Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
Listicle --/ˈlistək(ə)l/ (noun): an article on the Internet presented in the form of a numbered or bullet-pointed list.
You either love them or hate them (or you love to hate them or hate to love them), but you’ve probably viewed your fair share of them. With “17 dog smiles that will make you bark for joy” vying for attention with “23 of the messiest bedrooms of all times,” it’s no wonder that we associate this kind of media with cheap (and somewhat empty) entertainment.
Sometimes, however, we encounter listicles that are so full of deep and empowering truths that we are touched in a way that goes far beyond the shallow skin of our tablet screens and computer monitors.
One such example is “Ten Controversial Affirmations for Those Who Choose to Fight Depression,” which was recently crafted by Tzvi Freeman. Read it, read it again and then post on your Facebook wall, your refrigerator door and anywhere else where you’ll be sure to see these powerful words.
And then make sure to open the Chabad.org email again next week, when we share the next batch of affirmations.
Wishing you an empowering week,
The Chabad.org Editorial Team
Finding Perfection
You have to begin with the knowledge
that there is nothing perfect in this world.
Our job is not to hunt down perfection and live within it.
It is to take whatever broken pieces we have found
and sew them together to create beauty.
This Week's Features:
Printable Magazine
The Story of Our Secret Matzah Bakery by Hillel Zaltzman
Helping Others with Passover Needs
The obligations of the month of Nissan already begin thirty days before Passover, when Jewish communities begin to collect for those in need “wheat money” for the Matzos. This fund enables them to have the three Matzos required when recounting the story of the Exodus on Passover Eve.
Watch (5:41)
http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/839512/jewish/Helping-Others-with-Passover-Needs.htm
http://www.chabad.org/839512
Listen to a Chassidic Melody: Nigun Hisvaadus
A beautiful tune often sung at chassidic gatherings, as well as around the Shabbat and holiday table. A profoundly stirring tune first sung by the first generation of Chabad chassidim some 200 years ago. by Benny Friedman
Watch (4:14)
http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/3229885/jewish/Chassidic-Melody-Nigun-Hisvaadus.htm
http://www.chabad.org/3229885
Why Jews Are Like Birds
The power of Jewish unity keeps our people together even in times of great difficulty. by Dov Greenberg
The Story of Our Secret Matzah Bakery by Hillel Zaltzman
Matzah for All
Those who are particular in their observance of Jewish law, Chassidim included, are careful to bake matzah for the festival of Pesach specifically from wheat that has been guarded from the moment it has been harvested. This matzah is referred to as shmurah matzah—protected or guarded matzah. Specifically, the wheat is guarded so that it will not come in contact with any water; doing so would result in a leavened bread product, which is of course prohibited throughout the festival. Back then in Russia, wheat fields were owned by the government, and thus an intricate and secretive operation was necessary in order to obtain even a small quantity of flour for our purposes.
During our first years in Samarkand, Famine and deprivation plagued the landWorld War II was raging, and the city was bursting with masses of refugees streaming in from Poland and other countries. Famine and deprivation plagued the land, and it was unfeasible at the time to even consider having shmurah matzah. We were thankful to have the opportunity to bake simply regular matzos together with the local Bucharian Jews, with the few halachic stringencies we were able to incorporate into the preparation and baking process.
After the conclusion of the war, scores of Polish refugees departed Russia along with many native Chabad chassidim disguised as Poles, leaving us somewhat deserted, and suddenly bereft of a sizable portion of our chassidic leadership. A new, spiritually challenging, era had dawned in Samarkand. We were suddenly forced to manage all Jewish matters on our own, in addition to the physical and monetary difficulties we faced at the time.
Lacking an alternative, a band of older chassidic yeshivah students in Samarkand, myself included, handled the situation to the best of their ability. With Pesach fast approaching, one of our chief tasks was taking charge of the matzah production. We would purchase wheat in the local market, exerting maximum effort to acquire the cleanest unwashed kernels, seeing as it was common among the Uzbekistan merchants to wash the wheat before bringing it to market. We would then vigilantly inspect the kernels for worms and other refuse. There was no electricity at home, so we would examine the wheat by the light of a kerosene lamp, calling to mind the Talmudic depiction of women checking kernels by the light of the lamps used for the Sukkos festivities.
After we had painstakingly inspected the wheat, we would bring it to a nearby mill powered by a waterfall in the outskirts of the city. Like all property in Russia, the meal was government-owned, and it was illegal for individuals to grind their own wheat there, and certainly not for religious purposes. After a hefty gift, the owner of the mill, an Uzbeki by the name of Osman Aka, would agree to give us possession of the mill for two days.
Cleaning the millstones was complicated work. The two millstones weighed about 500 kilograms each. With great exertion we detached them and scraped them with small sticks and a special brush. Osman Aka, afraid that we would destroy the stones, would stand to the side, pleading with us to stop scraping them so much. We spent a large proportion of the time we had ownership of the mill scrubbing and scouring the many crevices in the millstones. The remaining time—about two hours—was spent grinding the wheat.
The day that we koshered Cleaning the millstones was complicated workthe mill was a momentous event for the community. A large number of community members, yeshivah boys, and even us small children, would trek up to the mill and help in the koshering process.
R. Feivish Genkin was a simple Jew from Samarkand, and a constructor of ovens by trade. Despite his simplicity, R. Feivish was a man who was especially punctilious in his performance of the mitzvos. The extent of his scrupulousness in his mitzvah observance was such that even R. Berke Chein, who would not eat at the homes of certain families in the community, agreed to eat in the Genkin home. R. Feivish owned a gasoline-operated blowtorch which he would bring to the mill. After we concluded scraping out all the nooks and crannies, he would pass his torch over the grooves and scorch any remaining particles of wheat. Only then was the mill ready to be used to make our matzos.
The Secret Matzah Machine
It was only in the 1950s that we were able to obtain some wheat that had been watched from harvest. There was a righteous and G‑d-fearing woman in Georgia who grew wheat in a small field near her house specifically for making shmurah matzah. We made contact with her, and every year, after the harvest, she would send us seven to eight kilograms of wheat. She received orders from Lubavitch communities in several cities in Russia, and sent each area a small amount. She would parcel the wheat in paper sacks (we could not obtain plastic bags), made sure We generated six kilograms of sifted flourthey were well wrapped, and send them via airmail. We usually received the package after Sukkos.
We purchased a large hand-powered coffee grinder, essentially a millstone constructed from slabs of iron, and used it to grind the wheat. We needed to put the wheat through the grinder many times in order to produce fine flour, and between uses we would tighten the metal discs so that they would draw closer together. Ultimately, out of the eight kilograms of wheat that the Georgian woman sent us, we generated six kilograms, more or less, of sifted flour.
Since the grinding of wheat by hand demanded tremendous physical exertion, we divided the work over an period of several weeks. Every Thursday night a group of yeshivah students convened at the home of a member of the community, and while one would grind the wheat, the others would study a Torah talk of the Rebbe and farbreng together. The atmosphere was enhanced by a special aura that could only be generated by the painstaking care taken in executing this holy commandment.
After a quarter of an hour, the student grinding the wheat would grow weary and another would take his place. It was a very slow and measured process; each week we would grind just over a kilogram of wheat. That is how we spent the long winter Thursday nights, until we had completed grinding all of the eight kilograms.
By the end of the process we would have matzos, baked to the most scrupulous standards. It was enough to supply each of us with the minimum amount required for the Seder nights, as well as with an additional two to three matzos to use for the rest of the festive holiday meals, which traditionally require two whole matzos. Outside of these times, we did not eat matzah on Pesach. Frequently we had no shmurah matzos left for the end of the festival, which made it difficult to observe all of the halachic provisions associated with the traditional festive meal. Kiddush, for example, must be recited in conjunction with a meal, which normally means eating matzah right afterwards. Instead, after making kiddush, we would drink another glass of wine to stand in for the matzah, as a halachic workaround of sorts.
One time in the middle of Pesach I had only two matzos remaining, and I went to my friend Michoel Mishulovin and asked him whether he had an extra matzah so I would have the traditional two matzos for both of the Shabbos meals during the intermediate days of the holiday. He told me that he had just one matzah left for himself. I gave him one of the matzos that I had, and he gave me half of his matza, leaving us with equal portions.
When I had only two matzos remainingwe would set out to divide the precious few matzos, R. Moshe Nisselevitch would passionately say: “Since matzos are declared by the Zohar to be the ‘food of faith,’ those of the highest kosher standard should be given to the young women and the yeshivah students, as they are the ones who will usher in the next generation of chassidim. These matzos will feed them with the faith they need so that their belief and confidence in living a life of Torah and Jewish observance will be pure and refined.”
Due to our fear of the authorities, we did not want others to know about our special matzos, and only a small number of trustworthy individuals were in on the secret. Most of the community was unaware that there were matzos baked with shmurah wheat that had been ground by hand. Even the boys from the yeshivah who learned in our homes and overheard us talking in Hebrew about our hand-powered mill (reichayim shel yad) in connection with special matzos hadn’t a clue what this was about: they assumed we were alluding to the tefillin worn on the arm (shel yad), belonging to a certain Reb Chaim.
In addition to these matzos, we continued to purchase wheat from the local market and grind it in the mill outside the city as a supplement for our families.
The tedious, sluggish output of the coffee grinder troubled me for some time, and I struggled to find a creative solution to solve this predicament. In those days almost everyone had a motorcycle. It was the most convenient means of intercity transportation.
One day, I came up with the notion of connecting the wheel that turns through the motor of the motorcycle to the coffee grinder, which would drastically reduce the labor needed to operate the mill. I exchanged the knob on the grinder for a wheel, and then connected the wheel to a motorcycle motor. This enabled the discs of the grinder to churn very quickly.
I put this mechanism together at the Mishulovin family home, since they had volunteered a room in their house for this cause and were one of the trustworthy families in Samarkand. Moreover, using the grinder with a motor would be rather noisy and would arouse the unwelcomed curiosity of neighbors. The Mishulovins lived at the end of a street, and the walls of their house faced a cemetery. We did not need to be worried about quiet neighbors like those.
I was thrilled My innovation proved successfulthat my innovation proved successful, and the mill ground the wheat quickly and efficiently. The setback was that the motor began to heat up dramatically, and needed water poured over it to cool off. Of course, we were afraid to try doing so, since the water would come in contact with the wheat and render the entire batch of flour unfit for use: No water could come in contact with it. Instead, we would pause periodically and wait for the motor to cool off by itself. Despite the difficulties, within a short amount of time we were able to grind nearly all the wheat, and we were ecstatic.
Unfortunately, our joy was short-lived. The device was efficient, but the shaft of the motor was rotating too rapidly, and towards the end of the grinding process it suddenly blew out and the grinder malfunctioned. As the engineer of the contraption, I felt terribly guilty. We were relieved that at least we had already ground most of the wheat, but we needed to devise a new and better plan for the following year.
A Local Solution
In the meantime, we thought of an idea: Unlike Georgia, summers in Samarkand invariably had no rain at all. Thus, if we could obtain a large amount of locally produced wheat that had been protected from water from the time of harvesting, we would have enough wheat for all of our matzos.
Summers in Samarkand invariably had no rain at all
We asked R. Refael Chudaitov to shoulder this new undertaking. He knew the language of the local famers and was familiar with the Muslim mentality. He also knew all the Samarkand collective farms, or kolkhozes, as they were known, and would be quick to befriend their owners. My brother Berel had a late model motorcycle and he offered to drive R. Refael: if he wasn’t afraid to ride with him. R. Refael, known to be a brave man, smiled at my brother and said, “Afraid? I have driven such a bike before you were even born! Let’s go.” They devised a story to tell the farmers about why they needed the wheat, and they left in search of a kolkhoz.
The closest kolkhoz where wheat was grown was thirty kilometers from Samarkand. When they arrived there, the Muslim Uzbeks were in the midst of eating their midday lunch, pita bread and green tea with sugar. As soon as they noticed R. Refael with his flowing white beard, they stood up and honored him by inclining their heads, shaking his hand and treating him with much respect.
On top of having to convince the farmers to supply them with the wheat, and explaining why they needed such a large amount of wheat, R. Refoel and Berel had another challenge. Eating matzah at the Seder constitutes the fulfillment of a Biblical commandment, and as such, a Jew is required to be directly involved with all of the stages of the matzah preparation, and have the express intent of doing so for the purposes of the mitzvah. For R. Refoel and Berel, this meant they would need to personally sit on the tractor during the harvest, and to declare “lesheim matzos mitzvah,” "For the sake of the matzah commandment," as they did so. To this end, R. Refael concocted an entire story so they would not suspect this to be something related to religion: “I am soon marrying off my grandson. There is an ancient custom among Jews that at a grandson’s wedding, all guests are served lepyoshki (flat bread) baked from wheat cut by the groom’s grandfather himself.” R. Refael then added with a wink, “Of course, we will pay you well for it.”
The chairman of the kolkhoz was amenable to this special request and told them that the wheat would ripen in another two weeks and they would be able to come then and harvest it themselves. They came to an agreement regarding financial compensation and returned to Samarkand.
Two weeks later, as the two prepared to leave, we started to plan a way to move the large quantity of wheat to Samarkand. Traveling by train with sacks of wheat was not an option, because police officers would check the passengers and their packages. If they would inspect the sacks, it would be clear to them that we were transporting illegal wheat to sell. Being charged with a criminal offense was all they needed.
In the end, we rented aWe cleaned the floor of the truck thoroughly truck that belonged to someone we knew. We cleaned the floor of the truck thoroughly, bought ten new bags, and R. Refael and Berel set off. Arriving at the kolkhoz, they were greeted by a sea of ripe wheat swaying in the wind, ready for harvest. As agreed upon, they climbed onto the combine, proclaimed “lesheim matzos mitzvah,” and it began harvesting the wheat. The machine did all the necessary work, and at enormous speed: it cut the wheat, removed the husks, and dispensed the kernels into the sacks. Within a half hour, the new sacks were filled with two hundred kilograms of wheat. My brother Berel said that it was the first time they saw the work of a combine. It was amazing to see wheat flowing in such large quantities directly from the field into the sacks.
