S.Y. Agnon on Parshat Bo: A Journey Home

A thought on Parshat Bo, courtesy of S. Y. Agnon:

Over a two-week period our ancestors were told how to prepare for our national Exodus. Those commands, recorded in our parshah, described three activities:

• Designation and sacrifice of the korban pesach (Shemot 12:1-6);
• Placement of blood from the korban pesach on the entrances of their homes (12:7, 21-23);
• Circumcision of all males (12:43-50).

We could view these three activities as elements of the korban pesach. However, we might also see in them a broader theme, crucial for the Exodus.

Agnon’s Exodus
In the late 1920’s, S. Y. Agnon wrote a short story called L’Veit Abba, “To Father’s House”. The protagonist begins the story working at home, but he is frustrated by labour which “has neither beginning nor end, which you start without benefit and from which one can never walk away.” He also suffers from an uncomfortable sense that he does not belong there. Abruptly, he decides to go to his father, whom he has not seen for many years, for Pesach. He departs in haste, but he then encounters delays which may be a product of his own ambivalence about visiting his father. Once in his father’s town, he encounters a heretical individual who wants to discuss the end of the book of Yehoshua. A little further along he finds himself in a tavern with “a set table” holding bottles of liquor, even as Pesach is about to begin. Finally, he arrives at his father’s home – but he remains outside, unable to enter, as the story ends.

To Father’s House works on several levels, one of which is a parable for our departure from Egypt. As the Talmud (Sotah 11a) describes, our labour in Egypt was perpetual and unrewarding, and we shared the protagonist’s sense of not belonging. Suffering made us long for the house of our Father, and we left in haste. (Shemot 12:11) We displayed great ambivalence, though, en route to our land; we even claimed that we had been better off in Egypt. The end of the book of Yehoshua (24:2-4) is part of the Haggadah, and the tavern’s “set table” parallels the Shulchan Orech phase of the Seder – but the heretic as well as the liquor, presumably grain-based, don’t fit at a reunion with our Father on Pesach. These events represent our own troubled journey to Israel. And in the end, like the generation of Jews who left Egypt, the hero does not actually enter the land.

Leaving Egypt or Going Home?
With this story, Agnon does more than summarize forty years of troubled travel; he puts the Exodus itself in proper perspective, as a central stage in a greater arc. The arc starts with the life of the family of Avraham and Sarah in Canaan, continues with our descent to Egypt, and sees our subjugation in Egypt. Then we leave Egypt, receive the Torah at Sinai, build a Mishkan and journey home. As Agnon hints with his title, the Exodus is not merely yetziat Mitzrayim, a group of slaves departing from Egypt. Rather, it is l’veit Abba, a journey of Hebrews back to the home in which we were raised in Bereishit, from which we had departed, and to which we had always been meant to return.
Seen in this light, the Exodus requires that we be identified as the rightful heirs of Avraham and Sarah, to merit that return home.

This is the role of the three preparatory activities outlined in our parshah:

• Circumcision was Avraham’s mitzvah, and it became the mark of the Jew.
• Korbanot were a hallmark of Avraham and Sarah, who built altars each time they settled a new part of Canaan.
• Placement of blood from the korban pesach marks the structure as a home dedicated to G-d, like the landmark tent of Avraham and Sarah.

Having performed these deeds, we were visibly ready to return home.

Arrival
The conclusion of this arc comes in Yehoshua, Chapter 5, when G-d “removes the shame of Egypt” from our nation. (Yehoshua 5:9) The males are circumcised. (5:2-8) They bring a korban pesach. (5:10) And they camp in Gilgal (5:10), their first step in building a home in the land.

One odyssey met its completion long ago, but our religious and physical wanderings continue to describe a still longer arc. While we work toward the final Exodus, let us remember the need to identify ourselves as part of that original family. Whether through circumcision, korban and the Jewish home, or through other actions, we must identify ourselves as descendants of Avraham and Sarah, as part of meriting the long-awaited return To Father’s House.

Note: I call Gd "Father" here not to be misogynist, but because it fits Agnon's story.

We do not rely on miracles (Derashah, pre-Pesach 5776)

21st century science proclaims that human beings are actually hard-wired to believe in Hashem. Or as a headline in the on-line journal Science 2.0 put it, “Scientists Discover that Atheists Might Not Exist”. Of course, people might come to doubt Gd for a variety of reasons and due to a range of experiences, but developmental psychology, neuropsychology and evolutionary biology argue that by default, we are believers. In other words: As described gloriously in Shir haShirim, Man pursues Gd! It is in the nature of man to believe in, to yearn to believe in, a Refereed universe.

It is axiomatic that Judaism encourages us to nurture and nourish this native emunah, practicing it out of choice rather than mere biological compulsion. We dedicate two out of our three regalim to highlighting the heights our emunah can achieve:
• On Succos, we enter the Succah to celebrate לכתך אחרי במדבר, the way in which our ancestors followed HaShem in the wilderness, on faith.
• On Shavuos, we celebrate both the emunah of the farmer who sacrifices the year’s first produce, and the emunah of the Jews at Sinai who declared נעשה ונשמע, “We will do whatever You say!”

But the attraction to emunah can be a Trojan Horse, concealing two subtle risks:
• First: The risk that we will look for Gd in foreign places, as did the generation of Enosh and the creators of the Golden Calf, as well as generations of young Jews who have hiked the Himalayas in search of that Gd. To borrow from Voltaire: if we fail to find Gd, we might resort to inventing Him.
• And then there is a second risk: that human beings who believe in a Divine Overseer will rely fully on this Overseer, failing to value that which humanity can and must achieve on its own behalf.

