to make the status quo significant,
it is not so simple to reconcile the gemara's subsequent discussion with this line of reasoning. For
although the case of chametz can be understood - based upon the Ra'avad's theory - as relating to
a legally conferred status of baduk or not baduk, it is much more difficult to make this claim for
some of the other cases relating to ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai which are quoted by the gemara.
To be more specific, the case on 9b about the ditch which does or does not have tum'a in it, relates
to a factual starting point and not to a halakhic status, since not having tum'a in the basement is,
presumably, a fact and not a legal status. Therefore, one of two possible alternatives must be
chosen; either we must claim that, indeed, there is a status of non-tum'a which is halakhically
significant or that ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai applies to any case whose starting point was
known beyond doubt. Neither is impossible, yet both are not unproblematic.

Actually, these two options may be dependent upon our previous discussion. If the safek relates to
the existence of the chametz and is le-chumra due to the fact that there wasn't bitul, the issue at
hand is not a question of status determination, but factual clarification as to the whereabouts of the
chametz; therefore, ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai in our sugya is based upon an undisputed factual
starting point regarding the initial stage without having to establish an initial status. However, if
the focus of the safek is the house and the need to certify it as chametz free, the safek revolves
around the status of the house and its relationship to bedika. The concept of ein safek motzi mi-
ydei vadai regarding chametz relates to a question of status, and though this doesn't necessarily
mean that all the other cases of ein safek motzi mi-ydei vadai are based upon an identical paradigm,
it does enable such a concept to be developed in the sugya.

When a Marten Hides Bread Before Pesah

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:2

The Mishna on our daf teaches that one need not be concerned that a hulda dragged hametz into
your house or from one place to another within the house.

Rashi explains the Mishna to be discussing whether we need to be concerned about

a hulda bringing hametz into a place that had already been checked. The Rambam seems to
understand the case otherwise. According to him, this Mishna is the continuation of the
first Mishna in the tractate, which obligates bedika (searching) only in places where hametz is

2
https://steinsaltz.org/daf/pesahim9/

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normally brought. Here we are taught that we need not be concerned that perhaps an animal
brought hametz into such a place.

The Gemara points out that the Mishna’s rule will only apply if we do not see the hulda running
into the house with hametz. Were we to see the hulda doing that, we would, in fact, insist that the
house be checked a second time, and we cannot assume that the hulda ate the hametz that he
carried in.

The Gemara asks whether the requirement to carefully store hametz that is meant to be eaten on
the morning of the 14th of Nisan so that a further bedika will not need to be done does not indicate
that we are concerned that a hulda may move it around. In response to this question the Gemara
quotes an interesting exchange between Abaye and Rava.

Abaye said: This is not difficult; this ruling is referring to the fourteenth of Nisan,
whereas that ruling is referring to the thirteenth. The Gemara elaborates: On the thirteenth of
Nisan, when bread is still found in every house, the marten does not conceal the leaven, and
therefore there is no concern that perhaps the marten dragged the leaven elsewhere and concealed
it. However, on the fourteenth of Nisan, when bread is not found in any of the houses, the
marten hides the leaven.

Rava said in surprise: And is the marten a prophetess [v’khee hulda nevi’ah] that knows that
now is the fourteenth of Nisan and no one will bake until the evening, and it leaves over
bread and conceals it in its hole?

Rather, Rava rejected Abaye’s answer and said: With regard to the leaven that one leaves after
the search, he should place it in a concealed location, lest a marten take it before us and it will
require searching after it. Only if one actually sees the marten take the leaven, is he required to
search after it.

In his response to Abaye, Rava is using a play on words. There is, in fact, a prophetess
in Tanakh by the name of Hulda ha-Nevi’ah – see II Melakhim 22:14.

More importantly, his argument seems to make so much sense that it is difficult to understand what
Abaye was trying to say.

Rav Ya’akov Emden explains that according to Abaye the marten is sensitive to the fact that there
is less food in the house on erev Pesah than there is under normal circumstances, and begins to
hoard bread. This appears to be the explanation of the Jerusalem Talmud, as well.

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When in Doubt...Eat

Rabbi Jay Kelman writes:3

"Two verses that contradict each other, until a third verse is found and reconciles between them".
This 13th and last of the interpretive principles of Rabbi Yishmael highlights the many
contradictions inherent in the Torah. Torah mirrors life, and recognizing the complexity of both is
so important that our rabbis placed this message into the daily siddur.

"Lo b'shamayim hee, it [Torah] is not in heaven"; and being earthly, it must "suffer" from earthly
limitations. Halacha, Jewish law--the point of contact between Torah and the real world--reflects
these contradictions. Halacha does not always reflect absolute truth; rather, it is true to its own
internal system.