This arrangement continued throughout the following years, until our departure from Russia. Each year a few of us would travel to the kolkhoz to harvest the wheat.
On one occasion, Yitzchak (Itche) Mishulavin went along with R. Refael for the cutting of the wheat. On the return journey, R. Refael sat near the driver and Yitzchak sat atop the sacks in the back of the truck in order to guard the wheat. From his perch above the sacks, Yitzchak suddenly felt a few cool drops of water land on him. Lifting his eyes, he saw that the skies were clear, so he yelled at R. Refael to halt so they could check where the water was coming from.
The driver refused to stop as he was afraid the police would discover the undocumented merchandise, but Yitzchak pounded on the roof until he came to a halt. It turned out that near the driver's seat there was a basin of water to be used for cooling the motor should the need arise. The water was in a large rubber bowl, and the jerky ride made the water spray from the bowl andThe jerkey ride made the water spray from the bowl hit the wheat. Having no choice, Yitzchak stood for the rest of the journey as he tightly clutched the sides of the rubber bowl to prevent any water from splashing on the wheat.
Naturally, the more scrupulous amongst us did not want to use the flour from the first layer of sacks that had been subject to the spraying water. We made signs on the sacks to mark those that were lying below, and it was those that were used for the higher quality matzos.
We Make a Mill
Now that we had such a large amount of certified water-freewheat, it clearly would have been absurd to grind it all with a coffee grinder. The only alternative was to return to the municipal flour mill, clean it well, and grind our large stock of wheat there.
Truth be told, after seeing how difficult it was to clean the heavy millstones, it did not seem right to me that after carefully watching the wheat from the time of harvest, we should be forced to compromise and use those millstones for grinding. However hard we worked to clean all the crevices on the stones, it was impossible to reach every miniscule crack and remove all the old flour.
Additionally,Actual dough had formed around the bottom millstone since the mill was powered by water, there was the distinct possibility of moisture combining with our wheat, which was of course very problematic. On one occasion, we even discovered that actual dough had formed around the bottom millstone. Although we plastered the bottom stone with several layers of paper, it couldn’t compare to millstones that were designed especially to be used for Pesach.
Due to all these factors, I was determined to construct a genuine mill so that we would be able to grind all the wheat on our own. Financially, it would actually be less expensive, and moreover, Halachically, it would be incomparably superior.
I proceeded to the mill to scrutinize the grinding process and I observed how the machinery functioned. Then I headed to the factory where millstones were manufactured. I introduced myself as a chemistry student who needed small millstones in order to grind various compounds, and they agreed to sell me a set of millstones with a diameter of around 60 centimeters. The stones were natural and unused, each weighing some eighty kilograms. That was heavy enough to grind a large quantity of wheat. There were also artificial stones available, but I searched for flawless natural stones, as we had determined that they would be better for our mill.
They prepared the stones for me with the necessary grooves, including, as I had requested, a special hole in the corner of the upper stone. We would insert a piece of wood into the hole in order to rotate the stones manually. I then went to an old Jew who was a carpenter by profession and asked him to construct a sturdy table for me, following a sketch I had drawn. When the table was completed, I brought it to a shed in our courtyard, positioned the stones on the table just as I had seen at the mill, and we began to grind.
Rotating the stones was hard work for one man. It was also complicated because when the person grinding would turn the top stone by hand, his hand would block the wheat from falling through the hole in the center of the top stone, from the bucket placed above the mill. In order to make it easier to rotate the stone, I attached some rope to the wooden pole used as the handle, allowing us to work in pairs, each person pulling the stone a half-rotation. Within a short amount of time we managed to grind about twenty kilograms of wheat, relatively easily and in the best possible way: entirely by hand, with new millstones.
Despite our success, I still wasn’t satisfied. For starters, the bucket of wheat was placed on top of the mill and it would fall from there into the center hole of the stone. Also, when we would pull the rope across the mill, some of the wheat would spill on the rope and fall to the sides. Furthermore, after all the tugging at the mill, with one person pulling in one direction and another pulling in the other direction, the table had nearly collapsed. Most importantly, my goal had been to grind all the wheat for our community with our millstones so that we would all have enough shmura matzah for the entire Pesach. This was still far beyond our abilities.
I decided that the following year I would try attaching a motor to the millstones again, but this time I would buy a bona fide motor. When I told my friends of my plan, they did not think I would be successful and claimed that it would also be costly to purchase such a machine. I told them that I was not asking anyone to chip in towards the cost, and would try to arrange it on my own; only if I was successful would I divide theI was not asking anyone to chip in expenses amongst us.
To be honest, building a genuine motorized mill was not a simple operation at all, for both technical and practical reasons.
Technically, it was necessary to obtain an engine that could operate with the 220 volts of electricity available in our house, and it needed to enough power to move the heavy stone that was used to grind the wheat. According to my estimation, the engine needed to generate 1.5 horsepower. However, such an engine would rotate 1800 times per minute, which would be much too fast for our purposes, causing the stone to fly in all directions.
I had never studied physics or mechanics; my knowledge of these subjects was limited to the three and a half years I spent in elementary school. Still, I was blessed with a knack for mechanics and I realized that I would need to create a complete system of gears to reduce the number of rotations.
After figuring out which wheels and hinges were needed to build the system, I had to overcome the practical obstacle: How does one obtain an engine, wheels, and hinges in Soviet Russia?
It sounds simple; just go to the store and buy a motor. In Russia during those years, however, it just was not possible to buy a motor in a store; one had to travel to a factory that manufactured motors and provide a reasonable explanation for the purpose of the purchase.
I traveled to a huge factory dedicated to repairing train compartments and presented myself once again as a chemistry student. After providing a bribe (of course), they offered to sell me a small, 1.5 horsepower motor. I showed them a sketch I had drawn beforehand and they prepared it according to my specifications.
Together with a number of shafts and wheels I had purchased at the same factory, I began to assemble the contraption in the shed in our courtyard. I situated the stones on top of a specially designed iron table. I then attached the engine to the wall and connected a wheel with a rubber belt. The wheel was in turn connected to a second wheel, and with the entire mechanism in place, the motor speed was reduced from 1800 revolutions per minute to about 80 per minute.
I fashioned a strong metal bucket with a small hole in the bottom that was designed to open from the vibrations of the rotating stones and cause the kernels to slowly pour into the grinding area.
After long weeksEverything worked perfectly! of concerted effort and toil, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. I switched on the motor and everything worked perfectly! The motor shifted the wheels, the wheels rotated the stones, the wheat entered between the stones, and flour poured into the sack. Mazel tov!
I called my friends to come and behold my creation and they were suitably impressed. Within one hour we were able to grind fifteen kilograms of flour, and in just a day and a half we finished grinding all of the wheat for the entire Lubavitch community of Samarkand. I can hardly describe to you the feeling of elation that coursed through our veins as we watched the wheat being ground to flour. We instantaneously burst out in song and danced around our very own mill.
Our Own Bakery
After we completed grinding all of the wheat, we went to bake the matzos. In earlier years we would bake in a padriad, the Bucharian community matzah bakery. A few families would gather together and it took just several hours to bake all of the matzos they needed. But now that we had all of this flour, enough to feed the entire Chabad community, we needed some more time. Since we lived in perpetual fear that someone would raiseWe lived in perpetual fear alarm about the religious commotion taking place in the bakery, we looked for someone who would be willing to rent his house to us for a few days so we could bake the matzos with all of the extra precautions customary in Chabad.
There were years that we baked in the home of R. Yitzchak Chai Ledayev, a former student in the underground Tomchei Tmimim in Samarkand during World War II. Other years the “bakery” was situated at the home of Binyamin the Fisherman, so called despite the fact that he never caught fish, neither from the sea nor from the river; he would simply purchase from the fishermen and sell his merchandise in the market.
Binyamin the Fisherman owned a large yard that held an oven for baking matzos. The Bucharian ovens were constructed like the ovens of Talmudic times. Unlike today’s matzah ovens, where the fire burns on the side and the matzos are placed on the floor of the oven, in the Bucharian ovens, the fire was on the bottom and the matzah dough had to be pressed against the roof and two walls of the oven.
One had to be something of an expert in this art in order for the matzos to properly stick to the walls and not drop into the burning coals below. Our first attempts at this were pretty clueless, so before we had mastered the skill, we asked the Bucharian women to fill in for us amateurs. As time elapsed we learned the ropes and our yeshiva boys took over.
In the earlier years the work had primarily been done by my brother Berel and R. Dovid Mishulovin. Later on, when we grew older, R. Michoel Mishulovin, R. Yaakov Lerner, R. Mordechai Goldschmidt and I joined as well. As the years passed, others got involved in the matzah baking as well: R. Yitzchok Mishulovin, R. Yosef Volovik, R. Moshe Lerner and R. Benzion Goldschmidt.
The difficulty with employing local workers was that they were not accustomed to our stringencies and extra precautions. For example, in the process of attaching the matzos to the oven walls, they would place a vessel of water near the oven, and prior to sticking the matzos they would dip their hand in the water and smear it on the matzah! The water gave the matzah dough a stickier consistency, thereby enabling it to remain glued to the walls, but this was one of the first things we eliminated. The water was used throughout the day and it was almost certain that particles from the first matzah batch remained in the water and had likely leavened.
Since we baked the matzos without smearing them with water first, we had to force the matzos onto the walls of the oven to make them stick. The extra force weakened the oven to theEvery year we used a new oven extent that by the end of our baking, it was close to falling apart. This enhanced the Halachic standard of our matzos in a way we hadn't anticipated: every year we used a new oven.
Along with using additional force, we stuck the matzos to the walls of the oven with the aid of a small, round cushion. We would place the matzah on one side, and on the other side of the cushion there was a pocket-like depression. We would stick our hand into the pocket and press the matzah onto the wall. The drawback with using the same cushion for all of the matzos was that residue of matzah dough that remained on the cushion would become leavened after eighteen minutes. At first we would clean and scrape the cushions between each matza with a specially designated brush, but that did not satisfy us. Due to the speed with which they needed to be cleaned, we were not sure they were being sufficiently cleaned. Moreover, since the cushion became heated each time it went into the oven, we were afraid that this hastened the leavening of the matzos even more.
It finally dawned on my brother Berel that there was a simple solution. By attaching a piece of paper to the cushion and positioning the matzos on top of the paper the matzah would not come in contact with the heated cushion. We would no longer need to clean the cushion between uses, as we could simply replace the paper with each new matza.
Placing paper into the oven seemed dangerous, so the the idea was rejected at first, but after several attempts we managed to thrust the cushion with the paper in and out of the oven quickly enough without the fire singeing the paper. We prepared a large quantity of paper and two or three cushions. One of the boys would stand near the oven and fasten paper to the cushions with safety pins, and after every use he would replace the paper.
Every year we would buy new plywood covers for the tables. We would also cover the table with paper, and change the paper every fifteen minutes so that no dough over eighteen minutes old could remain in the bakery.
ToEvery year we would buy new plywood covers for the tables perforate the rolled-out matzah dough, the local matzah bakers would use a wooden rolling pin into which small nails were inserted. Of course, it was very hard to clean this rolling pin. We would clean it with a metal brush, but when we tried to kosher the nails by passing a flame over them, we almost burned the rolling pin.
We decided to replace the wooden rolling pin with an iron one that we would be able to kosher. Over time, we prepared a rolling pin to which a number of wheels were attached. This enabled us to quicken the piercing process and keep the matzah exposed for less of time.
Our Matzah Was Best
R. Eliyahu Mishulovin, a chassidic young man of deep inner character, served as the supervisor. He was especially particular regarding the cleaning of the rolling pins. Under his watch, we would use sharp glass fragments to virtually remove the entire outer layer of the pins. He also carefully checked the bowls in which we mixed the flour and water. It happened more than once that after everyone had checked the utensils and said that they were clean, he would find a tiny scrap of dough which we had all somehow overlooked.
It would break my heart to see R. Eliyahu crying with regret when he found something improper or noticed a detail to which no one had paid attention. In Hebrew, the extra care and measures one takes in the performance of a mitzvah is referred to as a 'hiddur', literally the adornment, or beautification of the commandment. Oh, how these hiddurim touched him to the very core of his soul! Each year he would make a list of issues that needed to be corrected the following year. But the next year he would cry again, saying that we had not yet achieved the proper standard of hiddur. On the other hand, however, it was heartwarming to know that we had such chassidic young men amongst us.
It truly was the most ideal matzah production we could have hoped for. From the time we began grinding the wheat ourselves until I departed from Russia in 1971, we were able to grind all of the shmurah wheat every year with our special millstones and bake the matzos in new ovens.
In the late 1950s we began receiving packages of matzos from Kfar Chabad. When we first received them in the original packaging with the seal of approval from the Chabad Rabbis, it was hard for us to believe that they could bake such large quantities while ensuring that they were baked within eighteen minutes.
When R. Simcha Gorodetzky departed from Russia, we asked him to take a look and report back to us whether these matzos were prepared according thestandards we were accustomed to. A short while later, he informed us that he had visited the matzah bakery in Kfar Chabad and they were careful with all the precautions that we were particular about. “However,” he continued, “you should continue eating the matzos you bake yourself. There is no greater hiddur than that.”
VIDEOHelping Others with Passover Needs
The obligations of the month of Nissan already begin thirty days before Passover, when Jewish communities begin to collect for those in need “wheat money” for the Matzos. This fund enables them to have the three Matzos required when recounting the story of the Exodus on Passover Eve.