Pesach comes to neutralize the risks of our natural faith. The narrative of Pesach addresses the first challenge by testifying that Gd, and only Gd, is Creator and Manipulator of our world. And the narrative of Pesach addresses the second challenge, too, by proclaiming that our liberty from Egyptian bondage was achieved not solely through the אני ולא מלאך intervention of Gd, but also through the activism of the human being:
• The dauntless persistence of our formidable ancestors who were slaves in Egypt, and who did not give up but instead retained their identity as descendants of Avraham and Sarah;
• The energy of נשים צדקניות, superlatively righteous women who kept their families going despite Egyptian slavery, and in whose merit, Chazal say, we were rescued from Egypt;
• The obstinacy of Moshe, Aharon and Miriam, who refused to be intimidated by Pharaoh and the Egyptians;
• And the fearlessness of brave ancestors who, in the midst of idolatrous Egypt, slaughtered the representative of the lamb-god for the korban Pesach.
This emphasis on human action is a central lesson of Pesach: We believe in miracles, and we celebrate miracles, but we also celebrate עם ישראל, Jewish peoplehood and Jewish action, on this Yom Tov.

Of course, this emphasis on human action is not explicit in the Haggadah; the Haggadah is overtly and rightly devoted to the Gd of אני ולא מלאך, even downplaying the actions of Moshe Rabbeinu. Nonetheless, the emphasis on human endeavour is embedded in a central mitzvah of Pesach night, ושמרתם את המצות – the practice of using matzah shemurah, guarded matzah.

We use Seder matzah which has been guarded by Jews with the mitzvah in mind (Pesachim 38a-b)  – not only because we are afraid that the dough might become chametz, but because a critical component of the process of making matzah, a crucial third ingredient alongside wheat and water, is the presence of a Jew who is striving to fulfill the mitzvah of his Creator. For this reason, it is insufficient to use closed-circuit monitoring of the grain; it is insufficient to have a Jew watch a non-Jew process the flour. A Jew must personally grind, sift, mix and knead the flour, all the while maintaining his intent to create matzah for the mitzvah. [We will need to discuss "machine shemurah" another time...]

Why do we insist on Jewish involvement and concentration in crafting our Seder matzah? Rabbeinu Asher (Rosh Pesachim 2:26) explained that it’s because the Torah describes matzah as לחם עוני, which the Sages translate as bread of poverty, like the bread our enslaved ancestors ate. As the gemara says, when paupers want bread, they make it personally – and so Rabbeinu Asher wrote, בעלי מעשה וחסידים ותמימים מחמירין על עצמן כגאונים המחמירין ולשין ואופין בעצמן, that people of great deeds and great piety make sure to knead and bake the matzah themselves. And even for those of us who do not bake the seder matzah personally, we still require that a Jew make it, remembering and emulating our impoverished and enslaved ancestors on a night which is simultaneously dedicated to mimicking royalty.

As science has discovered, and as celebrated on Shavuos and Succos, the human being naturally pursues the Divine Overseer. But Pesach plays a balancing role, first by making certain that our religious search is directed toward Gd, and second by reminding us that our liberty came about with the help and merit of human effort. This is the message of matzah shemurah, which we must create by investing labour and intent.

Perhaps we should take that recognition of human effort a step further at our Seder, beyond matzah shemurah.
• Perhaps, without taking anything away from the Haggadah’s central motif of Divine miracles, we could still pause when we read ויתנו עלינו עבודה קשה, about the hard labour, to honour the generations of slaves who persisted in identifying as Jews;
• When we read ואת עמלנו – אלו הבנים, about the struggle of producing children in Egypt, we could pause for הכרת הטוב, gratitude to those נשים צדקניות who birthed, nurtured and raised Jewish children in the face of hopelessness;
• When we read אני ולא מלאך, the declaration that HaShem took us out personally and single-handedly, we could state, as the Tosafos Rid notes, that Moshe courageously and stubbornly brought the Divine message to Pharaoh, despite the Pharaoh’s threats in response;
• And when we read ואמרתם זבח פסח הוא לד', about the mitzvah of korban pesach, we could discuss what it took for a Jew in Egypt to tie up a lamb on the 10th of Nisan and identify it as a sacrifice for HaShem, and whether we would have the strength to buck our society in that way.

And even beyond Pesach, we should recognize the value of that human activism in the Liberty achieved in our own era. Our national return to Israel is surely a Divine miracle, but the Jews who suffered to earn it, the mothers who struggled to raise Jewish children, the leaders who practiced shuttle diplomacy, the visionaries who challenged the international political status quo – to their activism we owe a great הכרת הטוב, and a recognition that this is what Hashem has empowered us to achieve.

The early Greek philosopher Protagoras declared that Man is the measure of all things, but we don’t agree. On the other hand, we also don’t believe solely in the humble half-passage from Tehillim, מה אנוש כי תזכרנו “What is man that Thou art mindful of him.” Rather, we believe in the entire sentence from Tehillim, and its concluding promise of human potential: ותחסרהו מעט מאלקים, “You, Gd, have made us but a little lower than the angels.”

HaShem has crowned humanity with the opportunity to make our own shmurah matzah, to bring our own korban pesach, to effect our own miracles, and so to achieve glory and greatness. This Pesach, may we recognize the ways in which our ancestors did this, and may we answer the Divine call to use our Liberty to do the same.

From house to House (Bo 5776)

In 19th century Germany, Karl Graf and Julius Wellhausen argued that most of the book of Devarim was published in the era of King Yoshiyahu in the first Beit haMikdash, and that the “Priestly Code” (parts of the first four chumashim, the end of Devarim, and part of Yehoshua) was published centuries later. As the theory went, one of the central goals of this “Priestly Code” was to centralize service of G-d around the Beit haMikdash.

In 1903, Rabbi Dovid Zvi Hoffmann published a lengthy challenge, noting inconsistencies in the theory. His first note addressed the Korban Pesach.

In our parshah (Shemot 12), Moshe tells the Jews to sacrifice the Korban Pesach at home. On the other hand, Devarim 16:5 instructs, “You may not slaughter the Pesach at one of your gates,” but rather at the communal Sanctuary. If a goal of Shemot 12 and the “Priestly Code” was to centralize korbanot, why would the alleged editors of the Torah take our founding ritual, already decreed to be performed at the site of the Beit haMikdash (Devarim 16:5), and already performed there (Melachim II 23), and provide reason to celebrate it at home? (Carla Sulzbach, “David Zvi Hoffmann’s Die Wichtigsten Instanzen gegen die Graf-Wellhausensche Hypothese, 1903” (MA Thesis, McGill University, 1996))

Graf-Wellhausen aside, we need to consider a problem within our own, traditional read of the Torah’s text. Parshat Bo clearly places the Korban Pesach in the home. Why, then, did the Torah move the Korban Pesach to the Sanctuary?