Living in a society where rodents were quite common, the Talmud was concerned that a rodent
might take chametz to an area that has already been checked and cleaned of chametz, necessitating
endless checking. While the Mishnah (our daf) rules that we may ignore such a possibility, this is
only true in the abstract. But if one sees a rodent with chametz in its mouth, one may have to
recheck the home for chametz, and one cannot assume that the rodent just ate the chametz.

In discussing the many permutations of such cases, the Gemara (ibid 10a) raises the case of
some chametz sitting in front of two homes that have already been checked for chametz.
The chametz is then taken by a mouse into one of the two homes, but we are unsure which one.
The Gemara compares this case to that of two paths lying before us, one of which contains impurity
(i.e., a dead body) and one which does not. Jewish law rules that one who walks in a public area
that may contain impurity remains tahor, pure; and such a person could, for example, enter the
Temple area to, say, celebrate Pesach.

If two people, each walking down one of the above paths, come to ask as to their status, they will
each be told that they remain tahor; there is only a doubt as to their status, so we may apply the
principle that, when doubtful if one came in contact with impurity, one remains pure. This is so
even though there is a 100% chance that one of them is actually tameh.

Fascinatingly, this only obtains if they do not ask about their status at the same time. In such an
eventuality, the Gemara rules that both are deemed tameh, even though there is a 100% chance
that one of them is tahor. With both people present, we cannot declare them both to be tahor, as
one is tameh. Unable to declare either of them tahor, we are left with no choice but to declare them
both tameh.

The Gemara then discusses a third possibility, in which one asks for a status report on both himself
and his friend. Rav Yossi compares this case to the situation in which they both come together,
3
https://www.torahinmotion.org/discussions-and-blogs/pesachim-9a-when-doubteat

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and thus are tameh, while Rav Yehuda compares it to the case in which both come separately, in
which case they are tahor.

This case reflects a fascinating philosophical dispute. When one is representing another, do we
consider the representative as an extension of that person, or is such representation nothing more
than a legal formality? Interestingly, in Canadian law (and perhaps in other legal systems), a client
can be held responsible for any errors in a tax return filled out by his accountant. While the client
signs the return, such a notion reflects the unity of the two.

This Talmudic dispute is similar to a medieval dispute regarding three pieces of meat that lay
before us. While we know one of the three is not kosher, we do not know which one it is.
Some authorities[1] rule that one may eat two out of the three--despite there being a 67% chance
of eating treif!--reflecting the fact that two of the three pieces are kosher. Others, in an astonishing
ruling, allow all three pieces to be eaten, provided they are not eaten at the same time. As each
particular piece is likely kosher, one can eat piece A, followed by piece B, and then even piece C.
One looks not at the macro situation of eating non-kosher, but at the micro situation: each particular
piece of meat is most likely kosher. Rov, a majority of even one, is a standard principle of Jewish
law.

"Truth and peace, you shall love" (Zecharia 8:19). In this world, it is impossible to totally reconcile
truth and peace. We assert both that "Torah scholars increase peace in the world", and "Moshe is
true, and his Torah is true". Resolving the contradiction between the two is the task with which
we are charged.

Sara Ronis writes:4

The Talmud is complex, thought-provoking and inspiring. But did you know that it is
also funny? In fact, today’s daf has one of my favorite talmudic jokes. Let’s take a
look.

While discussing whether we should be concerned that a marten, a mammal in the

weasel family, will bring leavened food into our house after we have finished cleaning,
thereby contaminating the home for Passover, the Gemara posits:

On the 13th of Nisan, when bread is still found in every house, the marten
does not conceal the leaven, and therefore there is no concern that perhaps
the marten dragged the leaven elsewhere and concealed it. However, on the

4
Myjewishlearning.com

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14th of Nisan, when bread is not found in any of the houses, the marten
hides the leaven.

The Gemara is suggesting that beginning on the 14th of Nissan, the marten realizes
that bread will soon be scarce and so stockpiles some for the coming week. Rava
responds to this statement with a real side-splitter:

Rava said in surprise: And is the marten a prophetess that knows that now
is the 14th of Nisan and no one will bake until the evening, and it leaves over
bread and conceals it in its hole?

Bah dum ching!

It’s often said that to explain a joke is to ruin it, but let’s risk it.

The key here is the Hebrew word for marten, huldah. In addition to the referring to
the animal, Huldah is also the proper name of a biblical prophet. We read about
Huldah in II Kings 22 when King Josiah discovers a previously-unknown book of the
law in the Temple. Huldah authenticates the book, and further prophecies that God
will punish the Kingdom of Judah for their wickedness in disobeying God’s will. Josiah
and the priests take her prophecy seriously and take swift actions to repent — Huldah
is a prophet with the king’s ear!