Watch (5:41)http://www.chabad.org/therebbe/livingtorah/player_cdo/aid/839512/jewish/Helping-Others-with-Passover-Needs.htm
http://www.chabad.org/839512
Listen to a Chassidic Melody: Nigun Hisvaadus
A beautiful tune often sung at chassidic gatherings, as well as around the Shabbat and holiday table. A profoundly stirring tune first sung by the first generation of Chabad chassidim some 200 years ago. by Benny Friedman
Watch (4:14)http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/media_cdo/aid/3229885/jewish/Chassidic-Melody-Nigun-Hisvaadus.htm
http://www.chabad.org/3229885
Why Jews Are Like Birds
The power of Jewish unity keeps our people together even in times of great difficulty. by Dov Greenberg
Watch (5:20)EDITOR'S PICK
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Ten Controversial Affirmations For Those Who Choose to Fight Depression..with more next week
Words that speak from timeless wisdom, with the power to transform. by Tzvi Freeman
Denying reality doesn’t help. You have to acknowledge your challenges and feelings. You need to set goals you can believe in. And then, the words you speak to yourself can change you.
Especially when those words speak from a timeless wisdom.
Best to start by reciting and memorizing one in the evening. Repeat in the morning. Try to repeat it again several times over the day. Once it’s a part of you, take on another one.
If you need help, we’re at chabad.org/askTheRabbi.
1. Uphill
I feel a heavy dark mass inside. It drags me down like lead weights on my wrists, my ankles, my heart and my mind, and deep in my guts.
But I will continue pushing ahead. Because all that this means is that I am cycling uphill.
2. Purpose
If the world did not need me, I would never have come here. I am a precious child of the Infinite Light. I have not been dumped into the pain of this journey without purpose.
So I can’t see a purpose. Why should it surprise me that a puny creature down on the ground can’t see what its Creator sees from beyond time and space?
All I know is that there is no journey without purpose, no life without meaning. It may take years, many years, but one day I’ll look back and I’ll see how it was all well worth it. I will see, and so will the entire world.
3. The Spiral
Before I was even conceived, before the entire universe was born, it was determined that everything that happens will be for the good, that all that exists should spiral relentlessly upward, that the destiny of all darkness will be light.
As big a mess as my life could be—whether it was dumped on me, or even if I’m the one who made it that way—none of that could possibly throw off track the purpose of all being, including my own being. Perhaps I’ve taken a detour. Perhaps I’ve chosen my own path. I’ve taken a greater responsibility upon myself to clean up my own mess.
But, at the end of the day, whatever has happened, whatever I’ve done, it’s only carried me and the entire world higher, closer to the great light.
4. Sandpaper
Others seem to be whisking through life along a Teflon highway. I feel like I’m being shlepped over sandpaper.
Or perhaps I am the sandpaper. Perhaps I am here to grind down the world.
So they glide smoothly through life, maybe even shine bright for a while—but when they leave, nothing has really changed. But with every hardship of my life, the hard edges of the world are ground away a little more. Every battle I win makes it easier for those who follow.
If I fail, I can pick myself up and battle again. Each time I win, I have fixed something in the world forever. For this I was created. For this the whole world was brought into being.
5. Freedom of Imagination
This dark thing may have power over my mood, even over my body. But my imagination remains free. I can imagine whatever I want to imagine.
So now I choose to imagine tomorrow, when I will be full of life. I can see it, I can feel it. It is where I want to be.
Where my imagination takes me, there I am, all of me.
6. Nevertheless . . .
Maybe everything I’m saying about myself is true. Maybe I really am a pitiful failure, immature and dull, unable to control myself, messing up again and again in public scenes—maybe it’s even far worse than anything I’ve imagined.
And yet, despite all this, at the core of the universe lies the Source of All Life, at every moment pumping life into me out of unconditional love, with infinite patience.
Perhaps it’s not so bad to be broken. Without being broken, how can you feel sincere gratitude?
7. Better Nothing
So I’m a nobody. Maybe that’s a good thing. If I were a somebody, I would deserve something. If I were a big somebody, I would deserve everything.
But I’m a nobody. So whatever I get is a gift.
Every new morning of life, every pulse of my heart, every breath, every act of caring from whoever it is—being a nobody, I can celebrate all of those.
8. Divinely Happy
Others were born with souls naturally sweet and buoyant. It looks like mine is bitter and weighs heavy; it battles me at every turn.
On the other hand, those sweet souls live lives that are not really their own. They had no part in creating those lives. They have what they were given.
I can create my own life. G‑d created bitter and sweet, dark and light. I can take bitterness and turn it sweet, darkness and make it shine.
It will be hard, very hard. But it will be my own light. When it comes time to return it to its Creator, I will say, “Look what I made with the stuff you gave me!”
And He will say, “That’s my child!”
9. Bitter Sweets
It is bitter inside.
I can let that bitterness turn outward, to resentment and anger at the world.
Or I can turn it inward, to crack me open, rip me apart, shatter my soul and break my heart.
That could be bad. But it could also be good.
Because no place can contain more light or create more beauty than a broken heart, and to a shattered soul every breath of life is a gift.
10. Release
It’s true that I’m a mess. Maybe even despicable, rotten and wormy.
But it’s also true without a doubt that at my very core dwells a divine spark, G‑d Himself breathing within me.
Okay, I’ve chained down that divine spark and locked her in a dark cell. I can hardly hear her screams for mercy through the thick concrete walls.
So then, this will be my project in life, my goal in all that I do: To release that spark from its cell and bring her back in union with her Beloved who has breathed her within me. Every time I am engaged in divine wisdom, or in a divine act, or pouring my heart out to that Beloved, no matter what a mess I remain, that beautiful divine soul is returning home.
What greater celebration could there be than a precious child returning home?
Watch for more affirmations next week.
PARSHAH
Happy and Sad at the Same Time
The holy Zohar states, “Weeping is lodged in one side of my heart, and joy is lodged in the other.” by Menachem Feldman
Children’s emotions are straightforward. When a child wants something, he wants it fully. When a child hates or fears something, the emotion fills her little heart completely. As we mature, however, our emotions become more complex. We want something, but at the same time, we are capable of realizing the downside of achieving it. We desire the piece of chocolate, but we detest its calorie count. We may dislike to work hard, but we feel satisfied when we are done. We can loathe and pity someone at the same time. We can love certain traits in someone while abhorring others.As we mature spiritually, our emotional complexity develops further. As the holy Zohar states, “Weeping is lodged in one side of my heart, and joy is lodged in the other.” We may be saddened because of the state of our material being, but at the same time we can rejoice about the state of our spiritual soul.
On what was the most emotionally intense day of his life, Aaron the High Priest was called upon to exhibit extraordinary emotional maturity.
It was the apex of his career. The Mishkan, the portable Temple, was finally complete, the seven day inauguration period had passed, and for the first time, Aaron was performing the priestly service, causing G‑d’s presence to descend. As the verse states:
And fire went forth from before the L‑rd and consumed the burnt offering and the fats upon the altar, and all the people saw, sang praises, and fell upon their faces.1
And yet, just a few short moments later, Aaron suffered the greatest tragedy of his life, when two of his sons died:
And Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his pan, put fire in them, and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the L‑rd foreign fire, which He had not commanded them. And fire went forth from before the L‑rd and consumed them, and they died before the L‑rd.2
Moses turned to his brother Aaron and instructed him to put his personal pain aside. This was a joyous day to G‑d. Aaron and his remaining two sons were to serve as representatives of all the people, and therefore they were called upon to experience the Divine joy.
And here is where the story gets complicated. Moses found out that one of the offerings that was meant to be eaten by Aaron and his sons was burned. Moses was furious. He asked Aaron:
"Why did you not eat the sin offering in the holy place? For it isholy of holies, and He has given it to you to gain forgiveness for the sin of the community, to effect their atonement before the L‑rd!”3
Moses was asking, “Why haven’t you eaten the offering? How could you have placed your personal mourning ahead of G‑d’s joy?"
Aaron responded by explaining to Moses that the correct thing to do was to eat some of the offerings (the ones that were unique to that day) and to burn one (the one that would be offered on a regular basis). The verse concludes that “Moses listened, and it pleased him.”
Aaron taught Moses an important lesson: It is relatively easy for the spiritual seeker to ignore himself and devote himself completely to the Divine reality. That, however, is not G‑d’s will.
The correct spiritual path, argued Aaron, is to be spiritually mature enough to experience both perspectives.
Aaron understood that a relationship with G‑d does not mean suppressing our own sense of reality; it means being able to balance and experience G‑d’s reality as well as our own. It means being able to burn some of the offerings as an expression of personal pain, yet eat other offerings as an expression of Divine joy.
FOOTNOTES
1.Leviticus 9:24.
2.Leviticus 10:1-2.
3.Leviticus 10:17.
Nutrition in the News: Is It Kosher? by Chana WeisbergIt seems like I’m constantly reading about the new best “super” food. First, it was quinoa, followed by kale.
Then, after stuffing my freezer with fresh fish, I read the warnings about mercury levels, and that I should never, ever buy farmed salmon.
Last month I read the benefits of a diet rich in proteins and low in carbohydrates. This month I was informed about harmful antibodies fed to animals and the dangers of excess animal fat.
And, of course, the jury is still out on the exact pros and cons of a writer’s best friend—coffee.
Daily, we learn about new hidden toxins in our food. Is organic food safer? Are genetically modified grains dangerous? What are the effects of preservatives?
When it comes to nutrition, we are probably the most educated generation to date. We’ve become sensitized to the cause and effect of negative influences on or bodies, on our psyche and on our world.
The innocent-looking food doesn’t appear dangerous. The harmless piece of chicken that was supposedly given antibodies looks exactly like the free-range, grain-fed poultry sold for double the price. And who could distinguish organic bananas from regular ones?
But as informed consumers, we recognize that it isn’t only what we see that makes an impact. This is true in all areas of life, but nowhere is this more consequential than in the food we ingest, where the food actually becomes assimilated into our flesh.
So we’ve come to realize the subtle but potentially dire effects on our food, but do we ever consider our food’s spiritual “profiles”? Does the food or drink that we consume affect us on a spiritual plane, on a soul level, influencing our character and natural tendencies?
This week’s Parshah, Shemini, introduces the Torah’s dietary laws. Kosherland animals must be slaughtered in a very specific manner, and have split hooves and chew their cud. Fish need fins and scales, and there is a list of forbidden fowl.
Notice how all kosher animals and fowl have the characteristics of being non-predatory, peaceful and non-destructive.
Moreover, perhaps, the non-kosher animal’s closed hoof represents a spiritual quality of rigidity—being closed off and untouched to the plight of others. Do the kosher animal’s “split” and “open” hooves symbolize approachability and sensitivity, as well as receptiveness to growth? Does chewing its cud remind us how we too need to chew things over, and not be too quick or impulsive to judge?
Similarly, do the fins that propel a kosher fish forward represent its ambition, which needs to be tempered, like all of our ambitions, by protective scales representing integrity and principles?
On the surface, we may not be able to differentiate between many kosher and non-kosher foodstuffs. But on a spiritual and mystical level, the qualities of every creature affect us profoundly. Unkosher food may be just as physically nutritious, but its spiritual traits can clog our spiritual arteries from being able to assimilate a Torah consciousness.
And perhaps there is no generation better equipped to understand this than our own.
Don’t Blame Yourself
Don’t feel guilty. You meant well, and that in itself deserves credit. by Lazer GurkowNot Your Fault
Do you know the sinking feeling that comes when you try to discourage someone from doing something wrong, but it backfires and actually convinces them to do it? Suppose your son is hanging out with the wrong crowd, and in trying to explain why these friends are a bad influence, you say something that angers him and he joins them to spite you.
Suppose your friend is considering infidelity, and you argue against it by touting the values of a devoted marriage. Unbeknownst to you, you end up highlighting something that your friend has always resented about her spouse, and it becomes her excuse for infidelity.
You feel guilty and blame yourself.
You tell yourself that it’s as if you encouraged your son to join the gang or your friend to betray her spouse. You tell yourself these things because that is what your son or friend keeps telling you. But guess what—they are wrong.
The fact is, you didn’t commit the sin, they did. It is only natural for you to blame yourself, but remember that they probably would have committed their sin with or without you. If you hadn’t provided the excuse, they would have found another way to justify it, or would have done it regardless.
So don’t feel guilty. You meant well, and that in itself deserves credit.
I will take it one step further. Not only were your words not the catalyst for their sins, your words will one day have a positive effect. They will become the catalyst for their regret. Our sages taught that when we make a sincere effort for a good cause, we can rest assured that our efforts will bear fruit.
Aaron and the Golden Calf
We learn this from the story of Aaron and the Golden Calf. When rabble-rousers approached Aaron with the demand for an idol to replace Moses, he invited them to bring their gold. His intentions were noble. He didn’t believe the people would part with their gold. But his plans backfired when the people delivered the gold. Then Aaron built a fire, hoping to melt the gold, but a calf pranced out of the fire.
Aaron insisted that as High Priest, only he could build an altar for the calf. Aaron tarried all night, hoping and praying that Moses would return before the altar was complete. Yet the altar was finished before dawn. By the time Moses returned from Sinai, the pagan celebrations were in full swing.
Aaron couldn’t forgive himself for enabling the sin. Though his intentions were pure, his efforts had backfired, and he felt responsible.
How surprised Aaron was several months later when Moses declared thatG‑d had forgiven the sin and invited the nation to build a Tabernacle, and that Aaron would be High Priest!
Aaron was certain that Moses was mistaken. How could he have been granted such an honor? When the inauguration day arrived, Aaron was meant to offer his first sacrifice, but he hesitated, doubting that his efforts would please G‑d. Moses proclaimed, “This is G‑d’s commandment, perform it and G‑d will reveal His glory. Approach the altar, carry out your sin offering and burnt offering, and you will atone for yourself and for the nation.”1
Our sages explain that Aaron saw the image of a bull standing atop the altar and was both afraid and ashamed. Moses said to him, “Aaron, why are you afraid? You were chosen for this.”2
A careful reading will yield a question. Aaron was afraid and ashamed, yet Moses only addressed his fear. He told Aaron not to be afraid because G‑d chose him to be High Priest. Why didn’t Moses address Aaron’s shame?
Perhaps he did. The fear is clearly addressed by the words “why are you afraid,” and perhaps the shame is addressed by the words “you were chosen for this.” Moses was saying, “Aaron, don’t be ashamed about your role in the sin of the Golden Calf. It was precisely because of that role that you were chosen. You shielded the nation from greater spiritual harm. You didn’t succeed in preventing the sin entirely, but that isn’t your fault. They were dead-set on committing the sin. But if not for your actions, they might have begun their celebrations much earlier, and by the time I arrived, the damage would have been irreparable.
