HaMizrachi | Pesach 5781 by mizrachiuk

VOLUME 3 • ISSUE 10 TORAT ERETZ YISRAEL • PUBLISHED IN JERUSALEM • DISTRIBUTED AROUND THE WORLD

‫ניסן תשפ”א‬

MARCH 2021 UK EDITION

WITH GRATEFUL THANKS TO THE FOUNDING SPONSORS OF HAMIZRACHI – THE LAMM FAMILY OF MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis

on the importance of answers PAGE 17

Rabbanit Rachelle Fraenkel explains how we can be joyful without being happy PAGE 24

Rabbi Hershel Schachter

explores the connection between chametz and idol worship PAGE 16

Rabbanit Shani Taragin

shares some amazing insights about Eliyahu HaNavi PAGE 9

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon

SEVEN PAGES OF FAMILY PESACH ACTIVITIES INCLUDING

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE FIND THE AFIKOMAN CREATIVE IDEAS FOR THE SEDER AND A COMPETITION TO WIN A DRONE! PAGES 57–63

clarifies the halachot of Erev Pesach on Shabbat PAGE 18

Sivan Rahav Meir and Yedidya Meir offer you seven thought-provoking ideas for Pesach PAGE 31

EDUCATIONAL CHALLENGES OUR CHILDREN FACE AND HOW TO INSPIRE THEM ANEW PAGES 49–51 FASCINATING PESACH CUSTOMS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD PAGES 24–25

THREE INSPIRING DRASHOT FOR

Shabbat HaGadol PAGES 32–34

Rabbi Andrew Shaw www.mizrachi.org office@mizrachi.org +972 (0)2 620 9000 CHAIRMAN

Mr. Harvey Blitz EXECUTIVECHAIRMAN

Rabbi Doron Perez

The Secret of Rachtzah

eder night is one of the most magical nights of the year.

PUBLISHED BY THE MIZRACHI WORLD MOVEMENT EDITORIAL TEAM

Daniel‫‏‬Verbov Esther Shafier Avital Gastwirth

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GRAPHIC DESIGN

Hadas Peretz Aura Rosenzweig P R O D U C T I O N A N D A DV E RT I S I N G M A N AG E R

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Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis CHAIR OF TRUSTEES

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As we all know, there are 15 parts to the Seder. However, there is one part which stands out for a specific reason – rachtzah. Because when you think about it, it is the only part of the Seder which includes absolutely no chiddush. Kaddesh, although we say it every Friday night, is still a chiddush: it’s Pesach, it’s Seder night, there is shehecheyanu; it is something different. Urchatz, Karpas, Yachatz are part of the Seder. Maggid is the whole story of Seder. After Rachtzah we have Motzi. Yes, it’s still hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz. But this time, it is matzah we are eating and not bread. Then we have Matza, Marror and Korech, all unique to Pesach. Shulchan Orech has its special customs and traditions. Finally Tzafun, Barech, Hallel and Nirtzah – everything is a chiddush! You may say: not Barech! Agreed, it is benching – but it is benching for Pesach! We drink the 3rd cup of wine at the end of this special birkat hamazon, and there are even some minhagim to add in some specific lines in the harachamans for Seder night. Hallel’s chiddush is that it also includes parts of the Shacharit service. So rachtzah is the only one that is exactly the same al netilat yadayim. No difference at all. It is what we say every single time that we wash our hands for anything HaMotzi; it’s the same bracha. Therefore, if you look in almost any Haggadah, you will not find any comments on Rachtzah, because there really is nothing to say. There is nothing to comment on. It is just an al netilat yadayim.

Perhaps the following idea can explain the secret of rachtzah. Seder night is an experience. Seder night is something kids love. They ask their questions; they are so enthralled. Similarly, there are so many times in Judaism when we have these incredible experiential highlights. In tefillah terms, it is Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur moments, when we are moved to tears by the tefillot. And then there are times when we have rachtzah moments. What does rachtzah do for us? Rachtzah says: this is what Judaism is. It is the daily observance of Torah. I will still be with you, says rachtzah, whether it’s the power of the first night of Seder or a rainy Tuesday lunchtime in the office. You will still make an al netilat yadayim before you have hamotzi. The idea here is that Judaism is not just about the big moments in life; it is also about the daily occurrences. But there is more than that. Look at rachtzah – yes, it may be just an al netilat yadayim, but without it, we couldn’t fulfil the mitzvah of Pesach. Eating the matzah could not be done without rachtzah. Something that seems so minor has the ability to connect us to the ikkar of the seder. To allow us to make the bracha on matzah, one of the primary mitzvot of Pesach. So when you go and wash your hands on Seder night this year, just think about the powerful idea of the humble rachtzah! Chag Kasher VeSameach. Rabbi Andrew Shaw is Chief Executive of ‎Mizrachi UK.

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I Rabbi Doron Perez

No Place Like Home PE SAC H , PA R E NTI N G A N D TH E PL AGU E

or over a year, the world has been forced to stay home.

People have probably spent more time at home than at any other time in their working lives. The most prestigious universities in the world have been devoid of students with all courses moving online. And the salient result of all this has meant that the home has become the locus of our primary interaction with society. We have also experienced this focus on the home specifically on Pesach. Until last year, many people had not spent Pesach in their own home for years – and some for decades – enjoying the plethora of Pesach programs that had become an entire industry in and of themselves. Others had been used to large seders with extended family and relatives. All that changed and will remain so in many places this Pesach too. More than any other holiday, Pesach, in every aspect, is about the home. In Shemot 12, the Torah introduces us to the many mitzvot of Pesach. Incredibly, the word ‫ – ַ ּביִ ת‬home – is mentioned in one form or another 15 times in this chapter, regarding the Korban Pesach, chametz and the very name and essence of the holiday itself. The Korban Pesach has the unique distinction of being the only ‘family’

sacrifice. Sacrifices are normally divided into two major categories – communal offerings such as the daily tamid and mussaf offerings, or individual offerings for different occasions, whether mandated or voluntary. The only sacrifice defined as a home-based sacrifice, to be brought and eaten as a family, is the Korban Pesach. As the verse says regarding the original Pesach in Egypt, “On the tenth of the month they will take for themselves each person, a lamb for each father’s house, a lamb for each household.”1 In Beit HaMikdash times, the Korban Pesach was brought and eaten as a household, known as a chabura in Massechet Pesachim. Only people who joined together as a group could eat from that particular korban; no one else could partake of it. Similarly, in the prohibition of not owning any form of chametz, the emphasis is placed on the home: “For seven days no leaven is to found in your homes...”2 The very name of the holiday, Pesach, is also directly related to the home, as the verse clearly states, “And you shall say ‘it is a Passover feast offering to Hashem who passed over the houses of the Children of Israel in Egypt when he smote the Egyptians, but he saved our households...’’’3

The only safe place for the Israelites to avoid the worst of the 10 plagues, the death of the firstborn in every household, was for each family to batten down their hatches and remain within the security of their own homes. It was the home, and only the home, which afforded such protection. They smeared the lamb’s blood at the entrance to the home, on the doorposts, as a sign that this was a safe house and no plague should enter. Remarkably relevant to our current reality, Pesach means creating an immunized home that any plague should pass over.4 Indeed, the way to avoid our modern-day plague has been through the safety of our homes. Avoiding contact with others, social distancing, no mass gatherings… while remaining at home as much as possible. Perhaps the most profound experience of our Pesach today is Leil HaSeder, when we retell the story of the coming out of Egypt. Once again, the emphasis is on home and family. We sit in our home in our core family unit – parents and children, or just with ourselves – and recall the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim and the meaning of Jewish history. In short, whichever way we look at Pesach – its name, essence, primary Continued on page 4

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TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

Continued from page 3

But for people who understand not just the importance of politics but also its limitations and dangers, relationships between husband and wife, parent and child, grandparent and grandchildren, and siblings, are the most important basis of freedom…James Q. Wilson put it beautifully: ‘We learn to cope with the people of this world because we learn to cope with the members of our family. Those who flee the family flee the world; bereft of the former’s affection, tutelage, and challenges, they are unprepared for the latter’s tests, judgements, and demands’.”5

sacrifice, prohibitions and educational experience, it is all about the home. The lesson is clear. At the very birth of the Jewish people, the Torah emphasizes the most essential foundation of any national enterprise – the home and the family. Any successful society must be built on these core ideals. A society which undermines the integrity of home and family tampers with the very cement upon which it stands. It is no coincidence that Sefer Shemot, which deals with the birth of our nation, is preceded by Sefer Bereishit, which revolves around individual homes and families. The first parshiot deal with the founding families of humanity – Adam and Chava and their progeny, followed by Noach, his wife and theirs. We are introduced to Avraham and Sarah and

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their extended family followed by the travails of Yishmael and Yitzchak. The family saga continues with Yitzchak and Rivka and their family, Ya’akov, Rachel, Leah and theirs, and of course a special focus on Ya’akov’s sons, the tribes of Israel. The Torah is teaching us that a strong, sustainable and successful nation can only be built through secure homes and families. Life must be built from the inside out, from the inner family circle to the outer communal and national space. Rabbi Sacks, of blessed memory, articulates this so beautifully, as he always does: “People who look to the state, politics and power, to deliver the good, the beautiful and the true – the Hellenistic tradition – tend to regard the family and all it presupposes in terms of fidelity and responsibility as a distraction.

We hope to soon be able to celebrate with our broader families and friends and once again engage fully in communal and public life. We hope to soon move outwards and return to shul and society. But just before that, as we sit together in our homes as a tight family unit on Leil HaSeder, conveying and discussing the essence of our story as a people, let us appreciate the quintessential role of home and family, in human history in general and in Am Yisrael in particular. Home sweet home! Chag Kasher VeSameach! 1

Shemot 12:3.

Ibid. 12:19.

Ibid. 12:27.

The prevalent translation of Pesach as Passover, that G-d passed over or skipped over the houses, is based on Rashi (Ibid., verse 23), Rashbam (verse 27), and others. Rashi (also the Targum) mentions an alternative meaning as well – ‘had mercy on’ the houses.

Covenant & Conversation, Family, Faith and Freedom (Vayechi 5780). The Wilson quote is from “The Moral Sense” p. 163.

Rabbi Doron Perez is Executive Chairman of the Mizrachi World Movement.

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

MIZRACHI UK PRESENTS A SPECIAL FILM PRESENTATION FOR PESACH

FREEDOM WE HAVE SPENT SO MUCH OF THE LAST YEAR LOCKED DOWN. LET US EXPERIENCE, THROUGH WORDS AND MUSIC, THE ‘FESTIVAL OF OUR FREEDOM’ AND THE MOST MAGICAL NIGHT OF THE YEAR

written and narrated by RABBI ANDREW SHAW

performed by

JONNY TURGEL

musical arrangement by ASAF FLUMENDORF

produced by

DAVID REUBEN

Available to view on demand on Mizrachi UK’s Facebook and YouTube channels

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

M I Z R AC H I E D U C ATO R S Rabbi Reuven Taragin

Seeking The Geula Going On Right Now Being Geula-Focused

king exiled his son from his court because of the latter’s lack of maturity. Years later, missing his son, the king sent his minister to find the boy and see if he had matured enough to return him to the palace. Upon finding the son, the minister asked him what request he would make of his father if he was given the opportunity. The boy responded, “I need a new pair of socks.” Surprised that the boy did not ask to be returned to his father’s court and saddened by his lack of meaningful aspiration, the minister could not recommend returning him. Rav Simcha Bunim of Peshischa used this mashal to bemoan the fact that Jews focus and pray for their daily needs instead of for the geula, which would return them to their full relationship with Hashem in His land. Too often we focus on the challenges of our daily grind instead of on the more significant goals we have as a people. Yetziat Mitzrayim in the Present

The Torah often presents Yetziat Mitzrayim in the present tense. The Ohr HaChaim connects this to the fact that we are meant to re-experience the Exodus anew each year. Yetziat Mitzrayim was not a one-time experience, but rather an annual event. Yetziat Mitzrayim is also the model and the basis of our belief in future redemption. Yeshayahu (11:11) describes the future geula as Hashem redeeming us for the ‘second’ time. In fact, the Smak (Mitzvat Aseh 1) explains that belief in future geula is the practical significance of the first of the Ten Commandments – belief in Hashem Who took us out of Mitzrayim is meant to include belief in His future redemption of our people.

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This explains why our hope for and anticipation of future geula features so prominently in the Haggadah. We begin and end Maggid by expressing our belief ּ ִ ‫ש ָר ֵא‬ that ‫בירו ָּשלָ יִ ם‬/‫ל‬ ׂ ְ ִ‫לְ ׁ ָשנָ ה ַה ָ ּב ָאה ְ ּב ַא ְר ָעא ְדי‬, and the bracha thanking Hashem for Yetziat Mitzrayim includes “may Hashem our G-d bring us to new festivals and holidays.” The Geula Continuum Rav Kook (Yisrael U’Techiyato 28) took this idea a step further by describing redemption as a continuous process that began with the initial Exodus and continues straight through until the ultimate, complete geula. Geula is not a specific limited moment in time, but a constant continuum. The Gra (Avnei Eliyahu) saw the (re)building of Yerushalayim in a similar way, and explained the present-tense formulation of the bracha of Boneh Yerushalayim in Shemoneh Esreh as reflecting the fact that Hashem is constantly rebuilding the city. Redemption is an ongoing, constant process. Chazal1 compared it to the sunrise whose light increases slowly, bit by bit. This principle of the geula continuum means that every event has redemptive significance. The question is whether we recognize and appreciate this significance or not. Seeking Redemption This Pesach Rav Kook (Olat Reiyah p. 279) explained that the reference in the Gemara (Shabbat 31a) to ‫צ ּ ִפ ָ ּיה לִ ׁישו ָּעה‬,ִ seeking redemption, includes constantly seeking geula possibilities and what we can do to help facilitate the process. Though we should always be on the lookout for geula potential, Pesach is the most appropriate time to reflect upon current events with an eye on

identifying and facilitating geula possibilities. This Pesach is a time for us to reflect on how the yearlong pandemic is meant to bring us, the Jewish people, and the world, closer to the ultimate redemption. These ideas may include: •

The pandemic reminded us of our dependency upon powers beyond our control, i.e., Hashem, Who controls the world.

•

The separation and isolation reminded us of the significance of our relationships with our nuclear family and home lif.

•

The struggle against a common ‘enemy’ strengthened our relationship with others and brought us together as a people and humanity together as a whole.

•

Travel restrictions helped us appreciate Eretz Yisrael, to where we are unable to travel for the first time in our lifetimes.

As we celebrate our continued redemption this year amidst (but, hopefully, on the way out of ) the continued Covid reality, I recommend reflecting on how Covid has brought us and our world one step closer to our ultimate geula. By doing so, may we show Hashem that we are worthy of fully returning to Him. 1

See Midrash Shocher Tov Tehillim 22 based on Yerushalmi Berachot 4b.

Scan here to join Rabbi Taragin’s WhatsApp group with daily Divrei Torah Rabbi Reuven Taragin is Educational Director of Mizrachi and Dean of the Yeshivat HaKotel Overseas Program. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

M I Z R AC H I E D U C ATO R S

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

Rabbanit Shani Taragin

Eliyahu at the Petach on Pesach

here are numerous customs of inviting Eliyahu to our Pesach home. One common custom is to take a large, decorative cup as the kos shel Eliyahu, and leave it on the Seder table in the hope he will come to herald the arrival of Mashiach. Another custom is to open the door for Eliyahu after the third cup is drunk, as an introduction to the second half of Hallel, which celebrates the Final Redemption. Some even have the custom of standing when the door is open and saying “baruch haba,” as if to welcome Eliyahu and Mashiach. The Midrash explains (Pirkei deRebbi Eliezer, chap. 29) that when Eliyahu (Melachim 1, 19) appears on Har Chorev, accusing Am Yisrael of undermining Brit Sinai, G-d responds and tells him that he will witness all britot, testifying to the Jewish people’s fulfillment of this commandment. Based on this, the Rabbis instituted the kisei shel Eliyahu placed at nearly every brit mila. Perhaps this idea contributes to his witnessing Brit Pesach as well. Perhaps there is another reason for opening our doors for Eliyahu. Eliyahu is consistently “found” by doorposts and openings in time and space, straddling between the inside and out. This phenomenon begins in Melachim 1, 18, when he calls the king, the prophets of Ba’al and the people to come to Har HaCarmel, on the border between Israel and Phoenicia. “Carmel” represents wheat in an intermediary state, when not too hard or soft, neither here nor there. As such, the “carmelit” is qualified by Chazal as neither a public nor private domain, but rather someplace “in-between.” Once assembled, Eliyahu questions the nation, ‫ַעד‬ ‫מ ַתי ַא ֶּתם ּפ ְֹס ִחים ַעל ׁ ְש ֵּתי ַה ְּס ִע ּ ִפים‬,ָ “How long shall you straddle/waver between two

opinions” (i.e., G-d or Ba’al worship). He waits until bein haShmashot, twilight, a time of ambiguity, to resolve their dialectic, as G-d’s dominance is manifest through heavenly fire. In Chapter 19, we find Eliyahu seeking refuge and affirmation by the entrance of the cave at Har Chorev. Lastly, as he departs from his disciple Elisha (Melachim 2, 2), on the Jordanian border of the Land, he is taken heavenward in “chariots and horses of fire,” while his cloak falls to the ground. Eliyahu remains suspended between Heaven and Earth. In Talmudic sources as well, Eliyahu is conventionally situated at doorposts. He awaits for Rabbi Yossi to finish his prayer in the Churva to teach him the lessons he learned from Har Chorev: don’t enter a state or place of ruin, don’t focus on the past, pray “along the road,” as part of a process of progress for the future, accompanied by others instead of praying in isolation, and recite an abbreviated prayer along the road, to maintain focus, recognizing it may not be an ideal state. As G-d told Eliyahu at Chorev, ‫“ – לֵ ְך ׁשוּב לְ ַד ְר ְּכ ָך‬go upon your way.” It is preferable to work and pray with the nation even at the cost of one’s own prayer, as a means of facilitating redemption (Berachot 3a). Eliyahu is also found at the entrance of the cave in which Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai and his son were hiding, heralding for them to exit (Shabbat 33b). He is found by the doorpost of the home of Rabbi Yehoshua HaGarsi, Rabbi Akiva’s devoted attendant, to bring Rabbi Akiva’s tortured corpse to rest in a cave in Gan Eden (Midrash Mishlei, 9). Eliyahu consistently reminds us of the timeless ambiguities, “twilights’’ and pesachim, straddling between extremes.

Yet he also comes to clarify and resolve our confusions, to take us to the “other side” – from the inside of the Churva and caves of despair and destruction, to the derech – the pathway to prayer and redemption. As such, he is the prophet who must come to catalyze redemption through turning the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers (Malachi 3:24). While he awaits at the “doorposts,” he encourages us to engage in conversation with our parents and with our children, teaching us the art of listening and learning from one another. On Seder Night, we engage intergenerationally as no other time in the year. We have a unique opportunity to bridge gaps and to stop straddling in twilight. We pour the kos shel Eliyahu and open our doors, as we want Eliyahu to see that we are ready – not to invite him in, but to accompany him out on a path of prayer and final redemption.

Rabbanit Shani Taragin is Educational Director of Mizrachi and the Director of the Mizrachi Matan Lapidot Educators' Program. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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TO R AT M I Z R AC H I Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon

When Erev Pesach Falls on Shabbat Before Pesach

his year, the Shabbat HaGadol drasha is said the week before Pesach. Ta’anit Bechorot is on Thursday. Bedikat chametz is on Thursday evening. Chametz is burned on Friday morning, up until the fifth hour, but we do not annul it yet. One can continue to eat chametz after burning it. The Shabbat Meal The best way to eat the Shabbat meal is to eat kosher for Pesach food which was cooked in kosher for Pesach utensils. If one cooks the food in Pesach utensils and then transfers the food to disposables, one can eat chametz for the entirety of the meal without worrying that chametz will touch the Pesach utensils. There are two solutions for eating bread at the Shabbat meal: 1. Eat matzah ashira. According to Ashkenazim, matzah ashira can only be eaten until the end of the fourth hour (sof zman achilat chametz). It is advisable that to begin with, the matzah ashira does not touch the Pesach utensils. 2. Eat chametz. It is advisable to leave only a little bread – preferably one that doesn’t crumble, like pita, to be concentrated and eaten carefully. One should be careful that the crumbs do not touch the Pesach utensils, and it is advisable to place a disposable tablecloth on the table and remove it after eating the bread. One should shake off one’s clothing before bringing the Pesach utensils and food to the table. For birkat hamazon, a small amount of bread in a bag or a piece of matzah should be brought to the table.

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One should finish eating chametz before the end of the fourth hour. One should daven Shacharit early enough to finish the meal before this time. The general minhag is to finish the entire meal by this time, but one who wants to finish his chametz and continue his meal can do so. Before the end of the fifth hour one should clean his clothing and his mouth well and sweep the house thoroughly. The leftover chametz should be thrown in the toilet or damaged with soap. If there is a large quantity, it can be left in the public trash outside the house. One should annul the chametz before the end of the fifth hour. Seudah Shlishit On a regular Shabbat, it is preferable to eat seudah shlishit containing bread after mincha. This year, we cannot do so. There are three solutions: 1. Those who eat matzah ashira after the fourth hour can eat matzah ashira for seudah shlishit. 2. One can have seudah shlishit by eating meat, fish or fruit. 3. Others divide the morning meal: they say birkat hamazon, take a quick break, wash hands and say hamotzi once again. Preparations for Seder Night All preparations for Seder should be performed before Shabbat, as on Shabbat it is forbidden to prepare. Anything which was not prepared should be prepared on Yom Tov, not on Shabbat. One should check the lettuce for bugs and prepare the foods for the Seder before Shabbat, as well as ensure the Shabbat timer will turn off after the end of the Seder. One should also light a ner neshama from which the Yom Tov candles can be lit. It is forbidden to set the table and to warm food for the Seder until motzei Shabbat, after

reciting baruch hamavdil bein kodesh lekodesh. Candles should also only be lit after this. Leil HaSeder In Kiddush at the beginning of the Seder, we also say Havdala. (The order of the brachot is YaKNeHaZ: yayin, kiddush, ner, havdala, and zeman.) Asher ga’alanu: The accepted Ashkenazi custom is that when erev Pesach falls on Shabbat, min hapesachim umin hazevachim (opposite of the regular order) is said in the bracha concluding maggid, since the chagigah (zevachim) is not sacrificed on Shabbat, so the korban Pesach is eaten first. e Leil HaSeder on motzei Shabbat can seem stressful and complicated, but it is actually a wonderful occasion. In all other years we arrive at the Seder exhausted from work, but this time – we arrive at the Seder through calm and rest. On all other years we arrive at the Seder from weekdays, this time we arrive at the Seder from the holiness of Shabbat! We have a unique opportunity to reach an especially uplifting Seder through holiness and spiritual preparation. A more detailed explanation of these laws can be found in my book, Erev Pesach Shechal BeShabbat, published earlier this year.

