It’s Raining Wheat

Claims of “grain rain,” such as a reported incident near Rostov, Russia, in 2021, are less well documented in reliable scientific literature. However, the underlying mechanism is plausible: strong updrafts in whirlwinds or tornado-like systems can carry dust, seeds, or grain from exposed storage areas and later deposit them when the storm weakens.

Indeed, the idea of substances falling from the sky is not new. Perhaps one of the earliest recorded references appears in the Gemara (Menachos 69b), which recounts an incident involving an Arab merchant named Adi, upon whom wheat “rained down,” accumulating to the height of a handbreadth over a vast area.

The Gemara explores a halachic dilemma: If wheat were to descend from the clouds (acting as “rain”), could it be used for the Shtei HaLechem offering? This offering, presented on Shavuos in the Beis HaMikdash, must be made from the new wheat crop. The Torah mandates that the offering come from “moshvoseichem,” your settlements, which is interpreted to mean that the produce must come from Eretz Yisrael. The uncertainty lies in whether this requirement strictly demands that the wheat have grown within Eretz Yisrael, or whether it is sufficient that the wheat ultimately arrives there through an unconventional means, such as falling from the sky.

Rashi explains that the wheat may have originated from a ship and been carried into the clouds. Tosafos, however, questions the very premise. If the grain originated outside Eretz Yisrael, it is clearly invalid; if it grew within Eretz Yisrael, why should its aerial transport disqualify it?

The Chasam Sofer and the Yad David offer two approaches to resolve this difficulty. According to the Chasam Sofer, the wheat indeed grew in Eretz Yisrael, but perhaps “moshvoseichem” requires that it come directly from the land in its natural state. Grain that temporarily left the ground via the atmosphere might not qualify. The Yad David suggests the opposite: the grain originated outside Eretz Yisrael, but perhaps its transport and redepositing through the clouds constitutes a form of “new” placement, potentially altering its halachic status.

Tosafos ultimately rejects these approaches, proposing instead that the Gemara is not discussing a natural phenomenon at all but rather a miraculous one. The question, then, is whether wheat created or delivered through a miracle qualifies as coming from “moshvoseichem.” On one hand, it appeared in Eretz Yisrael; on the other, it did not grow from its soil.

This discussion has an interesting parallel to one approach to the miracle of Chanukah. Some understand that the Chanukah oil did not merely last longer than expected but that the jug was miraculously replenished each day. A famous question, often attributed to Rav Chaim Brisker, asks whether such oil would qualify as the shemen zayis required for the mitzvah of lighting the Menorah. Miraculous oil may have identical properties, but is it halachically considered true olive oil, or merely “shemen nes”?

Tosafos seems to challenge the premise of this question. In Menachos, Tosafos entertains the possibility that miraculously provided wheat would still be considered bona fide wheat; the only concern is whether it satisfies the requirement of “moshvoseichem.” If so, it can be surmised that miraculously produced oil should qualify as olive oil for the Menorah, where no such geographic requirement exists.

The sefer Yemei Chanukah tells an interesting story about Rav Chaim Brisker’s famous question. A young man, staying at the same inn, worked really hard on an amazing answer to a deep question he thought Rav Chaim had asked about shemen neis. He got a chance to share his original ideas with the Gadol himself. But he was totally shocked when Rav Chaim told him simply, “I never asked such a question.”