“G‑d consented to forgive the Jews and invite them to build His Tabernacle because you managed to contain their sin. G‑d is not mad at you. On the contrary, He is proud of you. He appointed you High Priest to reward you.”
Don’t Blame Yourself
Aaron blamed himself for the sin of the Jews because his efforts backfired and failed to stop them. Further, he believed that his actions triggered the sin. In truth, Aaron was not held to task for the sins of the people and, on the contrary, was rewarded for his role since his efforts did in fact succeed in subtle ways—they made it possible for G‑d to forgive the people.3
So when you struggle to help another make the right choice and he or she ends up making the wrong one, don’t blame yourself. If your words were sincere, they are sure to have a positive impact in the long term. For when words come from the heart, sooner or later, they will enter the heart of the other.
FOOTNOTES
1.Numbers 9: 60-7.
2.Torat Kohanim, ibid, as rendered by Rashi, ibid.
3.Nodah Biyehudah Al Hatorah, ibid. He cites a source that the Hasmoneans merited to save the Jews from Greek idol worship in the merit of Aaron, who managed to postpone and contain idol worship in the desert.
Learn Shemini In Depth
A condensation of the weekly Torah portion alongside select commentaries culled from the Midrash, Talmud, Chassidic masters, and the broad corpus of Jewish scholarship.Parshat Shemini In-Depth
Leviticus 9:1 On the eighth day, Moshe called Aharon, his sons and the leaders of Isra’el, 2 and said to Aharon, “Take a male calf for a sin offering and a ram for a burnt offering, both without defect, and offer them before Adonai. 3 Then tell the people of Isra’el, ‘Take a male goat for a sin offering and a calf and a lamb, both a year old and without defect, for a burnt offering, 4 and an ox and a ram for peace offerings, to sacrifice before Adonai; also a grain offering mixed with olive oil — because today Adonai is going to appear to you.’” 5 They brought what Moshe had ordered before the tent of meeting, and the whole community approached and stood before Adonai.
6 Moshe said, “This is what Adonai has ordered you to do, so that the glory of Adonai will appear to you.” 7 Moshe told Aharon, “Approach the altar, offer your sin offering and burnt offering, and make atonement for yourself and the people. Then present the offering of the people and make atonement for them, as Adonai ordered.” 8 So Aharon approached the altar and slaughtered the calf of the sin offering which was for himself. 9 The sons of Aharon presented the blood to him; and he dipped his finger in the blood and put it on the horns of the altar; then he poured out the blood at the base of the altar. 10 But the fat, the kidneys and the covering of the liver of the sin offering he made go up in smoke on the altar, as Adonai had ordered Moshe. 11 The meat and the skin were burned up completely outside the camp.
12 Next he slaughtered the burnt offering; Aharon’s sons brought him the blood, and he splashed it against all sides of the altar. 13 They brought him the burnt offering, piece by piece, and the head; and he made them go up in smoke on the altar. 14 He washed the inner organs and the lower parts of the legs and made them go up in smoke on top of the burnt offering on the altar.
15 Then the people’s offering was presented. He took the goat of the sin offering which was for the people, slaughtered it and offered it for sin, like the earlier sin offering. 16 The burnt offering was presented, and he offered it in the prescribed manner. (ii) 17 The grain offering was presented; he took a handful of it and made it go up in smoke on the altar, in addition to the morning’s burnt offering. 18 He slaughtered the ox and the ram, the people’s sacrifice as peace offerings; Aharon’s sons brought him the blood, which he splashed against all sides of the altar, 19 and the fat of the ox and of the ram — the fat tail, the fat which covers the inner organs, the kidneys and the covering of the liver. 20 They put the fat on the breasts, and he made the fat go up in smoke on the altar. 21 The breasts and right thigh Aharon waved as a wave offering before Adonai, as Moshe had ordered.
22 Aharon raised his hands toward the people, blessed them and came down from offering the sin offering, the burnt offering and the peace offerings. 23 Moshe and Aharon entered the tent of meeting, came out and blessed the people. Then the glory of Adonai appeared to all the people! (iii) 24 Fire came forth from the presence of Adonai, consuming the burnt offering and the fat on the altar. When all the people saw it, they shouted and fell on their faces.
10:1 But Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aharon, each took his censer, put fire in it, laid incense on it, and offered unauthorized fire before Adonai, something he had not ordered them to do. 2 At this, fire came forth from the presence of Adonai and consumed them, so that they died in the presence of Adonai. 3 Moshe said to Aharon, “This is what Adonai said:
‘Through those who are near me I will be consecrated,
and before all the people I will be glorified.’”
Aharon kept silent.
4 Moshe called Misha’el and Eltzafan, sons of ‘Uzi’el Aharon’s uncle, and told them, “Come here, and carry your cousins away from in front of the sanctuary to a place outside the camp.” 5 They approached and carried them in their tunics out of the camp, as Moshe had said.
6 Then Moshe told Aharon and his sons El‘azar and Itamar, “Don’t unbind your hair or tear your clothes in mourning, so that you won’t die and so that Adonai won’t be angry with the entire community. Rather, let your kinsmen — the whole house of Isra’el — mourn, because of the destruction Adonai brought about with his fire. 7 Moreover, don’t leave the entrance to the tent of meeting, or you will die, because Adonai’s anointing oil is on you.”
8 Adonai said to Aharon, 9 “Don’t drink any wine or other intoxicating liquor, neither you nor your sons with you, when you enter the tent of meeting, so that you will not die. This is to be a permanent regulation through all your generations, 10 so that you will distinguish between the holy and the common, and between the unclean and the clean; 11 and so that you will teach the people of Isra’el all the laws Adonai has told them through Moshe.”
(iv) 12 Moshe said to Aharon and to El‘azar and Itamar, his remaining sons, “Take the grain offering left from the offerings for Adonai made by fire, and eat it without leaven next to the altar, because it is especially holy. 13 Eat it in a holy place, because it is your and your sons’ share of the offerings for Adonai made by fire; for this is what I have been ordered. 14 The breast that was waved and the thigh that was raised you are to eat in a clean place — you, your sons and your daughters with you; for these are given as your and your children’s share of the sacrifices of the peace offerings presented by the people of Isra’el. 15 They are to bring the raised thigh and the waved breast, along with the offerings of fat made by fire, and wave it as a wave offering before Adonai; then it will belong to you and your descendants with you as your perpetual share, as Adonai has ordered.”
(v) 16 Then Moshe carefully investigated what had happened to the goat of the sin offering and discovered that it had been burned up. He became angry with El‘azar and Itamar, the remaining sons of Aharon, and asked, 17 “Why didn’t you eat the sin offering in the area of the sanctuary, since it is especially holy? He gave it to you to take away the guilt of the community, to make atonement for them before Adonai. 18 Look! Its blood wasn’t brought into the sanctuary! You should have eaten it there in the sanctuary, as I ordered.” 19 Aharon answered Moshe, “Even though they offered their sin offering and burnt offering today, things like these have happened to me! If I had eaten the sin offering today, would it have pleased Adonai?” 20 On hearing this reply, Moshe was satisfied.
11:1 (vi) Adonai said to Moshe and Aharon, 2 “Tell the people of Isra’el, ‘These are the living creatures which you may eat among all the land animals: 3 any that has a separate hoof which is completely divided and chews the cud — these animals you may eat. 4-6 But you are not to eat those that only chew the cud or only have a separate hoof. For example, the camel, the coney and the hare are unclean for you, because they chew the cud but don’t have a separate hoof; 7 while the pig is unclean for you, because, although it has a separate and completely divided hoof, it doesn’t chew the cud. 8 You are not to eat meat from these or touch their carcasses; they are unclean for you.
9 “‘Of all the things that live in the water, you may eat these: anything in the water that has fins and scales, whether in seas or in rivers — these you may eat. 10 But everything in the seas and rivers without both fins and scales, of all the small water-creatures and of all the living creatures in the water, is a detestable thing for you. 11 Yes, these will be detestable for you — you are not to eat their meat, and you are to detest their carcasses. 12 Whatever lacks fins and scales in the water is a detestable thing for you.
13 “‘The following creatures of the air are to be detestable for you — they are not to be eaten, they are a detestable thing: the eagle, the vulture, the osprey, 14 the kite, the various kinds of buzzards, 15 the various kinds of ravens, 16 the ostrich, the screech-owl, the seagull, the various kinds of hawks, 17 the little owl, the cormorant, the great owl, 18 the horned owl, the pelican, the barn owl, 19 the stork, the various kinds of herons, the hoopoe and the bat.
20 “‘All winged swarming creatures that go on all fours are a detestable thing for you; 21 except that of all winged swarming creatures that go on all fours, you may eat those that have jointed legs above their feet, enabling them to jump off the ground. 22 Specifically, of these you may eat the various kinds of locusts, grasshoppers, katydids and crickets. 23 But other than that, all winged swarming creatures having four feet are a detestable thing for you.
24 “‘The following will make you unclean; whoever touches the carcass of them will be unclean until evening, 25 and whoever picks up any part of their carcass is to wash his clothes and be unclean until evening: 26 every animal that has a separate but incompletely divided hoof or that doesn’t chew the cud is unclean for you; anyone who touches them will become unclean. 27 Whatever goes on its paws, among all animals that go on all fours, is unclean for you; whoever touches its carcass will be unclean until evening; 28 and whoever picks up its carcass is to wash his clothes and be unclean until evening — these are unclean for you.
29 “‘The following are unclean for you among the small creatures that swarm on the ground: the weasel, the mouse, the various kinds of lizards, 30 the gecko, the land crocodile, the skink, the sand-lizard and the chameleon. 31 They are unclean crawling creatures; whoever touches them when they are dead will be unclean until evening. 32 Anything on which one of them falls when dead will become unclean — wooden utensil, article of clothing, leather, sacking — any utensil used for work; it must be put in water, and it will be unclean until evening; then it will be clean. (vii) 33 If one of them falls into a clay pot, whatever is in it will become unclean, and you are to break the pot. 34 Any food permitted to be eaten that water from such a vessel gets on will become unclean, and any permitted liquid in such a vessel will become unclean. 35 Everything on which any carcass-part of theirs falls will become unclean, whether oven or stove; it is to be broken in pieces — they are unclean and will be unclean for you; 36 although a spring or cistern for collecting water remains clean. But anyone who touches one of their carcasses will become unclean. 37 If any carcass-part of theirs falls on any kind of seed to be sown, it is clean; 38 but if water is put on the seed and a carcass-part of theirs falls on it, it is unclean for you.
39 “‘If an animal of a kind that you are permitted to eat dies, whoever touches its carcass will be unclean until evening. 40 A person who eats meat from its carcass or carries its carcass is to wash his clothes; he will be unclean until evening.
41 “‘Any creature that swarms on the ground is a detestable thing; it is not to be eaten — 42 whatever moves on its stomach, goes on all fours, or has many legs — all creatures that swarm on the ground; you are not to eat them, because they are a detestable thing. 43 You are not to make yourselves detestable with any of these swarming, crawling creatures; do not make yourselves unclean with them, do not defile yourselves with them. 44 For I am Adonai your God; therefore, consecrate yourselves and be holy, for I am holy; and do not defile yourselves with any kind of swarming creature that moves along the ground. (Maftir) 45 For I am Adonai, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt to be your God. Therefore you are to be holy, because I am holy.
46 “‘Such, then, is the law concerning animals, flying creatures, all living creatures that move about in the water, and all creatures that swarm on the ground. 47 Its purpose is to distinguish between the unclean and the clean, and between the creatures that may be eaten and those that may not be eaten.’”
Parshah Summary"And it came to pass on the eighth day..."
Last week's Parshah, Tzav, told of the "seven days of inauguration" during which the Sanctuary was consecrated and Aaron and his sons were trained for the priesthood. This week's reading, Shemini ("eighth"), begins by recounting the events of the eighth day--which was the 1st of Nissan of the year 2449 from Creation (1312 bce), two weeks before the first anniversary of the Exodus.
And it came to pass on the eighth day, that Moses called Aaron and his sons, and the elders of Israel.
And he said to Aaron: "Take you a young calf for a sin offering, and a ram for an ascent offering, without blemish, and offer them before G‑d.
"And to the children of Israel you shall speak, saying: Take a kid of the goats for a sin offering; and a calf and a lamb, both of the first year, without blemish, for a burnt offering; also a bullock and a ram for peace offerings, to sacrifice before G‑d; and a meal offering mingled with oil;
"For today G‑d will appear to you..."
The offerings are brought as instructed, following which,
Moses and Aaron went into the Tent of Meeting, and came out, and blessed the people: and the glory of G‑d appeared to all the people.
And there came a fire out from before G‑d, and consumed the ascent offering and the fat [of the other offerings] upon the Altar. And all the people saw, and sang out, and fell on their faces.
Strange Fire
And then, in the midst of the jubilation, tragedy struck.
Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, took each of them his censer, and put fire in it, and put incense on it, and offered strange fire before G‑d, which He commanded them not.
A fire went out from G‑d, and consumed them, and they died before G‑d.
And Moses said to Aaron: "This is it that which G‑d spoke, saying: I will be sanctified in those who are close to Me, and before all the people I will be glorified." And Aaron was silent.
And Moses called Mishael and Elzafan, the sons of Uzziel the uncle of Aaron, and said to them: "Come near, carry your brothers from before the Sanctuary out of the camp." So they went near, and carried them in their robes out of the camp; as Moses had said.
Because of the centrality of their role in the revelation of the Divine Presence in the Sanctuary that day, Aaron and his two remaining sons are forbidden to engage in any of the customary mourning practices:
And Moses said to Aaron, and to Elazar and to Itamar, his sons:
"Let not the hair of your heads grow long, neither rend your clothes; lest you die, and lest anger come upon all the people. Your brethren, the whole house of Israel, shall bewail the conflagration which G‑d has burned..."