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The rabbis recognize Huldah as one of seven female biblical prophets, the others
being: Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail and Esther. (see below Megillah
14a).

Rava (rightly) notes that martens don't behave differently on the 13th of Nisan than
they do on the 14th, so our response to the possibility that a marten has brought
leaven into our house should be the same regardless of the date. This is both a
rejection of the prior statement and an expression of hilarity at the notion that an
animal is aware of both the calendar and our preparations for Passover.

In recording Rava’s statement, the Talmud catches a moment of talmudic laughter

and preserves it on its pages. When imagining the ancient rabbis discussing issues
of profound religious importance, we may be inclined to imagine them to be solemn
or somber, especially while debating the one of the most severe biblical
commandments: to eliminate leavened food from our households on Passover. Rava’s
word play and humor remind us that while studying Torah is a serious endeavor, it’s
also fun — and sometimes it’s even funny!

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II Kings 22:14

So, the priest Hilkiah, and Ahikam, Achbor, Shaphan, and Asaiah went to the prophetess Huldah—
the wife of Shallum son of Tikvah son of Harhas, the keeper of the wardrobe—who was living in
Jerusalem in the Mishneh, and they spoke to her.

Taanis 8a: The Story of the Marten and the Pit

And Rabbi Ami said: Come and see how great the faithful people are, and how God assists
them. From where is it derived? From the story of the marten [ḥulda] and the pit. Once a young
man saved a girl who had fallen into a pit. After rescuing her they swore to remain faithful to each
other, and they declared the pit and a passing marten their witnesses. As time went by the young
man forgot his vow and married another woman. They had two children, both of whom died
tragically, one by falling into a pit and the other when he was bitten by a marten. Their unusual
deaths led the young man to realize his error and he returned to the first woman. And if this is the
outcome for one who believes in signs from a pit and a marten, all the more so for one who has
faith in the Holy One, Blessed be He.

Megilla 14b

Huldah was a prophetess, as it is written: “So Hilkiah the priest and Ahikam and Achbor and
Shaphan and Asaiah went to Huldah the prophetess” (II Kings 22:14) as emissaries of King Josiah.
The Gemara asks: But if Jeremiah was found there, how could she prophesy? Out of respect
for Jeremiah, who was her superior, it would have been fitting that she not prophesy in his

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presence. The Sages of the school of Rav say in the name of Rav: Huldah was a close relative
of Jeremiah, and he did not object to her prophesying in his presence.

Josiah hearing the book of the Law.

Josiah’s Death

Dr. Yael Ziegler writes:5

The Fall of Assyria and Josiah’s Rule

The reign of Ashurbanipal (669-627 B.C.), the last powerful king of the mighty Assyrian Empire,
marked both the pinnacle of the Assyrian Empire’s power and the beginning of its decline. Many
events contributed to the ultimate unravelling of Assyria. Rebellions, civil wars, shifting alliances,

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and loss of tributes weakened the Empire, creating a vacuum of power. Various nations, most
notably Babylonia, sought to fill that vacuum by establishing their rule in the region. Scholars
generally date the final demise of the Assyrian empire to the fall of its capital city, Nineveh, to
Babylonia in 612 BCE.

Josiah (640-609 BCE) reigned as king of Judah during the period of Assyria’s deterioration and
downfall. The waning of the Assyrian Empire spawned a significant power vacuum, which worked
to Josiah’s advantage. Significantly, biblical accounts describing Josiah’s reign focus primarily on
his personal religious transformation and the way in which it affected his national policies.[1] By
juxtaposing Josiah’s piety with his political success, the nation likely concluded that the two were
connected. In other words, because of Josiah’s extraordinary faithfulness, he achieved
extraordinary success. To understand this, let us examine Josiah’s life and reign.

Josiah began his reign as king at the age of eight after the assassination of his father Amon, who
ruled for just two years. At this stage, it seems certain that Josiah himself was not really in charge;
Josiah’s advisors likely ruled the kingdom, adhering closely to the policies of Josiah’s
predecessors, and especially his powerful grandfather, Menasseh. Menasseh ruled for an
exceptionally long fifty-five years, and his was a sinful period, in which idolatry became
entrenched and bloodshed prevailed. Presumably, the corrupt policies instituted by Menasseh
persisted for the first eight years of Josiah’s rule.