Private or Public Korban?
Indeed, the Korban Pesach is ambiguous; Rambam described the Korban Pesach as “a private korban which is like a public korban”. (Introduction to Seder Zevachim) The Korban Pesach is brought by private groups. However, it overrides Shabbat and ritual impurity, like a communal korban! (Yoma 50a-51a) The transition of the Korban Pesach from the private home to the public Sanctuary seems to be part of a greater picture, in which the Korban Pesach, naturally private, displays elements of public ceremony. Understanding why the Korban moved from house to House may help us understand this mixed celebration.

1: Grandeur
Sefer haChinuch (#487) justifies use of a national site, stating, “The honour and publicity of the mitzvah is greater when it is performed in a designated location, with everyone together...” In other words, the Korban Pesach is fundamentally private, but adorned with the trappings of a communal korban in order to elevate its status.

2: National identity
Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (Commentary to Devarim 16:5) offers an opposite perspective. He writes, “Each person must include himself and his household in the communal structure of a national network… Only afterward can one joyfully recognize the value of his own home.” Per Rabbi Hirsch, the Korban Pesach is fundamentally communal. The home celebration in Egypt was an anomaly, in which “the doorposts and lintel filled the place of the [communal] altar.”

3: Private and Public
We might suggest a third possibility: the Korban Pesach of Egypt was private, but afterward it gained a dual identity.

The initial Korban Pesach inhabited a Jewish world which was not covenantal nation, but prolific clan. Therefore, each family celebrated at home. Soon after, though, our nation’s shared history began with the brit at Sinai. In the second year, as evidenced by Bamidbar 9:10’s concern for being too far from the Mishkan, the Korban Pesach could be celebrated only as part of our national community. The personal identity remained, as each group brought its own korban, but the national identity became dominant, overriding Shabbat and ritual impurity, and setting the Sanctuary as the site for this ritual.

Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein wrote that Jewish identity entails both a personal relationship with G-d and a national experience of “the vertical historical axis, bonding with the full range of Jewish existence, across the millenia, from our incipient national cradle to the epiphany of our metahistorical vision.” So it is that conversion to Judaism, for example, includes acceptance of both personal religious obligations and membership in the Jewish nation. (Brother Daniel and the Jewish Fraternity (1968); Diaspora Religious Zionism: Some Current Reflections (2007)) These two themes are present in the Korban Pesach.

When we bring the Korban Pesach – as we will in just a few months, G-d-willing – we will mark our personal relationship with G-d, as we did in that first year. However, we will also recognize “the full range of Jewish existence”, our national identity, and so we will leave our homes and bring our private korbanot to the site of the Beit haMikdash, in Jerusalem.

Overview of Masechet Pesachim

Since Daf Yomi is starting Masechet Pesachim on Shabbos, here is an Overview document that some may find useful. You can also download it here, as a pdf, with better formatting. Suggestions welcome!

Perek 1 – אור לארבעה עשר

• 2a – 14a         Search and Destroy – When, where and how
• 14a – 21a       Tumah, terumah and kodashim

Perek 2 – כל שעה

• 21a – 26b       Chametz on Pesach and other Issurei Hanaah
• 26b – 27b       Zeh v'zeh goreim
• 27b – 28a       How to destroy chametz
• 28a – 31b        Status of chamez during and after Pesach
• 31b – 35a       Eating Terumah inappropriately
• 35a – 38b       Matzah Qualifications
• 39a – 39b       Marror Qualifications
• 39b – 41a, 42a         Avoiding creating chametz on Pesach
• 41a – 42a       Roasting the Korban Pesach

Perek 3 – ואלו עוברין

• 42a – 46a       Types of chametz, including various mixtures
• 46a – 48b       Baking on Yom Tov and on Pesach, and related issues
• 49a                Destroying chametz on the 14^th of Nisan
• 49a – 50a       Extended aggadata: Am ha'Aretz, Talmid Chacham, Olam haBa

Perek 4 – מקום שנהגו

• 50a – 50b       Erev Pesach, Erev Shabbos and Erev Yom Tov
• 50b – 53a       Following local psak and minhag
• 53a – 53b       Roast on Pesach night
• 53b – 54b       The flame of Havdalah; Aggadata
• 54b – 55a       Melachah on Tishah b'Av; Acting as a Talmid Chacham does
• 55a – 55b       Melachah on Erev Pesach
• 55b – 57b       The people of Yericho and the Chachamim

Perek 5 – תמיד נשחט

• 58a – 59b       Timing of the avodah on the 14^th of Nisan
• 59b – 63a       A Korban Pesach processed with improper intent
• 63a – 64a       A Korban Pesach processed while one possesses chametz
• 64a – 65b       The procedure for bringing the Korban Pesach in the Beit haMikdash

Perek 6 – אלו דברים

• 65b – 69b       Overriding Shabbat and tumah for the Korban Pesach
• 69b – 71b       The korban chagigah brought with the Korban Pesach
• 71b – 73b       A Korban Pesach processed improperly [on Shabbat]

Perek 7 – כיצד צולין

• 74a – 75b       Roasting the Korban Pesach
• 75b – 76b       Halachot of absorption
• 76b – 83a       Tumah and Korbanot; Tumah of a Tzibbur and Korban Pesach
• 83a – 84a       Burning the remains of the Korban Pesach
• 84a – 85a       Bones of the Korban Pesach
• 85a – 86a       A Korban Pesach which leaves its space
• 86a – 86b       Chaburot eating the Korban Pesach

Perek 8 – האשה

• 87a – 88a       Extended Aggadata
• 88a – 92b       Membership on the Korban Pesach