And they did according to the word of Moses.
G‑d Speaks to Aaron
And G‑d spoke to Aaron, saying:
"Do not drink wine or strong drink, you, nor your sons with you, when you enter the Tent of Meeting, lest you die; it shall be a statute for ever throughout your generations.
"And that you differentiate between holy and the profane, and between the impure and the pure. And that you instruct the children of Israel all the statutes which G‑d has spoken to them by the hand of Moses."
The Disagreement
Moses instructs Aaron, Elazar and Itamar to eat the special offerings of the day, as prescribed (despite the fact that, ordinarily, a priest in mourning does not partake of the offerings). This they do, except in the case of one offering:
And Moses diligently sought the goat of the sin offering, and, behold, it was burnt; and he was angry with Elazar and Itamar, the sons of Aaron that were left alive, saying:
"Why have you not eaten the sin offering in the holy place, seeing it is most holy... you should indeed have eaten it in the holy place, as I commanded."
And Aaron replied to Moses: "Behold, this day have they offered their sin offering and their ascent offering before G‑d; and such things have befallen me. If I had eaten the sin offering today, would it have been accepted in the sight of G‑d?"
And Moses heard this, and it was favorable in his eyes.
The Dietary Laws
"These are the animals which you may eat," G‑d tells Moses to instruct the people of Israel, "among all the beasts that are upon the earth: Whatever parts the hoof and is cloven footed, and chews the cud."
To be fit to eat, an animal must have both identifying signs; the Torah cites four examples of animals that have but one, and are thus "unclean":
The camel... the hyrax... and the hare, because he chews the cud but does not part the hoof, is unclean to you.
And the swine, though he divide the hoof and be cloven footed, yet be chews not the cud; he is unclean to you. Of their flesh shall you not eat, and their carcass shall you not touch; they are unclean to you.
Water creatures may be eaten if they have both fins and scales (thereby excluding all forms of "seafood" other than the kosher species of fish).
Regarding birds, the Torah does not provide "signs," but instead lists twenty species of non-kosher fowl:
And these are they which you shall have in abomination among the birds; they shall not be eaten, they are abominable:
The eagle, and the bearded vulture and the black vulture. The kite, and the buzzard after its kind. Every raven after its kind. The owl, the kestrel, and the gull; and the sparrow hawk after its kind. The little owl, the fish fowl, and the great owl. The barn owl, the jackdaw, and the gier eagle. The stork, the heron after her kind; the hoopoe, and the bat.
Insects, as a rule, are forbidden--"All swarming things that fly, going upon four, shall be an abomination to you"--with four exceptions:
These of them you may eat: the locust after its kind, and the grasshopper after its kind, and the hargol after its kind, and the hagav after its kind.
Ritual Purity
Carcasses of non-kosher mammals render the one who touches them or carries them tameh, ritually impure, as does the carcass of a kosher animal that was not slaughtered in the prescribed manner. The Torah also lists eight "creeping animals" which render a person tameh: "The rat, the mouse, and the tortoise after its kind; the gecko, the monitor, the lizard, the skink, and the chameleon."
Utensils, food and drink also become tameh through contact with a carcass. Food, however, can become tameh only if it has first been made "susceptible" by being wetted with a liquid.
A mikveh--a naturally occurring pool of water--or a wellspring do not become tameh; indeed, the mikveh and the wellspring have the power to purify things that have become impure that are immersed in them.
Sanctity and Distinction
You shall not make yourselves abominable [by eating] any creeping thing that creeps, neither shall you make yourselves unclean with them, that you should be defiled by them.
For I am G‑d your G‑d; you shall therefore sanctify yourselves, and you shall be holy, for I am holy...
This is the law of the beasts, and of the birds, and of every living creature that moves in the waters, and of every creature that creeps on the earth.
To differentiate the pure and the impure, and between the animal that may be eaten and the animal that may not be eaten.-------------
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From Our Sages
And it came to pass on the eighth day (Leviticus 9:1)
That day took ten crowns: It was the first day of the Creation (i.e., a Sunday), the first for the offerings of the nessi'im (tribal heads), the first for the priesthood, the first for [public] sacrifice, the first for the fall of fire from Heaven, the first for the eating of sacred food, the first for the dwelling of the Divine Presence in Israel, the first for the priestly blessing of Israel, the first day on which it was forbidden to sacrifice to G‑d anywhere save in the Sanctuary, and the first of months.
(Talmud, Shabbat 87b)
That day was as joyous to G‑d as the day on which heaven and earth were created.
(Talmud, Megillah 10b)
And it came to pass on the eighth day (9:1)
The number seven represents the cycle of creation; the number eight represents the "circumference"--that which lies beyond the perimeter of time and space. This is why the Divine Presence came to dwell in the Israelite camp on the eighth day. This is also alluded to in the saying of our sages (Talmud, Erchin 13b) that "The lyre of Moshiach has eight strings."
(Keli Yakar; Shaloh)
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And it came to pass on the eighth day... And he said to Aaron (9:1)
For seven days, G‑d persuaded Moses at the burning bush to go on His mission to Egypt, as Moses refused... Said G‑d to Moses: "By your life, I shall tie this in your skirts." When did He repay him? ... All the seven days of inauguration Moses ministered in the office of High Priest, and he imagined it was his. On the seventh day G‑d said to him: "It belongs not to you but to your brother Aaron..."
(Midrash Rabbah)
And Moses said: "This is the thing which G‑d commanded you to do; and the glory of G‑d shall appear to you" (9:6)
For the seven days of inauguration, during which Moses set up the Sanctuary, performed the service in it, and dismantled it each day, the Divine Presence did not rest in it. The people of Israel were humiliated, and said to Moses: "Moses our teacher! All the toil that we toiled was only that the Divine Presence should dwell amongst us and we should know the sin of the Calf was forgiven us!" Said Moses to them: "Aaron my brother is more worthy than I--through his offerings and his service the Divine Presence will rest upon you, and you will know that G‑d has chosen you."
(Rashi)
And Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, took each of them his censer... And they died before G‑d (10:1-2)
Bar Kappara said in the name of Rabbi Jeremiah ben Elazar: Aaron's sons died on account of four things: for drawing near, for offering, for the strange fire, and for not having taken counsel from each other. "For drawing near"--because they entered into the innermost precincts of the Sanctuary. "For offering"--because they offered a sacrifice which they had not been commanded to offer. "For the strange fire"--they brought in fire from the kitchen. "And for not having taken counsel from each other"--as it says, "Each of them his censer," implying that they acted each on his own initiative, not taking counsel from one another.
Rabbi Mani of She'ab, Rabbi Joshua of Siknin, and Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Levi said: The sons of Aaron died on account of four things... Because they had drunk wine, as it says [immediately following the incident], "Drink no wine nor strong drink... that you die not" (Leviticus 10:9). Because they served in the Sanctuary lacking the prescribed number of priestly garments (cf. Exodus 28:43). Because they entered the Sanctuary without washing their hands and feet (cf. Exodus 30:21). Because they had no children... as it says, "And Nadav and Avihu died... and they had no children" (Numbers 3:4).
Abba Hanin says it was because they had no wives, for it is written [regarding the High Priest], "And [he shall] make atonement for himself, and for his house" (Leviticus 16:6)--"his house" refers to his wife.
Rabbi Levi says that they were arrogant. Many women remained unmarried waiting for them. What did they say? Our father's brother is a king, our mother's brother is a prince [i.e., Nachshon, the head of the tribe of Judah], our father is a High Priest, and we are both Deputy High Priests; what woman is worthy of us? ... Moses and Aaron went first, Nadav and Avihu walked behind them, and all Israel followed, and Nadav and Avihu were saying: "When will these two old men die and we assume authority over the community?" Rabbi Judah in the name of Rabbi Aibu said that they uttered this to one another with their mouths, while Rabbi Pinchas said that they harbored the thought in their hearts.
Others say: They already deserved to die at Mount Sinai, when they callously feasted their eyes on the Divine (Exodus 24:9-11).
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov stated: The sons of Aaron died only because they gave a legal decision in the presence of their master Moses. What was the exposition they made? They interpreted the verse (Leviticus 1:7), "And the sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire upon the altar." This is to teach us, they said, that although fire came down from heaven, it is nevertheless a mitzvah to bring also ordinary fire. (This is indeed the law; their sin was that they rendered a Halachic decision in the presence of their teacher.)
(Talmud, Eruvin 63a; Rashi)
Nadav and Avihu died because of Aaron's making of the Golden Calf, as it is written: "And against Aaron did G‑d verily rage to destroy him; and I prayed also for Aaron at that time" (Deuteronomy 9:20). "To destroy him" means the death of children, as it is written, "And I destroyed his fruit from above" (Amos 2:9). Moses' prayer was halfway effective, so that two died and two remained alive.
(Rashi on Deuteronomy 9:20)
"They came close to G‑d and died" (Leviticus 16:1)--they approached the supernal light out of their great love of the Holy, and thereby died. Thus they died by "divine kiss" such as experienced by the perfectly righteous; it is only that the righteous die when the divine kiss approaches them, while they died by their approaching it... Although they sensed their own demise, this did not prevent them from drawing near to G‑d in attachment, delight, delectability, fellowship, love, kiss and sweetness, to the point that their souls ceased from them.
(Ohr HaChaim)
And a fire went out from G‑d and consumed them (10:2)
But subsequently it says that Moses instructed Mishael and Eltzafan "Carry your brothers from before the Sanctuary" and that "They carried them out in their robes"? ... G‑d sent forth two threads of fire into each one's nostrils and consumed their souls, without touching their flesh and without touching their clothes.
(Midrash Tanchuma)
And Moses said to Aaron: "This is it that which G‑d spoke, saying: I will be sanctified in those who are close to Me..." (10:3)
This was said to Moses at Sinai, but its meaning was not known to him until the occurrence happened, when Moses said to Aaron: "My brother, at Sinai, G‑d said to me: 'I will sanctify this House, and through a great man would I sanctify it,' and I thought that either through me or through you would this House be sanctified; but now I see that your two sons are greater than you or I."
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
And Aaron was silent (10:3)
Because Aaron was silent, he was rewarded that G‑d spoke exclusively to him (see below, verses 8-11; ordinarily G‑d spoke to Aaron only in conjunction with--or through--Moses).
(Midrash Rabbah)
Said Rav Papa: The merit of attending a house of mourning lies in the silence observed.
(Talmud, Berachot 6b)
In youth, one learns to talk; in maturity, one learns to be silent. This is man's problem: that he learns to talk before he learns to be silent.
(Rabbi Nachman of Breslav)
Speech signifies comprehensibility. Melody is beyond language, expressing moods which words cannot describe. Silence is yet higher.
The power to be silent at certain moments of life and of history is an important strength. It expresses the awareness that G‑d is infinite, and cannot be encapsulated in our human conceptions of what should take place.
The Talmud tells of an instance in which Moses himself was told by G‑d to be silent. G‑d showed him in a vision all future generations of the Jewish people, and the leaders of each generation. Moses was greatly impressed by the wisdom of Rabbi Akiva. Then he saw the way the Romans tortured him to death. "Is this the reward of his Torah knowledge?" Moses asked. G‑d answered: "Be silent. Thus it arose in My thought".
This is not to say that the Torah advocates a fatalistic approach to life. Before the event, one must do everything possible to prevent tragedy. But once it has happened, G‑d forbid, through the acceptance and the silence we reach a special closeness to the Divine. Our Sages tell us that because Aaron was silent, he was rewarded by G‑d speaking directly to him.
In our generation, too, there is a need for this power of silence. It is not a passive power, but one that leads to vigorous and joyous action. The Jewish response to the harrowing events of the Shoah is the determined and energetic action to rebuild Jewish family life and Jewish knowledge.
Through our power of silence we too, like Aaron, will merit Divine revelation. G‑d will bring the Messiah, rebuilding the Temple and bringing lasting peace to the world.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Do not drink wine or strong drink... when you enter the Tent of Meeting (10:9)
Though the vine be supported by straight reeds and forked reeds, these cannot stand up under the weight of the wine in the grapes. So if wine's own mother cannot bear its burden, how then can you?
(Midrash Rabbah)
And that you differentiate between holy and the profane... and that you instruct the children of Israel (10:10-11)
This teaches us that one who has drunk wine is forbidden to render a ruling of Torah law.
(Rashi)
And Moses diligently sought the goat of the sin offering, and, behold, it was burnt... (10:16)
Three goats were brought that day as sin-offerings: (1) the one that G‑d commanded should be offered by Aaron on the occasion of the Eighth Day; (2) the one brought by Nachshon, leader of the tribe of Judah, as the first in the series of offerings brought by the tribal heads in honor of the Sanctuary's inauguration; (3) the goat offered every Rosh Chodesh (first of the month--that day was the first of Nissan).
The first two were not burnt, but eaten by Aaron and his sons as per Moses' instructions. The Rosh Chodesh offering, however, Aaron burned, reasoning that if he was instructed to eat the meat of the day's special offerings even though he is in mourning (contrary to the usual law), he should not deduce that the same applies to an offering that is not unique to this special occasion, but is part of the regularly scheduled offerings.
This distinction escaped Moses, who demanded of Aaron and his sons: Why did you burn this sin-offering? And if you burned it because you are mourners, why did you eat the others? To which Aaron replied: "If you heard this instruction (that the offerings should be eaten even by mourners) regarding the offerings of the moment, you should not apply the same to the offerings for all times."
(Talmud, Zevachim; Rashi)
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And [Moses] was angry (10:16)
Because he became angry, he forgot the law that a mourner is forbidden to eat from the meat of the offerings.
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
And he was angry with Elazar and Itamar (10:16)
In deference to Aaron's honor he directed his anger to Elazar and Itamar.
(Rashi)
And Aaron replied to Moses (10:19)
If Moses spoke angrily to Elazar and Itamar, why did Aaron reply? This tells us that Moses spoke to them only in deference to Aaron. Thus they said: it is not appropriate that our father sits silently and we reply, nor is it appropriate that a student should correct his teacher. Perhaps it was because Elazar knew not how to answer? But the verse (Numbers 31:21) attests that, when he desired, he spoke in the presence of Moses and the tribal leaders.