In the eighth year of Josiah’s reign, when he was sixteen years old, Josiah began to seek
God (II Chronicles 34:3). Four years later, in the twelfth year of his reign, when Josiah was a
young man of twenty, the young king instituted a nationwide reform. He swept through Jerusalem
and Judah, purging the land of idolatry and idolatrous shrines. Yet Josiah’s virtuous undertakings
did not end there. The young king expanded his campaign outside of the border of Judah, in the
area of the former Northern Kingdom of Israel. Josiah boldly advanced northward into the cities
of Ephraim, Menasseh, and Naphtali, breaking altars, crushing idols, demolishing incense stands,
and eliminating all forms of idolatry (II Chronicles 34:6-7).

How, in fact, did Josiah succeed in extending his authority over the Northern Kingdom? As noted,
the Assyrian empire conquered the Northern Kingdom of Israel in 722 BCE and subsumed it into
its vast kingdom. Josiah’s bold northward incursion was only possible due to the waning of
Assyrian hegemony. In all likelihood, Josiah launched his campaign after the estimated time of
Assurbanipal’s death (in approximately 627 BCE, the 13th year of Josiah’s reign) and the
subsequent rapid decline of the Assyrian Empire. Josiah appears to have taken advantage of this
situation, staking his claim to the territory of the former Northern Kingdom of Israel. This made
Josiah the first king since Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, to exercise control over the area of

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Solomon’s united kingdom.[2] Again, it appears that Josiah’s success coincided with his religious
reforms, suggesting an intrinsic connection.

Josiah continued to move apace with his religious plans and aspirations. In the eighteenth year of
his reign, when he was twenty-six, he collected money for renovations of the Temple. During the
course of these renovations, the high priest found a Torah scroll in the Temple (II Kings 23:8). The
discovery elicited a strong reaction from the young king, who tore his clothes and sent his
messengers to Huldah the prophetess for a divine oracle.[3]

Confirming that the upcoming events are indeed threatening, Huldah issued a devastating prophecy
of doom for Jerusalem (II Kings 23:16-17). Nevertheless, Josiah did not give in to despair, nor did
he cease his relentless pursuit of piety and reform. Gathering Judeans and Jerusalemites to the
Temple, Josiah reaffirmed the covenant between the nation and God (II Kings 23:1-3). He then
intensified the reform, doubling down on his bid to remove idolatry from the land (II Kings 23:4-
20). Finally, Josiah gathered the nation together to celebrate Pesach, a mass event intended to
reignite the nation’s piety and fervor (II Kings 23:21-25).

Josiah’s piety and enthusiastic fidelity to God places him in the company of the most devoted
religious figures in the Bible. His exhilarating reforms and unceasing energy brought about
significant results, in both the political and the religious arena. Extending his reign to the Northern
Kingdom, Josiah reunited the two kingdoms geographically and subsumed the remnants of the
northern tribes under Judean reign.[4] Moreover, the exiles appear to have begun to trickle home,
suggesting the reversal of God’s devastating punishments. The people likely concluded that Josiah
was that scion of the Davidic dynasty described by Isaiah (Isaiah 11:1-10), whose wisdom and
piety would lead to the ingathering of the exiles (Isaiah 11:11-12, 16), the cessation of rivalry
between the kingdoms (Isaiah 11:13), and the restoration of the sole rule of the Davidic king over
a united kingdom. The nation might certainly regard Josiah as the Messiah, as the hopes and future
of the people rested upon the success of this pious king.

The emotional impact of Josiah’s extraordinary rise and success was rivalled only by the
disappointment that follows his death. In the thirty-first year of Josiah’s reign, he went into battle
with Pharaoh Necho, who was on his way to assist the waning Assyrians in battling the rising
Babylonian empire. Necho attempted to deflect Josiah from fighting him, maintaining that he had
no hostile intentions against Josiah, but simply needed to use the Jezreel Valley as a passageway
to get to his destination (II Chronicles 35:21). Josiah adamantly refused to allow Necho passage,
possibly because he recognized that his newfound hegemony over the northern territory remained
precarious.[5] Moreover, Josiah may well have assumed that God was with him and would assure
him victory in this endeavor (e.g. Ta’anit 22b). Despite his piety and good intentions, however,
Josiah’s rationale proved erroneous. Josiah died in battle with Necho, at the age of thirty-nine.

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It is difficult to overestimate the impact that Josiah’s death had on the nation. A midrashic name
derivation encapsulates the significance of Josiah’s death. To answer the question why Josiah
(Yoshiyahu) received his name, a midrash explains as follows:

Because when he died, [the nation of] Israel despaired (nitya’ashu) of the kingship and the
righteous ones understood that the Temple is irredeemable. (Batei Midrashot Bet, Bereishit)

Name etymologies generally endeavor to capture the essence of a person, his primary contribution
and accomplishments. Astoundingly, this midrash suggests that Josiah’s lasting legacy was the
terrible despair that abounded following his death.