Perek 9 – מי שהיה

• 92b – 94b      Who brings a Pesach Sheni?
• 95a – 95b      Laws of Pesach Sheni
• 95b – 96a      Bringing the Korban Pesach while tamei
• 96a – 96b      Differences between the Egyptian Pesach and Ours
• 96b – 97b      Temurah and Lost Korban Pesach
• 97b – 99a      Miscellaneous Problems with the Korban Pesach

Perek 10 – ערבי פסחים

• 99b – 99b, 107b-108a Eating on Erev Pesach, Erev Shabbos and Erev Yom Tov
• 99b – 107b         Laws of Kiddush and Havdalah
• 108a                 Leaning and the Four Cups
• 108b – 109a       Women, the Four Cups, and Simchat Yom Tov
• 109a – 109b       Shiurim
• 109b – 114a       Zugot, Sheidim, Hazards and more
• 114a                 The First Cup
• 114a – 116a       Karpas, the Kearah, Charoset
• 116a – 116b       Maggid
• 116b – 119b       Hallel
• 119b – 120b       Afikoman, and leftovers of the Korban Pesach
• 121a – 121b       Berachah on Korban Pesach, and Pidyon haBen

Rambam Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Chametz uMatzah / Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim

• Perek 1 / Orach Chaim 443 / Prohibitions involving chametz   
• Perakim 2-3 / Orach Chaim 431-439, 444-446 / Mitzvah of destroying chametz
• Perek 4 / Orach Chaim 440-441, 449-450 / Chametz of a non-Jew
• Perakim 4-5 / Orach Chaim 442, 447-448 / Chametz mixtures
• Perek 5 / Orach Chaim 451-452 / Chametz kelim       
• Perek 6 / Orach Chaim 453-467, 471 / Eating matzah
• Perakim 7-8 / Orach Chaim 472-486 / Mitzvot of the Seder     
• Note: Laws of the Korban Pesach are discussed in Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Korban Pesach

Useful Summaries found in a standard Masechet Pesachim

• סדר והלכות קרבן פסח       Printed on 57b
• פסקי הלכות פסח שני        Printed on 99a
• הלכות פסחים בקצרה        Printed at the end of the Rosh
• הא לך הסדר בקצרה          Printed in the Mordechai after the fourth perek
• סדר של פסח                  Printed in the Mordechai to Pesachim 114a

Squirrel at the Seder

I'm sure you've heard the old story about the bees going to the bar mitzvah [they need to wear yarmulkas so they aren't mistaken for Wasps].

Well, here's a new one: The squirrel at a seder!

Backstory: Our family eats leftover matzah all year round, but last week we decided to make room for our Pesach 5773 leftovers by disposing of the three pounds we still have from Pesach 5771. As an experiment, we put some out for the birds [to use as nest material if not food] - and landed this squirrel. He seems to has a taste for the unleavened, even though these pieces became soggy in a morning rain...

Why I love Pesach

Up until the Seder actually begins, I can’t stand Pesach, with all of its stress. BUT, once we get to the Seder I love Pesach, because:

I get to spend time with the rebbetzin and my kids, especially on the long Pesach afternoons (yes, DST is appreciated here). Even with a nap, there’s still plenty of time left.

I love the taste of Shmurah Matzah.

Davening doesn’t involve the distracting complexities of Succos – no hoshanos, no naanuim, etc.

No meetings on Chol haMoed.

It’s corny, but connecting with thousands of years of Jewish history at the Seder is really amazing, if you stop to think about it. Yehoshua did it, they did it in Bnei Brak, they did it in Turkey and Spain and France and Yemen and Iraq and Iran and Brazil and Japan, and here I am doing it now.

I love the taste of Shmurah Matzah.

I can sit down to meals and eat and talk with my family without feeling rushed to go do work.

I enjoy lounging in my kittel.

Matzah with butter. Matzah with jam. Matzah with butter and jam. Matzah with scrambled eggs. Matzah with cheese. Matzah with schnitzel (but no cheese). Matzah with meatballs. Matzah with turkey. Matzah Matzah Matzah.

Dayyenu is the perfect time to stop and think about all the little things that go right each day, to enable us to survive. That sounds corny too, but it’s true.

There’s a great sense of accomplishment that comes, for me, if the seder goes well.

The anticipation of post-Pesach ice cream is delicious.

And for me, the high point of Pesach: Shir haShirim (Song of Songs) is beyond my ability to describe, it’s so passionate, so evocative, so wondefully descriptive of the beauty and pain of seeking Gd. As frightened as I get reading Koheles (Ecclesiastes) on Succos, that’s how inspired I am by reading Shir haShirim. I get teary every time I read the 5th chapter, especially, it’s just so heartwrenchingly beautiful, first the loss of Gd and then the description of Gd. There are no words in my lexicon.

Matzah Matzah Matzah Matzah Matzah!

The Rabbi's Pesach Stress

Why did your Rabbi cringe today when you approached him with that ladle?

Why does he start to tremble when people mention smoothtop stoves or granite countertops?

Is he ever going to have a normal expression on his face when someone mentions quinoa?

Yes, we are at the height of pre-Pesach rabbinic stress. It's all about the shailos (halachic questions).

I've written in the past about the stress that comes with answering shalos. It's hard to apply halachic principles to practical situations, and to be sure we have asked the right questions and understood the responses.

Certain types of questions are worse than others. Niddah questions, when a couple is having fertility problems. Yom Kippur fasting for people in poor health. And, yes, Pesach questions. We have established principles for leniency, but applying them is tough.

Example 1: "I inherited a used set of china from a relative who did not observe kashrut; can I kasher it for Pesach?"

For year-round use, the answer is easier; since the alternative to kashering would be to throw it out, and china is valuable, the argument for leniency due to hefsed (financial loss) is clear. But regarding Pesach, there is a rabbinic counter-argument: "You won't lose money if you save this china for year-round use." To which the congregant might respond, "But I don't have a nice set of china for the seder." Well, just how important is having such a set for the seder?

Example 2: "I was given a $50 bottle of Scotch for Purim. Can I include it in my sale of chametz?"