(Rashi)
And Moses heard this, and it was favorable in his eyes (10:20)
Moses was not ashamed to admit his error; he did not say "I did not hear this," but said, "I heard it and I forgot it."
(Talmud; Rashi)
He issued a proclamation to all the camp, saying: "I made an error in regard to the law, and Aaron my brother came and taught it me."
(Midrash Rabbah)
There are seven things that characterize a boor, and seven that characterize a wise man. A wise man does not speak before one who is greater than him in wisdom or age. He does not interrupt his fellow's words. He does not hasten to answer. His questions are on the subject and his answers to the point. He responds to first things first and to latter things later. Concerning what he did not hear, he says "I did not hear." He concedes to the truth. With the boor, the reverse of all these is the case.
"He does not interrupt his fellow's words"--this is Aaron, who though he had an answer to Moses' charge, waited in silence until Moses had concluded speaking. "He concedes to the truth"--this is Moses, who admitted that Aaron was in the right.
(Ethics of the Fathers; Avot d'Rabbi Natan)
These are the animals which you may eat... (11:2)
The birds and many of the mammals forbidden by the Torah are predators, while the permitted animals are not. We are commanded not to eat those animals possessive of a cruel nature, so that we should not absorb these qualities into ourselves.
(Nachmanides)
The great Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria, taught that every created thing possesses a "spark" of divine energy that constitutes its essence and soul. When a person utilizes something toward a G‑dly end, he brings to light this divine spark, manifesting and realizing the purpose for which it was created. In all physical substances, a material "husk" (kelipah) encases and conceals the divine spark at its core, necessitating great effort on the part of man to access the spark without becoming enmeshed in the surface materiality.
No existence is devoid of a divine spark--indeed, nothing can exist without the pinpoint of G‑dliness that imbues it with being and purpose. But not every spark can be actualized. There are certain "impregnable" elements whose sparks are inaccessible to us. The fact that something is forbidden by the Torah means that its husk cannot be penetrated, so that its spark remains locked within it and cannot be elevated.
Thus, one who eats a piece of kosher meat and then uses the energy gained from it to perform a mitzvah, thereby elevates the spark of divinity that is the essence of the meat, freeing it of its mundane incarnation and raising it to a state of fulfilled spirituality. However, if one would do the same with a piece of non-kosher meat, no such "elevation" would take place. Even if he applied the energy to positive and G‑dly ends, this would not constitute a realization of the divine purpose in the meats creation, since the consumption of the meat was an express violation of the divine will.
This is the deeper significance of the Hebrew terms assur and mutar employed by Torah law for the forbidden and the permissible. Assur, commonly translated as "forbidden," literally means "bound", implying that these are things whose sparks the Torah has deemed bound and imprisoned in a shell of negativity and proscription. Mutar ("permitted"), which literally means "unbound," is the term for those sparks which the Torah has empowered us to extricate from their mundane embodiment and actively involve in our positive endeavors.
The "bound" elements of creation also have a role in the realization of the divine purpose outlined by the Torah. But theirs is a "negative" rolethey exist so that we should achieve a conquest of self by resisting them. There is no Torah-authorized way in which they can actively be involved in our development of creation, no way in which they may themselves become part of the "dwelling for G‑d" that we are charged to make of our world. Of these elements it is said, "Their breaking is their rectification." They exist to be rejected and defeated, and it is in their defeat and exclusion from our lives that their raison d'etre is realized.
(The Chassidic Masters)
These are the animals which you shall eat among all the beasts that are upon the earth... of all that are in the waters... among the birds... (11:2, 9, 13)
Land animals, which were created from the soil, are rendered fit to eat by the severing of both vital passages (the windpipe and the gullet). Fish, which were created from the water, do not require any shechitah to render them fit to eat. Birds, which were created from a mixture of soil and water, are rendered fit to eat with the severing of either one of the two vital passages.
(Talmud, Chulin 27b)
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But these you shall not eat of them that chew the cud, or of them that divide the hoof... (11:4)
The Torah does not list the animals that have both kosher signs (and are thus kosher), nor does it list those which lack both (and are thus forbidden); but it does name the four animals--the camel, hyrax, hare, and the swine--that have one but not the other (making them, too, unfit for consumption for the Jew).
It is noteworthy that in the 33 centuries since G‑d communicated these laws to Moses, entire continents, replete with many "new" and unimagined species have been discovered. A number of these hitherto unknown species possess both of the kosher signs, and many lack them both; but not a single one has been found with only one sign. The only such animals on earth are the four species enumerated by the Torah!
And the swine, though he divide the hoof and be cloven footed, yet be chews not the cud; he is unclean to you (11:7)
Just as the swine when reclining puts forth its hooves as if to say, "See that I am kosher," so too does the empire of Rome boast as it commits violence and robbery, under the guise of establishing a judicial tribunal. This may be compared to a governor who put to death the thieves, adulterers, and sorcerers. He leaned over to a counselor and said: "I myself did these three things in one night."
(Midrash Rabbah)
These shall you eat of all that are in the waters: whatever has fins and scales (11:9)
All fish that have scales also have fins (and are thus kosher). But there are fish that have fins but do not have scales, and are thus impure. If so, the Torah could have written only "scales," without having to also write "fins"? ... Said Rabbi Abahu, and so it was learned in the study house of Rabbi Yishmael: This is so that "Torah be increased and made great" (Isaiah 42:21).
(Talmud, Niddah 51b)
The student of Torah is comparable to a fish in water, as in Rabbi Akiva's famous parable. His fins are the means by which he moves forward through the water--the intellect and study skills with which he advances in wisdom and increases the Torah and makes it great with his own contributions (chiddushim) to Torah learning. His scales are his protective armor against predators and adverse elements--his fear of Heaven, which shields his learning from error and distortion.
One might think that the primary requirement for success in Torah is the fins, while the scales serve a secondary function. It is the fins that move the fish forward, while the scales merely preserve what is. After all, learning is an intellectual exercise; piety and fear of G‑d are lofty virtues, but are they any use in navigating the complexities of a difficult Tosafot?
In truth, however, the very opposite is the case. A scholar with fins but no scales is a non-kosher fish. He might swim and frolic with his talent and genius, but his learning is corrupt; it is not Torah, but his egoistic arrogation of the divine wisdom. On the other hand, the Talmud tells us that while there are fish with fins and no scales, all fish with scales have fins. If a person approaches Torah with an awe of its divine author and the commitment to serve Him, he will certainly succeed. Regardless of the degree of his intellectual prowess, he will find the fins with which to advance in his learning and contribute to the growth of Torah.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
And these are they which you shall have in abomination among the birds ... (11:13-19)
In Hebrew, the 20 non-kosher species of bird are: nesher, peres, ozniyah, daah, ayah, oreiv, bat yaanah, tachmas, shachaf, netz, kops, shalach, yanshuf, tinshemet, kaat, racham, chassidah, anafah, duchifat, atalef.
The commentaries differ as to the identity of many of these species, so that the above translation reflects but one of many interpretations. An alternate rendition, based on traditional commentaries as researched by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan in his Living Torah, is: "eagle, ossifrage, osprey, kite, vulture family, the entire raven family, ostrich, owl, gull, hawk family, falcon, cormorant, ibis, swan, pelican, magpie, stork, heron family, hoopoe, and bat."
Other interpretations include the following species in the list (while eliminating others): griffin vulture, albatross, woodpecker, goshawk, long-eared owl, and/or capercaillie.
The Talmud offers a number of identifying markers that are common to kosher fowl, including the fact that they are not predators. In practice, Torah law rules that due to the many uncertainties as to the precise identity of the non-kosher birds listed by the Torah, only birds with a tradition of Kashrut should be eaten.
And every earthen vessel into which any of them fall... shall be unclean (11:33)
If the source of impurity enters within the space of an earthen vessel--even without touching its walls--it becomes impure. If it did not enter into it, even if it touched it from the outside, it remains pure.
With all other utensils, the opposite is the case: entering within them alone does not make them impure, while touching any part of them does.
(Talmud, Chulin 24b; Rashi)
The worth of a utensil of wood or metal is not only in its function as a container--the material of which it is made also has value. So contact with any part of it, including its outside surface, affects its ritual state. On the other hand, an earthen utensil, whose body is mere earth, has value only as a container; accordingly it is affected only by what happens to its inside. Indeed, its inside is therefore even more susceptible to contamination than that of other utensils.
Man is an earthen vessel ("And G‑d formed man out of the dust of the earth, and He blew into his nostril a living soul"--Genesis 2:7). His worth lies not in his material exterior, but in its content. He should therefore regard as significant only what pertains to his inner self.
(The Rebbe of Kotzk)
A wellspring or pool (mikveh)... shall be pure (11:36)
A wellspring purifies regardless of the amount of the water it contains, and also when flowing; a mikveh purifies only when stationary, and must contain 40 se'ah (approx. 87.5 gallons) of water.
(Torat Kohanim)
When a person endeavors to venture forth on his own, relying on his own intellect and feelings to guide him in the proper path, he had best be well equipped for the task. For he is then a mikveh, a pool of water no longer in direct contact with its source, which must possess a minimum of so many "gallons" of understanding and fortitude. Furthermore, he must be "stationary," contained and delimited by walls outside of himself; for without such objective control he is susceptible to all sorts of distortions and corruptions. A mikveh that lacks these criteria not only fails to purify other things, but is also itself vulnerable to contamination.
On the other hand, one who is a "wellspring," disavowing all pretensions of a "separate identity" from his Source, has no such limitations. His intellect may not be the deepest, his talents quite unspectacular, but the little he has can effectively take on the most challenging of tasks. Nor does he require any confining walls or "closed communities" to safeguard his integrity: wherever he goes and flows, he has a positive effect on his environment and is never negatively influenced by its imperfections. For no matter how scant his resources, and no matter where he ventures forth, he maintains an unbroken attachment to his Source.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
To differentiate the pure and the impure, and between the animal that may be eaten and the animal that may not be eaten (11:47)
Need this be said regarding the difference between a donkey and a cow? ... Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between the animal which had half its windpipe cut [during the slaughtering] and the animal which had most of its windpipe cut (According to the laws of shechitah, ritual slaughter, if a majority of the windpipe is not severed in an uninterrupted motion of the slaughterer's knife, the animal is rendered tereifah and unfit for consumption)...
Need this be said regarding the difference between a wild ass and a deer? Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between an animal in which there developed a defect yet remains fit to be eaten and an animal in which there developed a defect which renders it unfit to be eaten.
(Torat Kohanim; Rashi)
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Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
If there is no daat (discriminating intelligence), how can there be differentiation?
Jerusalem Talmud, Berachot 5:2
In the Jewish home, the close of the Shabbat is marked with a special ceremony, called Havdalah("differentiation"). Over a brimming cup of wine, to the multi-flamed light of a braided candle and the smell of aromatic spices, we recite: "Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d... Who differentiates between the holy and the mundane, between light and darkness, between Israel and the nations, between the seventh day and the six days of work."
Differentiation is at the heart of what we call morality. If theft or adultery are wrong, it is only because there is a real difference between mine and yours and between the wedded and the unwedded state. If ceasing work on Shabbat or eating matzah on Passover are meaningful deeds, this is only because Shabbat is truly different from Friday and matzah is truly different from leavened bread. If there is meaning and purpose to our actions, there must be true significance to the differences between things.
Differentiation, however, also implies a sameness to the things being differentiated. If Shabbat and Sunday looked, smelled and tasted differently to our physical senses, there would be no need to actively differentiate between them. Indeed, when the Torah employs the verb "to differentiate" (lehavdil), it is to distinguish between things that are essentially similar. A case in point is the concluding verse of Leviticus 11, the chapter which lays down the kashrut dietary laws. The verse reads: "To differentiate between the pure and the impure; between the animal that may be eaten and the animal that may not be eaten," regarding which our sages remark:
Need this be said regarding the difference between a donkey and a cow? ... Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between the animal which had half its windpipe cut [during the slaughtering] and the animal which had most of its windpipe cut.... Need this be said regarding the difference between a wild ass and a deer? Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between an animal in which there developed a defect yet remains fit to be eaten and an animal in which there developed a defect which renders it unfit to be eaten (Rashi on verse, from Torat Kohanim).
In other words, havdalah requires the ability to look at two similar things and appreciate that, despite their elementary similarity, they are to be differentiated and held apart. In the words of our sages, "If there is nodaat (discriminating intelligence), how can there behavdalah?"
A World of Words
The capacity to differentiate, as we have noted, is the basis for any moral vision of life. Chassidic teaching takes this a step further, demonstrating how havdalahis the essence of the created existence, of what we call reality.
An axiom of the Jewish faith is that G‑d is infinite--without beginning and without end. This raises the problem, addressed by all major Jewish philosophers, of how our world can possibly exist, since a truly infinite being precludes the existence of anything other than itself. Indeed, the Torah asserts that "There is nothing else besides Him." But what about ourselves, our world, our reality? Are these not existences besides Him?
In his Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi lays the groundwork for a resolution of this problem by defining the created reality as divine speech. In the first chapter of Genesis, G‑d's creation of the world is described as a series of (ten) utterances: G‑d said, "Let there be light!" and there was light; G‑d said, "Let the earth sent forth vegetation," "Let there be luminaries in the heavens," "Let the waters spawn living creatures," and plants, stars and fish emerged into existence." Citing teachings from the Midrash, the Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria and Chassidism's founder Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Schneur Zalman deduces that these divine utterances are not merely the cause of these existences--they are these existences. What we experience as "light" is but the embodiment of G‑d's articulated desire that there be light; what we experience as a "tree" is but the embodiment of G‑d's articulated desire that there be a tree.
So the created reality is not, in truth, something else besides Him, any more than our spoken words are things distinct of ourselves. Speaking is a creative act; but when we speak we are not creating anything that is other than ourselves--we are giving vocal form to our own ideas, feelings and desires. In describing G‑d's creation of the world as a series of divine utterances, the Torah wishes to convey the idea that the world is not something distinct of its Creator, but His spoken words--His articulation of concepts and potentials which are an integral part of His being.