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon is Rosh Yeshiva of JCT–Machon Lev and Head of Mizrachi’s Educational Advisory Board. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I Rabbanit Sharon Rimon

Who’s in Charge?

haraoh is the archetype of the many dictators throughout history, who ruled over and enslaved entire nations. The desire to rule over others stems first and foremost from lack of self-confidence. Pharaoh was afraid that the Jews would multiply; he was afraid of their talents, their physical strength, their unity. In order to prevent them from overcoming him, he rules over them. Besides fear, the desire to rule stems from the attempt to fill the ruler’s needs through using the strength and abilities of others. Thus, Pharaoh takes advantage of the Jews’ workforce for the needs of his kingdom, and with their help builds treasure storage cities. Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch reminds us that “there is nothing new under the sun, and general historical phenomena are as old as history itself…” Indeed, the decree to harm the Jews has repeated itself throughout Jewish history in the Diaspora, the conquest and enslavement of a nation over another repeats itself throughout human history, and even one person rising up to rule over his fellow on a personal level are everyday acts. How can we free ourselves from such rule? It seems that the first step is to cry out: “Bnei Yisrael cried out” (Shemot 2:23). There is no need to inform G-d of the occurrence of an injustice, yet only when the Jews reach the stage of moaning and crying out is there the possibility of beginning the process of redemption. Only when the slave feels himself that something is not right, and he cries out, can revolution and change take place. The next step is to prove to Pharaoh that there is a G-d. At the beginning of the story, Pharaoh says: “Who is G-d?” (Shemot 5:2). Pharaoh does not

believe in the existence of G-d, and actively opposes His will. Like other powerful rulers, Pharaoh sees himself as all-powerful and does not recognize there is a G-d above him Who rules the world. He mistakenly thinks others are meant to satisfy his needs, instead of recognizing that all people are created in G-d’s image and are meant to serve G-d alone, and thus all men are equal. He tends to exaggerate his power and value instead of feeling humility before the Creator. Therefore, there is a need for 10 plagues to prove to Pharaoh again and again that he does not control a thing – as opposed to G-d, who controls every

“”

Like other powerful rulers, Pharaoh sees himself as allpowerful and does not recognize there is a G-d above him who rules the world

that things will progress only according to his will. But the opposite is true. G-d is “playing” with Pharaoh, causing him repeatedly to oppose the logical process of freeing the Jews. While Pharaoh thinks he is “playing” with G-d and the Jews, the truth is that G-d is “playing” with Pharaoh’s heart and hardening it, causing him to behave illogically and suffer repeated plagues (see Rambam Shemoneh Perakim, 8, ‫)ואם תאמר‬. Parashat Beshalach begins with the declaration – “When Pharaoh sent out the nation” (Shemot 13:17). Despite him having opposed it, despite him wanting the story to end differently, despite him not believing in G-d’s power, in the end Pharaoh himself is the one who let the Jews go and was forced to acknowledge G-d’s power and his own weakness. Pharaoh’s attempt to rule over the Jews is strongly tied to his lack of belief in G-d, and thus, the freedom of the Jews is strongly tied to belief in G-d. In the end, the Torah commands us to avoid enslaving others:

single detail of existence, from the forces of nature to historical processes.

“For it is to Me that the Israelites are servants: they are My servants, whom I freed from the land of Egypt, I the L-rd your G-d” (Vayikra 25:55).

But the most important point is the proof to Pharaoh that G-d rules even over him – his feelings, thoughts and behaviors. Pharaoh did not want to send the Jews free, but in the end he was the man to decide to free them. It would have been possible to free the Jews from Egypt against Pharaoh’s will, or even to kill Pharaoh, thus allowing the Jews to go free. But the way G-d chose was different: G-d waits for Pharaoh’s approval, asking him again and again to set the Jews free, and Pharaoh repeatedly refuses. Seemingly, the power is in Pharaoh’s hands. He continues to feel that he is in control of the situation and

Rabbanit Sharon Rimon teaches Tanach and is Content Editor for the HaTanakh website.

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TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

M I Z R AC H I S C H O L A R S - I N - R E S I D E N C E Sivan Rahav Meir and Yedidya Meir

Seven Thoughts for Pesach

The Right Way to Prepare for Pesach | Pesach cleaning days are not the easiest days of the year, to put it mildly. “All of this cleaning is because we are wealthy. Not me, personally – all of us. Every family lives in their own home. There’s a room for the parents, a kitchen, a bathroom. Our houses are full of furniture, clothing, utensils and food, so that we leave entire packages of snacks in drawers and forget sandwiches we never even tasted in bags,” my friend once told me. How far we are from the ancient halachic discussions regarding a communal oven, or the one outfit a person owned! I’m sure that every one of us has at least one great-grandparent who would have jumped for joy to see the immense well-being in which the poor of our generation live. As my friend said: “Every so often, I remind myself to stop the thoughts of how much I need to clean and cook, and simply think about how much I have.”

Don’t Steal our Pesach! | A military officer told me the following story: “This morning at the bus stop, I heard two elderly women complaining that there is nothing to eat on Pesach. Yesterday, a friend bemoaned the difficulty of eating matzah and getting stomach aches. Over the last few days, I’ve been seeing dozens of posts on the pain of cleaning for Pesach. They’ve stolen our Pesach!” Pesach is the most revolutionary holiday in human history: a nation of slaves dares to challenge the greatest empire in the world and goes free through great miracles. Pesach is to take a bruised

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and wounded slave and to whisper in his ear that he is not just a number. He has dreams, feelings and strengths. He has a purpose. Pesach is a holiday of the great struggle of a nation and the readiness for a long and difficult journey, for a process of deep, internal clarification. Pesach is a holiday of simplicity: flour and water in an oven. “Know how to enjoy the simple things,” said the officer. “Think about Pesach. Live Pesach. Don’t let the shallow discussions steal your Pesach.”

What is Freedom? | Pesach is called ‫זְ ַמן ֵחרו ֵּתנ ּו‬, the time of our freedom. What is freedom? Rabbi Eyal Vered says: Freedom is to take only what is needed, even at an elaborate wedding which serves enough food for an elephant herd. Freedom is the ability to refrain from hearing or reading lashon hara, even if everyone speaks it and it bubbles up on all the websites. Freedom is the ability to tell your boss and yourself that you have a wife and kids, and you will not be able to work endless hours, to leave when the kids are asleep and return when the kids are asleep. Freedom is knowing how to live with the money you have, and not with the money you don’t have. Freedom is the ability to control your words and remain silent, not to respond to everything. Freedom is the ability to work hard to find the good even in places where no one else can see it, to look at the world positively without falling into the pit of complaint; to be grateful and to know how to fix.

Freedom is to hold back from honking angrily at the driver who spends a second too long at the light. Freedom is the ability to see every person not as a means to an end - not as something to control or manipulate but as an end in themselves, as another human being.

Our Mayflower | In 1947, David Ben-Gurion spoke before a UN commission of inquiry. In order to explain our connection to Israel, he spoke about Pesach: “300 years ago, a ship called the Mayflower sailed to the New World. This was a great event in the history of England and America, but I wonder if there is a single Englishman who knows exactly when this ship set sail, and how many Americans know? Do we know how many people were on board and what was the state of the bread they ate when they left? Thousands of years before the Mayflower set sail, the Jews left Egypt. Jews from around the world, even in America and Soviet Russia, know exactly when they left: the 15th of Nissan. And everyone knows exactly which bread the Jews ate: matzah. To this day, Jews around the world eat matzah on the 15th of Nissan and tell the stories of the Exodus and the difficulties the Jews have endured since being exiled. They conclude with two statements: ‘This year, we are slaves; next year, free men. This year, here; next year, in Yerushalayim, in Tzion, in Israel.”

Sharansky on Freedom | I once had the opportunity to interview Natan Sharansky. He recalled a unique and historical Seder Night as a Prisoner of Zion in a Russian jail. There was no matzah there, but he recounted how the entire night he spoke to the

M I Z R AC H I S C H O L A R S - I N - R E S I D E N C E

other inmates about leaving bondage and becoming free. But then he asked the following question: “Imagine a man sitting in prison in Siberia and a man leisurely walking the streets of Israel. Who is free and who is a slave?” Surprisingly, Sharansky answered that it is easier to remain a free person in prison. In such a situation, it’s clear who is good and who is evil, and it’s easy to cling to good. But in an open society like our own, a person is faced with a surge of challenges and distractions and it is very difficult to make unbiased choices. The boundaries between good and evil are blurred. It is easier to indulge in temptation. And above all, a person feels he is free, and he isn’t even aware of his ‘slavery.’ “It is actually within the kind of society we have the opportunity of living in today that one feels he needs to work hard to achieve real freedom,” said Sharansky.

Our Personal Stories | Hadar Goldin was killed in Operation Protective Edge in Gaza, and the struggle to return his body for burial to Israel is not over. When Goldin was 17 and a Bnei Akiva counselor, he wrote his students a short and powerful message before Pesach. He began by telling them that what is special about Pesach is the stories.

“We all enjoy stories!” he wrote. Then he turned to his students: “We have many stories in our own lives as well. Everyone has his own personal story, and all our stories are part of the greater story of our nation. In the beginning, there were our forefathers: Avraham, Yitzchak, Ya’akov, David… and now us. In this story, everyone can decide if he is the main character, the protagonist, or if he is a supporting character whom the story passes by. Do you lead your own story? Is your story good? Is your story connected to the story of Am Yisrael? Does it advance us? Do you allow others to control your story? Are you truly free, or are you a slave to others or to your desires?”

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I

long most to bring our children into the secret of this eternal covenant into which our own parents brought us. We secretly shed a tear when we remember our late grandparents, and another one when we dream of our future grandchildren.” There’s a lot of chaos on this night, says Rav Navon, but first and foremost, “it’s the Seder – it puts things in order.”

Hadar didn’t know what an important role he himself would play in our shared story.

Putting Things Straight | Rabbi Chaim Navon says that Seder Night teaches us that we are not what we thought. “The age of rating has misled us into thinking that we are addicted media consumers, that we are new and cool, that we are restless innovators, that our children are bored little tyrants,” he says. “But suddenly, at the Seder, between the jokes about matzah and charoset and the complaints about family stuffiness, we reveal who we truly are: the children of Avraham, Yitzchak and Ya’akov, who

Sivan Rahav Meir and Yedidya Meir are popular Israeli media personalities and World Mizrachi’s Scholars-in-Residence. Members of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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TO R AT M I Z R AC H I Rabbi Baruch Davis

Step by Step

e in the UK recently heard the Prime Minister set out a number of steps along the road to a return to life without Covid-19 restrictions, with each step more liberating than the previous one. Especially for those who have been isolated and confined to their homes, this is welcome news indeed. On Seder night we celebrate the redemption from a much harsher form of confinement, that of the brutal Egyptian slavery. We are obligated to see ourselves as if we had been in Egypt and were redeemed; to do our utmost to imagine this experience each Pesach. The purpose of telling the story – our story – is to reach the point where we feel a huge debt of gratitude to G-d for all His kindnesses along our path to freedom. The song Dayenu sets out 15 stages along this path. Rabbi Sacks zt”l, in his commentary on the Haggadah, points out that the chorus word Dayenu is based on a phrase from the haftarah of Shabbat HaGadol: “I will pour you out a blessing ad bli day, until your lips are exhausted through saying ‘enough.’” Each stage is enough in itself for us to say thank you. Dayenu opens with the words “Kamah ma’alot tovot laMakom aleinu” – how many good steps (in the redemption process) has G-d done for us. Dayenu is our story: G-d took us out of Egypt; fed us the Manna; gave us the Torah, and so on. The Maharal, in his commentary on the Haggadah, says that the word ma’alot (steps) is very significant: just as ascending a step takes us physically

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higher, so too each of the verses in Dayenu depicts ever higher levels of spirituality, beginning in Egypt and ending with the building of the Temple in Yerushalayim. The number 15, says the Maharal, corresponds to the 15 steps between the Ezrat Nashim and Ezrat Yisrael in the Beit Hamikdash. These steps also correspond to the 15 psalms that begin with the words Shir Hama’alot, which were recited on those steps by the Levi’im. This is a number of completion, which is symbolised by the 15 days that it takes each month until the full moon. These 15 stages, continues the Maharal, can be divided into three parts. The first five stages – taking us out of Egypt, exacting judgements on the Egyptians and their gods, killing their firstborn and giving us the Egyptians’ wealth – all took place in Egypt. All five stages were a prerequisite for becoming G-d’s Chosen People, which was not possible whilst under Egyptian rule. They and their gods had to be cut down and the departing slaves had to be dignified with being paid for their services. Once we experienced the birth of our nation, the Maharal explains, our entire existence was beyond nature, and this is depicted in the next five stages. The splitting of the Sea of Reeds was itself even more miraculous than the 10 plagues, a complete overturning of nature. The drowning of the Egyptians meant that they were no longer a threat to us. G-d supplied our needs in the desert for 40 years, especially with the manna, which the Maharal says was

simply absorbed into our bodies. It was very much a supernatural existence. The last five stages in Dayenu are about the steps that we had to take: keeping Shabbat, coming to Mount Sinai, receiving the Torah, coming to the Land of Israel and, finally, building the Temple. Dayenu is a dramatic illustration of the journey from physical and spiritual slavery to freedom and the yearning to connect with G-d in Eretz Yisrael and in the Beit Hamikdash. The reality, however, was not so rosy. Rabbi Sacks explains that “Dayenu is in fact a tikkun, a making right, for the ingratitude of the Israelites in the desert. It is as if the poet were saying, ‘where they complained, let us give thanks.’ Each stage was a miracle. Each stage would have been enough to convince us that there is a providence at work in our fate.” As we reflect on the ideas expressed in Dayenu, perhaps it can serve as a model for us as we, be’ezrat Hashem, embark on our journey out of the pandemic, feeling gratitude to G-d for His many kindnesses along the way, and emerging on a higher spiritual level than we began.

Rabbi Baruch Davis is Rabbi of Chigwell and Hainault Synagogue and Editor of Daf Hashavuah.

TO R AT M I Z R AC H I Adam Herszaft

In the Blink of an Eye

rom the very first Pesach Seder, matzah has been the main act. It has maintained its status at the centre of the table physically and symbolically for thousands of years. We begin Maggid with the declaration that “this is the bread of affliction (matzah) which our fathers ate in the land of Egypt.” Despite the integral role of this unleavened bread throughout the festival, Rabbi Yissocher Frand poses two striking questions: whilst significant because it was eaten as slaves in Egypt, this is not why matzah is eaten throughout Pesach according to Rabban Gamliel. Rather, he explains, its centrality primarily emerges because “the dough of our fathers did not have time to become leavened before HaShem revealed Himself to them and redeemed them.” Thus, we eat matzah because our dough was unable to rise as we hurriedly left Egypt. Based on this, our first question arises: out of the two symbolisms of matzah – as food eaten as slaves each day for two centuries, and as the fast-food eaten in haste whilst leaving Egypt – which should logically be chosen as the primary source for commemoration? Surely, the matzah eaten over a few days escaping slavery is insignificant in contrast to the symbolism of matzah as an encapsulation of the day in, day out ‘slavery experience.’ Another question begs to ask: how were our ancestors so poorly prepared for their impending redemption? When we go on a Chol HaMoed outing, we spend ample time preparing all the nosh, ensuring that most of the day is

spent eating. How could Klal Yisrael have been so disorganised? Rabbi Frand suggests an answer to the second question which, in turn, answers the first: Try to imagine the excitement that Klal Yisrael must have felt when Moshe revealed that G-d was to bring a plague of blood to destroy the Egyptian water supply, paving the path towards their long-awaited freedom. The frenzied Jews would have rushed to pack up their few belongings, readying their hot challot and snacks for their journey. However, to their shock, Pharaoh hardened his heart and refused the Jews their freedom. Then came the frogs, which ravaged the streets and homes of the Egyptians. Again, impending salvation was assumed, as Klal Yisrael once again prepared for their new chapter. Yet again Pharaoh’s stubbornness prevailed, and the dismayed Jews were forced to unpack their belongings once more. This cycle continued plague after plague until Bnei Yisrael simply gave up hope. When the time for redemption finally arrived on Pesach night, their appetite to pack up for a potential departure had long gone. By the time the reality of actual freedom had sunk in, Klal Yisrael was scarcely able to muster up some matzah as they rushed out of slavery. Therefore, Rabbi Frand suggests that matzah is not a mere commemoration of our malnourished diet as slaves, but a timeless message from G-d to Bnei Yisrael: Yeshuat HaShem keheref ayin – “the salvation from HaShem comes in a blink of an eye” (Midrash Lekach

Tov Esther, 4:17). No matter how bleak a situation seems, things can change in an instant. This reality is not just of the Pesach story; it can occur to each of us on a personal level. When being summoned from Egyptian prison to interpret Pharaoh’s dream, the pasuk says that the messengers “rushed him (Yosef ) from the dungeon” (Bereishit 41:14). In just a matter of minutes, Yosef went from being locked up indefinitely to holding a supreme position of power in a nation of great might. On this episode, the Sforno writes that “this is the way of HaShem in all of His salvations: they happen in a moment.” When the time comes for G-d’s redemption, it happens with urgency. This idea is foundational; the very first of the Smak’s enumeration of the 613 mitzvot is the command to believe that G-d, as the Creator of heaven and earth, possesses an ability (and desire) to bring about redemption in the blink of an eye. Many of us have struggled over the past year. It has been a tremendously difficult time, with almost all of us experiencing our own unique challenges. Whilst the pandemic can seem to be never-ending, the Pesach story reminds us that the bleakest of times can be uprooted by triumph in an instant. As we eat our matzah on Seder night, we remind ourselves that redemption will come in a blink of an eye, when we least expect it. Adam Herszaft is a Mizrachi Fellow studying for Semicha in Jerusalem.

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G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu ‫זצ“ל‬

Cleaning for Pesach

he excitement of Pesach begins well before the actual holiday – Pesach preparations are an intrinsic part of this special chag. Rav Mordechai Eliyahu z”l shared a few thoughts on the importance and inner meaning of cleaning for Pesach and searching for chametz: When there’s an argument between different groups of Jews, for example between different political parties, the discussion should be conducted in a dignified, respectful and “clean” manner. The Gemara teaches this: “The verse did not speak to the disparagement of [even] a non-kosher animal, as it is written: ‘From the pure animals and from the animals that are lacking purity’ (Bereishit 7:8).”

“”

When there’s an argument between different groups of Jews, for example between different political parties, the discussion should be conducted in a dignified, respectful and “clean” manner

In other words, the Torah wanted to teach us how to speak cleanly, and chose a longer expression, “from the animals that are lacking purity,” so as not to say “from the impure animal.” The commentators question this though. In other places in the Torah, “impure animal” is specifically used, so why is the longer, ‘cleaner’ phrase not used there like it is in the above verse, listing the animals that entered the

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ark? They answer that when the Torah teaches us the laws of kosher food, there is no reason to shorten its words, because this is Torah and halacha, but when the Torah is only telling which animals entered the ark, which is not practical halacha, it is necessary to add extra words and avoid using unclean language. Wise people should learn from this. In the words of the Ran: ‫ֲא ׁ ֶשר‬ ‫“( ֵאינֶ ָּנה ְטהוֹ ָרה‬that are lacking purity”) contains 13 letters. ‫“( ַה ֻּט ְמ ָאה‬impure”) contains five. Eight letters were added just so the language would be clean. We know we must check for chametz in the holes and cracks. Our commentators suggest that a person should also check his own “cracks,” his pockets. One should check if one’s money is ‘clean,’ and whether one gave charity to talmidei chachamim. As Yirmiyahu says, money which is not clean and pure contains no sign of blessing: “the man who gains riches by unjust means – when his life is half gone, they [his riches] will desert him…” (Yirmiyahu 17:11). The Shulchan Aruch writes: “In the beginning of the eve of the 14th of Nissan, chametz should be searched for by candlelight, in all of the places where one regularly brings chametz. One should be careful not to begin any work or eat before he searches. And even if he has a set time to study Torah at that time, he should not study until he searches. If he started to learn while it was still day, he need not stop. And there are those who say he should stop.” If he is hungry and wants to eat before searching for chametz, he may eat fruits or less than a beitza-worth of bread. We also do not set time for learning Torah at the end of the 13th of Nissan, and a Rabbi should not begin a drasha, lest he continue late and prevent bedikat chametz from being carried out on time.

The time for searching for chametz is at the beginning of the eve of the 14th of Nissan. The Kaf HaChaim says this means right before night begins. The Magen Avraham says it means before tzeit haKochavim, before three stars are visible, even though there is still some light. LeHalacha, we say the time for bedikat chametz is when tzeit haKochavim begins, since during bein haShmashot, the light of the candle doesn’t shine well, and the mitzvah is to search at the beginning of the night, ‫שר‬ ׂ ָ ‫אוֹ ר לְ ַא ְר ָ ּב ָעה ָע‬, (the eve of the 14th), which is why the Mishna uses the word ‫ אוֹ ר‬and not ‫חוֹ ׁ ֶש ְך‬ (darkness), to imply the very beginning of the night when it is not yet fully dark. “In Nissan we were redeemed and in Nissan we will be redeemed.” Chazal say: we don’t want to wait, we want redemption immediately. As Rashi says, the future redemption may occur even at night, and the Beit HaMikdash will descend, built and complete. We believe in the coming of Mashiach every single day. Yehi ratzon that we merit to sacrifice the korban Pesach in its set time, and we should merit the geula shleima, speedily in our days, Amen.

Rabbi Mordechai Eliyahu ‫ זצ“ל‬served as the Rishon LeZion and Sephardi Chief Rabbi of Israel from 1983 to 1993.

G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis

The Answers are Also Important

esach is our “Festival of Questions.” On four separate occasions, the Torah instructs us regarding the questions posed by our children relating to the Exodus from Egypt.

Our tradition considers it a sacred task to inspire children to ask, probe and explore. We take their questions seriously. In the central Maggid section of the Seder, we respond by drawing upon the healthy debates of our Sages over many centuries; vibrant arguments that continue to challenge our intellect.

The Power of Inquiry to Spark Breakthrough Ideas, demonstrates that the most creative and successful people tend to be expert questioners. By mastering the art of inquiry, they raise the questions no one else is asking, and find the answers everyone else is seeking.