Responses to Josiah’s untimely and unwarranted death reverberate throughout biblical passages,
merging and rising in a swell of mixed emotions: despair, anger, and confusion. Initially, the public
lamented and mourned in an official display of anguish (II Chron. 35:25). Jeremiah’s advice to
Josiah’s son to refrain from excessive mourning (Jeremiah 22:10) seems designed to relate to the
challenge of recovering emotionally from Josiah’s death. Echoes of this anguish may reappear
in Eikha 4:21:

The breath of our nostrils, anointed of God, was captured in their traps, about whom we said,
“Under his shadow, we will live amongst the nations.” (Eikha 4:21)

According to many exegetes, this anointed of God, upon whom the people pinned their hopes, was
Josiah, whose death left the people in a state of terrible bewilderment and despair.[6]

Confusion seems to have trumped grief, as the problem of theodicy overshadowed the experience
of mourning. In the aftermath of Josiah’s death, several prophets expressed their confusion at
God’s treatment of the wicked and the righteous.[7] Jeremiah asks why the wicked
prosper (Jeremiah 12:1-3). Habakkuk questions why evil people triumph over the
righteous (Habakkuk 1:4, 13). According to some biblical interpreters, several of Isaiah’s
prophecies also relate to this inexplicable event.

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The righteous person is lost, and no man takes it to heart; people of virtue perish and no one
understands. Because of evil, the righteous perish. (Isaiah 57:1)

Rashi and Radak both interpret this verse within the context of Josiah’s unexplained
death.[8] Likewise, Abravanel interprets the bafflement verbalized in the following verse as a
reference to Josiah’s death:

And he placed his grave with evildoers… though he had done no violence and there was no deceit
in his mouth. (Isaiah 53:9)

Though none of these verses explicitly mention Josiah, taken together, these prophetic passages
suggest that the prophets struggle with a prevailing perplexity regarding God’s ways in the period
following Josiah’s death.

Nevertheless, alongside this confusion, another response emerges – a muted voice, but one that
balances and mitigates the unrelenting current sweeping people toward despair and outrage. Faint
echoes of it lie buried in Jeremiah’s prophecies, which repeatedly question the genuineness of the
nation’s repentance during Josiah’s reform.[9] If the people deceive Josiah, then perhaps they do
not deserve his righteous leadership, and his death is a deserved punishment for the nation.

An expression of faith in God’s righteous judgements appears in the final chapter of Zephania,
who prophesies during the reign of Josiah. After describing the sins of Jerusalem and her leaders,
Zephania asserts:

God is righteous in her midst; He does not commit perversions. Morning after morning He brings
His justice to light; it is never lacking. But those who pervert [justice] know no
shame. (Zephania 3:5)

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This assertion of unwavering belief in God’s righteousness may represent another way of
approaching Josiah’s death. In fact, the opening of Eikha 1:19 echoes the opening of Zephania 3:5,
in a statement that some rabbinic sources attribute to Josiah on his deathbed:

God is righteous, for I have rebelled against His mouth! (Eikha 1:19)

Rabbinic sources paint a vivid scenario, in which Josiah weakly mumbles these words as he lies
dying from the mortal wounds that he received in battle.[10] This certainty is a stark contrast to
the incomprehension that we observed in some prophetic passages. This approach trusts that
Josiah’s death must be just, maintaining an immutable belief in God’s righteousness, even if
appearances belie this assumption.

These two contradictory approaches to Josiah’s death represent two different ways in which
humans contend with an incomprehensible world. Eikha strikes a similarly balanced posture in its
approach to the problem of theodicy. On the one hand, Eikha articulates intense anger at God,
spawned by acute awareness of the capriciousness of death, the triumph of evildoers, and the
suffering of the innocent. However, Eikha will also strike a measured pose, allowing a second
approach to emerge from the turmoil, one in which the book concludes that God remains just, even
if the events suggest otherwise.

Rabbinic sources suggest that the kernel of the book of Eikha begins to emerge in the aftermath of
Josiah’s death.[11] In a sense, Josiah’s death sets in motion the upcoming catastrophe. After
Josiah, no righteous king sits on the Davidic throne, and events rapidly spiral out of control. More
significantly, Josiah’s death marks the beginning of the theological crisis and the first attempts to
struggle with the complex questions that arise in the wake of unexplained human suffering.