The implications of such a conception of ourselves and our world--of reality as divine speech--are numerous and manifold. One is the realization that the differences between things are secondary to a primary sameness that embraces them all. A language might include millions of words, but these are all variations on a handful of consonants and vowels. On a more basic level, these consonants and vowels are just variations on how a minute expulsion of breath is bounced off the speaker's vocal cords, tongue, palate, teeth and lips.
A tree might seem very different from a ray of light, as might a fish from a star. But each of these objects is, in essence, the same thing: a divine word, an articulation of divine will. In origin, they share a singular essence; their differentiation occurs at a latter stage, as they pass through the divine mouth that imparts to them their respective forms and characteristics.
Thus the Torah relates how, on the first day of creation, "G‑d differentiated between light and darkness." What can be more different than light and darkness? What differentiation is necessary between such obviously different phenomena? But light and darkness are both creations of G‑d; both are divine words, formulations of the same surge of divine will. Their distinction is the product of a divine act of havdalah, of a deliberate differentiation between two essentially synonymous realities.
Daat
In light of this, we can better understand the above-quoted Talmudic dictum regarding the connection between daat and havdalah. The Talmud is discussing the fact that in the evening prayers recited after the close of Shabbat, the text of the Havdalah is inserted in the prayer which begins: "You grant daat to man, and teach the human being understanding; grant us, from You, wisdom, understanding and knowledge..." The reason for this placement, says the Talmud, is that "If there is no daat, how can there be havdalah?"
On the most basic level, the Talmud is saying that an act of havdalah requires the discriminating intelligence of daat. On a deeper level, it is saying that havdalah is possible only because "You grant daat to man"--only because G‑d Himself grants us the capacity to differentiate between various elements of His creation.
For if the world is divine speech, if all created things are essentially the same, how can we differentiate between them? And if we do differentiate, what significance can there be to our differentiation? We might discern light and darkness; we might identify certain things as holy and others as mundane; we might designate the first six days of the week for material achievement and its seventh day for spiritual rest; but if all of these are, in essence, divine words, what power have we to differentiate between them?
But G‑d wanted a moral world--a world in which the deeds of man are purposeful and meaningful. So He imparted variety, diversity and distinction to His creation, decreeing that the differences between things should possess import and significance. His act of creation was an act of havdalah--of differentiating between essentially similar entities. And He granted the human being a mind capable of appreciating the paradox of havdalah--the paradox of meaningful difference imposed upon intrinsic synonymy--thereby empowering us to implement, through our awareness and our actions, the differentiations He decreed in His world.
The Second Paradox
Havdalah carries another paradox--that its ultimate function is to join and unite the very things it comes to differentiate.
The Torah commands us to remember and to preserve the day of Shabbat--to distinguish it, in mind, word and deed, from the six days of work. Yet Shabbat is integrally bound to the other days of the week. It is the culmination of our weekday endeavors--the day on which all that we labored for and achieved in the preceding six days ascends on high, attaining its most complete and perfect realization. And Shabbat is the day from which all days are blessed--the source of the fortitude and energy that drives our efforts of the workweek that follows it.
We are told to preserve our uniqueness as Jews--to safeguard the delineation between Israel and the nations. Yet the people of Israel are designated to serve as "a light unto the nations," as the conveyers of the ethos and ideals of Torah to all inhabitants of the earth.
We are instructed to differentiate between the holy and the mundane--to embrace what is sacred and G‑dly in our lives while exercising wariness and restraint in the material aspects of life. At the same time, we are told that "the purpose of man's creation, and of the creation of all worlds, spiritual and material is to make for G‑d a dwelling place in the lowly realms"--to involve our everyday material pursuits in the quest to know and serve G‑d, thereby making Him at home in the lowliest, most mundane stratum of creation.
For it is only through our awareness and enforcement of the boundaries within creation that these objectives can be achieved. Only if Shabbat is preserved in its distinctiveness and transcendence can it elevate and empower the other six days of the week. Only in their uniqueness as G‑d's chosen people does the nation of Israel have anything of true value to offer the peoples of the world. Only when our spiritual life is kept inviolably apart from the coarsening influence of the material can it in turn sanctify the material by enlisting it to serve its spiritual aims.
From Unity to Symphony
Havdalah is the substance of our daily lives, as every hour and moment confronts us with the challenge to define and differentiate--to distinguish between right and wrong, between holy and mundane. But these delineations are merely a means to an end, a process springing from a primordial unity and leading toward a future synthesis.
In origin and essence, all is one. But an even deeper unity is achieved when differentiations and demarcations are imposed upon the primordial oneness, and its component parts are each given a distinct role in creations symphonious expression of the goodness and perfection of its Creator.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; adapted by Yanki Tauber.
Originally published in Week in Review.
Republished with the permission of MeaningfulLife.com. If you wish to republish this article in a periodical, book, or website, please email permissions@meaningfullife.com.
And it came to pass on the eighth day (Leviticus 9:1)
That day took ten crowns: It was the first day of the Creation (i.e., a Sunday), the first for the offerings of the nessi'im (tribal heads), the first for the priesthood, the first for [public] sacrifice, the first for the fall of fire from Heaven, the first for the eating of sacred food, the first for the dwelling of the Divine Presence in Israel, the first for the priestly blessing of Israel, the first day on which it was forbidden to sacrifice to G‑d anywhere save in the Sanctuary, and the first of months.
(Talmud, Shabbat 87b)
That day was as joyous to G‑d as the day on which heaven and earth were created.
(Talmud, Megillah 10b)
And it came to pass on the eighth day (9:1)
The number seven represents the cycle of creation; the number eight represents the "circumference"--that which lies beyond the perimeter of time and space. This is why the Divine Presence came to dwell in the Israelite camp on the eighth day. This is also alluded to in the saying of our sages (Talmud, Erchin 13b) that "The lyre of Moshiach has eight strings."
(Keli Yakar; Shaloh)
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And it came to pass on the eighth day... And he said to Aaron (9:1)
For seven days, G‑d persuaded Moses at the burning bush to go on His mission to Egypt, as Moses refused... Said G‑d to Moses: "By your life, I shall tie this in your skirts." When did He repay him? ... All the seven days of inauguration Moses ministered in the office of High Priest, and he imagined it was his. On the seventh day G‑d said to him: "It belongs not to you but to your brother Aaron..."
(Midrash Rabbah)
And Moses said: "This is the thing which G‑d commanded you to do; and the glory of G‑d shall appear to you" (9:6)
For the seven days of inauguration, during which Moses set up the Sanctuary, performed the service in it, and dismantled it each day, the Divine Presence did not rest in it. The people of Israel were humiliated, and said to Moses: "Moses our teacher! All the toil that we toiled was only that the Divine Presence should dwell amongst us and we should know the sin of the Calf was forgiven us!" Said Moses to them: "Aaron my brother is more worthy than I--through his offerings and his service the Divine Presence will rest upon you, and you will know that G‑d has chosen you."
(Rashi)
And Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, took each of them his censer... And they died before G‑d (10:1-2)
Bar Kappara said in the name of Rabbi Jeremiah ben Elazar: Aaron's sons died on account of four things: for drawing near, for offering, for the strange fire, and for not having taken counsel from each other. "For drawing near"--because they entered into the innermost precincts of the Sanctuary. "For offering"--because they offered a sacrifice which they had not been commanded to offer. "For the strange fire"--they brought in fire from the kitchen. "And for not having taken counsel from each other"--as it says, "Each of them his censer," implying that they acted each on his own initiative, not taking counsel from one another.
Rabbi Mani of She'ab, Rabbi Joshua of Siknin, and Rabbi Yochanan in the name of Rabbi Levi said: The sons of Aaron died on account of four things... Because they had drunk wine, as it says [immediately following the incident], "Drink no wine nor strong drink... that you die not" (Leviticus 10:9). Because they served in the Sanctuary lacking the prescribed number of priestly garments (cf. Exodus 28:43). Because they entered the Sanctuary without washing their hands and feet (cf. Exodus 30:21). Because they had no children... as it says, "And Nadav and Avihu died... and they had no children" (Numbers 3:4).
Abba Hanin says it was because they had no wives, for it is written [regarding the High Priest], "And [he shall] make atonement for himself, and for his house" (Leviticus 16:6)--"his house" refers to his wife.
Rabbi Levi says that they were arrogant. Many women remained unmarried waiting for them. What did they say? Our father's brother is a king, our mother's brother is a prince [i.e., Nachshon, the head of the tribe of Judah], our father is a High Priest, and we are both Deputy High Priests; what woman is worthy of us? ... Moses and Aaron went first, Nadav and Avihu walked behind them, and all Israel followed, and Nadav and Avihu were saying: "When will these two old men die and we assume authority over the community?" Rabbi Judah in the name of Rabbi Aibu said that they uttered this to one another with their mouths, while Rabbi Pinchas said that they harbored the thought in their hearts.
Others say: They already deserved to die at Mount Sinai, when they callously feasted their eyes on the Divine (Exodus 24:9-11).
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov stated: The sons of Aaron died only because they gave a legal decision in the presence of their master Moses. What was the exposition they made? They interpreted the verse (Leviticus 1:7), "And the sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire upon the altar." This is to teach us, they said, that although fire came down from heaven, it is nevertheless a mitzvah to bring also ordinary fire. (This is indeed the law; their sin was that they rendered a Halachic decision in the presence of their teacher.)
(Talmud, Eruvin 63a; Rashi)
Nadav and Avihu died because of Aaron's making of the Golden Calf, as it is written: "And against Aaron did G‑d verily rage to destroy him; and I prayed also for Aaron at that time" (Deuteronomy 9:20). "To destroy him" means the death of children, as it is written, "And I destroyed his fruit from above" (Amos 2:9). Moses' prayer was halfway effective, so that two died and two remained alive.
(Rashi on Deuteronomy 9:20)
"They came close to G‑d and died" (Leviticus 16:1)--they approached the supernal light out of their great love of the Holy, and thereby died. Thus they died by "divine kiss" such as experienced by the perfectly righteous; it is only that the righteous die when the divine kiss approaches them, while they died by their approaching it... Although they sensed their own demise, this did not prevent them from drawing near to G‑d in attachment, delight, delectability, fellowship, love, kiss and sweetness, to the point that their souls ceased from them.
(Ohr HaChaim)
And a fire went out from G‑d and consumed them (10:2)
But subsequently it says that Moses instructed Mishael and Eltzafan "Carry your brothers from before the Sanctuary" and that "They carried them out in their robes"? ... G‑d sent forth two threads of fire into each one's nostrils and consumed their souls, without touching their flesh and without touching their clothes.
(Midrash Tanchuma)
And Moses said to Aaron: "This is it that which G‑d spoke, saying: I will be sanctified in those who are close to Me..." (10:3)
This was said to Moses at Sinai, but its meaning was not known to him until the occurrence happened, when Moses said to Aaron: "My brother, at Sinai, G‑d said to me: 'I will sanctify this House, and through a great man would I sanctify it,' and I thought that either through me or through you would this House be sanctified; but now I see that your two sons are greater than you or I."
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
And Aaron was silent (10:3)
Because Aaron was silent, he was rewarded that G‑d spoke exclusively to him (see below, verses 8-11; ordinarily G‑d spoke to Aaron only in conjunction with--or through--Moses).
(Midrash Rabbah)
Said Rav Papa: The merit of attending a house of mourning lies in the silence observed.
(Talmud, Berachot 6b)
In youth, one learns to talk; in maturity, one learns to be silent. This is man's problem: that he learns to talk before he learns to be silent.
(Rabbi Nachman of Breslav)
Speech signifies comprehensibility. Melody is beyond language, expressing moods which words cannot describe. Silence is yet higher.
The power to be silent at certain moments of life and of history is an important strength. It expresses the awareness that G‑d is infinite, and cannot be encapsulated in our human conceptions of what should take place.
The Talmud tells of an instance in which Moses himself was told by G‑d to be silent. G‑d showed him in a vision all future generations of the Jewish people, and the leaders of each generation. Moses was greatly impressed by the wisdom of Rabbi Akiva. Then he saw the way the Romans tortured him to death. "Is this the reward of his Torah knowledge?" Moses asked. G‑d answered: "Be silent. Thus it arose in My thought".
This is not to say that the Torah advocates a fatalistic approach to life. Before the event, one must do everything possible to prevent tragedy. But once it has happened, G‑d forbid, through the acceptance and the silence we reach a special closeness to the Divine. Our Sages tell us that because Aaron was silent, he was rewarded by G‑d speaking directly to him.
In our generation, too, there is a need for this power of silence. It is not a passive power, but one that leads to vigorous and joyous action. The Jewish response to the harrowing events of the Shoah is the determined and energetic action to rebuild Jewish family life and Jewish knowledge.
Through our power of silence we too, like Aaron, will merit Divine revelation. G‑d will bring the Messiah, rebuilding the Temple and bringing lasting peace to the world.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
Do not drink wine or strong drink... when you enter the Tent of Meeting (10:9)
Though the vine be supported by straight reeds and forked reeds, these cannot stand up under the weight of the wine in the grapes. So if wine's own mother cannot bear its burden, how then can you?
(Midrash Rabbah)
And that you differentiate between holy and the profane... and that you instruct the children of Israel (10:10-11)
This teaches us that one who has drunk wine is forbidden to render a ruling of Torah law.
(Rashi)
And Moses diligently sought the goat of the sin offering, and, behold, it was burnt... (10:16)
Three goats were brought that day as sin-offerings: (1) the one that G‑d commanded should be offered by Aaron on the occasion of the Eighth Day; (2) the one brought by Nachshon, leader of the tribe of Judah, as the first in the series of offerings brought by the tribal heads in honor of the Sanctuary's inauguration; (3) the goat offered every Rosh Chodesh (first of the month--that day was the first of Nissan).