Following the view that one may sell bona fide chametz only in a case of financial loss, we now need to define financial loss. On the one hand, $50 is a loss – the congregant would never go out and spend $50 on liquor on his own. On the other hand, is it really such a loss? He pays annual tuition of $23,000 for his daughter's high school education, and he wouldn't blink if it was suddenly $23,050.

Example 3: "Can I drink Lactaid on Pesach? I get cramps from regular milk."

Assuming (as I believe major kashrut organizations do) that Lactaid poses a kitniyos problem, it is permitted for someone who needs to drink milk, and who cannot use regular milk. But define "needs to drink milk". And "cannot use regular milk", for that matter.

And the cases go on and on.

It's rare that I feel good about no longer being in the shul rabbinate, but pre-Pesach is one of those times…

An Erev Pesach thought

This is an article I wrote for this week's Toronto Torah. I think I overwrote it a bit, but I still like it...

Our ancestor Yitzchak sought to pass the blessing of his father, Avraham, to his elder son, Esav. He summoned Esav and said, in the words of a midrash (Pirkei d'Rabbi Eliezer 31), "My son! Tonight the upper realms sing, tonight the stores of dew are opened, today is the blessing of the dew. Prepare tasty food for me, and I will bless you while I yet live." This midrash then continues to tell us that the date when Esav was to be blessed, but instead Yaakov inherited his father's mantle, was the fourteenth of Nisan, commonly known as Erev Pesach.

Why should we associate the communication of this ancestral blessing with Pesach? This midrash explains that Yitzchak's menu betrays the secret; why else would this elderly patriarch have been interested in a meal of two goats? This must have been a desire to anticipate the future Pesach celebration by partaking in a korban chagigah and a korban pesach.

We might amplify the midrashic connection by noting that Yitzchak's blessing was drawn to the fourteenth of Nisan by intent, not coincidence. The midrash itself states that Yitzchak chose this date for its special portent; building on that text, we might suggest that the fourteenth, when the stores of dew are opened, is a day of fateful transition, completion of ancient journeys and incipience of new ones.

That original fourteenth of Nisan certainly fits this description. Conferral of Avraham's heritage upon Yaakov marked the completion of Avraham and Sarah's journey, the selection of a third fibre for the triple-threaded cord (Kohelet 4:12) which would anchor the continuity of the Jewish people. At the same time, though, a new journey began, for on this day Yaakov was compelled to flee into exile, embarking upon the creation of the nucleus of the Jewish people, the seventy souls who would ultimately descend to Egypt.

In the days of the original Pesach, too, the fourteenth represented a critical historical juncture. A nation of slaves sacrificed the Pesach lamb and thereby completed the sentence decreed centuries earlier, ending its sojourn in a land not its own. At the same instant, a nation of free women and men took their first tentative steps in the service of G-d, trailing pillars of fire and cloud into the wilderness.

Forever forward in Jewish history, as we note in Nirtzah, the fourteenth would be a moment of transition, the hours of entrée into "chatzi halaylah" beginning a new day.

This completion-and-beginning character of the fourteenth of Nisan is seen in the Talmud Yerushalmi, too, in two different explanations for the prohibition against labour on that date. The sages offered two different explanations for this prohibition:

"It would be illogical for you to be immersed in your work, while your korban was brought." (Talmud Yerushalmi Pesachim 4:1)

"Exodus 12:11 identifies this day as 'It is a Pesach for G-d'." (Talmud Yerushalmi Pesachim 4:6)

The first explanation sees the fourteenth as Erev Pesach, when we sacrifice a korban which will only be eaten that night; we do not perform work because we must occupy ourselves with preparation for that night. The fourteenth is a bridesmaid, her honour acquired by association with a journey which will begin only after her time is past. The second explanation, though, sees the fourteenth as Pesach, a holiday in its own right, "Pesach for G-d." This date is a milestone, completing the historic path.

Certainly, we are more familiar with the fourteenth of Nisan as "Erev Pesach," but our sages did refer to this day as "Pesach", a Yom Tov in its right. As noted by Professor Yitzchak Gilat (http://www.vbm-torah.org/vtc/0041789.html), the Mishnah (Pesachim 1:7) identified the fourteenth by the name "Pesach". Philo, living two thousand years ago, called it "Pesach", as did Josephus in his Wars of the Jews.

This dual message is ours to claim on the fourteenth of Nisan, every year. The Jew does not equate "history" with "past"; we see historic milestones in every birth, bat mitzvah, wedding and death, and we view our personal and communal drives toward spiritual achievement through lenses of portent and meaning. The fourteenth of Nisan, then, is an ideal time to take stock of where we have been, to see the journey of the past year as complete, and to celebrate a Pesach. At the same time, it is the establishment of new goals, the start of a new journey, an Erev Pesach. May this year's fourteenth serve as both for all of us, ushering in greater redemption for us all.

The Apter Rebbe (R' Avraham Yehoshua Heschel) makes peace

[I'm currently enjoying this post re: Rav Yisrael Salanter at Modern Uberdox]

Here's an interesting story, recorded in Achilat Matzot b'Yisrael by R' Shalom Yuda Gross (pg. 140-141 of the pdf here, but I have brought the Hebrew at the end of this post). This story bothers me on several levels; I'm curious to see if it bothers others as it bothers me.

Two explanatory notes in advance:
1. According to traditional halachic authorities, one must use "shemurah matzah", and not regular matzah, for the mitzvot of the Seder.
2. Customarily, chasidim avoid eating "soaked matzah", popularly referred to as "gebrokts", as a custom during Pesach. When using our super-thin matzah, this is generally understood to be custom rather than law.

Once, tzedakah collectors came to the home of the holy Rav of Opta, the Ohev Yisrael, on the day before Pesach, to collect matzot for the needy. The Rebbetzin was busy preparing for Yom Tov, and others went to provide matzot for the collectors. In the bustle, they mistakenly took the shemurah matzah which had been baked on the day before Pesach for the Rav and were plaed under a special cloth, and gave them to the collectors, who took them before the Rebbetzin came into the room.