Concluding Historical Events

A mere twenty-two years after Josiah’s death, Babylonia laid siege to Jerusalem. The siege and
conquest of Jerusalem lasted a year and a half. This was a period of prolonged starvation for
Jerusalem’s inhabitants, which concluded with the Babylonian penetration into the city and the
conquest of the feeble populace. Babylonia captured King Zedekiah, slaughtered his sons, and then
blinded him, bringing the Judean king in chains to Babylon (II Kings 25:5-7). The Babylonians

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violently razed the city and the Temple, destroying Jerusalem and exiling nearly all of her
surviving populace.

Biblical history climaxes and crashes at this point. Jerusalem’s fall represents the conclusion of
the continuous narrative that begins in Bereishit and concludes in the book of Kings. God’s
promises to the forefathers seem to expire;[12] God brought their descendants to the Promised
Land, and now He expels them from that place, allowing a voracious empire to displace them.
Successive deportations disgrace Judah, resulting in a nation devoid of its economic infrastructure
as well as its national pride.[13] The Davidic dynasty is broken, Jerusalem is razed, and God’s
holy Temple is desecrated. The usual means of religious expression disappear; priests no longer
function, and daily sacrifice is no longer an option. The nation no longer has political
independence; deprived of its monarchy and leadership, Judah flails about, wrestling to contend
with the tragic circumstances.

Notes:

[1] See II Kings 21 and II Chronicles 34.

[2] Previously, we observed that the nation of Israel had to contend with the terrible fact that the northern exiles never returned to
assume autonomy over their former land. Josiah’s dominion over the northern area offered a positive spin on the exile of the
Northern Kingdom. The vacuum of power created by their sustained exile allowed the Davidic dynasty to restore control over the
entire territory of Israel! The exile of the ten tribes offered a solution to a difficult problem of once again attaining a unified state
after the country had split into two kingdoms (albeit at a high cost).
[3] The text never clarifies why the discovery of the Torah elicited such a frightened response. Biblical interpreters offer various
explanations. Some suggest that the “discovery” implied that the sinful policies of previous kings (Ahaz or Menasseh) had led to
the suppression, neglect, and perhaps even destruction of the Torah (e.g. Radak, II Kings 22:8). Reading the Torah for the first time
in a long while reminded them that the Torah attempts to prevent the very sins that were so prevalent. This recollection generated
both regret and fear of punishment. Alternatively, some suggest that they found the Torah scroll rolled to Devarim 28, the section
known as the tokhecha, which delineates the punishments for protracted sinfulness (see e.g. Yoma 52b and Metzudat David, II
Kings 22:8). The verse that particularly alarmed the king and his officers was the threat that God would surely exile the king along
with his people as punishment for their sins (Devarim 28:36).
[4] II Chronicles 34:5-6, 9 indicates that at the time of Josiah’s reign, some members of the exiled tribes resided in the north of
Israel. It is unclear whether they had been there since the exile or whether they are among the exiles who returned during the
unravelling of the Assyrian Empire. See Jeremiah 3:11-12 and Megilla 14b.
[5] See Radak, II Kings 23:29.
[6] See, for example, Targum Eikha 4:21; Ta’anit 22b.
[7] We cannot know for certain when exactly Jeremiah and Habakkuk uttered these prophecies. Both of these prophets prophesied,
however, at the time of Josiah’s death (Habakkuk prophesied about the arrival of the Chaldeans, which actually took place a mere
five years after Josiah’s death). Thus, it certainly seems probable and perhaps likely that these prophecies expressing bewilderment
at God’s workings emerged in the aftermath of Josiah’s death.
[8] Rashi and Radak both regard this as an explanation of sorts, in which the verse explains that Josiah died prematurely so that he
would not see the evil that will befall the people. One could interpret the verse likewise as regarding Josiah, but lacking any
resolution.
[9] See Jeremiah 3:6-18, especially verse 10 (and Rashi and Radak there). See also Jeremiah 4:3 and Radak’s
explanation; Jeremiah 8:4-12.
[10] E.g., Eikha Rabba 1:53.
[11] Eikha Rabba (Vilna) 4:1; Rashi Eikha 4:1. As we noted in our introductory chapter, sources associate specific verses with
Josiah’s death, especially in chapter 4 (but also 1:18).
[12] Chazal debate when the merit of the forefathers ceases to function effectively on Israel’s behalf. Most opinions concur that it
occurs in conjunction with the exile of the Northern Kingdom, likely after II Kings 13:23.
See Shabbat 55a and Vayikra Rabba 36:6.

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[13] Prior to the exile that followed the conquest of Jerusalem in 586, Babylonia had laid siege to Jerusalem in 597 (during the
reign of Jehoakhin). This siege ended when Babylonia dethroned Jehoakhin, taking him into exile along with the rest of the royal
family, officers, military, craftsman, and other notables (II Kings 24:10-16).