To question is not a rejection. It is seen by our intensely discursive tradition as a way of refining our understanding of the truth. And, if you understand how to ask the right question, you are more than halfway to the answer. It is not always easy to ask. We sometimes worry that it might make us look weak, ignorant or unsure. In response to such concerns, Pirkei Avot teaches: ‫ֹלא ַה ַ ּביְ ׁ ָשן לָ ֵמד‬, “one who is shy will not learn.” In fact, asking questions is a sign of strength and intelligence. The greatest leaders are those who constantly ask questions because they recognise that they cannot know everything. The confidence to ask simple, penetrating questions can make all the difference to our capacity to grow and develop. The more challenging the question, the more we stand to succeed. Maieutics is the name given to learning through asking challenging questions. The term comes from the Greek meaning “midwife.” Socrates argued that inquiry is the greatest tool we have to give birth to knowledge. The bestselling author, Warren Berger, in his book, A More Beautiful Question:

Significantly, questions also benefit those who are responding. This is beautifully articulated in the Talmud (Ta’anit 7b): “Just as a small piece of wood can ignite a large piece, so too, minor Torah scholars can sharpen great Torah scholars and enable them to advance in their studies. This is what Rabbi Chanina taught: I have learned much from my teachers and even more from my friends, but from my students I have learned more than from all of them.” But it is not only the questions that are important. At the commencement of the Seder, we raise the matzah and declare: ‫ָהא לַ ְח ָמא‬ ‫ – ַענְ יָ א‬this is the bread of affliction! This is followed immediately by the questions that our children ask. Intriguingly, in the Talmud (Pesachim 115b), Shmuel understands the term ‫ עניא‬to mean “answers.” According to

his view, the statement now takes on a very different meaning: this is the bread over which we give answers! From Shmuel we learn just how important it is to hone the skill of providing suitable answers. To do so, we need to listen respectfully and carefully to the question. We need to take care to understand what exactly it is that is being asked. We need to communicate our answer effectively and involve the questioner in the response. Most importantly of all, we need to let the questioner know we are pleased that he or she has made the enquiry and how delighted we will be to field more questions at any time. In this spirit, when the great Sage, Hillel, was asked ridiculous questions time and again, his response, always keen to encourage, was “My son, you have asked a great question!” (Shabbat 31a) Just as much effort should be invested by parents into the answers they will give to their children’s questions, as the effort put in by the children who pose them. Emerging from this realization, there is a crucially important lesson for educational programming in our communities. Alongside the great Jewish schools that provide a solid foundation in education for our children, we need to provide outstanding educational opportunities, both formal and informal, for the adults in our communities. In addition to training our children to ask the right questions, we need to be ready to respond with the right answers. Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis is the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth.

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G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks ‫זצ“ל‬

Sharing the Bread of Affliction

esach, the Jewish festival of freedom, is an extraordinary testimony to the power of ritual to keep ideals and identity alive across the centuries. On Pesach, we relive the story of our people, sitting together at home as an extended family as if we were back in the Egypt of the pharaohs, on the night before we are about to go free after long exile and harsh enslavement. We begin the drama by holding up a matzah, the dry unleavened bread that is one of the key symbols of the festivals, and saying, “This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat.” A child, usually the youngest present, then asks a series of questions about “why this night is different from all other nights.” The rest of the evening is largely dedicated to answering those questions, retelling the story of the Exodus together with acts of eating and drinking that include the bitter herbs of suffering and the wine of freedom. It is history made memory by re-enactment. For most Jews it is the way we learned, when we were young, who we are and why. It also has hidden depths. I always used to be puzzled by two features of the evening. The first is the conflict between the two explanations of the unleavened bread. At the beginning of the story we call it the bread of affliction. Later on in the evening, we speak of it as the bread of freedom they ate as they were leaving Egypt in such a hurry that they could not wait for the dough to rise.

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Which is it, I used to wonder: a symbol of oppression or liberty? Surely it could not be both. The other element I found strange was the invitation to others to join us in eating the bread of affliction. What kind of hospitality is that, I thought, to ask others to share our suffering? Unexpectedly, I discovered the answer in Primo Levi’s great book, If this is a Man, the harrowing account of his experiences in Auschwitz during the Holocaust. According to Levi, the worst time was when the Nazis left in January 1945, fearing the Russian advance. All prisoners who could walk were taken on the brutal “death marches.” The only people left in the camp were those too ill to move. For 10 days they were left alone with only scraps of food and fuel. Levi describes how he worked to light a fire and bring some warmth to his fellow prisoners, many of them dying. He then writes: “When the broken window was repaired and the stove began to spread its heat, something seemed to relax in everyone, and at that moment Towarowski (a Franco-Pole of 23, with typhus) proposed to the others that each of them offer a slice of bread to us three who had been working.” And so it was agreed. “Only a day before,” says Levi, “this would have been inconceivable. The law of the camp said: ‘Eat your own bread, and if you can, that of your neighbour.’” To do otherwise would have been suicidal. The offer of sharing bread “was

the first human gesture that occurred among us. I believe that that moment can be dated as the beginning of the change by which we who had not died slowly changed from Haftlinge [prisoners] to men again.” Sharing food is the first act through which slaves become free human beings. One who fears tomorrow does not offer his bread to others. But one who is willing to divide his food with a stranger has already shown himself capable of fellowship and faith, the two things from which hope is born. That is why we begin the Seder by inviting others to join us. That is how we turn affliction into freedom. It sometimes seems to me that, having created the most individualistic society in history, we today risk losing the logic of liberty. Freedom is not simply the ability to choose to do whatever we like so long as we do not harm others. It is born in the sense of solidarity that leads those who have more than they need to share with those who have less. By giving help to the needy and companionship to those who are alone, we bring freedom into the world, and with freedom, G-d.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks ‫ זצ“ל‬was a global religious leader, philosopher, and award-winning author who served as Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth from 1991 to 2013.

G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Dr. Daniel Rose

Rabbi Sacks’ Lessons from the Haggadah

he piece opposite was originally published in 2013 in the Credo column of The Times. I would like to highlight a few of the core and recurring themes in Rabbi Sacks’ thought that appear here in connection with Pesach. First and foremost, Pesach and Seder Night in particular, is the quintessential expression of the central value of education in Judaism. In Radical Then, Radical Now, Rabbi Sacks explains that on the eve of the original Pesach, at the genesis of the Jewish nation, we find out what it means to be a Jew: “About to gain their freedom, the Israelites were told that they had to become a nation of educators.”1 In a year when Jewish parents around the world have had to take a more direct role in their children’s daily education, it is important to remember that this is a defining characteristic of what it means to be a Jew. I am sure many of us have had moments of frustration and despair this year as we have faced up to this monumental task. But Rabbi Sacks shows us how the Haggadah can be a manual for best practice in Jewish education. Through engaging and experiential rituals, we turn ‘history’ into ‘memory’ by reenacting and reliving the narrative of the Exodus. History, Rabbi Sacks writes in his Haggadah, is “his story – an event that happened sometime else to someone else.” Memory, however, is “my story – something that happened to me and is part of who I am.”2 On the first night of Pesach we create identity from history.

In Rabbi Sacks’ article, inspired by the paradoxical nature of matzah as the bread of ‘affliction’ and at the same time the bread of ‘freedom,’ he wrote that “Sharing food is the first act through which slaves become free human beings.” As he writes in his Haggadah: “Freedom means more than losing your chains. It involves developing the capacity to think, feel and act for the benefit of others.”3 The act of sharing food is an act of “fellowship and faith” (faith that there will be enough food tomorrow to share scarce provisions today), and restores not just freedom to the redeemed slave, but also dignity. This explains why we begin our Seder with an act of hospitality and sharing (‫)הא לַ ְח ָמא ַענְ יָ א‬, ָ demonstrating our freedom and dignity. Freedom and dignity of the human being are supreme values in Judaism according to Rabbi Sacks, and the values on which society must be built: “Of all the great religions, Judaism has the strongest conception of the freedom and dignity of the individual, beginning with the principle that the human person as such is the one bearer of the image of G-d.”4 As we relive the experience of slavery and redemption on the night of Pesach, these values are transmitted from generation to generation, and thereby become absorbed into our national DNA. Rabbi Sacks concludes by describing the poignancy of this message in our society today, one he argues is the “most individualistic society in history.” Freedom, he argues, is not the right to personal

choice and liberty, but rather a truly free society is one that has a “sense of solidarity that leads those who have more than they need to share with those who have less.” This is the theme of the last book Rabbi Sacks wrote before his passing, Morality, where he argues with urgency that we must move from an ‘I’ to a ‘We’ society. This message, a year into a global pandemic that challenges us every day to consider our individual rights vs. our responsibilities to others, feels more relevant than ever. He concludes the book with a hopeful message: “Societies have moved from ‘I’ to ‘We’ in the past. They did so in the nineteenth century. They did so in the twentieth century. They can do so in the future. And it begins with us.”5 Pesach and the lessons of the Haggadah can be our inspiration to achieve this. 1

Radical Then, Radical Now, p. 32.

History and Memory, The Jonathan Sacks Haggada, p. 38.

The Omer and the Politics of Torah, The Jonathan Sacks Haggada p. 91.

Radical Then, Radical Now, p. 147.

Morality, p. 336.

Dr. Daniel Rose is the educational consultant and content developer for the Office of Rabbi Sacks.

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G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Rabbi Zev Leff

The Fifth Cup… Ponder It!

he four expressions of redemption reflected in the Rabbinic mitzvah of arba kossot at the Seder are to a degree incomplete. The fifth cup, the kos shel Eliyahu, reminds us that our redemption is only fourfifths achieved. We are left to ponder the fifth cup, not yet able to drink of its sweetness. The Sforno explains the four expressions of redemption as referring to the following stages: ‫אתי‬ ִ ‫ – וְ הוֹ ֵצ‬the lessening of the bondage from the onset of the plagues; ‫ – וְ ִה ַ ּצלְ ִּתי‬the redemption from being pursued slaves that culminates at the Red Sea; ‫ – וְ גָ ַאלְ ִּתי‬true redemption and freedom; ‫ – וְ לָ ַק ְח ִּתי‬the consummation of our freedom with the receiving of the Torah at Sinai. After these four events were revealed to Klal Yisrael, a condition was added: ’‫– וִ ַיד ְע ֶּתם ִּכי ֲאנִ י ה‬ “Know that I am Hashem.” Then the Torah continues, ‫אתי ֶא ְתכֶ ם ֶאל ָה ָא ֶרץ‬ ִ ‫וְ ֵה ֵב‬ – “I will bring you to the Land.” When you contemplate all of this, you will be worthy to be brought into Israel. Tragically, the Torah informs us that Bnei Yisrael did not listen to Moshe and they did not contemplate his words. Due to impatience of spirit and hard work, they neglected to think deeply about what had been revealed to them, and therefore, they failed to reach the levels of faith and trust in G-d that were necessary to make them worthy of entering Israel. Let us not pass over the Sforno’s comments without some deep reflection. Chazal tell us that had Moshe Rabbeinu triumphantly led that generation into Israel directly, without spending 40 years in the desert, the Land would have been ours in perpetuity, without the galut. All was lost because they failed to take the time and effort to think, reflect and ponder.

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One can question the reason why G-d did not immediately drown the Egyptians in the Nile on the same day as the Exodus. Instead, He waited seven days, requiring the Egyptians to pursue Bnei Yisrael and eventually be drowned in the sea. And if the matzah represents our swift exodus to freedom and the maror represents the bitterness of the bondage, why do we eat the matzah before the maror?

“”

If the matzah represents our swift exodus to freedom and the maror represents the bitterness of the bondage, why do we eat the matzah before the maror?

One reason given is that when one gets used to bitterness and persecution, it becomes a way of life, and one doesn’t appreciate how negative the situation really is. Only after experiencing freedom and being relieved of oppression can one then reflect on and ponder the previous situation and realize how oppressive it really was. Only then can one gain greater appreciation of one’s freedom from that oppression. When Bnei Yisrael left Mitzrayim, they did not really appreciate their newly-gained freedom, for they had no time to ponder and reflect on it. Therefore, G-d sent them on a roundabout route, for the slightest excuse could have caused them to give up this unappreciated freedom and return to Mitzrayim.

It took seven days of reflection, coupled with the danger of Mitzrayim pursuing them and the threat of losing that freedom, to instill within them a true appreciation of the impact of Yetziat Mitzrayim. Therefore, it was only after the matzah, the symbol of freedom, that they were able to truly appreciate the bitterness represented by the maror they had previously experienced. The turning point in Rabbi Akiva’s life came when he reflected deeply on water eroding a stone. He concluded that if soft water can erode hard stone, the impermeable Torah could reshape and mold his supple heart. Millions have witnessed erosion, yet only one Rabbi Akiva has appeared. All for lack of contemplation. We live in a world in which we are constantly exhorted to simplify our lives, to do things quicker, without bother or effort. As Torah Jews, we must realize this is not the Torah way. We are enjoined to reflect and contemplate, and to fully and deeply realize what G-d wants from us. What should our goals be? What are our standards and values? For those of us fortunate enough to live in Israel – and most certainly for those who are not so fortunate – we must appreciate its kedusha and the insights its holy atmosphere affords us to ponder the wisdom of G-d’s world. Let us make ourselves aware of the real implications and benefits of geula, and the type of lifestyle we must develop to merit it.

Rabbi Zev Leff serves as the Rav of Moshav Matityahu. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Rabbi Hershel Schachter

Bedikat Chametz

ashi comments on the opening Mishnah in Pesachim (2a) that bedikat chametz was instituted in order to avoid potential violation of ‫( ַ ּבל יֵ ָר ֶאה ו ַּבל יִ ָמ ֵצא‬having chametz in one’s possession). Tosafot questions this explanation, since the simpler method of bitul chametz (nullification of chametz) is sufficient to avoid the prohibition of owning chametz (Pesachim 4b). Tosfot therefore maintains that the chachamim were concerned that if chametz were left in a person’s possession, he might inadvertently come to eat it. They enacted bedikat chametz to avoid violating the issur of achilat chametz. The Ran (Pesachim, 1a in dapei haRif), in explaining Rashi, writes that the chachamim were unwilling to rely on bitul alone because it is possible that an owner might not effect his bitul wholeheartedly, in which case it would be ineffective. Therefore, they mandated bedikat chametz to avoid ַּ potential violation of ‫בל יֵ ָר ֶאה ו ַּבל יִ ָמ ֵצא‬. Thus, according to these Rishonim, bedikat chametz seems to be required only on a deRabbanan level. It is noteworthy that the Rema (Orach Chaim 431:2; see Bi’ur HaGra) rules in accordance with a different comment of Tosafot (Pesachim 9a) and the Ran (Pesachim, 1a in dapei haRif). According to them, if one has not yet performed bitul on his chametz, the obligation to do bedikat chametz is mid’oraita. The basis for this opinion is that the bedika constitutes the beginning of biur chametz (destruction of chametz), which is mandated by the passuk, ‫אשוֹ ן‬ ׁ ‫ַא ְך ַ ּב ּיוֹ ם ָה ִר‬ ‫שאֹר ִמ ָ ּב ֵּתיכֶ ם‬ ׂ ְ ּ ‫“ – ַּת ׁ ְש ִ ּבית ּו‬But on the previous day you shall destroy the leaven from your homes” (Shemot 12:15). That is why the beracha is worded as ‫ַעל ִ ּביעוּר‬ ‫ח ֵמץ‬, ָ as opposed to ‫על ְ ּב ִד ַיקת ָח ֵמץ‬,ַ on bedikat chametz.

Rav Soloveitchik suggested that a parallel halacha that serves as the source for this notion is the din of biur avodah zarah. In discussing the destruction of avodah zarah specifically in Eretz Yisrael, the Torah commands: ‫ַא ֵ ּבד ְּת ַא ְ ּבדוּן ֶאת ָּכל ַה ְּמקֹמוֹ ת ֲא ׁ ֶשר‬ ...‫יהם‬ ֶ ‫ֹלה‬ ֵ ‫ ֶאת ֱא‬...‫ָע ְבד ּו ׁ ָשם ַהגּ וֹ יִ ם‬ ‫וְ ִא ַ ּב ְד ֶּתם ֶאת ׁ ְש ָמם ִמן ַה ָּמקוֹ ם ַההוּא‬, “You shall utterly destroy all the places where the nations worshipped… their gods… and you shall obliterate their names from that place” (Devarim 12:2-3). Based on this, the Rambam (Hilchot Avodat Kochavim 7:1) rules, ‫יה ַעד‬ ָ ‫ְ ּב ֶא ֶרץ יִ שְׂ ָר ֵאל ִמ ְצוָ ה לִ ְרדּ ֹף ַא ֲח ֶר‬ ‫ש ְּנ ַא ֵ ּבד אוֹ ָת ּה ִמ ָּכל ַא ְר ֵצנ ּו‬, ֶ ׁ “In Eretz Yisrael, there is a mitzvah to chase after it [avodah zarah] until we destroy it from our entire Land.” In chutz laAretz, no such requirement exists; there, the chiyuv only applies to avodah zarah that we know about in an area that we occupy. On another occasion, the Rav explained that it would seem from the subsequent pesukim in Parashat Re’eh that as long as we have not fulfilled the mitzvah of biur avodah zarah in Eretz Yisrael, the mitzvah of yishuv haAretz is not shalem (performed completely). The mitzvah of settling Eretz Yisrael includes purging the Land from the tumah associated with avodah zarah (See MiPninei HaRav, 2001 ed., p. 320–321). The obligation of biur chametz is thus similar to the increased obligation to destroy avodah

zarah in Eretz Yisrael, where the bedika, searching out the avodah zarah, is considered the beginning of the process. This understanding of the role of bedikat chametz sheds light on the machloket Rishonim (Meiri, Pesachim 6a) regarding whether one who performs the bedika earlier than the night of erev Pesach, but within 30 days of Pesach, should recite a beracha on that bedika. What is the basis for the opinion accepted by the Rema (Orach Chaim 436:1), that we do not recite a beracha on such a bedika? The explanation may be that one who performs bedikat chametz in its proper time, on the night of erev Pesach, recites a beracha of ‫ ַעל ִ ּביעוּר ָח ֵמץ‬since it is conּ ַ and the bedika can sidered ‫אשוֹ ן‬ ׁ ‫ב ּיוֹ ם ָה ִר‬, thus be considered the onset of mitzvat biur. However, if one does bedikat chametz on an earlier day, since the mitzvah of tashbitu does not yet apply, the bedika cannot be called techilat mitzvat biur. That bedika is performed only for the purpose of avoiding the violation of ‫ ַ ּבל יֵ ָר ֶאה ו ַּבל יִ ָמ ֵצא‬or the issur achilat chametz, and no beracha is recited when one simply avoids violating issurim.

Rabbi Hershel Schachter is Rosh Yeshiva and Rosh Kollel at Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary of Yeshiva University.

A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Rabbanit Rachelle Fraenkel

The Hidden Simcha of Pesach

he Torah doesn’t explicitly command us to be beSimcha on Pesach. There are three mentions of simcha on Sukkot, one for Shavuot, but Pesach? Nothing.

temporary salvation, the kind that only emphasized our vulnerability in the face of the ruler’s whimsical and capricious nature. It is an external simcha, not an expression of inner content.

Rabbeinu Bechaye suggests an explanation. As opposed to Sukkot, when the storehouses are overflowing with the year’s crops, and to Shavuot, following the harvest, Pesach is a tense time. The Mishnah lists it as Judgment Day for the crops. It’s a time of year when the fields are full but the storehouses are still empty. A point in the agricultural year when it is difficult to fill the holiday tables with good, and it is even more difficult to share the sparse food with guests from outside – those without whom there is no holiday: the Levite, the convert, the orphan and the widow. The Torah understands that people may not invite these guests, and since these guests will not be present, the abundance of blessing which only appears due to the simcha of these guests will not appear at that home, and thus there is no simcha since there is no blessing. Therefore, the Torah does not mention simcha on Pesach.

Armed with Rav Soloveitchik’s description, on the one hand we feel the greatness of the holiday upon us, the deep and dramatic change – the kind that influences the entire history of mankind, and the radical transformation worthy of celebrating with the simcha of Yom Tov. On the other hand, we also desire to redeem the honor of the partial redemptions, the joy of the day-to-day, even if it is incomplete and temporal and sometimes very vulnerable and fragile. Perhaps the message of Purim is specifically on the flip side of the life-changing shalosh regalim – to know how to be happy in the “small” days, in the moments and gifts of the mundane.

But this is a description of reality, not the ideal. Practically, there is an obligation of simcha on Pesach as well. Jewish simcha does not have only one form. The joy of Purim is not like the joy of Yom Tov, the joy of bikkurim is not like that of ma’aser sheini, but all of them are enveloped in the call to serve G-d beSimcha. When Rav Soloveitchik compares the simcha of Purim to the simcha of Pesach, he notes that on Pesach, like on the other holidays, there was real, unalterable change. We were freed, we became a nation, we received the Torah. The sense of simcha is one of deep and true elation. On Purim, there was a

22 |

I write these words between Purim and Pesach, and they lead me to think of the intriguing possibility of grasping both types of joy: 1) to strive for deep and lasting meaning and happiness, the type we merited on a national scale on Pesach, and from which we draw inspiration to create freedom and meaning in our personal our lives. And 2) to recognize and appreciate the joy within us this moment, even before the great problems of life are solved. The happiness of Yom Tov tells us there are summits worth climbing towards, and the joy of Purim tells us that the path is paved with gratitude and goodness. We can still be joyful even if we are not yet happy.

And as happens to many of us when we are at a loss for words, I found these wondrous words of Rabbi Sacks zt”l: “Happiness is something you can feel alone, but joy, in Tanach, is something you share with others. Happiness is about a lifetime, but joy lives in the moment. Happiness tends to be a cool emotion, but joy makes you want to dance and sing. It’s hard to feel happy in the midst of uncertainty. But you can still feel joy... Every day we begin our morning prayers with a litany of thanks, that we are here, with a world to live in, family and friends to love and be loved by, about to start a day full of possibilities, in which, by acts of loving kindness, we allow G-d’s presence to flow through us into the lives of others. Joy helps heal some of the wounds of our injured, troubled world.”

Rabbanit Rachelle Fraenkel teaches Torah at midrashot in Israel.

G LO B A L R E L I G I O U S L E A D E R S Mrs. Shira Smiles

Darkness Deciphered

ne of the most enigmatic of all the plagues was the plague of darkness. The Torah tells us that the darkness “was tangible” (‫)וְ יָ ֵמ ׁש‬. As properly understood, the plague lasted a total of six days, three days of a thick darkness and three additional days during which the darkness was so “tangible” that no one could move from whatever position he was in. This was indeed a strange plague whose purpose needs to be examined. What was the source of this darkness? Two of our great Tannaim pose contradictory theories as to its origin. Rabbi Yehuda claims it originated in the highest realms of heaven, in absolute purity. On the other hand, Rav Nechemia claims it emanated from the regions of Gehenom. According to Rabbi Yehuda, this darkness was parallel to the state of nothingness before Creation, when only G-d existed. But since the wicked are unworthy of witnessing such purity, Rav Nechemia claims, this darkness must be a part of death, punishment and destruction. Rav Gedaliah Schorr observes that the 10 plagues run parallel to the 10 utterances of Creation in reverse order. The purpose of the plagues, as noted multiple times in G-d’s messages through Moshe, was to know that G-d exists within the world and runs the world, albeit in concealment. The 10th plague, when G-d personally (so to speak) comes down to smite the firstborn Egyptians, parallels “In the beginning,” when all that existed was G-d’s presence, without a world of concealment. Certainly G-d could have created the world with one utterance, just as He could have redeemed Israel with one plague. But G-d wanted mankind to choose to recognize G-d in each element of Creation rather than through

one massive unconcealed truth. In this way, G-d could create merits for the righteous to earn rewards. Similarly, G-d could have redeemed Bnei Yisrael with one plague, but the message would have been lost, as each plague revealed another facet of G-d’s immanence on earth. The ninth plague, darkness, parallels the utterance, “Let there be light.” When G-d created light, He also created its opposite, darkness. He can create a system in which the two can exist simultaneously, irrespective of their contradictory nature, even though we, as humans, cannot grasp this dual existence. In writing about Bnei Yisrael, the Torah does not say they had no darkness. It states, “For all of Bnei Yisrael there was light in their dwellings.” The Malbim explains that the plague was not darkness or an absence of light, but rather an original, completely spiritual bright light that Egyptian eyes could not tolerate and found blinding. The light shone for everyone, yet each individual perceived it differently. While the Israelites gained clarity with this light, the Egyptians were blinded by its intensity as one is blinded by looking directly at the sun. The verb ‫ יָ מו ּׁש‬often means “remove.” The Kedushat Levi explains that ‫וְ יָ ֵמ ׁש‬ ‫ח ׁ ֶֹש ְך‬, “the darkness was palpable,” includes within its meaning the removal of the veils and shields that hid the original light. The Torah states that when the plague of darkness came, the Israelites had light in their dwelling places instead of saying they did not suffer from the darkness. What the Torah refers to as light is not the daytime light, but actually a manifestation of the spiritual essence

known as Truth. Truth itself was concealed during the process of Creation. But if light is truth and clarity, darkness is confusion and a distorted view of reality. It was this confusion, inner doubt and turmoil that paralyzed the Egyptians and prevented them from moving forward. In contrast, the Jews experienced heightened awareness. Seeing the light is not only literal, but also metaphorical, for one who “can’t see the light” has no understanding. The time before the great light of redemption is revealed is the darkest time. The way for us to subdue our enemies today is no different from the way it was then. Through the light of Torah and mitzvot we can move forward and paralyze them. May we soon merit the light of full redemption.