When the Rebbetzin enteredthe room, she saw that the shemurah matzah was not there. She investigated, and learned that hey had been given to the tzedakah collectors. She quaked, and her heart was struck in her chest; she did not know what to do. She feared telling her holy husband about this. She decided to take regular matzah, which she placed beneath the cloth in place of the others, and she pretended to know nothing of what had happened. The holy Rav conducted the Seder with the plain matzah.

After Pesach, a couple came before the Rav to divorce. The Rav asked the husband, "Why do you wish to divorce your wife?"

The husband replied that this wife did not want to cook for Pesach in implements which had not been used for soaked matzah.

The Rav instructed to call for his Rebbetzin. He told her, "Tell me the truth: What sort of matzot were placed before me for the Seder?"

The Rebbetzin was silent, afraid to say.

He asked again, "Please tell, and do not fear."

The Rebbetzin answered, "Normal matzot." And she told what had happened.

The Rav told the husband, "See, my son. I ate normal matzah on the first night of Pesach, pretending that I did not know and was not aware so that I would not come to anger, or, Gd-forbid, to a quarrel. And you want to divorce your wife over soaked matzah?"

The Rav made peace between them, and they left in peace.

פעם אחת נזדמן אצל הרב הקדוש מאפטא, בעל ״אוהב ישראל״, שבאו גבאי־צדקה של העיר בערב־פסח לגבות מצות עבור העניים, והרבנית היתה טרודה בהכנות ליו״ט, והלכו אנשי הבית לתת להגבאים את המצות ומרוב הטרדה שכחו ולקחו את מצות־השמורה שנאפו בערב־פסח לשם הרב והיו מונחות במפה מיוחדת בחדר ונתנו להגובים והללו נטלו והלכו להם. בבוא אחרי כן הרבנית להחדר וראתה כי מצות השמורה אינן, עשתה חקירה ודרישה ונתוודע לה שנתנו אותן לגבאי־הצדקה. נזדעזעה מאד הרבנית, ויך לבה בקרבה, ולא ידעה מה לעשות כי יראה להגיד הדבר לבעלה הקדוש. נמלכה הרבנית ולקחה מצות פשוטות, ושמה במקומן בתוך המפה, ועשתה עצמה כלא יודעת מכל הנעשה, וערך הרב הקדוש את ה״סדר״ על המצות הפשוטות.

לאחר הג הפסח באו לפני הרב זוג להתגרש. שאל הרב את הבעל:
- מה לך כי תגרש אשתך?
והשיב הבעל כי אשתו לא רצתה לבשל בשבילו בפסח בכלים מיוחדים בלי ״שרויה״ (חסידים ואנשי־מעשה מדקדקים לבלי לאכול בפסח ״מצה־שרוייה״ ונזהרים לבלי לבשל בפסח מצה במים)
אז ציוה הרב לקרוא להרבנית, ויאמר לה: הגידי נא האמת: איזו מצות הניחו לפני לה״סדר״ ?
ותחרש הרבנית, כי יראה להגיד.
שאל אותה שוב: הגידי נא, אל תיראי.
ותען הרבנית: מצות פשוטות...
ותספר את כל המעשה.
ואז אמר הרב להבעל:
- ראה נא, בני: אני אכלתי מצה פשוטה בליל ראשון של פסח, ועשיתי את עצמי כלא יודע וכלא מרגיש, למען לא אבוא לידי הקפדה, או ח״ו לקטטה, ואתה רוצה לגרש את אשתך בשביל ״שרויה״?!
ועשה הרב שלום ביניהם, והלכו מאתו לשלום.

And it was, in the middle of the night

As Douglas Adams wrote of his protagonist, Arthur Dent, in Chapter 8 of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish:
He almost danced to the fridge, found the three least hairy things in it, put them on a plate and watched them intently for two minutes. Since they made no attempt to move within that time he called them breakfast and ate them. Between them they killed a virulent space disease he'd picked up without knowing it in the Flargathon Gas Swamps a few days earlier, which otherwise would have killed off half the population of the Western Hemisphere, blinded the other half, and driven everyone else psychotic and sterile, so the Earth was lucky there.

I like that passage because it reminds me of strange hypotheses I had occasionally as a child, wondering if I had been immortal until I had eaten celery, or if turning right instead of left had saved me from some hideous disaster. I've always been addicted to the idea that a given moment, action or day might have unusual significance, which I could know if only I were a little wiser or more perceptive.

This idea survived my childhood; I still attach significance to the memories of nights preceding significant changes in my life: The night before I married the esteemed Rebbetzin, the night before I began as Rabbi in Rhode Island, the night before my job interview in Allentown (ah, the Ramada at the Malls in Whitehall – definitely not recommended, at least as it was in late 2000). Those were times of real change.

And then, of course, there were "nights before" when I thought something might occur, but that foreshadowed nothing at all – nights before plane flights when I wondered whether something might happen en route, moments during birkas hachodesh (the synagogue blessing of the new lunar month) when I thought this might be the month when I sold a manuscript, times when I bought a Powerball ticket and considered what would happen if this really was it.

This post is more than just a personal musing, though, because it strikes me that this idea of significant "nights before" is a central message in "ויהי בחצי הלילה, And it was, in the middle of the night," the Pesach Seder song which recounts watershed events from Tanach which occurred in the middle of the night. Rescues and vengeances and messages of portent for individuals and nations impact with shattering force at the apex of darkness, the moment when the balance tilts toward dawn.

I believe one of the themes conveyed in "And it was, in the middle of the night," is that every night has a middle of the night, every night is a potential "night before", every night can usher in salvation. ויהי ערב ויהי בקר, there is evening and then there is morning, and a new phase of Creation is struck.

To the Jew, every night can be more than just a joining of days, can in fact be a bridge between the mundane past and a glorious future. What remains is for us to capitalize on the opportunity… or to eat the three least hairy things in the fridge, anyway.

Of Pesach and Cynicism

Jews are very good at cynicism.