The Prophetess Hulda: Her Message of Hope I

Rachel Neiman writes: 6

Of the seven prophetesses (Sarah, Chana, Dvorah, Miriam, Esther, Avigail and Hulda) whose
words the Talmud tells us are recorded for all generations, Hulda is perhaps the least known.

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II Kings, 22:14 briefly describes Hulda as, “…the prophetess, the wife of Shallum son of Tikvah
son of Harhas, the keeper of the (royal) garments, who dwelled in Jerusalem, in the study house…”

Hulda lived during the era of the First Temple and was sole prophetess for the women. Our sages
tell us that at this time, “Jeremiah prophesied in the marketplace, Tzephaniah in the houses of
worship and Hulda to the women.” In spite of this limited biographical information we can surmise
that, as a prophetess, Hulda was a woman of great faith, moral character and
broad Torah knowledge. These are among the qualifications for receiving prophecy, as outlined
by the great commentator Rambam.

Hulda’s place of prophecy was in Jerusalem, between the Temple’s two southern – and busiest –
gates. When the Temple was rebuilt, these gates were named after Hulda, to commemorate her
importance for all generations. Excavations on the Second Temple site revealed that the “Gates of
Hulda” were built directly on top of those where she originally sat. Like her namesake, the weasel,
who digs an intricate system of tunnels linking an entire community, Hulda linked the despair of
the First Temple’s final days to the hopeful new generation of the Second Temple.
Kings II tells us that King Yoshiayhu turns to Hulda for advice when the High Priest
(Kohen Gadol) sends him a Torah scroll discovered inside the Temple. (In the opinion of the
commentator, Abarbanel, this scroll was none other than that written by Moshe). The scroll is not
turned to its appropriate place, but rather to the text of curses in Deuteronomy 28:36, which
describes G-d leading Israel and its king into exile. Yoshiayhu sends the High Priest and other
ministers to consult with Hulda about this seemingly ominous omen (Kings II, 22:14).

Why does the king consult Hulda, the women’s prophet, rather than bringing his question to the
men’s prophets, Jeremiah (Hulda’s cousin) or Tzephaniah? The Talmud answers that Jeremiah, as
Huldah’s cousin, does not consider her prophesying to the king an affront to his own prophetic
status (Megillah 14b). Another opinion tells us at great length that Jeremiah was abroad pulling
together the ten Jewish Tribes, when the king needed a prophet. Regardless, why did the king not
turn to Tzephanah in Jeremiah’s absence? And if Jeremiah was in fact in town, why not to
Jeremiah? According to the tenets of prophecy, a prophet is compelled to report God’s message
word-for-word. In this sense, Yoshiayhu would have received the same answer to his inquiry from
any prophet – man or woman. The prophet is, however, at liberty to alter the tone of his or her
message, thereby imparting additional, if unspoken, information. And in this area of the subtext
tonality and nuance can convey, Hulda becomes Yoshiayhu’s choice.

Simply stated, the Talmud (Megillah 14b) tells us that “women are more compassionate than
men,” and this is the quality king Yoshiyahu sought from Hulda.

Hulda’s compassion – inherent to her nature as a Jewish woman – is what Yoshiayhu’s needs at
this dark hour, when the fate of the Jewish Nation is at stake. As stated, Hulda is compelled to
relay Hashem’s message word-for-word. Thus, she confirms the king’s fear that his country is in
trouble, by predicting the Temple’s destruction and the exile of the Jewish people:

“…Thus said Hashem: Behold, I am bringing evil upon this place and its inhabitants…because
they have forsaken Me and burned offerings to the gods of others. My wrath has been incited
against this place and it will not be extinguished…”

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In spite of its dismal angle, Hulda’s prophecy also includes a comfort for king Yoshiyahu:

“…because your heart is soft and you humbled yourself before Hashem when you heard that which
I have spoken about this place and its inhabitants, that they would become a desolation and a
curse…you will be gathered to your grave in peace – and your eyes will not see all the evil that I
am bringing upon this place” (Kings II, 22: 19-20).

Hulda’s tone of mercy is what differentiates her delivery of Hashem’s message from those
Yoshiayhu might have received from the men. Hulda prophecies contain a feminine tone of
nurturing, sensitivity and compassion.

These are the qualities behind the Talmudic citation that, “women are more compassionate than
men.” Hulda gives the king the encouragement and hope he needs in order to eradicate idolatry
from the Temple. Her prophecy inspires the king, and perhaps the entire Jewish Nation to repent.
Her memory and the significance of her presence are ultimately memorialized in the “Gates of
Hulda” seventy years later, with the rebuilding of the Second Temple.