Mrs. Shira Smiles is a sought-after international lecturer, a popular seminary teacher, and an experienced curriculum developer. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

| 23

PESACH CUSTOMS FROM AROUND THE WORLD

Our hearts follow our actions, writes the Sefer HaChinuch. Dipping karpas in salt water, we can almost feel those salty tears dripping down our faces at the difficulty of slavery. Leaning to our sides helps us feel like free people. Throughout the ages, minhagim have been added to the Pesach Seder to help us internalize the story of the Exodus, so that every person can feel as if he or she, personally, left Egypt. We all know of the custom to dip wine out of our cups when reciting the 10 plagues, or to open the door for Eliyahu at the end of the Seder. But did you know that Yemenites leave the door open for the entire Seder in anticipation of the arrival of Mashiach, or that Hungarian women place their gold and silver jewelry on the Seder table in commemoration of Shemot 12:35: “The Israelites did as Moshe instructed and asked the Egyptians for articles of silver and gold and for clothing”?

The Seder Plate

Leaving Egypt

he Seder plate also helps us relive the Exodus, from the sticky charoset reminding us of the mortar used in Egypt to maror which helps us feel the bitterness of slavery. In Ethiopia, the Jews didn’t have charoset – instead, they prepared a dip called b’tn, made of ground spices and black pepper, to dip their matzah into. While in most homes there is one Seder plate for everyone, Yemenites provide a personal Seder plate for each participant. Tunisians traditionally place the foods of the Seder plate in a reed basket (like the one baby Moshe floated in). Before reciting Ha Lachma Anya, the matriarch of the family goes around the table circling the basket over the head of each family member while saying “we left Egypt quickly.” They answer, “Yesterday we were slaves. Today we are free. This year we are here. Next year we will be free people in Eretz Yisrael.” Some say this custom originated in Spain, where the leader of the Seder would walk around and tap each family member’s head with the Seder plate (some say only the children’s heads were tapped). After the expulsion from Spain, Jews took this custom with them to Morocco. Although red wine is preferable at the Seder, many Ashkenazim used white wine in fear of blood libels – they didn’t want to be accused of using Christian blood in their wine. Ashkenazim also set aside a special cup for Eliyahu HaNavi. Some even have the custom of covering the cup after the Seder and using it for kiddush the next day. Moroccans don’t have a cup for Eliyahu, but they set up a special chair for him, decorated with cushions.

24 |

ne very prevalent custom is the reenactment of leaving Egypt. Iraqi Jews have the following custom: before Ma Nishtana, the youngest child goes outside and knocks on the door. After he is invited in, he is asked, “Where are you from?” “I’ve come from Egypt,” he responds. “Where are you going?” “I’m going to Yerushalayim.” Then he asks the four questions. Many Sephardim have a similar custom. In Turkey and Greece, the leader of the Seder would leave the room and return with matzot on his shoulder to answer these questions. In Yemenite families, the father or grandfather answers these questions as he walks around the table leaning on his cane, and tells everyone about his life as a slave in Egypt and the miracles of the Exodus. At the end of the Seder, Jews from Syria, Morocco, Iraq, Kurdistan, Djerba and the Caucasus place a bag on their shoulder and get up to leave the house, saying: “So did our ancestors leave Egypt, ‘their kneading bowls wrapped in their cloaks upon their shoulders’” (Shemot 12:34). Many Ashkenazim also have the custom of reenacting yetziat Mitzrayim. Rabbi Asher of Lunel wrote in his Sefer Minhagot (circa early 13th-century) of some German Jews: “...after eating karpas, they uproot the table and take the matzot, wrap them in coverings and bear them on their

shoulders and walk to the corners of the house, and then they return to their places and recite the Haggadah.” In other parts of Germany, the Seder leader would take the matzot and place them on his shoulder and say: So sind die Kinder Jisroel aus Mizraim gegangen, so war es (“Thus did the Children of Israel leave Egypt, so it was”). Hungarians had a similar custom at the end of the Seder: the leader would wrap the afikoman in a scarf, sling it over his shoulder, stand up and say to his family in Yiddish: Geimir, geimir! (“Let’s go! Let’s go!”). Some German Jews also have the custom that when the door is opened for Eliyahu, a member of the house comes running in, announcing the arrival of Mashiach. Persians, Iranians, Iraqis and Afghanistanis have the enjoyable custom of acting out the slavery by whipping each other with spring onions or leeks while singing Dayeinu. Ten Plagues

imilarly, the 10 plagues have an important place at the Seder. In Ashkenazi homes, everyone removes 10 drops of wine from their glasses with their finger while reciting the 10 plagues. But Jews from Turkey and some of the Balkans wouldn’t look at the spilled “plague-wine,” lest they be contaminated. In Cochin (India), only the leader would spill out this wine from a special “Pharoah’s cup”

and then wash his hands to clean them from the “plagues.” Iraqi Jews would spread a second tablecloth over the table while reciting this passage, to protect the food from the plagues. On the other hand, in Libya, the “plague waters” were considered a segula. Single girls would wash their feet in the spilled wine, in the hope of finding a shidduch in the coming year. Today, many families add props to the Seder to symbolize the plagues – a participant might go around offering cups of “blood” (tomato juice) or throw plastic frogs or “hail” (ping pong balls). The Afikoman

hat about the afikoman? Many Sephardim, such as Iranian, Bucharian and Afghanistani Jews, keep a small piece of it as a segula. Jews of of North Africa and Greece would sometimes carry this piece in their pockets. Syrian, Libyan, Tunisian and Iraqi Jews would take this piece on their travels to protect from ayin hara along the way, and the Jews of Kurdistan would keep it in their grains and salt as a segula. Some Ashkenazi Jews would do this too – Polish Jews would hang the leftover afikoman on their walls. Despite our different customs, our Seders all end with the same hope – ‫ – לְ ׁ ָשנָ ה ַה ָ ּב ָאה ִ ּבירו ָּשלָ יִ ם ַה ְ ּבנוּיָ ה‬all of Am Yisrael together!

| 25

THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND

R AV KO O K ’ S T E AC H I N G S Rabbi Chanan Morrison

Speaking to the Wise Son

he Haggadah speaks of four children. Each one asks his own question, and each one receives a personal response. Education, the Sages taught, is not something that can be mass-produced like a Model T. The first child, the wise son, is troubled by the Torah’s abundance of rituals and minutiae. For the intelligent and rational, everything should be logical. What meaning can there be in these myriad details and rules? “What is the meaning of the rituals, rules, and laws that the Eternal our G-d has commanded you?” (Devarim 6:20)

Background illustration of Rav Kook courtesy of www.gedolimcanvas.com

Why All the Details? In one brief query, the wise child has challenged the very foundations of a ritual-rich religion. Why do we need all of these details and halachot? Why is it not enough to be satisfied with Judaism’s basic tenets and fundamental teachings? The Haggadah’s response is enigmatic, ostensibly irrelevant to the question: “You shall explain to him the laws of Pesach: one does not eat any dessert after the Pesach offering.” Are we to explain to him all the laws of Pesach? Or just this one rule about not eating after the Pesach offering – or nowadays, the afikoman-matzah – has been eaten at the end of the meal? What is the significance of this particular rule?

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The Seder Frog I recall one year, when my six-year-old daughter was bursting with excitement, watching us unpack the Pesach dishes. The special pots and pans she fondly remembered from last Pesach were back once again! Then we uncovered a small piece of green felt fabric that fits over a finger. Once upon a time it sported two plastic eyes and even a little red tongue. Our eldest brought it home from kindergarten once, and ever since it has graced our Seder table, making a special appearance during the passage about the plague of frogs. This year, I wondered: would my daughter recognize this lump of green cloth, only on display for a few minutes each year? I need not have worried. Her face immediately lit up as she spied the Seder “frog.”

Seder Night? We want the experience of Pesach to make a deep and lasting impression. We want the taste of matzah to remain in our mouths for as long as possible. So we eat the afikoman at the very end of the meal, even after dessert. The detailed laws surrounding each mitzvah etch the experience of that mitzvah onto our souls. Like the matzah on Pesach, we want the taste of the mitzvah to stay with us as long as possible. Just as our own personal additions to Pesach customs – even formless pieces of faded green felt – will conjure up images of frolicking frogs and past Pesachs, evoking childhood memories of celebration and thanksgiving will engrave them deeply on our soul. (From Silver from the Land of Israel. Adapted from Olat Re’iyah vol. II, p. 275).

Etching the Mitzvah on Our Soul The detailed laws of mitzvot serve a crucial function. They create an atmosphere and enhance the mitzvah-experience. They deepen the impression the mitzvah makes on the soul. Our intense involvement in all aspects of mitzvot leads to deeper love of G-d, the ultimate Source for the Torah’s mitzvot. Thus, for the wise and logical child, we specifically mention the rule about not eating after the afikoman. Why is matzah the very last food we eat on

Rabbi Chanan Morrison is the author of several books on Rav Kook’s writings.

Z I O N I S T I N F LU E N C E R S

THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND

OUR SERIES ON LEADERS WHO HAVE SHAPED ZIONISM CONTINUES WITH SOME OF ZIONISM’S EARLIEST INFLUENCERS

Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi

abbi Yehuda HaLevi, also known by his acronym Rihal, was born in the early 11th century in Spain. He was both a Torah scholar and well versed in the sciences of his time, and was a prominent thinker in Spanish Jewry’s Golden Age. Living during the first Crusade, Rabbi Yehuda was influenced by the history unfolding around him. He challenged the surrounding Christian and Muslim philosophies in his magnum opus, the Kuzari, one of the most studied books on Jewish thought. In it, Rabbi Yehuda writes about the greatness of the Land of Israel, explaining that a perfect Jewish life can only be lived in Israel, where G-d’s presence is tangible and the Torah can be fulfilled completely. Israel is to all the other countries as the heart is to the limbs of a body. Rabbi Yehuda’s poetic and literary talent was discovered early on. He wrote beautiful and complex poetry and prose in Arabic and in Hebrew from a young age, including dozens of rhyming riddles. Today he is considered one of the greatest Hebrew poets of all time. Many of his piyutim are incorporated into our tefillah, in selichot, kinnot, and zemirot Shabbat. Like David HaMelech in Tehillim, Rabbi Yehuda often connected his own suffering with that of the nation,

his own personality meshing with that of the greater Am Yisrael in his writings.

A light thing would it seem to me to leave all the good things of Spain,

Although there is a fable that Rabbi Yehuda’s daughter was married to the son of the renowned Torah commentator Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra, there is little historical proof for this. It is known, however, that Rabbi Yehuda and the Ibn Ezra were well acquainted.

Seeing how precious in mine eyes to behold the dust of the desolate sanctuary.”

During his later years, Rabbi Yehuda’s poetry and writings dealt extensively with Eretz Yisrael and longing to return to the Land, a number of which begin with the word Tzion and speak to the personified Tzion directly, mourning her destruction and beseeching her to pray for her lost children. “Tzion, will you not ask if peace is with your captives?” begins one of Rabbi Yehuda’s most celebrated piyut. Another one reads: “My heart is in the east, and I in the uttermost west-How can I find savor in food? How shall it be sweet to me? How shall I render my vows and my bonds, while yet Tzion lies beneath the fetter of Edom, and I in Arab chains?

Naomi Shemer’s famous line ‫לְ כָ ל ׁ ִש ַיריִ ְך‬ ‫“( ֲאנִ י ִּכנּוֹ ר‬for all of your songs, [Yerushalayim,] I am a violin”) from the song ‫ יְ רו ׁ ָּשלַ יִ ם ׁ ֶשל זָ ָהב‬was inspired by a line in one of Rabbi Yehuda’s poems, ‫ֲאנִ י ִּכנּוֹ ר‬ ‫לְ כָ ל ׁ ִש ַיריִ ְך‬. Although Yerushalayim was then in the hands of the Crusaders, he never lost faith in being able to make aliyah. According to Rabbi Yehuda, the physical return to Israel was a spiritual imperative. He left Spain and arrived in Alexandria on September 8th, 1140. He visited Cairo for a number of months, then returned to Alexandria and set sail to Israel on May 14th, 1141. Many of the details and ordeals of his journey to Israel have been preserved thanks to the famous Cairo Geniza. Rabbi Yehuda died mysteriously shortly after arriving in Israel. Some say he succumbed to disease, others say he was killed. It is believed that after his death, his writings inspired others to move to Israel and influenced writers of later kabbalistic texts. Described with the epitaph “Poet of Tzion,” Rabbi Yehuda was a major inspiration to the Chovevei Tzion movement and a figure of reverence to modern Zionists and many others. 

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THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND

M I Z R AC H I I N T H E N AT I O N A L I N S T I T U T I O N S Rabbi Yechiel Wasserman

Beginning with Disgrace and Ending with Praise

“T

he Exodus from Egypt will always remain the springtime of the entire world.” (Rav Kook, Meged Yerachim) The Exodus from Egypt was a formative event, and not only for the Jewish people. It is a story that extends beyond the Jewish world; a story which has had an impact on other cultures and nations as well. It symbolizes the ability of human beings to believe in their own G-d-given abilities and to prevail, and surely that is the hope of any person enslaved, in body or in soul. The word “spring” conveys hope that a meaningful change will occur and herald a better future. The Exodus is a prototype for liberty. It is no coincidence that the founding fathers of the United States drew inspiration from the Torah. Across from Independence Hall in Philadelphia, where the US Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed, hangs the Liberty Bell, one of the most iconic symbols of American independence. It bears the following inscription from the Tanach: “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof.” The Mishnah in Pesachim, which deals with our telling of the story of the Exodus on Seder Night, stipulates that we should “begin with disgrace and end with praise.” In other words, the story of yetziat Mitzrayim begins with slavery, with the adversity our forefathers suffered in Egypt. Only afterwards do we praise G-d, Who delivered us from

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slavery, brought us to Har Sinai and gave us the Torah. Ostensibly, the explanation is simple and logical – first, a description of the slavery and hardship, and then the story of redemption and liberty. However, in the Gemara two opinions are presented as to what constitutes the “disgrace” mentioned in the Mishnah. Rav says we should start by saying that “in the beginning our forefathers were idol worshippers,” whereas Shmuel believes we should begin by saying “we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt.” The Gemara then relates a story about Rabbi Nachman, who asked his slave: “In the case of a slave whose master delivers him from slavery and gives him his freedom and silver and gold as well, what should the slave thank his master for first?” The slave replied: “He should thank his master for giving him his freedom, and only then should he praise him for giving him a lot of money.” Accordingly, Rabbi Nachman stipulated that we should begin the Haggadah by saying “we were slaves.” To understand the debate between Rav and Shmuel, let us briefly discuss freedom. There is freedom of the body (freedom from) and freedom of the soul (freedom to). On the one hand, when Bnei Yisrael left Egypt, they had freedom of the body, freedom from hard labor and physical bondage. On the other, when they received the Torah at Har Sinai, they were given freedom of the soul. Freedom to use their spiritual gifts to grow as individuals and as a people.

So on Seder Night, which freedom we should thank G-d for first? Physical or spiritual? According to Rav, the spiritual bondage was the greater “disgrace,” hence he underscores the spiritual freedom and starts with the words “in the beginning, our forefathers were idol worshippers.” Shmuel of course knows spiritual freedom is important, but it cannot be achieved without physical freedom. Therefore, he says we have to begin by expressing our thanks for the physical freedom by saying “we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt.” The key message we are instructed to pass down from generation to generation is that G-d facilitated – and facilitates – both types of freedom. Moreover, we cannot have one without the other, and when we know how to use both our physical and spiritual freedom for the greater good and growth of society, that is perhaps the most profound praise we can give to the Almighty.

Rabbi Yechiel Wasserman is Head of the Center for Religious Affairs in the Diaspora in the World Zionist Organization and one of World Mizrachi's representatives in the National Institutions.

W H AT ’ S I N A W O R D

THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND David Curwin

From Start to Finish

et’s take a look at two words found at the Seder. One, ‫מוֹ זֵ ג‬, appears at the beginning, and the other, ‫נִ ְר ָצה‬, is at the end. Mozeg This is actually the first word in the Haggadah. Before Ha Lachma Anya, even before kiddush, is the phrase: ‫אשוֹ ן‬ ׁ ‫מוֹ זְ גִ ים כּ וֹ ס ִר‬. Generally translated as “pour the first cup,” this might seem like a simple instruction, and not worthy of much notice. However, this is not what was meant. While mozeg does mean “pour” in modern Hebrew, that wasn’t the original meaning of the word. It appears in Biblical Hebrew once – in the noun form ‫מזג‬, in Shir HaShirim 7:3.1 In Rabbinic Hebrew, it is much more common. The word means “to mix,” specifically to mix wine. (Mezeg is parallel to the English word “temper,” which also means “to mix.” This is why we call the climate mezeg avir – which literally means “the composition of the weather,” which is parallel to the original meaning of the related word “temperature.”) Why did they need to mix their wine? We see from Talmudic sources that wine was mixed with water, generally three parts water to one part wine.2 Since today we never mix wine with water, a common explanation is that the wine of that time was much stronger than the wine today. However, there’s a problem with that explanation. Before the discovery and spread of distillation in medieval times, no wine could ever reach a higher alcohol content than 14%. So why did they mix the wine with water? In the Greek and Roman period, it was customary to dilute wine with water because of the presence of strong herbal toxins from the spices and herbs that were added during the preparation.

The presence of these spices are found in the commentaries on Isaiah,3 and in the Book of Maccabees (III 5:45) it says that the elephants were driven to madness before battle by giving them “wine mixed with frankincense.” Since the Rabbis wanted to ensure the Seder Night did not degenerate into drunken revelry, they instructed the participants to dilute their wine with water at the beginning of the evening. Later, when those spices were no longer added to the wine, there was no need to mix it with water before drinking, and the meaning of the word took on its modern sense of “pour.” Yet even today, some still maintain the custom of adding some water to their cups of wine. Nirtzah The Haggadah contains a song to help the participants remember, via rhyme, the various actions they need to perform throughout the Seder. The last section, however, is not an instruction per se, but more of a description of this final stage. This is the ‫ נִ ְר ָצה‬section, which is followed by various songs after the Seder is completed. What does ‫ נִ ְר ָצה‬mean though? It is sometimes translated as “(all is) accepted” or “acceptance.” The source appears to be this verse in Kohelet: ‫ִּכי‬ ָ ֶׂ‫ת־מ ֲעש‬ ‫יך‬ ַ ‫כ ָבר ָר ָצה ָה ֱא־ֹלקים ֶא‬,ְ “...for your action was long ago approved by G-d” (Kohelet 9:7). Nirtzah is therefore a time when after all of the Pesach service is completed, we can enjoy the fact that G-d approved of our actions. This understanding reflects the fact that in Biblical Hebrew, the verb ‫ ָר ָצה‬meant “to be pleased with, to be favorable to.” That is the most common meaning. Similarly, the related noun ‫ ָרצוֹ ן‬means “goodwill, favor.”

But other scholars disagree, and say this is not the best translation for that verse. They say the phrase should be translated as “for your action was long ago desired by G-d.” This sense of ratzah is the one commonly used today – “to want.” This sense is very common in Rabbinic Hebrew, but is rarely found in Biblical Hebrew. Ratzon also changed meanings. While as we said, in Biblical Hebrew it meant “favor,” in later Rabbinic writings it came to mean “will” (as in a person’s intention). The sense of ratzah meaning “to be pleased” still has footing in Modern Hebrew. The related word ‫ ְמ ֻר ֶ ּצה‬means “satisfied.” Hopefully at the end of the Seder, both meanings of the word apply. G-d has desired our service, and accepted it with favor. 1

Other forms based on the sister root, ‫מסך‬, appear a number of times in Biblical verses.

Shabbat 77a, Niddah 19a.

Shadal on 5:22 and Da’at Mikra on 19:14.

David Curwin is a writer living in Efrat, and the author of the Balashon blog. balashon.com • balashon1@gmail.com.

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THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND

P L AC E S I N I S R A E L Rabbi Barnea Levi Selavan

Pesach in Dan and Naftali

isiting a string of Israel’s Northern Kingdom cities on and off the beaten track on a Pesach day will leave you with newfound respect for our ancestors, and make Tanach come alive amidst heady springtime nature. Ready?

ridges around it serve as its protective buffer zone. The nearby British Taggart fort, Metzudat Koach, commands the Hula Valley directly below. Visit its small, impactful museum about the tragic, brave, 1948 battle that took place there.

In the days of King Pekach of Israel, King Tiglat-Pileser of Assyria came and captured Iyon, Avel-Bet-Ma’acha, Yanoach, Kedesh, Chatzor – Gilead, Galilee, the entire region of Naftali; and he deported the inhabitants to Assyria (Kings II 15:29).

Chatzor – as excavator Amnon Bentor says, there is Chatzor, and then all the others. Chatzor is the largest ancient city in modern Israel, appearing throughout Tanach. Yehoshua burns it, Sisera represents it, Shlomo fortifies it. It’s a Northern Kingdom stronghold. Powerful Biblical gates, a massive burnt structure, and an awesome secret underground water system no besieging enemy would ever find. Chatzor is the first 1950s proving-ground for home-grown Israeli archaeologists; the Hebrew University continues its annual dig here. Nearby Ayelet HaShachar offers a museum displaying its finds.