In part it’s a function of our national history; with so few friends, and with those friends generally acting out of realpolitik rather than sincere sympathy, why shouldn’t we be cynical? Whether it was Lincoln contravening the anti-Jewish Order 11 in the waning days of the Civil War, or Trujillo opening the doors of the Dominican Republic to Jewish refugees in the 1930’s, or George W. Bush supporting Israel 70 years later, it’s always been possible to read selfishness into apparent selflessness, especially as those alliances have not always been as solid as we would have wished.

And in part cynicism is a product of our education; our ancestors were cynical about the world, and about themselves. Talmudic sages reflected on the Roman contribution to civilization, and dismissed it as a side effect of hedonistic pursuits. The same sages looked upon their personal piety and deeds and questioned the purity of their own motivations. Our own contemporary roshei yeshiva challenge us every Elul to inspect ourselves with questioning eyes, and in their honest zeal for self-analysis and self-improvement they encourage us to feel better only when we succeed in finding weakness in our greatest successes.

There is a place, properly מוגבל (bounded), for cynicism,

But one result of cynicism, when taken too far, is an inability to accept Good as Good; an inability to subscribe to a philosophy or support an initiative without qualification; an inability to believe that our role models are truly good and kind and sincere and well-meaning; an inability to respect people, including ourselves; an inability of religious leaders to believe that עמך, the rank-and-file Jew, longs for spiritual growth, if only in his/her own way; an inability to recognize the kindnesses that others have done for us; and an insistence upon finding the flaw and the smallness and the inappropriate in the Good and the philosophy and the initiative and the role models and the people and the עמך and the kindnesses.

This is devastating.

But then we have Pesach, the anti-cynical holiday.

On Pesach there is no cynic in our midst; the בן נכר, the one who has estranged himself from Gd and community, is not welcome. Instead, we are all believers.

It’s a celebration which summons us to immerse ourselves, and our families, in belief and trust, and not in self-conscious doubt.

It welcomes us to read biblical verses and sing ancient songs, to get into it with our children on their level and to re-live it late into the night on our own.

It begs us to drop our cloaks of intellectualism [I am not a fan of hyper-intellectual, pilpulish haggadot, although I recognize that they have their place] in favor of subjective personal experience and the haze that accompanies four cups of wine.

Its garment is the white of the kittel, pure and honest and uncomplicated as the day of death.

Its call is the romantic song of Shir haShirim, holy of holies, my beloved, my dove, my perfect one.

May the romance that is Pesach remain with us far beyond these few days.

What if I don't like roast?

Here is the opening of my "YU To Go" article for Pesach:

Korban is one of the most tangible expressions of the relationship between human and Creator, an incarnation of thanksgiving or apology or loyalty or joy, celebrated in the sanctum of the Jewish nation. Such a powerful religious experience, so rich in possibility but so vulnerable to abuse and misunderstanding, must be governed by regulations regarding its substance, time and place, its attendants and its ritual.

Even in the regimented world of the korban, though, the korban pesach stands out for its unique Divine prescriptions. In particular, only the korban pesach must be roasted over an open fire.

I'm proud of this article, which sprang from an idea we explored in Daf Yomi for Zevachim. Getting to the point requires a trip through some fairly esoteric material, but I took a lot of time trying to make it clear, because I believe the message is important. In particular:

We cried out for relief from our Egyptian suffering, but we were selected for national exceptionalism without our agreement; no Jewish slave in Egypt requested a covenant or a land. Our pain was our only concern; indeed, when the enslaved Hebrews witnessed Moshe’s initial failure to deliver them from their agony, they protested his very presence, calling upon HaShem to judge and punish Moshe for catalyzing Pharaoh’s increased cruelty.

Pesach is not about the realization of a national dream; rather, Pesach is about the My Fair Lady extraction of slaves from their milieu and their forced metamorphosis into the royalty that is Yisrael. In this context, Ceremony is of far greater importance than Volition. Giving a slave free rein does not convert him into aristocracy; an unfettered slave remains a slave in his thoughts and deeds, and his liberty is wasted. Ceremony is necessary in order to transform his worldview, his input and therefore his output, to suit the palace. As the Sefer haChinuch is wont to comment, “ אחרי הפעולות נמשכים הלבבות ,” “After deeds are the hearts drawn.”

Seen in that light, the Seder’s emphasis on ceremony is most sensible. The ritual of the Seder is the story of a slave learning his freedom and adjusting to the world of imbibing and reclining, to a sense of himself as someone who serves no man. And in this context, the korban pesach, too, must emphasize Ceremony over Volition. If the slave wishes not to roast the korban pesach but to boil it, he is told: Now you must become a king.

To see the rest of the article, go here. Comments wanted.

Pesach is coming!

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here!]

I wrote the following in 2007, when I was still in the pulpit. It is a measure of the intimidation that is Pesach that I can vividly remember how I felt when I wrote it.

Pesach is coming.
I know what you’re thinking: Of course Pesach is coming! What did you expect, when Purim is so last week!

But you don’t understand: Pesach is coming.
Five derashos - two for the first days of Pesach, one for Shabbos Chol haMoed, two for the last days. Not to mention another for Shabbos right after Pesach.

Divrei Torah for each night of Yom Tov, and Shabbos.

Shiurim for each afternoon of Yom Tov, and Shabbos, between Minchah and Maariv.

Krias haTorah for eight days, and a different one each day, including Chol haMoed.

Pesach is coming, I tell you.

And the shailos, oh, the shailos. How do I kasher my coffee-maker? What’s the latest on kashering microwave ovens? Does this need a special hechsher for Pesach? Why? Why not?

My grandmother used peanut oil and had no problem with it. My grandmother refused to use peanut oil, and would have spit on your Pesach kitchen.

What’s the story with mustard? Does meat need a special hechsher? What about fresh fish?

Rabbi, I’m away for Pesach; can I just do a bedikah on the front hallway of my house? How about just a bathroom?

Oh, yes, Pesach is coming, my friend.
The mass exodus of two-thirds of my shul to various relatives. We can't get anyone to come to our Seder. Maybe they go away just to avoid being invited to our Seder.

Somewhere, some community swells massively with the exflux of my congregants. And we don’t get nearly as many influxers as we have exfluxers; presumably the overflow is in the hotels.