Hulda speaks to Yoshiayhu with the compassion that is the heritage of every Jewish woman. On a
more specific, personal note, the events of Hulda’s life and the details of her ancestry reinforce her
connection to the qualities of mercy and hope that are part and parcel of her feminine voice.

The Prophetess Hulda: Her Message of Hope II

Leah Kohn writes:7

Our previous class set the prophetess Hulda in historical context and explored how she assisted
King Yoshiyahu during a time of national distress. This week’s class examines the spiritual
strength Hulda inherits from both her ancestors and her immediate family. These ties support the
prophetess in her role as a beacon of hope in a difficult era. In addition, Hulda draws upon the
compassion and mercy that are her birthright as a Jewish woman. Within the context of our own
difficult era, Hulda has much to teach us. Her character, her ancestors and her achievement belong
to us and to Jewish women for all time.

Hulda is a descendant of two great Jewish figures – Joshua (himself a prophet) and Rachav. Joshua
– the preeminent student of Moses – conquered the Canaanites who were living in Israel and led
the Jewish people into the land, ending their forty years sojourn in the desert. Rachav was a
Canaanite woman who converted to Judaism upon recognizing the special relationship between
God and the Jews. Rachav knew about both the miraculous Exodus of the Jewish people from
Egypt and the Divine protection they received during their stay in the desert. While the entire
world had heard about these two extraordinary events, Rachav was the only person who
internalized their significance and concluded that she, too, must join the Jewish nation. Once a
woman of ill repute, Rachav thus merited to become Joshua’s wife and the progenitor of eight
Jewish prophets, including Hulda.

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Rachav’s lineage of prophecy, as carried forth by Hulda, expresses the intrinsic holiness of the
Jewish people and their hope for redemption. Rachav was herself a shining example of hope, given
her personal journey towards holiness. One may assume that Hulda inherited the spiritual genes of
Rachav’s achievement, and used this gift to refine her feminine voice. In Hulda’s lifetime, when
prophets were warning the Jewish people of their imminent exile from Israel, Hulda’s message
was unique, because its darkness was imbued with a sense of light.

As mentioned in our previous class, we have little biographical information about Hulda. II Kings,
22:14 briefly describes her as, “…the wife of Shallum son of Tikvah son of Harhas…” Hulda’s
family ties are a key to her spiritual strength. Her husband – whose name means “peace” or
“wholeness” -was one of the great men of his generation. Shallum was a prophet, also revered for
a particular mundane activity: each day he would transport water from the Jerusalem cistern to the
city gates, in order to revive weary travelers.

The Midrash tells us that, in the merit of Shallum’s daily work and his prophetic gift, his wife
received prophecy. In addition to her own righteousness, Hulda as Shallum’s life partner most
probably shared his endeavors and was rewarded for her participation. As a prophetess, Hulda
remained connected to Shallum, since both in their own way worked to revive and restore the
Jewish people.

The Midrash relates a story that further develops the theme of “revival” that is at the center of
Hulda’s life. When Shallum dies all of Israel attends his burial, which is interrupted by the sound
of an approaching enemy. The crowd places the body in the nearby grave of the prophet Elisha
and runs for their lives. Elisha’s body has the power to revive the dead (see Kings I, in which
Elisha revives the son of the Shunamite woman). Upon touching Elisha’s body, Shallum is
restored, in recognition of his having restored so many tired travelers. The commentator Radal
tells us that the Elisha/Yoshiyahu story is recounted in Kings II 13:21-2:

“Some people were burying a man, and just then they saw the troop coming, so they threw the man
into Elisha’s grave. The man’s body rolled over and touched the bones of Elisha, and [the man]
came back to life and rose up on his feet.”

After Shallum is brought back, he and Hulda are blessed with a son, Chanamel. The name
Chanamel implies “favor” (“Chen” in Hebrew) in God’s eyes. This child, also a prophet and a
living miracle will play a role in the transition from First to Second Temple. We can assume that
Hulda was profoundly affected by receiving back her husband and re-starting her family. This
experience may have added dimension to her message of hope. Today’s Jewish woman is a
spiritual descendant of Hulda and has access to the same eternal wellspring of optimism that is
part and parcel of the feminine soul. Hulda’s story is embedded in the bedrock of the Jewish
woman.

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Burial Site:

Two conflicting traditions exist regarding the final resting place of Huldah. The Tosefta records
Huldah's burial site as between the walls in Jerusalem. During the Middle Ages a second tradition
developed identifying Huldah's burial site with a cave carved out of the rock beneath a mosque on
Mount of Olives. The cave is considered holy to Jews, Muslims and Christian.

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