Tiglat Pilesar III started the Assyrian exile tactic – uproot nations, scatter them over vast distances, no rebellions. Iyon/Marjiyun lies a 15-minute walk from Misgav Am on the Lebanese border. Next time… Avel Bet Ma’acha hosts dramatic excavations by the Hebrew University and partners. It was also the site of a breathtaking chase – Yoav pursuing Sheva ben Bichri, who had turned against David. For today, open your Tanach at Shmuel Bet 20, and relive the drama by putting one person on top as the wise woman (Serach bat Asher), and “Yoav” below. Yell the pesukim (16–22) at each other, and toss out a ball or some other object to represent Sheva ben Bichri’s head. Unforgettable! Yanoach has no sure identification; Yanoach-Jat is west of our drive – next time… Kedesh of Naftali was powerful in Biblical and in Second Temple times. The parking lot adjoins Second Temple Kedesh, with clear signage, wheelchair-accessible walkways and impressive Roman remains. Cross the road to climb Biblical Kedesh – a slight effort, with excavated ruins all around. The view reveals its strength; the plain and

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Another regional story: King Asa of Yehuda bribes Ben-Hadad of Damascus to turn against their mutual neighbor Ba’asha, king of Yisrael (Kings I 15:20): “…he captured Iyon, Dan, Avel-Bet-Ma’acha….” Dan’s Tanach roots stretch back to Avraham’s chase of the four kings, his strength sapped, sensing his offspring’s idol worship (Bereishit 14:4). The excavated bama, high place, seems to have been reused throughout history – perhaps here was pesel Micha and Yerova’am’s golden calf. An arched mudbrick gate from Avraham’s time, mighty gates of the kings of Yisrael, and the site of perhaps the most spectacular Biblical find ever – the Tel Dan stele mentioning “Beit David.” Learn about it and the region’s nature in the nearby Beit Ussishkin Museum. The Dan River sources spring out here; there is a natural wading pool for children and adults.

Overlooking the rushing water and walking over the spring rivulets under a massive forest mesmerizes young and old alike. Top it off with a local fresh fish lunch. Banias Park is situated nearby. Yarden (the Jordan River) means yored miDan, descending from Dan indeed. The glorious Banias waterfalls also offer forest hiking trails. Here, where the Hatzbani and Banias combine with the Dan to form the Upper Jordan, are many picnic spots; wet-hiking, kayaking and even whitewater options in season, and the Hula Valley nature reserve. Bed-and-breakfast “tzimmers” – developed by locals with government support – are plentiful here, e.g., in Beit Hillel. From here it is an easy drive up to the Golan or Mount Hermon. And everywhere you go, enjoy the lush spring flowers of Israel!

Rabbi Barnea Levi Selavan is Co-Director of Foundation Stone, running educational programs in Israel and overseas, and a licensed archaeologist and tour guide. selavan@gmail.com `

A member of the Mizrachi Tour Guides Bureau mizrachi.org/tour-guides

ISRAEL INSIGHT

THE PEOPLE AND THE LAND Dr. Sharon Goldman

Reflections on Elections

Sharing a Plate of Hummus

n the corner of a plaza off the main road in Raanana sits a hummus restaurant. This particular hummus place, half of a rivalry that has continued for decades with the “other” hummus store directly across the street, is run by a man who moved with his family from Ethiopia when he was a child. He speaks perfect Hebrew, with some Amharic phrases thrown in for color when necessary. The restaurant has been operating throughout the entire Corona shutdown, with “takeout” that can be eaten on the benches directly outside the restaurant. But as the owner explains, “I would prefer to pay a fine than not to see my friends and family.” All his customers are family: from the Moroccan “only Bibi” voter to the Ashkenazi Meretz supporter (“He is totally confused politically. But if everyone agreed, we couldn’t have the fun of arguing,” says the owner) to my daughter’s half African-American fiancé (“My brother!” exclaims the owner as he hands him a free soda). People from across my neighborhood, even those who don’t particularly enjoy hummus, have continued to visit the restaurant, simply to engage one another in heated conversations around current events – mostly Corona, the economy and the government’s responses. If you want a symbol of what makes Israel a special place, even – or maybe especially – during this very difficult year of Corona and as we pass our fourth (!) election in two years, this restaurant and its owner are it. They represent a country of immigrants, where my in-spite-of-my-bestefforts-still-strongly-accented Hebrew is seen as charming; a country where political disagreements are taken seriously, but those yelling at each other can still share a meal. A country where

challenges around difference in race or background are acknowledged but not reified. It is a place where one can have heated debates that escalate to actual yelling, but always end with a smile, a slap on the back and a lehitraot (see you again soon). This is not to say we don’t have real problems in Israel, all of which have been exacerbated by Corona. Setting the tone, and perhaps unintentionally but nonetheless definitely condoning the vitriol, are many of our political leaders whose fractious disagreements continue to turn personal. Both sides have accused the other of being responsible for the deaths of thousands; language that would have been bleeped from TV a decade ago is used to describe opponents, and parties have split into factions. This escalation of political rancor has serious consequences. It not only too often causes political paralysis at a time when action is desperately needed, but it is also reflected in civil society in ways that are both insidious and destructive. One newscaster said, somewhat nostalgically, “When I was a child and got into a fight in school, the Principal would send both me and the other child home to think about how to improve our behavior. President Rivlin should just send them all home.” One wonders if, at a minimum, they would not all do well with a short break – each in their own time-out corners – to think about the appropriate behavior for elected leaders.

With a fourth election around the corner, some of these leaders have actually been sent home – not by the Principal, but by the voters. Any party which failed to meet the minimum threshold of 3.25% of votes will not be returning. In what can be characterized as both the most and the least democratic of parliamentary systems – given the tremendous power handed to the small parties whose seats are wooed by the winning party in order to reach the magical number of 61 – every voter has the ability to influence the outcome. There are many pressing issues in Israel: security concerns, the pressure on our hospital system, the critical state of our economy in the face of Corona, the mental health of citizenry – and none of them should be minimized. But I think it is critical that Israelis also demand civility from their elected representatives. Perhaps I should invite our politicians to come join me at my local hummus restaurant and learn from the real people of Israel how to behave in the face of disagreements: understand we are all brothers and sisters who may hold radically different perspectives, but all truly want the best for one another. Let’s make those who can’t seem to get along share a plate of hummus and pita. It can only help. Dr. Sharon Goldman is a frequent speaker and writer on such topics as Zionism, the American-Jewish diaspora, and the U.S.-Israel relationship.

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Inspiring

Shabbat HaGadol Drasho󳱴

On Shabbat HaGadol, Jews pack into shuls across the world to hear the Rabbi’s drasha. Some of these drashot have become etched into Jewish history. Here are excerpts from pre-Pesach drashot, delivered by three of the most influential leaders of the last century. Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira hy”d, the Piacetzner Rebbe: Shabbat HaGadol drasha in the Warsaw Ghetto, 5700 (1940)

n 1950, a Polish construction worker clearing rubble from the destroyed Warsaw Ghetto unearthed a milk churn containing Hebrew and Yiddish language manuscripts, among them the wartime sermons of Rav Shapira. These powerful sermons were eventually published as ‫א ׁש ק ֶֹד ׁש‬,ֵ “Holy Fire.” In this particular drasha, Rav Shapira teaches that the Jewish people possess an inherent, instinctual faith.1 We Jewish people are always filled with love and fear of G-d, and our faith is steadfast. These traits are instinctive, as they are inherited from our ancestors. As an extreme example of this, we learn in the Talmud: ‘A thief during his burglary calls upon the Merciful One’ (Ein Ya’akov, Berachot 63a). The urge to pray is so automatic that even when a person is about to break one of the Ten Commandments, his

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instinct forces him to call upon G-d, praying not to be caught in the act of his transgression… Faith is not an external accomplishment foreign to us; it is within us, in our spiritual DNA! Nevertheless, a Jew does not automatically perceive or feel this faith within him or herself: (But) without exercising or adding to it, a person will remain unaware of his natural faith, love or devotion, unconscious of the vital sanctity he inherited from his ancestors. Only when he does something to increase his faith, love or devotion do they become obvious to him and he is able to feel them… Every one of us, simply because we are born Jews, possesses a unique holiness – a natural faith and trust in G-d. But this faith can only be ‘accessed’ when we ourselves make an effort to increase our faith. This is why G-d gave Bnei Yisrael the mitzvot of Brit Mila and Korban Pesach as their way of ‘earning’ the redemption.

The performance of both of these mitzvot demanded mesirut nefesh, great faith and sacrifice. The prospect of undergoing a Brit Mila as an adult in those days was probably frightening, and required all the men of that generation to tangibly demonstrate their faith in G-d. An even greater demonstration of faith was their fulfillment of G-d’s command to sacrifice lambs – revered as a deity by the Egyptians – as an offering to G-d: (By taking the lambs,) the people demonstrated that they were prepared to give their lives for G-d, as it is written: “Moshe said, ‘If we slaughter the sacrifice, this Egyptian taboo, will the Egyptians not stone us?’ (Shemot 8:22). But the Jews went ahead, regardless of the danger… In submitting to Brit Mila and courageously bringing the Korban Pesach in full view of the Egyptians, Bnei Yisrael rose to the occasion and actively took steps to ‘increase’ their faith, thereby activating the natural holiness and faith that lay within them as an inheritance from their ancestors!

The summary is adapted from a piece by Rabbi Elie Mischel.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l: The Inner Transformation on Pesach Night, adapted from a manuscript of a Shabbat HaGadol drasha delivered in Yiddish, 5717 (1957)

n 1957, Rav Soloveitchik’s Shabbat HaGadol drasha focused on slavery and freedom, through the lens of halacha. He begins by detailing the ways that a slave can become a free person. There are two ways that a slave can be taken away from his master. The first is through conquest by war, as the Mishnah says, “A slave who was captured and ransomed, if he was ransomed to be a slave, then he will be enslaved, but if he was ransomed so as to go free, he shall not be enslaved” (Gittin 37b). If the master went to war and was defeated, his slave belongs to the victor, who can either keep him as a slave for himself or set him free. Conquest establishes possession. Second, a master can lose his slave if, upon the master’s acquiring him, the slave immerses himself in a mikvah with the intention of converting to Judaism. The Gemara says: “... since the slave preceded the prospective new master and immersed himself for the purpose of conversion, his slavery is annulled.” Why? The answer is simple. A fully developed person whose tzelem Elokim is active, whose soul is pure and holy, cannot become a slave. What is the meaning of tzelem Elokim, of kedushat Yisrael, of kavod haBriyot? All these ideas express one notion: that a person has only one master and not two. “The Master G-d of Israel” (Shemot 34:21). Man is subject only to G-d; a human being is free and not subjugated to any other person.

Thus, the sanctity of human identity – expressed in the exclusive sovereignty of the Creator – contradicts the institution of slavery. If one accepts G-d’s commandments and attains inner sanctity, one cannot be enslaved to another person. “‘For the children of Israel are slaves to me’ (Vayikra 25:55) and not slaves to slaves” (Kiddushin 22b). Therefore, in the circumstance described above, the slave becomes free once he immerses himself with the intention to convert, for his inner identity has become sacred and whole by means of his acceptance of G-d’s commandments. Rav Soloveitchik explained how the halachot of slavery teach us the intrinsic meaning of what it is to be free:

with the proclamation of G-d’s unity and acceptance of his commandments as expressed in the four passages contained in the tefillin. Similarly, if a master calls upon his slave to read from the Torah in public, the slave earns his freedom. With the blessing over the Torah “He who chose us from among all the other nations and gave us His Torah,” the slavery is annulled and the slave is now bound only to the Creator… When the freedom of a slave stems from a transformation of identity as in immersion with intent to convert, from the raising of the soul from profanity to sanctity, from the acceptance of the yoke of commandments, from leaving the lands of the nations and moving to the Land of Israel, his newfound status can never be annulled. Personal sanctity cannot be annulled of itself. It can never be uprooted, and the sanctity is for this time and forever more.

Sanctity and slavery are contradictory. Slavery is rooted in the profane, in impurity, in the unworthy; it cannot be paired with the holiness and the spiritual fitness of the personality. That is why the slave’s testimony is unacceptable. He cannot contract a marriage because the ability to betroth stems from having a hallowed personality. The moment a slave achieves personal sanctity, his slavery is annulled.

The transformation which the Jews underwent during yetziat Mitzrayim, from slaves to free men, is an eternal transformation, never to be undone. From hereon, the Jews are free people. Rav Soloveitchik finished:

The halacha expresses this idea very nicely: a slave whose master places tefillin upon him goes free. Why? Because slavery cannot harmonize

No power in the world can crush the Divine revelation of the still, small voice in the depths of the human soul.

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the Exodus becomes truly whole when we accept the Torah: We get a free society when each one of us says, it’s up to me. We have to do this, and only we can do it, together. That is the responsible society G-d asked us to make, that’s why He led us through Egypt and all its suffering, so that we should long for freedom but understand that this is a responsible freedom, a freedom we have to make together. That is what makes the world’s strongest free societies, and that is the eternal message of Pesach.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt”l: From Freedom to Responsibility, 5773 (2013)

n a drasha given before Pesach in 2013, Rabbi Sacks called upon his listeners to heed the call of Pesach by taking responsibility for our actions in order to build a better society. The whole story of yetziat Mitzrayim, that long journey that begins on Pesach and ends on Shavuot, and of which we count the days between, is a journey from simple freedom, which means taking people out of a country or changing the form of government, to the really difficult form of freedom – law-governed liberty, when we obey the law because we understand it and because we are responsible citizens, responding to G-d’s call. If that is the case, the story of Shemot is a challenge to our responsibility, and the story we tell on Seder Night is only the beginning of the story.

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On Seder Night, all our focus and all our thanks are to G-d. But once that is over, the second we begin sefirat haOmer and the long journey to accepting the law on Mt. Sinai, we realize we have to become G-d’s partners. We can’t leave it all to Him. The journey from Pesach, when we were passive receivers of G-d’s miracles, immediately into counting the Omer and Shavuot, teaches us to become active partners in G-d’s world, by creating a more wholesome society through the Torah’s laws. G-d is calling on us to be responsible human beings, restraining our liberty for the sake of other people’s liberty, giving a little of what we have to others who have less, building a compassionate social just order that honors human dignity and the sanctity of human life… What does true freedom mean? Freedom comes hand in hand with responsibility. The freedom we experienced at

Friends, I think it’s an important message… G-d is calling on us to exercise responsibility by creating free societies, by righting wrongs, healing disease, righting injustices, fighting against poverty and ignorance, and all the other bad things that happen… So yes, we celebrate Pesach and we thank G-d for the miracles of Jewish history from that day to this, because we have lived through the third great exodus of Jewish history. First from Egypt, second from Babylon, third from all the lands of our dispersion. In some ways, the exodus we have lived through is the greatest of them all. But now comes the challenge. Can we respond to G-d’s call to create freedom, not wait for Him to do it for us? To hew the tablets upon which He will write His words? To build the Mishkan so that His presence can fill our lives? Friends, that is the challenge of Pesach. The challenge of Jewish life today. The message of Pesach does not end on Seder Night. It is the journey afterward, to Mt. Sinai, that teaches us how to utilize our newfound freedom by becoming partners with G-d.

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P E S AC H R E A D I N G

E R E V P E S AC H Dr. Shana Strauch Schick

Why is Pesach Eve Different from All Other Holiday Eves?

mong the many halachot of Pesach, there is one that is often overlooked. The Mishnah in Pesachim states that there are varying customs as to whether one may perform labor on Erev Pesach before midday. The Talmud Bavli (Pesachim 50b) focuses on the assumption underlying this Mishnah; namely, that there is a unique prohibition against performing labor on Erev Pesach from midday onward (the sixth halachic hour) which is not subject to local custom. However, the Bavli cites a Baraita which appears to contradict this: “One who performs labor on Shabbat eves and Festival eves from mincha onward never sees a sign of blessing.” The implication of the Baraita is that on the eves of all holidays one may not do work. Why then, asks the Bavli, does the Mishnah single out Erev Pesach? The first answer offered is that there is a quantitative difference at play. On the eves of other holidays and Shabbat, the prohibition begins at the earliest time one may recite mincha (the 6 ½ hour of the day), whereas on Erev Pesach it begins at midday. The Bavli then suggests there is a qualitative difference as well: the prohibition on the eve of other holidays/Shabbat is less severe, whereas forbidden labor on Erev Pesach is a definitive prohibition incurring excommunication. (Whether this prohibition is Biblical or Rabbinic is debated among the medieval commentators.) The Bavli does not explain why Erev Pesach is distinct, but the parallel Yerushalmi sugya explains that this prohibition is directly linked to the korban Pesach, which was offered on Erev Pesach beginning at midday. As an extension of the rule that an individual who brings a korban may not do work while their sacrifice is being offered, work was forbidden for everyone while

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the Pesach sacrifices were being slaughtered and their blood sprinkled in the Temple. Rashi, however, explains that the singularity of Erev Pesach is due to the mitzvot one may neglect to perform properly if allowed to engage in everyday work. These include not only the korban Pesach, but also destroying chametz and preparing the foods required for the Seder. Several differences arise between these two reasons. For instance, in the situation this year, when Erev Pesach coincides with Shabbat, according to Rashi’s reasoning, since one cannot prepare for the Seder on Shabbat but must do so on Friday, the prohibition against performing labor is transferred to Friday. According to the Yerushalmi’s explanation, it is not extended to Friday for the ban is linked to the korban Pesach, which is always offered Erev Pesach, even on Shabbat (Chok Ya’akov Orach Chaim 468:1). A further difference is whether the prohibition remains in effect today. The Ba’al HaMe’or argues that according to the Yerushalmi’s logic, the prohibition is no longer applicable since we no longer offer the korban Pesach.1 Erev Pesach is now treated like the eves of other holidays and subject to minhag. The Ramban counters that whether the reason still applies is irrelevant, for “once a proclamation is made, it requires another beit din to repeal.” Moreover, since Rashi’s reason (destroying chametz and preparing for the Seder) remains operative, so too does the prohibition. This is the view of the majority of Rishonim and codified in the Tur and Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 468). They clarify that the prohibition applies to paid work, whereas fixing an object for the purpose

of the holiday is permitted, as is writing in the course of learning Torah. While it is debated whether one may have a non-Jew perform labor on one’s behalf (such as cutting hair) the Shulchan Aruch concludes that the custom is to be lenient. Ultimately, this prohibition reflects both an imperative tied with the past (per the Yerushalmi), and one that is still in effect (per Rashi). Through abstaining from work on Erev Pesach we impart significance to the day itself, in consonance with a time when the Beit HaMikdash stood and the day was dedicated to offering the korban Pesach. At the same time, it is a conduit to enhance our experience of the Seder, encouraging us to devote the day toward preparations so we can be fully present and attentive as we re-experience the redemption from Egypt. 1

Pesachim, dapei haRif 15b.

Dr. Shana Strauch Schick teaches Talmud and Halacha at Michlelet Mevaseret Yerushalayim and Drisha Institute and is a fellow at Yeshiva University’s Center for Israel Studies. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

SEDER NIGHT

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

Rabbanit Dr. Tamar Meir

Happy Birthday!

few years ago, we were looking for a special idea that would cause our children to ask Ma Nishtana. Not just to recite the text they’d learned by heart in advance, but to truly ask an authentic, curious question. To reach the place toward which Ma Nishtana is actually directed: the curious gaze, the eyes open to the world. It’s the look of a baby who sees rain for the first time, or the toddler who sees a lit chanukiah. The gaze which the Mishnah describes when it states: “they pour the second cup, and here, the child asks.” That year, which has since become our standard minhag, we brought a decorated chocolate cake to the table and sang “happy birthday.” We responded to the children’s question of “but who’s birthday is it?” with a mysterious smile. Wait, we told them. We reached the answer at the climax of Maggid: in the derashot of the verses of Arami oved avi, which the Haggadah expounds upon at length. “And he became there a nation, great and powerful,” says the verse. The Haggadah explains: “Great and powerful” – As it is stated (Shemot 1:7), “And the Children of Israel multiplied and swarmed and grew numerous (ּ‫ )וַ ִ ּי ְרבּ ו‬and strong, most exceedingly and the land became full of them.” “And numerous (‫”)רב‬ ַ – as it is stated (Yechezkel 16:7), “I have given you to be numerous (‫ ְ)ר ָב ָבה‬as the vegetation of the field, and you increased and grew… your breasts were set and your hair grew, but you were naked and barren. When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you: ‘Live in spite of your blood.’”

The Haggadah does not connect the word “numerous” to the verse in Sefer Shemot which was used to explain the words “great and powerful,” even though the root ‫ ַרב‬in its initial understanding appears there, but rather chooses to connect between the word ‫ ַרב‬and the word ‫ר ָב ָבה‬,ְ and from there to drift to the verses in Yechezkel 16. This isn’t an associative word game, but an intrinsic chapter to this special night. This chapter describes the birth of the Jewish nation – happy birthday. “As for your birth, when you were born your navel cord was not cut, and you were not bathed in water to smooth you; you were not rubbed with salt, nor were you swaddled. No one pitied you enough to do any one of these things for you out of compassion for you; on the day you were born, you were left lying, rejected, in the open field. When I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you: ‘Live in spite of your blood.’… When I passed by you [again] and saw that your time for love had arrived. So I spread My robe over you and covered your nakedness, and I entered into a covenant with you by oath – declares the L-rd G-d; thus you became Mine.” This chapter describes Am Yisrael as a baby abandoned at birth – she’s not washed, she’s not diapered (an exciting window into childcare of ancient times). She is covered in the blood of her birth. This is the blood that G-d sees, and promises her: “through your blood you shall live.” She grows up wild, but healthy and strong, until G-d returns and sees already that her “time for love had arrived.” He nurtures her as a bride, and makes a covenant with her. This magnificent metaphorical description of the relationship between Am Yisrael and G-d comes at the heart of Seder Night. The finale of the Exodus is the covenant between Am Yisrael

and G-d. The covenant of Mt Sinai, which is described in different places as a chuppah and a wedding between Am Yisrael and G-d. But Seder Night is not a wedding day. We don’t see the beautiful, adorned bride. Seder Night is Am Yisrael’s birthday, a night she is covered in blood – the blood of the korban Pesach is the blood of her birth. In the darkest times, she is seemingly an abandoned baby, who no one cares about, with no one to care for her. But exactly at this moment, the Haggadah reminds us that G-d passes over and sees her. Right now, it’s as if nothing has changed – she is still an abandoned infant covered in blood. But really, on this night – everything has changed, hakol hishtana. Happy birthday!

Rabbanit Dr. Tamar Meir is a researcher and lecturer, head of the Literature Department in Michlelet Givat Washington, head of the Women’s Bet Midrash in Givat Shmuel and a children’s writer. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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P E S AC H R E A D I N G

F I R S T DAY Rabbi Jeffrey Saks

A Night to Relive, Not Just to Remember

nce, Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria and Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon reclined for the sake of the Seder in Bnei Brak, and they recounted the tale of the Exodus from Egypt all that night long, until their students arrived and said, “Rabbis – the time for reciting the morning Shema has come.” We are well accustomed to the twice daily remembering of the Exodus (zechirat yetziat Mitzrayim), fulfilled through the recitation of the third paragraph of Shema. It might be natural to think that our Pesach Seder is some form of the daily obligation on steroids – but this would overlook essential differences between that daily obligation and the once-a-year experience of sippur yetziat Mitzrayim. Understanding these distinctions reveals not merely differences in form between the two mitzvot, but of function, and casts new light on the well-known story of the Sages’ Seder in Bnei Brak. In fact, it reveals how “this night is different from all other nights” for the purpose of remembering and relating the Exodus from Egypt. Aside from the fact that zechira is fulfilled twice-daily through the recitation of Shema, and sippur is a “one night only” occurrence at the Seder, Rav Moshe Soloveitchik enumerated other differences between the two: The daily command of zechira is achieved through a mere mention of “I am the L-rd your G-d, who brought you out of the land of Egypt” (Bamidbar 15:41). Sippur, in contrast, requires elaboration and enumeration of the many miracles, spanning the great tale’s arc from slavery to redemption, from our degradation to our status as a nation that can sing to Him in great praise. “All who elaborate and expand in the recounting of the Exodus perform a praiseworthy act!”