Or worse: Maybe they all just say they're going away. They're hiding in their homes.

Pesach is coming to town.

“Yes, I know you’re busy playing Rabbi,” the rebbitzen will say to me one day very soon, “but how about playing husband a little, too? You know, cleaning up your study, the bedroom, the garage, the basement? Watching the kids for a while? Doing some of the shopping? And if you’re too busy to kasher our sink, why do you have the time to kasher everyone else’s?”

And my favorite: “You told Mrs. X she doesn’t need to cover that counter, and ours are the same - why are we covering ours?”

Pesach is coming; look on Pesach, ye mighty, and despair.

Yom HaAtzmaut will get short shrift.

As will Lag ba’Omer even though it’s a Sunday this year.

Yom Yerushalayim? Be happy we’ll say Hallel, pal.

Yom haShoah? I follow Rav Soloveichik that Tisha b'Av is the day for national avelus.

All of those dates will be ignored in the rush of PESACH, and by the time Yom Tov is over I’ll have not the slightest energy for planning more special events. We’ll be lucky if I get together an all-night program in time for Shavuos.

Pesach is coming.
And you know the worst part? It’s just five months from Rosh Chodesh Nisan to Rosh Chodesh Elul.

And then you wonder why I get drunk at the Seder.

I need to suffer for my art

[This week’s Haveil Havalim is here]

I wrote a while back about having anxiety nightmares related to krias hatorah [Torah reading] and other public ‘performance’ situations. Those dreams often involve me suddenly “realizing” that it’s the first night of Pesach and I haven’t prepared any shiurim, or that it’s Succos and my succah isn’t yet complete, or that it’s Yom Kippur night and I’m drinking a bottle of Boost Plus.

But what I’m experiencing right now isn’t a dream. It’s the night before Pesach, I am fully awake, [or, I think I am, anyway… hard to tell after all of that driving] and I’m feeling very unprepared.

I have prepared, of course. I’ve read through the haggadah many times over; I’ve delivered a month of shiurim on the haggadah and the halachos of Pesach, you can hear them and read them on torontotorah.com or yutorah.org. We [read: The Rebbetzin] cleaned our house of real chametz and sold the pseudo-chametz that remains. We’re currently parked an hour or so from our Yom Tov destination.

But I don’t feel ready, at all.

Part of it is that when the rest of the world was doing bedikas chametz tonight, we were exercising the kids by walking them around the New Roc City entertainment area next to our hotel, watching teenagers play pool and littler ones ride a Merry Go Round.

Part of it is that when the rest of the world was cooking for Pesach, we were eating take-out from Eden Wok.

Part of it is the rootlessness of not being home, with my chevra and my sefarim and my life.

Part of it is that my haggadah classes this year focussed on spiritual elevation through the seder experience, and it’s hard to feel purified when I'm sitting in a hotel on the night before Pesach, not preparing eight days of derashos and shiurim.

And the biggest part is simply that my “If I’m not in pain it’s not Pesach” nerves, my version of the hausfraus’ clean-under-the-refrigerator reflexes, are kicking in. Pesach just didn’t hurt enough this year.

How do people do it, when they go to Pesach hotels?

My inner masochist is unsatisfied.

I’m just not ready for Zman Cheiruseinu, to feel liberated. I need to suffer more first.

Of Rabbi Blogs and Rebbetzin Blogs

Yesterday I spoke to several shul rabbis who were in varying stages of preparation for Shabbos haGadol and Pesach. All of them exuded stress in waves; I could feel sympathy tension in my back and neck, and a powerful, drummed-in Nisan reflex to check my To Do list and wonder what I was missing.

Among the things I did every Pesach for the last dozen years, and I did not do over the past two weeks:

• Answer questions about urns and coffeemakers and Lactaid and eggs and heirloom china and canola oil and peanut oil. (On the other hand, I did answer a lot of questions about quinoa - repeat after me: Ask. Your. Rabbi.)

• Kasher people’s kitchens

• Wonder when I was going to kasher our own kitchen

• Canvas supermarkets to determine what kosher for pesach products were available

• Pursue people to make sure they contracted with me to sell their chametz

• Drive to New York to pick up Shatzer Matzah for the shul

• Arrange the communal chametz-burning and men’s mikvah times

• Write derashos for the first days of Yom Tov, for Shabbos Chol haMoed, for the last days of Yom Tov

• Check shul lockers for random chametz

• Take care of other random shul pre-Pesach chores

• Arrange sedarim and yom tov meals for college students

To be honest: Yes, I miss a lot of it, and I suspect I will return to it one day.

But! That didn’t stop me from turning my eyes heavenward yesterday and saying with a full heart, “Baruch… SheLo Asani Rabbi!” [Thank You, Gd, for not making me a Rabbi.]

One thing I did do in the past week was canvas the blogs of rabbis and rebbetzins of various flavors, to see what they were saying as Pesach approached. Along the way, I picked up on a few differences between Rabbi Blogs and Rebbetzin Blogs.

Most noticeably, Rabbis tend to blog as an extension of their rabbinate and Rebbetzins tend to blog in spite of their rebbetzinate. In other words: Rabbis tend to write like rabbis, even when writing about personal matters; Rebbetzins tend to write like bloggers, even when writing about Torah matters.

There are a whole host of reasons for that difference, of course. Some of it is gender; the women rabbi blogs tend to read far more human than the male rabbi blogs. I think that more of it, though, is that Rebbetzins are human beings rather than clergy.

A few Rebbetzin blogs as Exhibit A:
Redefining Rebbetzin
Rebbetzin Man in Japan
The Rebbetzin Rocks

And a few Rabbi blogs as Exhibit B:
NY’s Funniest Rabbi
Velveteen Rabbi
Or am I?

The Rebbetzins sound like people. The Rabbis sound like, well, rabbis. As I suppose I do, for that matter.

But enough of this. I may not have Pesach to prepare, but I do have post-Pesach shiurim to work on… Chag kasher v’sameach, and may we merit to bring the korban pesach in a unified Yerushalayim!