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Zechira is not enhanced by being performed in the company of others; remembrance (although it must occur through audible speech) is a monologue. Sippur, the great recounting of the adventure, is best performed dialogically, ideally in the forum of parents and children. According to Rambam and others who enumerate the 613 mitzvot, the daily remembrance is bundled together as part of the obligation to recite Shema. Sippur is an independent mitzvah according to all opinions. Rav Moshe’s son, Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik, expanded upon these distinctions. The Rav observed that Pesach night’s sippur is no mere, dry historical recounting, but carries an accompanying obligation of Hallel – to praise G-d for the miracles of which we speak. The recitation of zechira in Shema is “just the facts” of what occurred millennia ago. At the Seder, since we are obligated to view ourselves (or portray ourselves, as Rambam would have it) as if we are personally experiencing the miracles in real time, the requirement to sing our praise and thanks to He who redeemed us personally goes into effect. This analysis opens new interpretive insights to the Seder Night in Bnei Brak. What is the meaning of the seemingly simple, yet actually enigmatic, students’ statement, “The time for reciting the morning Shema has come”? Why use the particular idiom of Shema as a marker of time? Why not inform their masters using the more common “morning has broken,” or, “boker tov!” or, as the Tosefta records in a somewhat parallel case of Rabban Gamliel and the Elders in Lod who sat at the Seder table “all that night long until the cock crowed” (Tosefta Pesachim 10:2)?

The Sages in Bnei Brak realized they had a once-a-year opportunity to transform the mundane, daily remembrance of things past, to a spectacular reenactment. The Seder serves as a time machine, enabling the participant to step into the action of the Exodus. The various manifestations of the mitzvah challenge us to elaborate and expand, and “thank, praise, laud, glorify, exalt, honor, bless and raise high acclaim” to the One redeeming me right now at this very moment. The five reclining Rabbis made the most of the brief window enabling them to experience this – kol oto haLyla, for the length of that one night. When their disciples found them still at it the next morning, they signalled to them that the window had closed by declaring “the time for reciting the morning Shema has come.” That is, the time to return to the daily reality of zechirat yetziat Mitzrayim in Shema has arrived, with its distance between the reciter and the historical experience. The once-a-year opportunity of personally experiencing His redemption has again come and gone.

Rabbi Jeffrey Saks is the Director of ATID and its WebYeshiva.org program, and editor of the journal Tradition. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

S E C O N D DAY

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

Rabbi Shaul Feldman

Hallel and Preparing for Modern-Day Redemption

lthough Purim and Pesach don’t seem to have much in common, we can find many sources throughout Chazal that weave together an obvious correlation between the two.

rejoicing. On Purim, we read the Megillah. According to one opinion in the Gemara, the Megillah is the Hallel for Purim. On Pesach, we have the Haggadah, which includes Hallel.

In Masechet Megillah (6b), Rav Yochanan discusses the opinions regarding when to celebrate Purim in a leap year. The question is asked, in which Adar do we celebrate Purim? Rav Eliezer and Rav Yossi are of the opinion that we celebrate in the first Adar, adjacent to Shvat. However, leHalacha we follow Rashbag’s opinion that the second month of Adar – the month adjacent to Nissan – is the “chosen one.”

Another similarity exists in a key omission. Many struggle with the question of why G-d isn’t mentioned in the Megillah. Some explain that actually G-d’s name is mentioned, but in a hidden way. The word ‫ ַה ֶּמלֶ ְך‬with the ‫יעה‬ ָ ‫– ֵה"א ַה ְ ּי ִד‬ definitive the – is referring to G-d, as it says in the Megillah: ‫ַ ּב ַ ּליְ לָ ה ַההוּא נָ ְד ָדה‬ ‫שנַ ת ַה ֶּמלֶ ְך‬, ְ ׁ “That night, sleep deserted the King.”

The Gemara later explains the logic of Rashbag, in that juxtaposing the celebration of one redemption, Purim, to the celebration of another redemption, Pesach, is preferable. It’s interesting to note that Pesach is our first holiday that is d’oraita and Purim is our first holiday that is deRabanan. As we know, Rabbinic mitzvot were put into place as a means to enhance the mitzvot d’oraita. Our Rabbis enhanced our calendar with Purim, perhaps, to bring us closer to the full redemption. On Rav’s famous comment (Ta’anit 29), ‫מ ּׁ ֶש ִּנ ְכנַ ס ֲא ָדר ַמ ְר ִ ּבין ְ ּבשִׂ ְמ ָחה‬, ִ Rashi similarly makes a connection between the holidays. Just as when Av begins one decreases rejoicing, so too when Adar begins, one increases rejoicing. Rashi explains why: ‫ִמ ּׁ ֶש ִּנכְ נַ ס ֲא ָדר – יְ ֵמי נִ ִּסים ָהי ּו‬ ‫ ּפו ִּרים ו ֶּפ ַסח‬:‫לְ יִ שְׂ ָר ֵאל‬, “Whoever enters Adar – These were days of miracles for the Jews: Purim and Pesach.” This Rashi seems odd, because Pesach is in Nissan! There are many ways in which we can understand the correlation between the two holidays. Hallel denotes

The King, Chazal explain, is G-d, looking after Am Yisrael. When it comes to Pesach, many struggle with a similar question: why isn’t Moshe mentioned in the Haggadah? Perhaps we can view each holiday as having a unique challenge for us to overcome, and by doing so, we come closer to the full redemption. On Purim, one may assume from the story that G-d isn’t part of the equation. It can appear as a completely secular holiday, when our salvation happened naturally or by chance. G-d is hidden in the recounting of the story, and our work on Purim is to connect the outcome to G-d. Pesach, on the other hand, is a holiday of supernatural powers. Miracles occurred that we may think have nothing to do with human work. In the same vein, Moshe is perhaps removed from the Haggadah, for us to work on connecting the miracles to our human actions. We find an interesting argument in the Shulchan Aruch regarding saying Hallel in shul on the first night of Pesach, the opening of the holiday. There is a disagreement between Rav Yosef Karo in Eretz Yisrael, who says we say Hallel with a bracha, versus the Rema, who

points out that in Chutz LaAretz we don’t say Hallel in shul as it’s said at the Seder. Minhag Eretz Yisrael even for Ashkenazi Jews is to follow Rav Yosef Karo and we recite Hallel on Pesach night in shul. Hallel in shul, a holy place, is further connecting the miracles to G-d, in turn setting up a deeper challenge in connecting it to human actions. We find this exact challenge in our modern redemption: Medinat Yisrael. A large group in Am Yisrael hold that it’s completely disconnected from G-d, because they only believe in human power or, and at the other extreme, another group believe in G-d’s power alone, and the State is too man-made. Coming out from Adar and Nissan with the understanding that both human action – hishtadlut – and G-d’s Providence go hand in hand in bringing the ultimate redemption, allows us to enter Iyar, the month of Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim, in the right frame of mind.

Rabbi Shaul Feldman is Executive Director of Bnei Akiva of the US & Canada. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

CHOL HAMOED Laurie Novick

Creating the Right Balance

hen my husband and I made aliyah from the United States, we knew we were giving up the second day of Yom Tov. We didn’t realize that in return we’d be gaining Chol HaMoed.

of oxymoron. (The term Shabbat Chol HaMoed is even more confusing, since Shabbat cannot be chol.) Furthermore, the halachot of Chol HaMoed don’t fit neatly into the categories of “regular day” or “holiday” either.

What makes Chol HaMoed different here? First of all, the atmosphere. In Chutz LaAretz, the society around is oblivious or indifferent to the ongoing holiday. This means that aside from time spent davening or at the occasional gathering (or in places with a large Jewish presence), Chol HaMoed can feel isolating and constricted.

On the one hand, the mitzvah of simchat Yom Tov, rejoicing on Yom Tov, applies on Chol HaMoed, and charges us to split our time between celebratory feasting and devotional study (Pesachim 68b). To this end, many acts of melacha are prohibited on Chol HaMoed (Yerushalmi Moed Katan 2:3).

In Israel though, Chol HaMoed is a national holiday. Schools are closed and – as anyone who’s ever been told to wait for assistance until after the chagim can attest – business does not proceed as usual. The public square takes on a festive air, electric bus signs wish you moadim leSimcha, and festivals and fairs abound. The experience here is communal and expansive. The second difference has to do with time. Pesach this year begins with Yom Tov on Sunday. Outside of Israel, there’s a second-day Yom Tov on Monday, followed by four days of Chol HaMoed and another two days of Yom Tov, for an even ratio of 4:4. Israel has five straight days of Chol HaMoed and a final Shabbat Yom Tov, for a 5:2 ratio. When Yom Tov and Chol HaMoed are evenly split, Chol HaMoed becomes little more than a bridge from Yom Tov to Yom Tov. A higher proportion of Chol HaMoed shifts the balance of the holiday, so its own identity can be emphasized. Even in Israel though, trying to get a grasp on the identity of Chol HaMoed can be a challenge. The very name itself, Chol HaMoed, reflects this slippery nature. Roughly translating as “the regular days of the holiday,” it’s a sort

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On the other hand, the prohibition of performing melacha on Chol HaMoed is less sweeping than on Yom Tov, and was given over to our Sages to define. For example, we can perform melacha if otherwise we would stand to suffer a loss or we have a public need to fill, and someone without professional expertise in a given melacha can perform it for the purpose of the holiday (Mishna Berura 530:1).

What can we do to make the most of Chol HaMoed? Here too, the essential elements are time and atmosphere. We can make an effort to spend more time than usual studying Torah, and to allow additional time for tefillot, paying special attention to the longing for the Beit HaMikdash in Musaf and to raising our voices in song for Hallel. To build a festive atmosphere, we can wear clothes that are a little nicer than usual, and try to add something special – besides matzah – to our meals. We can keep the rules of melacha in mind, and not do anything more for work or school than is truly necessary, in a way that promotes simcha. And we can reach out warmly to each other, creating a sense of peace and joy around us, no matter where we are.

This fine-tuned prohibition keeps us from burdensome labor while making allowances for essential work, and thus fosters continued simcha and Torah study over the intermediate days of the holiday. At the same time, these allowances also lead to a much wider range of possibilities for how to fill each day than on Yom Tov. As a result, we don’t always experience Chol HaMoed as sacred. In Pirkei Avot (3:11), Rabbi Elazar HaModa’i counts one who “despises the holidays” among those who have no portion in the world to come. Rabbeinu Yona explains that the Mishnah refers to someone who performs prohibited labor on the days of Chol HaMoed, out of conviction that they aren’t all that holy. In other words, if we are not careful, the chol aspect of Chol HaMoed can become too dominant, in any locale.

Laurie Novick is Director and Head Writer of Yeshivat Har Etzion’s Deracheha: womenandmitzvot.org, a Yoetzet Halacha and writer for yoatzot.org, and a Nishmat Fertility Counselor. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

Prepare for Pesach on

IN THE PESACH KITCHEN WITH JAMIE GELLER & SHANI TARAGIN Recipes for Pesach with Insights for the Seder: Food for the Body and the Soul

COME FORTH TO PHARAOH WITH NACHLIEL SELAVAN A Virtual Tour of Ancient Egypt: Pharaoh, Egyptian Mythology and the Ten Plagues

FREEDOM

Mizrachi UK’s feature film for Pesach with Rabbi Andrew Shaw, Jonny Turgel and Asaf Flumendorf

View at mizrachi.tv

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

S E F I R AT H AO M E R Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider

Liberation Through the Medium of Time

he special Pesach emphasis on time continues well beyond Seder Night. The very next night we begin counting the Omer (‫ְס ִפ ַירת‬ ‫)הע ֶֹמר‬, ָ daily marking each passing day and then every week, as time slowly marches to Shavuot, nearly two months later. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l exquisitely expressed the deeper meaning embedded in this count: When the Jews were delivered from the Egyptian oppression and Moshe rose to undertake the almost impossible task of metamorphosing a tribe of slaves into a nation of priests, he was told by G-d that the path leading from the holiday of Pesach to Shavuot, from initial liberation to consummate freedom... leads through the medium of time. The commandment of sefirah was entrusted to the Jew; the wondrous test of counting 49 successive days was put to him. These 49 days must be whole. If one day is missed, the act of numeration is invalidated. A slave who is capable of appreciating each day, of grasping its meaning and worth, of weaving every thread of time into a glorious fabric... is eligible for Torah. He has achieved freedom. As our ancestors learned at the Exodus, time is not a blank canvas on which we live out our lives but a wash of distinct colors – alternately bold and muted, bright and dark – every moment pregnant with sacred potential. It follows that the importance of the clock for modern Jewish life cannot be overstated. For this reason, Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky (1891–1986), one of greatest luminaries of the previous generation, often chose to gift bar mitzvah boys a new watch. On this auspicious day marking a young man’s entry into adulthood, he wished to impart that there is nothing more precious in life than time.

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G-d took the Jewish people out of Egypt to become His people and observe His Torah. As new masters of their own schedule, the manumitted slaves had to remember there was a Master expecting them not to allow mitzvot “to be leavened.” A Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (2:20) captures this experience of time: “Rabbi Tarfon said: The day is short, the task is great, the laborers are lazy, the reward is much, and the Master is insistent.” This finds clear expression in Halacha as well. As the Rav put it: A person reads kriyat Shema at 9:05 and fulfills the mitzvah, but at 9:06 his performance is worthless. What did he miss? It was the same recitation, the same commitment, the same dedication. And yet, he has not fulfilled the mitzvah of kriyat Shema. Time is of critical importance – not years or months, but seconds and split seconds. Time-awareness and appreciation is the singular gift granted to free man, because time belongs to him; it is his time, and he can utilize it to the utmost or waste it.2

claims to life prior to my sickness. The fantastic flights of human foolishness and egocentrism were distant from me that night.3 Being forced to recognize that the days, months, or years we have left are finite, perhaps even countable, we rediscover their potential and value. This requires us to redetermine what we would like to accomplish in the time we have left.4 Our goal, therefore, during the 49 days of the Omer is to deepen our understanding of ourselves, our relationship with one other, and our attachment to the Almighty. 1

Shapiro, Soloveitchik on Pesach, Sefirat HaOmer, and Shavuot, 147.

Lustiger (ed.), Chumash Mesoras HaRav, 2:86..

Ziegler, Majesty and Humility, 254.v.

For further thoughts on the “time-experience,” see Besdin, Reflections of the Rav, 200.

Once sensitized to the preciousness of time, the Jew must maximize it. Wasting ּ ִ is worthy of contempt. time (‫)ב ּטוּל זְ ַמן‬ The pricelessness of time can be felt especially acutely when we are faced with our mortality. In 1959, the Rav was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo a difficult surgery. He shared what was going through his heart and head before entering the operating room: The night preceding my operation I prayed to G-d and beseeched Him to spare me. I did not ask for too much. All I wanted was that He should make it possible for me to attend my daughter’s wedding, which was postponed on account of my illness – a very modest wish in comparison with my insane

Rabbi Aaron Goldscheider is Editor of OU Israel’s ‘Torah Tidbits’ and Coordinator of Rabbinic and Leadership Training at Yeshiva University’s RIETS Gruss Kollel. He is the author of the best-selling Haggadahs, The Night That Unites and Layla Shel Achdut. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

S E F I R AT H AO M E R

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

Rabbi David Brofsky

Mourning Practices During the Omer

he weeks between Pesach and Shavuot are characterized by excitement and anticipation as the Jewish people count from Yetziat Mitzrayim to Matan Torah, and by the celebrations of Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim. However, they are also marked by the observance of minhagei aveilut, mourning practices. What are the reasons for these practices, and how does the apparent sadness of the Omer coexist with the festive nature of this period? The Geonim (Sha’arei Teshuva 278) cite an ancient custom of observing certain mourning customs between Pesach and Shavuot. They attribute this custom to the death of 12,000 pairs of Rabbi Akiva’s students, who according to the Talmud (Yevamot 62b), “did not treat each other with respect.” Other sources (e.g. Kohelet Rabbah) attribute their death to “being stingy with their Torah.”

The Rishonim attributed other reasons to these practices. Some (Sefer Abudraham) ascribe the customs to the precarious state of the Jewish people during this period, as they pray that G-d judges the world favorably. Thus, these practices are intended to arouse teshuva, and are not necessarily an expression of mourning. Others attribute them to the destruction of the flourishing Jewish communities of France and Germany during the Crusades (11th and 12th centuries). Similarly, Rav Ya’akov Emden writes in his Siddur Beit Ya’akov, “Rabbi Akiva’s students died and, due to our many sins, a number of communities were destroyed at the same time of year during the Crusades in Ashkenaz, and in 5408 in Poland.” The latter refers to the Chmielnicki massacres, which took place in the spring of 1648. Interestingly, neither Rambam, nor the Machzor Vitry, record mourning customs for this period.

Although some have objected to the observance of Yom HaShoah during the festive month of Nissan, these sources may indicate that remembering tragedies that befell the Jewish people specifically during the period of Sefirat HaOmer has its precedents. The Acharonim discuss which minhagei aveilut are observed during this time period (weddings, haircuts, and according to some, other festive gatherings), as well as which part of the Omer these customs are observed. Although we are accustomed to view this period as a time of mourning, the Ramban (Vayikra 23:36) asserts that the days between Pesach and Shavuot are actually similar to Chol HaMoed. He apparently views Pesach as the first festive day, Shavuot as the last day, and the entire interim period as a quasi-Chol HaMoed. These days are thus fundamentally days of excitement, anticipation and happiness leading up to the giving of the Torah on Shavuot.

the Temples, is actual mourning, and meant to evoke sadness, the mourning customs of the Omer are quite different. During this period, we observe mourning customs in order to remind us of the behavior that led to the death of Rabbi Akiva’s students. This behavior, as described by the Talmud and the Midrashim, was the opposite of the unity the Jewish people displayed before receiving the Torah (see Rashi, Shemot 19:2). Furthermore, it is this unity which is so necessary for the continued success and development of the Jewish State. Therefore, the mourning customs of the Omer, and the internalization of their messages and values, are wholly consistent with, and even contribute towards, the proper observance of Yom HaAtzmaut, Yom Yerushalayim, and the base upon which we received the Torah on Shavuot.

Based upon this Ramban, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (Yechave Da’at 3:30) argues that “G-d forbid, one should not view the days of Sefira as days of tragedy,” and refrain from reciting the shehechiyanu blessing or from moving into a new house. Furthermore, since the establishment of the State of Israel and the reunification of Yerushalayim, Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim are commonly and appropriately observed as festive days within this period. Does the mourning of the Omer contradict the excitement and anticipation leading up to Shavuot, and the joy we express on Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim? I would like to suggest that while the mourning customs observed during Bein HaMetzarim, before Tisha B’Av, when we lament the destruction of Yerushalayim and

Rabbi David Brofsky writes a weekly shiur for Yeshivat Har Etzion’s Virtual Beit Midrash, teaches in Midreshet Lindenbaum and Midreshet Torah V’Avoda, and is the author of Hilkhot Moadim and Hilkhot Avelut (Maggid Books). A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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P E S AC H R E A D I N G

S I X T H DAY Rabbi Anthony Manning

Keeping our Fingers on the Pulse

ome of the most defining aspects of Pesach are its minhagim. Through these family and community customs we personalize our halachic practices and introduce a unique flavor to a special chag. Perhaps the best known (but not always most loved!) minhag is the Ashkenazi practice not to eat kitniyot. With Jews from so many different cultures now living alongside each other in Israel, this minhag presents us with some special challenges. The Torah prohibits chametz on Pesach and all halachic opinions agree that chametz can only be made from the five grains – wheat, barley, spelt, rye and oats. As such, pure kitniyot can never be chametz. In fact, the Talmud (Pesachim 114a) suggests that rice can be one of the cooked foods on our Seder plate. One of the earliest mentions of any issue with eating kitniyot is found in the writings of Rabbeinu Peretz (13th century France). He records an “ancient” Ashkenazi custom not to eat kitniyot, since these grains were often made into cooked dishes or bread which people could easily confuse with real chametz. Chametz grains might also be mixed in with kitniyot and inadvertently cooked on Pesach. Even if the chametz content is negligible, since chametz can never be batel (nullified) on Pesach, such food would be prohibited. Although some Sefardi commentators regarded the custom of avoiding kitniyot as excessive (Tur OC 452) or even mistaken (Rabbeinu Yerucham calls it a minhag shtut!), the custom nevertheless remained strong and was codified by the Rema in the Shulchan Aruch (OC 452:1). Since then, other than occasional negative voices, such as the Chacham Tzvi in the 17/18th century, there has been uniform Ashkenazi

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acceptance of the minhag and it remains halachically binding. There is significant halachic discussion about whether kitniyot should be extended to include new foods which were not known in earlier times, such as potatoes, coffee and chocolate. There has also been considerable controversy as to whether the prohibition applies to kitniyot derivatives, such as oils, and to denatured kitniyot. One early controversy surrounding Rav Kook resulted from his 1909 ruling which broadly permitted sesame oil. This was strongly rejected by the Jerusalem Rabbinate but vigorously defended by Rav Kook. Today, one reason for the different kashrut certifications on products such as ice creams, margarines, mayonnaise and diet soda is the disputed status of kitniyot derivatives, including citric acid, sorbitol and aspartame. For Ashkenazim, shopping for Pesach in Israel can be tricky. Most supermarkets sell a wide range of Pesach products, many of which (usually the tastiest!) contain kitniyot. Unlike chametz, kitniyot which was mixed into food is nullified on Pesach, so the food will remain kosher for Ashkenazim (Rema OC 453:1). There is a debate as to whether the kitniyot must be less than a 60th of the volume of the food, but the Mishna Berura (453:9) rules leniently that kitniyot is batel berov. This means that so long as the kitniyot is less than 50% of the volume, Ashkenazim can eat the food. Rav Ovadia Yosef (Yechave Da’at 5:32) ruled that although Ashkenazim may not eat actual kitniyot, they may eat in a Sefardi home from plates that have been used for kitniyot, even on that day. However, this will not help Ashkenazim who are looking for a tastier chocolate cake, since bitul – nullification of prohibited food – only applies if the kitniyot fell in accidentally. The halachic

principle ein mevatlin issur lechatchila – we don’t nullify a prohibition at the outset – would mean that even small amounts of kitniyot (usually oils) cannot be deliberately added to a mixture. Most poskim apply this to Pesach products, which therefore carry a warning for Ashkenazim – leOchlei kitniyot bilvad, only for those who eat kitniyot! Some Israeli poskim have suggested that, since these products are made specifically for Sefardim, the added kitniyot may not be considered halachically “prohibited,” and so these foods may even be permitted for Ashkenazim. This is independent of the possible leniency for kitniyot oils, but it remains a minority position. Another delicate issue is what Sefardi-Ashkenazi families should do. Most poskim rule that a wife should follow the minhag of her husband (Igrot Moshe OC 1:158). However, Rav Ovadia Yosef rules (Yabia Omer 5) that while an Ashkenazi woman adopts the customs of her Sefardi husband, a Sefardi woman in Israel may still eat kitniyot in her parents’ home, even if she marries an Ashkenazi! We will see how these questions develop as more Jews return to live in Eretz Yisrael, bimhera beYameinu!

Rabbi Anthony Manning lectures extensively on contemporary halachic and hashkafic issues and is Director of Midreshet Tehillah in Jerusalem. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

the lax family edition

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

TZURBA M’RABANAN T H E F I R S T S E V E N V O LU M E S CO M P R I S I N G A L L O F YO R E H D E ’A H A R E N O W CO M P L E T E !

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Clear and concise introductions and a modern English translation alongside the original Hebrew text r Rashi, Nidda 66b Because it causes the hair to harden –

r Rambam, Hilchot Mikva’ot 2:18

Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah 199:2

Masechet Nidda 66a–66b

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P E S AC H R E A D I N G

S E V E N T H DAY Rabbi Ari Kahn

Nachshon, Jumping Into the Sea

n the day of the consecration of the Tabernacle in the desert, the Tribe of Yehuda, represented by Nachshon ben Aminadav, was chosen to be the first of the 12 tribes to present their offering. The Torah does not offer an explanation as to why this tribe, descendants of the fourth son of Ya’akov, should now be first. In the Midrash, however, Rabbinic tradition records the backstory: the distinction of being first to consecrate the Altar was bestowed by G-d – not to the tribe of Yehuda generally, but to Nachshon personally. Not long after the Israelites left Egypt, they discovered they were being pursued. The path ahead led straight to the sea, and there was no way out. They were trapped between the water and the mighty Egyptian military machine. While the Jews must have known that G-d, who had performed so many miracles before their eyes, could save them, they seemed paralyzed. One person, Nachshon, took initiative and leapt into the water. As the water reached his nostrils, the sea split, and the rest of the Jews followed him across the parted waters to safety. Nachshon’s story is a shining example of the importance of leadership and initiative. Often, people recognize the need for decisive action and clamor for change. Yet this cannot take the place of leadership, of the bravery of the vanguard who takes the first step – or leap. There is, however, a tragic side to this story. On the very day Nachshon was rewarded for his leadership and his display of faith in G-d, the first day of the month of Nissan, something else happened. Two of Aharon’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, died while offering a “strange fire.” While this tragedy most certainly marred the joy of the consecration of the Tabernacle, the day

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on which Nachshon’s leadership was acknowledged by the nation, there is a far deeper connection between these two events. Nadav and Avihu were Nachshon’s nephews, sons of his sister Elisheva. Elisheva is introduced not only as the daughter of Aminadav, but as the sister of Nachshon. Regarding this verse, Rashi transmits a bit of advice our Sages give about marriage: when choosing a wife, a man would do well to consider the traits of her brothers, because often the children take after their maternal uncles. This insight into human nature may help us reconstruct what happened on the 1st of Nissan, when the Tabernacle became operational. On that day, Nachshon was rewarded for his bravery. He was chosen to be the first, just as he had been the first to take action on that fateful day at the sea, when the Israelites were being pursued by the Egyptians. Nadav and Avihu, who took after their uncle, had similar gumption. They too took initiative. They offered a “strange fire” they had not been commanded to offer. Perhaps they saw themselves as being like their uncle – who was lauded by G-d and the entire nation on that very day. Why, we might ask, were the results of the nephews’ initiative so tragically different to the results of the uncle’s brave leap forward? Nachshon leapt when there was no choice; there could have been only two outcomes. Either G-d would accept his gesture as an expression of faith and split the sea, or the Jews would be slaughtered. His heroism was rewarded because he took action on what amounted to a battlefield. On the other hand, there was no need for Nadav and Avihu’s gesture. The fire they brought seems to have had no other purpose than self-aggrandizement. For the sake

of “making their mark,” they performed an unnecessary ritual. Their behavior was apparently motivated by the desire to be important, to be famous, to bask in the spotlight on that important day – just like their uncle. Rabbinic tradition criticizes Nadav and Avihu for failing to consult another of their uncles regarding their desire to bring an unsanctioned offering – their uncle Moshe, who certainly knew a thing or two about Divine service. The contrast between Nachshon on the one hand and Nadav and Avihu on the other, provides an excellent example of real leadership in times of crisis, as opposed to opportunism or shallow attempts to generate headlines or make the evening news. Nachshon was rewarded for his bravery, for his bold step toward freedom and his leap of faith, whereas Nadav and Avihu were punished for their self-serving public relations initiative.1 1

For more on Nadav, Avihu, and Nachshon, see Echoes of Eden: Vayikra (2013: Gefen Publishing House and OU Press), pp. 53–65.

Rabbi Ari Kahn is an author, educator and Rabbi of the Mishkan Etrog community in Givat Ze’ev. His most recent book is “The Crowns on the Letters”. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

E I G H T H DAY

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

Rabbi Dr. Aharon Adler

The Truth About Yom Tov Sheini

he Biblical commandment to organize the halachic calendar, via the judicial act of lunar sanctification, caused much difficulty for the burgeoning Jewish communities of Babylon during the Second Temple era. The over two-week delay in receiving this critical information from the Holy Land regarding precisely which day was sanctified as Rosh Chodesh meant that the Diaspora communities were uninformed as to when the festivals would fall out. This triggered the rabbinic institution to observe “Yom Tov Sheini” – a second day of each festival – due to the halachic doubt generated by the lack of adequate communication. In Talmudic times, when there were no longer possibilities of a judicial act of lunar sanctification, the 19-year calendar was launched into its historic orbit. Today, there is no longer a safek regarding the precise day of Rosh Chodesh. One simply checks the annual calendar, and the information is readily available to all. The Talmud (Beitza 4b) states that we nevertheless continue to observe it in the Diaspora as a minhag. Overseas travel in the modern era has given rise to an age-old question regarding the status of Diaspora Jews temporarily residing in Israel vis-à-vis their obligations to observe – or not to observe – Yom Tov Sheini as practiced abroad. A parallel situation – entirely reversed – deals with Israelis residing temporarily abroad. Should they observe the festivals in “Eretz Yisrael mode” without Yom Tov Sheini, or should they conform to the local Diaspora practice? Great confusion over this issue exists due to the two known polar-opposite opinions on the subject. Rambam (Hilchot Yom Tov 6:14) and later, Rabbi Yosef Karo (Shulchan Aruch OH 496:3), contend that Yom Tov Sheini

observance today conforms to the category of minhag. Broadly stated, if an individual is a temporary resident in, or visitor to, a second location with plans to return to the original location, he/she must observe the minhag of the original location. However, if one relocates permanently to the second location, the original location’s minhag is no longer binding upon him, and he assumes the new location’s minhag immediately. Hence, one may conclude that a tourist in Israel today should observe the full Yom Tov Sheini. Conversely, an Israeli abroad could dispense with Yom Tov Sheini (except for the concern of marit ayin, which would restrict such a person from publicly performing Yom Tov-restricted activity). On the flipside, the Ritba (Chidushim Rosh Hashanah 18a) contends that Yom Tov Sheini is defined in terms of the place. Whoever is in Eretz Yisrael (permanently or temporarily) observes one day, while everyone in the Diaspora would observe two days of Yom Tov. This opinion was adopted by the 17th century Chacham Tzvi, who goes a step further and declares that anyone observing Yom Tov Sheini in Eretz Yisrael is in direct violation of the Biblical commandment “not to add on to the Torah” (bal tosif)! On the practical side, tourists in Israel who are followers of the opinions of the Mishnah Berurah and Rav Moshe Feinstein conduct themselves according to Rav Yosef Karo’s position, and observe the full-blown Yom Tov Sheini. Those following the opinions of Rav Yosef D. Soloveitchik and many leading Israeli decisors have adopted the position of the Chacham Tzvi, and observe the Yom Tov in accordance with Eretz Yisrael practice. In 1973, as a foreign student at Yeshivat Har Etzion, two of my friends had asked for Rav Amital to host a second Seder

for them. He graciously agreed, on the condition that I come to this Seder with my guitar and play live music. Rav Amital refused to respond Amen to the two boys’ many berachot at this seder. Instead, he mumbled: od beracha levatala – another blessing in vain! Complicating matters, Rav Shmuel Salant (19th century Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem) agreed, in principle, with the Ritba’s position. However, in deference to Rav Yosef Karo, he recommended that on Yom Tov Sheini in Eretz Yisrael, one should abstain from doing Yom Tov-restricted activity while maintaining the Chol HaMoed status of the day, an opinion adopted by Rav Soloveitchik as well. The reconstitution of the Sanhedrin on the eve of Messianic times will usher in an era when rabbinic authority will be restored, allowing for the repeal of Yom Tov Sheini. Modern telecommunication will guarantee worldwide knowledge of the Rosh Chodesh declarations emanating from Eretz Yisrael, and hence, no longer will there be a need for Yom Tov Sheini at all. May we be blessed, speedily in our days, to witness this great transformation. Amen!

Rabbi Dr. Aharon Adler is the Rabbi of the Ohel Nechama Community Synagogue in Jerusalem. A member of the Mizrachi Speakers Bureau mizrachi.org/speakers

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P E S AC H R E A D I N G Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski ‫זצ“ל‬

A Neglected Prayer Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski touched the lives of thousands of Jews and non-Jews worldwide. He was a frequent contributor to HaMizrachi up until his passing in January at the age of 90. To honor Rabbi Twerski’s memory, we are reprinting this article written for HaMizrachi last Pesach.

hat we pray for is a good indication of how important things are to us. We pray for long life, good health, parnassa, and nachat from our children. The intensity of our prayers reflects the degree of their importance. Nothing equals the intensity of our prayers for life and health, because without these, whatever else we have pales in comparison. In the more comprehensive siddurim, there is an introductory prayer attributed to Rebbe Elimelech of Lizhensk, one of the foremost Chassidic masters. As in other prayers, we pray for forgiveness of our sins, for Divine guidance, for good judgment, and for freedom from the enticement of the yetzer hara, the inclination to indulge in animalistic behavior. But there is one request not found anywhere else, to the best of my knowledge. We ask G-d to “help us to see the merits in our fellow humans and not their faults.” It is not uncommon for some people to be critical of others, but is far less common to praise others. Seeing faults in other people is likely to be defensive. It is a way to bolster one’s own sagging self-esteem.

happened to see a Jew violating Shabbat. True to his own belief, he felt that he must himself be guilty of having violated Shabbat, else he would not have noticed it. When a thorough soul-searching failed to reveal where he had violated Shabbat, he prayed for Divine enlightenment. It was revealed to him that he had once heard the defamation of a Torah scholar. Inasmuch as the Zohar says that a Torah scholar has the kedusha of Shabbat, this was tantamount to a violation of Shabbat.

The Talmud says that the faults we see in others are actually our own faults. The Baal Shem Tov once

Before being critical of another person’s behavior, think of your own defects. The Baal Shem Tov said that

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the world is a mirror. As we are generally blind to our own shortcomings, G-d arranges that we should see them in others, and we should realize that we must correct our own faults. The next time you wish to say something negative about someone, pause and think. You might be revealing your own shortcomings.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham J. Twerski ‫ זצ“ל‬was a rabbi and psychiatrist, the founder of Gateway Rehabilitation Center and author of over 90 books on Jewish and self-help topics.

VeHigadeta LeVincha EDUCATION IN 2021

ne of the main mitzvot of Pesach is to teach our children, to pass on our tradition to the next generation. Throughout history, parents and teachers have struggled with the challenges of education and parenting of their times. Our generation, more than ever, is in need of guidance and clarity in this realm.

HaMizrachi brings some of the top educators and leading experts in education together for a discussion on some of the most pressing contemporary educational questions: dealing with the challenges brought on by Corona and helping our children navigate our growing world of technology and social media.

RABBI EFREM

Goldberg

RABBI DR. YONAH

Goodman

Now that we’re nearing the end of this pandemic, B’Ezrat Hashem, we wanted to know: What are some of the things we’ve learned in terms of education? What are some messages we can take with us?

“The challenge of Corona has been an incredible opportunity to teach our children spiritual strength. To teach them how to deal with a long-lasting crisis,” says Rabbi Chagai Londin, a prominent Israeli educator. “We had to learn how to live with Corona for an extended amount of time, just as we need to learn how to move forward in life with our yetzer hara and other weaknesses. This kind of mental attitude that allows us to cope with regressions (which are probably to be expected in the coming months)

RABBI DANIEL

Kaplan

RABBI CHAGAI

is not a sharp swing between euphoria and despair, but a smooth glide between the waves of life which naturally include ups and downs. The Talmud describes how Rabbi Akiva survived a shipwreck: ‘I held on to a board, and every wave that came over me, I bowed my head under.’ For every wave that comes our way, we must hold onto a ‘board’ – the Torah, and ‘bow our heads’ – to ride the waves. This is what we must teach our children.” According to Rabbi Dr. Yonah Goodman, another Israeli expert in education, Corona has taught us that education cannot rely solely on teachers: “Just because a teacher teaches wonderfully doesn’t mean the students learn wonderfully. In too many places, the responsibility of learning was mainly on the teachers. The moment the children were

Londin

MRS. AVIGAIL

Wonder

home, far from sight, and for some, with the camera turned off, things fell apart. We learned that we need to invest much more in cultivating children who are thirsty to learn, who feel responsibility toward their own learning, and who know how to do so of their own volition.” But, he adds, Corona has also taught us to appreciate that “we have incredible teachers, who dedicate themselves completely from a deep responsibility to the education of our children.” Rabbi Daniel Kaplan, an experienced educator and Torah programs director at World Bnei Akiva, builds upon Rabbi Goodman’s words: “Education should ideally come from the home: ‫וְ ׁ ִש ַּננְ ָּתם‬ ָ ֶ‫לְ ָבנ‬, you shall teach your children. For ‫יך‬ so many years we’ve outsourced this to Continued on page 50

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different educational bodies, but now we have had the opportunity to be involved in our children’s education directly. This is a message that shouldn’t fade when they go back to school. Of course we trust our schools and educational systems but hopefully after Corona we will play more of a part in educating our children ourselves.” Rabbi Efrem Goldberg, Senior Rabbi of Boca Raton Synagogue, shares what he believes is the main message we’ve learned from Corona: ‫ – ִּכי ֵהם ַח ֵ ּיינ ּו‬the Torah is as indispensable as the air we breathe. There is a unique law that the poles placed in the Aron to transport it must always remain in place and not be removed. Rav Hirsch suggests that the perpetual presence of the poles communicates the portability of Torah. The Torah is not designed for one location and isn’t meaningful only for one point in time. The Aron’s permanent poles reflect that Torah was, and is, always ready to travel, to accommodate and conform to what it takes and where it needs to go in order to be transmitted. Continuing school, class and lessons for our children was incredibly complicated and difficult throughout Corona. Rebbeim and teachers had to learn and discover new skills and talents. Technologies were engaged and deployed to ensure uninterrupted continuity of Torah study. Our children were asked to conform to new rules and realities like distancing, masks, school going from in person to online, classes forced to quarantine and then to come back. As challenging as this year has been, it has also enabled our educational systems, teachers, students and parents alike, to discover a sense of resiliency and devotion they would likely not have otherwise known we were capable of. Hopefully that lesson will inspire our children and ourselves and last well beyond when this difficult time is over.”

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What have we been able to do during this pandemic that we weren’t able to do before?

Avigail Wonder, Head of Secondary School at Leibler Yavneh College in Australia, answers: “As a result of the newfound ease of communication via Zoom, our teachers benefit from professional development from a variety of overseas educators, who we can now seamlessly connect with. Our school ran a weekly Tanach evening shiur for advanced students, taught by Rabbi Menachem Leibtag in Israel. We would never have thought of being able to host giants of Torah Judaism to fly out to teach our students, yet here they were, teaching and discussing and taking questions from people thousands of miles away. These sessions were so powerful and real connections were made between our students and the presenters, despite the distance.” Online education and distance communication with loved ones during lockdowns showed us the necessity and benefits of modern technology. Is there anything we should be wary of when it comes to online education and social media?

“Technology in general, social media and media apps in particular, are seductive, intoxicating and, for some, addictive,” says Rabbi Goldberg. “Ideas that are both spiritually and socially destructive are readily available and accessible. While rejecting technology entirely is not a viable strategy, neither is embracing it wholesale without boundaries and supervision. The benefits of technology are enormous, but tolerating unbridled and unregulated access for oneself or one’s family is reckless and irresponsible. Car travel is invaluable, but it

would be inconceivable for a responsible society to allow everyone, regardless of age or training, to drive anywhere, at any time and in any manner or speed. Non-regulation would be grossly negligent and most certainly result in injuries and worse and the same is true when it comes to the use and abuse of technology.” “The number one thing I would be wary of with a young person is how much time they are spending online or on their phone,” says Avigail Wonder. “Social media streams to videos, songs, texts and images into the minds and hearts of our young people for hours every day. This media exposes our children to a spectrum of values, cultures and ideologies which they need to face, digest and make sense of – when they are still trying to understand their own values and beliefs. The challenge is compounded by the amount of time our children spend engaging online and not in face-to-face interactions – which can negatively affect their emotional wellbeing. It’s important for them to have face-to-face connections each day with family members or friends.” “Our children will acquire the skill of technology itself at school and mostly alone,” says Rabbi Goodman. “Parents’ main task is different. It is to guide our kids to dive into the digital world with a Jewish value-based compass. Anyone who lives near a busy road understands that the road is not the enemy, but it can be dangerous if we don’t teach our children how to behave when using it. The same is true of the digital world.” Since, as Rabbi Goldberg mentioned, rejecting technology entirely is not a feasible strategy, it seems that our only option is what Rabbi Goodman said: to teach our children to navigate the digital world. Can you offer us some practical tips in terms of how to help our children successfully navigate the internet?

P E S AC H R E A D I N G

“Avodat Hashem involves two different yet complementary elements; ‫ש ה טוֹ ב‬ ׂ ֵ ‫– סוּר ֵמ ָר ע וַ ֲע‬ avoiding evil and doing good. We need to have candid discussions with our children, who are both consumers and producers of content on the internet. While they absorb and publish messages and values, they can be mindful and in-control participants on social media. They can approach each piece of media with an enquiring eye; ‘Is what I am presented with in this video in line with my values?’ ‘Is this audio note, text message or video I’m sending, going to be harmful?’ Avoiding negative influences is their ‫סוּר ֵמ ָרע‬. Standing up for positive values, supporting the vulnerable and reaching out to others with positivity through chats and streaming allow our children to engage in ‫שה טוֹ ב‬ ׂ ֵ ‫ֲע‬ online. Likewise, following influencers who promote positive messages around socialization, body image, wellbeing and Torah, allow adolescents to promote positivity for themselves and others,” says Avigail Wonder. “The greatest curriculum we can offer is our own behavior,” adds Rabbi Goldberg. “We must model for our children what it means to be responsible digital citizens, how to engage technology judiciously and carefully. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, ‘Your actions speak

so loudly, I cannot hear what you are saying.’ If we practice the behavior we preach for them, they will not only hear what we are saying, but learn from what we are doing.” Rabbi Chagai Londin: “The main thing is control and focus. Institute times for using the internet, say, from 1:00 pm until 2:00 pm, not a minute more. Or, for example, create a family rule that we don’t use our phones during the day, and set a time in the evening for checking WhatsApp messages.” Rabbi Kaplan recommends installing filters for internet use. “Young children don’t have the ability to navigate the internet in a healthy way on their own. Sometimes even adults lack this ability. Installing a filter system is often a simple and practical solution.” Professional guidance is another thing he recommends. “There are experts in this field who can give real tips to help navigate us on what’s healthy and what’s not, and how to build healthy social media and internet access. I encourage getting some of these professionals to give courses and lecture series in our schools or homes.” Is there anything within the world of technology/social media which does warrant complete rejection? Or can everything ultimately be utilized for the good?

Rabbi Kaplan answers that there indeed is. “There are some very harmful things on the internet,” he says. “You don’t know who’s lurking around the web and communicating with children. If parents are not on top of their children’s internet use, they may be exposed to things which could really harm them. They may be part of emotionally dangerous groups. All of these are things that parents and educators need to be aware of.” Rabbi Londin explains that to help discern what can be used for good from what is best to reject, we can turn to our leaders. “That’s why we need Rabbis and Rebbetzins who are aware of modern culture,” he says, “to help guide people in a supervised and correct way within the world of technology.” “Much of technology and social media apps are like food – they may technically be kosher, but that doesn’t mean they are good for you,” adds Rabbi Goldberg. “We must be very mindful and discerning when engaging technology to constantly evaluate if that particular app, website or device is indeed making us better ovdei Hashem and bringing out our best selves. If not, even if we find them stimulating and enjoyable, we would likely find better use of the time we spend on them.” n

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GENERAL INTEREST

PA R E N T I N G Rabbi Elisha Aviner

The Wise and the Wicked

he Torah speaks of four sons: the wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who does not know how to ask. From time immemorial, archetypes of these sons have been asking questions in every generation, sometimes old ones, sometimes new ones. The wise and the wicked of one generation are not necessarily the same as the wise and the wicked of a different generation. Their brothers in the Haggadah, the simple son and the son who does not know how to ask, also appear in different guises in different periods.

“The L-rd commanded us to observe all these laws, to revere the L-rd our G-d, for our lasting good and for our survival.”

In our generation too, the four sons are asking new questions and need fresh answers. Where can we find these answers? Just as the answers to the original children’s questions are highlighted in the Torah, so too are the answers to the new questions. If we know where to look in Torah and Chazal, we can find correct and relevant answers to questions from every child in every generation.

The big questions the wise sons of our generation ask are about the value and meaning of the commandments. If we don’t understand them, or ‘connect’ to them, why keep them? Wisdom is interested in holiness, but not necessarily through command, with Divine authority. On Pesach, we declare that everything starts from the commandments, for without them, there is no true holiness.

The Wise Son

The Wicked Son

The Admor of Sochochov (the Avnei Nezer) explains that the wise son asks why “the L-rd our G-d commanded you.” Why do we need a command, without which man would still be worthy of doing good? The wise son claims that being commanded harms a person’s natural goodness.

“What is this worship to you?” The wicked son sharply feels the dimension of obedience in Torah, the avodah, but doesn’t understand what the point of that avodah is (Sefat Emet and Shem MiShmuel). Why keep the Torah? What good does it do? He rebels not only against obedience to mitzvot but also against the content of the mitzvot. He doesn’t believe the Torah is beneficial to his life. The wicked one himself recognizes he is different, and removes himself from the community. He feels himself completely alienated from the world of Torah.

Human reason (=wisdom) seeks autonomy. It strives for freedom and independence, and finds it difficult to bend to command. It longs for good, but is interested in choosing freely, without an external command. The Torah’s answer to the wise son’s question is:

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Meaning: the Torah is life – “for our good… for our survival” – and therefore, it would have been worthy to keep the mitzvot regardless of having been commanded. However, keeping them because of Divine command adds an important layer: “to revere the L-rd our G-d.” Command creates fear of and connection to G-d.

Sometimes, the attitude of the wicked son is so extreme that we have no way of communicating with him. There is no point in continuing the conversation. Therefore, there were some (the Gra, for example) who wrote that the response to the wicked son is not addressed to him but to the rest of the sons – “had he not been there, he would not have been redeemed” (third person). The opinion of the Chassidic masters differed: the answer to the wicked son is addressed to him. Why? Because nobody is beyond hope. On the holiday of freedom, we believe there is a possibility to redeem the wicked one from his wickedness, and to free him from the negative outlook to which he is enslaved. What is the Haggadah’s response to the wicked son? “It is because of this the L-rd did for me.” With the word “this,” we lay down the historical facts (Ramban). We tell him to look at the historical process of Israel’s redemption. The Exodus was not a coincidence; it carries deep significance. Redemption is a merit which places obligations upon us. There is a connection between Jewish history and our destiny on earth. We – and he – are part of something much greater, and much more significant and magically eternal than this or that particular mitzvah.

Rabbi Elisha Aviner teaches in yeshivot hesder and founded an organization to help parents with adolescent education.

R E L AT I O N S H I P S

GENERAL INTEREST Lizzie Rubin

Lessons From Our Forefathers and Mothers

f there is one thing we have learned from Covid-19, it’s that we have no idea what will happen next. It is the uncertainty of it all that makes us feel so uneasy and feeling like we have no control. Following the original Pesach, Am Yisrael were just beginning to trust and put faith in G-d and Moshe. They too were uncertain about what was going to happen next. Sure, the plagues were open miracles and their slave mentality was beginning to wane. But could they leave their homes in Egypt and jump into a dry river bed with two walls of water imminently waiting to come crashing down upon them? How did the Jews cope? Where did they possess a roadmap to enable this grand exodus so successfully? Surely, they must have looked towards their ancestors for guidance. In my initial therapy session with couples, I typically ask them who their role models are. What did the role models do that the couple seeks to emulate? This establishes a roadmap for finding the good qualities they would like to incorporate into their marriage. Some of my personal role models are the Avot and the Imahot. Pesach is intertwined throughout significant times in the lives of our forefathers and mothers. What is the connection between the Avot, our role models, and Pesach? Avraham Avinu greets the angels in Chevron on Erev Pesach, in pain but with great excitement. He runs to Sarah

and asks her to bake matzot for their guests. He doesn’t even know who they are. Sarah fulfills his wish with no complaints because, after all, they share the same mindset. A husband and wife may be different, but the closer they agree on common goals, the greater the shalom bayit. Hosting guests was Avraham and Sarah’s mutual dream. Avraham and Sarah worked in unison. They shared that value. Certainly being unified and sharing a dream enabled Am Yisrael to cross the Red Sea. The day Yitzchak gave the blessing to Ya’akov was the day of Avraham’s passing. Rivka asks Ya’akov to fetch two goats, so she can make food that tasted like the venison Yitzchak requested from Esav. Rashi says it was Pesach. On that day, Rivka realized that Esav could not be the guide for generations in the physical world. Yitzchak was hoping it would give Esav the opportunity to change and lead the world in the proper way but Rivka knew this was not going to work. How could she achieve this without disrespecting her husband, the gadol hador? Eventually, Yitzchak understood that Rivka had the correct approach, and we never hear a word of anger from him. By not embarrassing her husband, she merited being a key factor in enabling Am Yisrael to receive the berachot they deserved. This could only have been done without hurting or embarrassing her esteemed husband. They gave each other respect. Three million Jews left Egypt. There were certainly differences of opinion, yet

they listened to Moshe and respected his guidance. Exactly 14 years later, on Pesach, Ya’akov leaves the yeshiva of Shem and Ever and meets Rachel. Ya’akov falls in love with her and realizes this is the beginning of the geula. This was the seed that became Am Yisrael many years after, on this exact same day, Pesach. Rachel came with 70 goats, alluding to the 70 souls who would eventually head down to Egypt. When Ya’akov saw her, he cried. Rashi says he saw that they would not be buried together. And yet Ya’akov loved her and worked tirelessly for seven years until she became his wife. Love and commitment are a basis for marriage. It is a model for what couples should aspire to. Am Yisrael were learning to love and commit to G-d because they saw that He would do anything for them. The Avot and Imahot teach us that Pesach, the beginning of the year, is the time to renew our relationships by sharing goals and showing respect with an abundance of love and commitment. With these traits incorporated in our marriages, we too, BeEzrat Hashem, can become the role models for our children, bringing us closer to the final redemption. May we see the geula very soon!

Lizzie Rubin is an individual, couples and intimacy therapist. lizzierubin1@gmail.com

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GENERAL INTEREST Chava Willig Levy

Pesach in August

pril. Another year, another Pesach Seder. The guests, the goblets, the wine, the food, the Seder plate, the questions, the answers. Frankly, it’s arduous, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Milkshake

The Pencil

In the midst of this year’s Pesach pandemonium, I find myself remembering the Seder we hosted 20, not 12, months ago. It too was replete with guests, goblets, wine, food and a Seder plate. But oddly enough, although there were answers, there were no questions – unless you count the unspoken ones.

I drew my guests’ attention to a delicate glass goblet filled with a non-dairy chocolate milkshake. As we sipped that sweet beverage, my bittersweet saga continued to unfold. My father rarely mentioned the after-midnight call, several days after my diagnosis was confirmed. “Mr. Willig, your daughter is having difficulty breathing, so we’ve placed her in an iron lung.” That chilling sentence was the only memory fragment through which I could relive that crisis.

The next item on our Seder plate paid tribute to another man, one whose name I never knew. Pointing to a pencil on which was embossed the word “Breathtaking!”, I spoke of a respiratory therapist who stopped by to assess my vital lung capacity in 1959, recording his findings on a clipboard. At one point, he erased something, puckering his lips to blow the shavings away. “Oh, please,” I begged, “let me do that!” “Sure,” he replied. I blew with all my might. Not a single shaving moved. The therapist nodded empathically. “Yeah,” he said, “this is really hard to do.”

So many of my loved ones were there: brothers and sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, cousins, friends and, last but not least, my husband and children. They all joined me for an event I’d been anticipating for years: my polio Seder, commemorating – no, celebrating – my 50th polio anniversary. e August 13, 1955 A mere four months earlier, Dr. Jonas Salk had announced that his polio vaccine worked. As journalist Linda Ellerbee put it, “We actually saw a disease die.” But over the next four months, it was my life that hung in the balance. 50 years later, we gathered round the table to retell and relive my passage from death’s door back to life. The polio Seder plate, like its Pesach counterpart, occupied center stage. Each item adorning it was a catalyst, propelling us from August 1955 to the present, from slavery to freedom, not once but many times over.

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Then, in 2002, a miracle happened. I ran into a woman named Helen, who told me that in August 1955, when I had contracted polio, she was the student nurse assigned to me. I was overjoyed. I begged Helen, “Tell me everything you remember.” And she did. Her concluding words were the most precious: “Most of all, I remember your father. He came to see you at least once a day. Soon after you arrived, you began to have difficulty breathing and swallowing, so we had to put you in an iron lung. Your father would arrive every day with a milkshake and a straw. Helping you to take a few sips was a complicated business. He had to reach into one of the iron lung’s portholes, position the milkshake near your mouth, and wait until the iron lung exhaled. Those few intermittent seconds offered the only chance to get some crucial nutrients into your system. Your father’s gentle patience was a marvel to behold.” As we each sipped our milkshakes at the polio Seder, my father’s love was as palpable as it surely had been 50 years earlier.

I invited my guests to take the pencil adjacent to their plate, write a word on their place card, erase it and blow the shavings away with all their might. As mine scattered across the table, I felt an exhilaration that truly took my breath away. Beets and Mashed Potatoes It was time to eat the maror, the bitter herbs, and remember Pharaoh. Blond, pale, stout and unsmiling, Miss Gillespie, RN, was the Pharaoh of Goldwater Memorial Hospital. One afternoon, she marched over to me, my lunch tray in hand. On it was a plate of breaded fish, mashed potatoes and sliced beets the color of dried blood. Eyeing it warily, I announced, “I’ll have fish and mashed potatoes. No beets, please.” “Suit yourself,” she muttered. A spoon loaded with mashed potatoes zoomed toward my mouth, which obediently opened. Seconds later, I gagged. Beets, buried moments earlier under the mashed potatoes, spewed forth, landing (I’d like

GENERAL INTEREST

to think) on Miss Gillespie’s immaculately white uniform.

“Noodles,” Imma translated, tousling my hair. “And a chicken wing.”

To this day, I cannot eat beets. But as my loved ones gingerly placed a mound of mashed potatoes over the beet nestled on their teaspoon, I followed suit. With a shudder and a gulp, I kept the concoction down. And as I looked around the table, I saw that, to my guests’ amazement, so did they.

Nearly 50 years later, every guest at my polio Seder got a steaming, savory bowl of chicken soup, prepared according to my mother’s legendary recipe. My children polled each guest in advance, asking what permutation he or she preferred: soup with noodles, vegetables, chicken, all of the above or none of the above. Their poor Uncle David had to make do without the fliegel; it was adorning the Seder plate.

The Chicken Wing “Did you bring a pulkie?” I demanded. “No, Toots, it wouldn’t fit in the thermos,” Imma replied, proceeding to unscrew its bright red cap, turn it upside down and place it on my hospital table. Her eyes widened as she whispered, “But I brought the next best thing.” I heard the pop of the gray rubber stopper, followed by a gurgle that made my mouth water. The red cap nearly overflowed with my mother’s golden elixir: schmaltz-speckled chicken soup, extra-fine noodles, chunks of carrots and onions – but no drumstick. “Wait a minute. It’s in here somewhere...” Imma poked her fork deep into the thermos and pulled it out triumphantly, brandishing the next best thing. My face fell. “A fliegel?” “Sure. That’s David’s favorite part.” An orderly came by to collect my untouched lunch tray. “What ya got there?” “Chicken soup with lokshen,” I answered proudly. “From home.” “Chicken soup with what?”

The Mirror The summertime Seder proceeded with shulchan orech: southwestern chicken, potatoes, greens and – yes! – beet salad. My guests captivated us with memories of my (and, in some cases, their) bout with polio. For hours, we basked in the pleasures of food and food for thought. Before serving dessert, I point to the last item gracing our Seder plate: a small mirror. True, every iron lung sported a convex mirror through which its inhabitant could glimpse the hospital ward. But unlike its Seder plate companions, this hand mirror fast-forwards me beyond 1955’s fight for life to ensuing battles for dignity. I gaze into the mirror. Instantly, I am an inquisitive 10-year-old, loping along Aunt Lily’s endless, exhausting hallway. What, I mean who, is that at the end of the hall? What a weird looking kid, lurching along like a locomotive with misaligned wheels! Is it a cousin? An alien? As I draw closer, myopia succumbs to proximity, imagination to reality. There I stand, face to face with Aunt Lily’s full-length mirror.

e “Lovely,” she murmured. “Take a look in the three-way mirror.” I was a college freshman in a department store’s fitting room. A congenial saleswoman had just helped me fasten the final button of a dress that has caught my eye. I glanced eagerly to my left. My smile froze. Sure, there was the left shoulder, predictably lower than my right. But what was that unsightly hump bulging behind my right shoulder blade? Weren’t 15 years of body casts, back braces and spinal surgeries supposed to make me straight? e I return the mirror to its place, only this time face down. I know that I need it no longer when I see the love mirrored in my cherished ones’ eyes. 50 years and counting. Looking back at the isolation, the fear, the corrective surgeries, the ostracism and the discrimination, I marvel. Because with it all came an uncommon capacity for joy. I cherish the life I have been given. Yes, it’s arduous, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chava Willig Levy is a New York-based writer, editor, advocate and lecturer who zips around in a motorized wheelchair and communicates about the quality and meaning of life. Her memoir, A Life Not with Standing, was published in 2013. Her podcast, Breathtaking, celebrates all the things that take her breath away. a-life-not-with-standing.com chava.willig.levy@gmail.com

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GENERAL INTEREST

S O C I A L C O M M E N TA R Y Rabbi Chaim Navon

To Be a Nation

tudies approximate that 90% of Jews in Israel celebrate Seder night. Some even speak of 94%. It’s a little surprising, because leil haSeder clashes head-on with the prevailing values in today’s world of Israeli thought. We would expect a night so familial, so tribal, so national – to arouse disgust and alienation rather than sweeping devotion. Indeed, Israelis often complain about the stifling family evening. They enjoy complaining about the event, but probably enjoy the Seder itself even more. Why is it so accepted (in some circles, almost expected) to complain about a family event such as leil haSeder? Because the dynamics of this occasion threaten the highest value of modern Israeli society: “freedom.” When I sit between Aunt Gila and Aunt Tzila, I do not have the freedom to listen to music I like, or drink beer (which is chametz anyway), or dress as I please, or talk about topics that interest me and tell the jokes that make me laugh. Instead, I must behave according to the family rules. Despite this, Israelis earnestly devote themselves to Seder night. It turns out that after paying lip service to the idol of “freedom,” we are very happy to be integrated into a close family-tribal framework. Pesach is the holiday of freedom. But what sort of freedom are we talking about? The Haggadah describes it: “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. And the L-rd our G-d took us out.” The slavery was national-political, and the freedom was national-political. We rejoiced in our national autonomy, but that didn’t mean the enslaving Egyptian establishment had been replaced by a parallel Hebrew one. The Hebrew governmental establishment was probably quite loose in the desert years. In fact, our ancestors did not even have an

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orderly legal system, until Yitro came on the scene. Bnei Yisrael passed from a life of slavery to a life of freedom, with a political system that does not enslave or oppress. But at no stage were they freed from the world of family, community and people, and from all the structures of language and customs that accompany these frameworks. The Children of Israel suffer together, are redeemed together, sing together. If a person had chosen to disengage from this identity, it is to be assumed the Torah would not have called it “freedom.” Perhaps it would actually be “exile.” When Bnei Yisrael request a king, Shmuel clarifies what they will receive: “He will take your sons and appoint them as his charioteers and horsemen… He will take your daughters as perfumers, cooks and bakers... you shall become his slaves.” Quite a few of the kings of Yehuda and Israel did act as Shmuel feared. Still, one can get the impression that the Jews maintained a healthy suspicion about their kings, and severely limited their authority. When Navot refuses to sell his vineyard to the powerful king Achav, Achav responds surprisingly like an adolescent – going to his house, lying in bed and turning his face to the wall. Even his evil wife Izevel can’t wrench the vineyard out of Navot’s hands without a cunning trick. It turns out that law and tradition did not allow the king to behave as was customary in other kingdoms, and simply expropriate the property of his citizens. On the political level, the Torah believes in freedom and suspects overly powerful regimes. But nowhere in the Torah is there a contemporary interpretation of the concept of freedom, which includes alienation from communal identity.

The Torah does not perceive family and national identity as burdensome, but rather as a constitutive element of a person’s personality. The ideal that contemporary culture strives for is a person who is not bound by the shackles of family, community and people. He or she is an abstract, theoretical human, from whom the deep and basic layers of identity have been stripped. In the ‘99 election campaign, Meretz’s election slogan was: “To be free in our country” (lehiyot chofshi beArtzeinu). The “nation” (am) was forgotten, probably by mistake. But our national anthem, HaTikva, insists on the “nation,” ‫לִ ְהיוֹ ת‬ ‫עם ָח ְפ ׁ ִשי ְ ּב ַא ְר ֵצנ ּו‬.ַ We experience freedom together, as one nation. Our shared identity does not trample on freedom at all. On the contrary. It is one of the conditions for it. And if we forget that all year long, Seder Night reminds us of the truth.

Rabbi Chaim Navon is a renowned author and educator.

HaMizrachi Family Section

Seder Night

A C T I V I T I E S

HaMizrachi has put together some of our favorite Seder Night activities and discussions just for you, to help get everyone involved and learning in a fun and exciting way!

P R E PA R E Get Creative: Master Chef Charoset Have contestants research, mix and match and make their own charoset. Who will be the Master Chef?

I N

A D VA N C E

Food for Thought Prepare a basket full of questions and answers about Pesach on individual index cards or paper. Encourage the children ahead of time to prepare as many as they can. Stimulate open, lively discussions. Here are some examples of questions to include:

Questions Not To Pass Over

1. Freedom is important to everyone but may mean different things to different people. What does freedom mean to you? What does it mean to you to be a slave? Do I have responsibilities as a free person? What are they? 2. Benjamin Franklin suggested that the $1.00 bill include a picture representing the Exodus from Egypt. Why do you think Franklin made this suggestion? 3. Think of a time when you went into the unknown. What can the Exodus teach us about how to handle such a situation? 4. What about the Exodus makes you curious? 5. In what ways is your phone enslaving or freeing? 6. What can slavery mean for the modern-day Jew who has never been enslaved? 7. What have you learned from your bitter experiences? 8. Why is it important to make the Exodus a personal experience?

T H E

S E D E R

Ma Nishtana Food for Thought:

Ask participants to add an additional question to the Ma Nishtana. Try to address each question throughout the Seder.

Act it Out:

Game/Activity:

Make up hand motions to go along with the song.

Kulanu mesubin – Who can lean farthest to the left without falling off their chair?

Four Sons Food for Thought • Who represents the four sons today in the Jewish community? • Which son do you most relate to?

Act it Out: The Four Sons Have children act out each of the four sons, or describe how they think they would look.

Active Learning: Explore the layout and artwork of the Four Sons in different Haggadot. How are the sons portrayed differently?

Avadim Hayinu Act it Out: Pesach Telephone Use a simple plastic toy telephone or any object you can pretend is a phone, and building blocks on the floor. Make a pretend ringing noise. There is a hushed silence and you pick up the phone. It’s Pharaoh calling. According to your improvised onesided conversation, it becomes clear that all children under eight have to get down from the table and start building a pyramid. You can get one or two of the older children to be the taskmasters and shout out orders to work faster, etc. Children love doing this. If you have several children at the Seder, you can do a competition who can build the tallest tower/pyramid.

Game/Activity: Who Am I?

Active Learning: Who am I?

During the Seder choose a volunteer. The volunteer leaves the room while the other participants decide which Pesach character he or she is. The volunteer comes back in and has to ask questions about him or herself, to which everyone answers Yes/No until the volunteer figures out who he/she is.

a. My name appears only once in the Haggadah, but I went several times to Pharaoh with my brother to try and persuade him to let the Jewish people go. Who am I? b. You fill a cup for me and hope I come and join your Seder. Who am I?

Vehi SheAmda Food for Thought

Active Learning:

How does G-d “save” us in our days?

What is ‫ – וְ ִהיא‬what has stood for us throughout history? How many nations can you list who rose up against the Jews throughout history?

Arami Oved Avi Get Creative: If your great-great grandchildren would learn about you in a few hundred years, what would they learn? Put together a short paragraph to “add” to the Haggadah for future generations.

Food for Thought:

Game/Activity: Brown Bag Players

Why do you think this section is important to the Haggadah?

a. Get your kids to collect a bag full of small items from around the house. b. Pass the bag around the table and invite people to pick out an object without looking. c. Goal: connect the item to the story.

(Here’s an example of what someone might say who selected a Duplo man from the bag: “You are probably very curious who I am? Well, many years ago, our people were enslaved in Egypt by a very powerful King called Pharaoh. One day G-d appeared to me at the burning bush and told me to remove my shoes. That’s why I’m not wearing any shoes.”)

Ten Plagues

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Food for Thought: COVID-19

Act it Out: Broadcast News

Ask participants: Is COVID-19 a plague? How does living through a “plague” help you better understand the Exodus? Do you think you will be different as a result of living through our own plague? How can we open our homes to those who are hungry and in need during COVID-19?

Get the older kids to prepare a news report about the Ten Plagues. As part of the "broadcast" they can interview some of the guests as Pharaoh, Moses, Aharon, etc.

HaMizrachi Family Section

Seder Night

A C T I V I T I E S

Splitting the Sea Food for Thought Although afraid, Nachshon took a leap of faith, reminding us all that real freedom means facing your fears and overcoming them. How do you overcome your own fears in your life?

Game/Activity: Cross the Red Sea Obstacle Course!

Active Learning: Are We There Yet? When Bnei Yisrael left Egypt, they traveled for two months until they reached Mount Sinai. Use the pesukim to follow Bnei Yisrael’s route out of Egypt and to Mount Sinai. Use Seder props (i.e, cups, silverware) to create a “map,” and toothpicks to lay out the route.

Create an obstacle course using anything you can find in the house — pillows, chairs, etc. Challenge children to get through the obstacle course to cross the Red Sea and escape Egypt!

Dayenu Get Creative Ask each family to create their own, updated contemporary version of Dayenu, to the tune of the traditional version, to reflect their gratitude for all the freedoms that modern life offers. (Ex. “If G-d gave us enough to eat, but did not give us chocolate…”)

Food for Thought

Active Learning • Search for the words of Dayenu in chapters 12-24 of Shemot. • Notice that Dayenu follows the chronology of Shemot. • How can the Dayenu stanzas be divided into different subjects? • Why do you think Dayenu comes right before Hallel? How does Dayenu combine elements of Maggid and Hallel? • How is Dayenu’s idea of the final redemption similar/different to where the full Seder ends?

Discuss a time in Seder participants’ lives that they felt Dayenu.

LeShana Haba’a Food for Thought

Act it Out

What’s your aspiration for your life or for the world this year?

Dance the way you would if Eliyahu would come right now to announce Mashiach’s arrival.

Nirtza Get Creative

Act it Out: Chad Gadya

Game/Activity

Create your own tunes for some of the songs, or sing them to the tune of silly songs you know (i.e, Old McDonald). Challenge your older kids to sing the words to different genres of song (i.e, pop, classical, country, rap).

Assign each participant a different animal or character in the Chad Gadya. When you sing it together, each character should act out his role (i.e, when reaching the cat, that participant meows and licks his paw).

Can you sing the last stanza of the songs Chad Gadya and Echad Mi Yodea in one breath?

Adapted from the work of educator Daniel Rothner, Founder and Director of Areyvut | areyvut.org

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HaMizrachi Family Section

SPOT THE DIFFERENCE! See if you can find all 30 differences between these two Pesach pictures!

www.netbatep.com GRAPHIC NOVELS AND COMICS | WRITING AND ILLUSTRATING | HIGH QUALITY 2D ANIMATION COVER ART | SCRIPT WRITING | VOICEOVER ACTING IN ENGLISH (ALL ACCENTS) AND HEBREW

HaMizrachi Family Section

FIND THE AFIKOMAN!

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Look carefully! Can you find all 10 pieces of the afikoman (

COMPETITION TIME! ) hiding in the picture?

COMPETITION!

Ayala Zargari Illustration & Design www.ayalart.co.il

Circle each piece and send a photo of the picture to afikoman@mizrachi.org to be entered into a raffle to win a drone!

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Patron Her Majesty The Queen Reg Charity No. 1059050

TH WI RIV NO TH IN G RW OO D

With Norwood by your side, no one has to cope alone. We’re not only here for the person who needs us most – whether due to a learning disability, wellbeing or mental health issue – we are here for everyone whose life is impacted by the situation.

Through our specialist educational support, therapeutic sessions, counselling service, support groups and more, we ensure that every member of the family receives the right support at the right time, giving everyone the best possible chance of a better, brighter future.

For more information or to make a donation please visit norwood.org.uk or call 020 8809 8809