The first two were not burnt, but eaten by Aaron and his sons as per Moses' instructions. The Rosh Chodesh offering, however, Aaron burned, reasoning that if he was instructed to eat the meat of the day's special offerings even though he is in mourning (contrary to the usual law), he should not deduce that the same applies to an offering that is not unique to this special occasion, but is part of the regularly scheduled offerings.
This distinction escaped Moses, who demanded of Aaron and his sons: Why did you burn this sin-offering? And if you burned it because you are mourners, why did you eat the others? To which Aaron replied: "If you heard this instruction (that the offerings should be eaten even by mourners) regarding the offerings of the moment, you should not apply the same to the offerings for all times."
(Talmud, Zevachim; Rashi)
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And [Moses] was angry (10:16)
Because he became angry, he forgot the law that a mourner is forbidden to eat from the meat of the offerings.
(Midrash Rabbah; Rashi)
And he was angry with Elazar and Itamar (10:16)
In deference to Aaron's honor he directed his anger to Elazar and Itamar.
(Rashi)
And Aaron replied to Moses (10:19)
If Moses spoke angrily to Elazar and Itamar, why did Aaron reply? This tells us that Moses spoke to them only in deference to Aaron. Thus they said: it is not appropriate that our father sits silently and we reply, nor is it appropriate that a student should correct his teacher. Perhaps it was because Elazar knew not how to answer? But the verse (Numbers 31:21) attests that, when he desired, he spoke in the presence of Moses and the tribal leaders.
(Rashi)
And Moses heard this, and it was favorable in his eyes (10:20)
Moses was not ashamed to admit his error; he did not say "I did not hear this," but said, "I heard it and I forgot it."
(Talmud; Rashi)
He issued a proclamation to all the camp, saying: "I made an error in regard to the law, and Aaron my brother came and taught it me."
(Midrash Rabbah)
There are seven things that characterize a boor, and seven that characterize a wise man. A wise man does not speak before one who is greater than him in wisdom or age. He does not interrupt his fellow's words. He does not hasten to answer. His questions are on the subject and his answers to the point. He responds to first things first and to latter things later. Concerning what he did not hear, he says "I did not hear." He concedes to the truth. With the boor, the reverse of all these is the case.
"He does not interrupt his fellow's words"--this is Aaron, who though he had an answer to Moses' charge, waited in silence until Moses had concluded speaking. "He concedes to the truth"--this is Moses, who admitted that Aaron was in the right.
(Ethics of the Fathers; Avot d'Rabbi Natan)
These are the animals which you may eat... (11:2)
The birds and many of the mammals forbidden by the Torah are predators, while the permitted animals are not. We are commanded not to eat those animals possessive of a cruel nature, so that we should not absorb these qualities into ourselves.
(Nachmanides)
The great Kabbalist, Rabbi Isaac Luria, taught that every created thing possesses a "spark" of divine energy that constitutes its essence and soul. When a person utilizes something toward a G‑dly end, he brings to light this divine spark, manifesting and realizing the purpose for which it was created. In all physical substances, a material "husk" (kelipah) encases and conceals the divine spark at its core, necessitating great effort on the part of man to access the spark without becoming enmeshed in the surface materiality.
No existence is devoid of a divine spark--indeed, nothing can exist without the pinpoint of G‑dliness that imbues it with being and purpose. But not every spark can be actualized. There are certain "impregnable" elements whose sparks are inaccessible to us. The fact that something is forbidden by the Torah means that its husk cannot be penetrated, so that its spark remains locked within it and cannot be elevated.
Thus, one who eats a piece of kosher meat and then uses the energy gained from it to perform a mitzvah, thereby elevates the spark of divinity that is the essence of the meat, freeing it of its mundane incarnation and raising it to a state of fulfilled spirituality. However, if one would do the same with a piece of non-kosher meat, no such "elevation" would take place. Even if he applied the energy to positive and G‑dly ends, this would not constitute a realization of the divine purpose in the meats creation, since the consumption of the meat was an express violation of the divine will.
This is the deeper significance of the Hebrew terms assur and mutar employed by Torah law for the forbidden and the permissible. Assur, commonly translated as "forbidden," literally means "bound", implying that these are things whose sparks the Torah has deemed bound and imprisoned in a shell of negativity and proscription. Mutar ("permitted"), which literally means "unbound," is the term for those sparks which the Torah has empowered us to extricate from their mundane embodiment and actively involve in our positive endeavors.
The "bound" elements of creation also have a role in the realization of the divine purpose outlined by the Torah. But theirs is a "negative" rolethey exist so that we should achieve a conquest of self by resisting them. There is no Torah-authorized way in which they can actively be involved in our development of creation, no way in which they may themselves become part of the "dwelling for G‑d" that we are charged to make of our world. Of these elements it is said, "Their breaking is their rectification." They exist to be rejected and defeated, and it is in their defeat and exclusion from our lives that their raison d'etre is realized.
(The Chassidic Masters)
These are the animals which you shall eat among all the beasts that are upon the earth... of all that are in the waters... among the birds... (11:2, 9, 13)
Land animals, which were created from the soil, are rendered fit to eat by the severing of both vital passages (the windpipe and the gullet). Fish, which were created from the water, do not require any shechitah to render them fit to eat. Birds, which were created from a mixture of soil and water, are rendered fit to eat with the severing of either one of the two vital passages.
(Talmud, Chulin 27b)
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But these you shall not eat of them that chew the cud, or of them that divide the hoof... (11:4)
The Torah does not list the animals that have both kosher signs (and are thus kosher), nor does it list those which lack both (and are thus forbidden); but it does name the four animals--the camel, hyrax, hare, and the swine--that have one but not the other (making them, too, unfit for consumption for the Jew).
It is noteworthy that in the 33 centuries since G‑d communicated these laws to Moses, entire continents, replete with many "new" and unimagined species have been discovered. A number of these hitherto unknown species possess both of the kosher signs, and many lack them both; but not a single one has been found with only one sign. The only such animals on earth are the four species enumerated by the Torah!
And the swine, though he divide the hoof and be cloven footed, yet be chews not the cud; he is unclean to you (11:7)
Just as the swine when reclining puts forth its hooves as if to say, "See that I am kosher," so too does the empire of Rome boast as it commits violence and robbery, under the guise of establishing a judicial tribunal. This may be compared to a governor who put to death the thieves, adulterers, and sorcerers. He leaned over to a counselor and said: "I myself did these three things in one night."
(Midrash Rabbah)
These shall you eat of all that are in the waters: whatever has fins and scales (11:9)
All fish that have scales also have fins (and are thus kosher). But there are fish that have fins but do not have scales, and are thus impure. If so, the Torah could have written only "scales," without having to also write "fins"? ... Said Rabbi Abahu, and so it was learned in the study house of Rabbi Yishmael: This is so that "Torah be increased and made great" (Isaiah 42:21).
(Talmud, Niddah 51b)
The student of Torah is comparable to a fish in water, as in Rabbi Akiva's famous parable. His fins are the means by which he moves forward through the water--the intellect and study skills with which he advances in wisdom and increases the Torah and makes it great with his own contributions (chiddushim) to Torah learning. His scales are his protective armor against predators and adverse elements--his fear of Heaven, which shields his learning from error and distortion.
One might think that the primary requirement for success in Torah is the fins, while the scales serve a secondary function. It is the fins that move the fish forward, while the scales merely preserve what is. After all, learning is an intellectual exercise; piety and fear of G‑d are lofty virtues, but are they any use in navigating the complexities of a difficult Tosafot?
In truth, however, the very opposite is the case. A scholar with fins but no scales is a non-kosher fish. He might swim and frolic with his talent and genius, but his learning is corrupt; it is not Torah, but his egoistic arrogation of the divine wisdom. On the other hand, the Talmud tells us that while there are fish with fins and no scales, all fish with scales have fins. If a person approaches Torah with an awe of its divine author and the commitment to serve Him, he will certainly succeed. Regardless of the degree of his intellectual prowess, he will find the fins with which to advance in his learning and contribute to the growth of Torah.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
And these are they which you shall have in abomination among the birds ... (11:13-19)
In Hebrew, the 20 non-kosher species of bird are: nesher, peres, ozniyah, daah, ayah, oreiv, bat yaanah, tachmas, shachaf, netz, kops, shalach, yanshuf, tinshemet, kaat, racham, chassidah, anafah, duchifat, atalef.
The commentaries differ as to the identity of many of these species, so that the above translation reflects but one of many interpretations. An alternate rendition, based on traditional commentaries as researched by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan in his Living Torah, is: "eagle, ossifrage, osprey, kite, vulture family, the entire raven family, ostrich, owl, gull, hawk family, falcon, cormorant, ibis, swan, pelican, magpie, stork, heron family, hoopoe, and bat."
Other interpretations include the following species in the list (while eliminating others): griffin vulture, albatross, woodpecker, goshawk, long-eared owl, and/or capercaillie.
The Talmud offers a number of identifying markers that are common to kosher fowl, including the fact that they are not predators. In practice, Torah law rules that due to the many uncertainties as to the precise identity of the non-kosher birds listed by the Torah, only birds with a tradition of Kashrut should be eaten.
And every earthen vessel into which any of them fall... shall be unclean (11:33)
If the source of impurity enters within the space of an earthen vessel--even without touching its walls--it becomes impure. If it did not enter into it, even if it touched it from the outside, it remains pure.
With all other utensils, the opposite is the case: entering within them alone does not make them impure, while touching any part of them does.
(Talmud, Chulin 24b; Rashi)
The worth of a utensil of wood or metal is not only in its function as a container--the material of which it is made also has value. So contact with any part of it, including its outside surface, affects its ritual state. On the other hand, an earthen utensil, whose body is mere earth, has value only as a container; accordingly it is affected only by what happens to its inside. Indeed, its inside is therefore even more susceptible to contamination than that of other utensils.
Man is an earthen vessel ("And G‑d formed man out of the dust of the earth, and He blew into his nostril a living soul"--Genesis 2:7). His worth lies not in his material exterior, but in its content. He should therefore regard as significant only what pertains to his inner self.
(The Rebbe of Kotzk)
A wellspring or pool (mikveh)... shall be pure (11:36)
A wellspring purifies regardless of the amount of the water it contains, and also when flowing; a mikveh purifies only when stationary, and must contain 40 se'ah (approx. 87.5 gallons) of water.
(Torat Kohanim)
When a person endeavors to venture forth on his own, relying on his own intellect and feelings to guide him in the proper path, he had best be well equipped for the task. For he is then a mikveh, a pool of water no longer in direct contact with its source, which must possess a minimum of so many "gallons" of understanding and fortitude. Furthermore, he must be "stationary," contained and delimited by walls outside of himself; for without such objective control he is susceptible to all sorts of distortions and corruptions. A mikveh that lacks these criteria not only fails to purify other things, but is also itself vulnerable to contamination.
On the other hand, one who is a "wellspring," disavowing all pretensions of a "separate identity" from his Source, has no such limitations. His intellect may not be the deepest, his talents quite unspectacular, but the little he has can effectively take on the most challenging of tasks. Nor does he require any confining walls or "closed communities" to safeguard his integrity: wherever he goes and flows, he has a positive effect on his environment and is never negatively influenced by its imperfections. For no matter how scant his resources, and no matter where he ventures forth, he maintains an unbroken attachment to his Source.
(The Lubavitcher Rebbe)
To differentiate the pure and the impure, and between the animal that may be eaten and the animal that may not be eaten (11:47)
Need this be said regarding the difference between a donkey and a cow? ... Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between the animal which had half its windpipe cut [during the slaughtering] and the animal which had most of its windpipe cut (According to the laws of shechitah, ritual slaughter, if a majority of the windpipe is not severed in an uninterrupted motion of the slaughterer's knife, the animal is rendered tereifah and unfit for consumption)...
Need this be said regarding the difference between a wild ass and a deer? Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between an animal in which there developed a defect yet remains fit to be eaten and an animal in which there developed a defect which renders it unfit to be eaten.
(Torat Kohanim; Rashi)
more
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe
If there is no daat (discriminating intelligence), how can there be differentiation?
Jerusalem Talmud, Berachot 5:2
In the Jewish home, the close of the Shabbat is marked with a special ceremony, called Havdalah("differentiation"). Over a brimming cup of wine, to the multi-flamed light of a braided candle and the smell of aromatic spices, we recite: "Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d... Who differentiates between the holy and the mundane, between light and darkness, between Israel and the nations, between the seventh day and the six days of work."
Differentiation is at the heart of what we call morality. If theft or adultery are wrong, it is only because there is a real difference between mine and yours and between the wedded and the unwedded state. If ceasing work on Shabbat or eating matzah on Passover are meaningful deeds, this is only because Shabbat is truly different from Friday and matzah is truly different from leavened bread. If there is meaning and purpose to our actions, there must be true significance to the differences between things.
Differentiation, however, also implies a sameness to the things being differentiated. If Shabbat and Sunday looked, smelled and tasted differently to our physical senses, there would be no need to actively differentiate between them. Indeed, when the Torah employs the verb "to differentiate" (lehavdil), it is to distinguish between things that are essentially similar. A case in point is the concluding verse of Leviticus 11, the chapter which lays down the kashrut dietary laws. The verse reads: "To differentiate between the pure and the impure; between the animal that may be eaten and the animal that may not be eaten," regarding which our sages remark:
Need this be said regarding the difference between a donkey and a cow? ... Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between the animal which had half its windpipe cut [during the slaughtering] and the animal which had most of its windpipe cut.... Need this be said regarding the difference between a wild ass and a deer? Rather, this is to tell us to differentiate between an animal in which there developed a defect yet remains fit to be eaten and an animal in which there developed a defect which renders it unfit to be eaten (Rashi on verse, from Torat Kohanim).
In other words, havdalah requires the ability to look at two similar things and appreciate that, despite their elementary similarity, they are to be differentiated and held apart. In the words of our sages, "If there is nodaat (discriminating intelligence), how can there behavdalah?"
A World of Words
The capacity to differentiate, as we have noted, is the basis for any moral vision of life. Chassidic teaching takes this a step further, demonstrating how havdalahis the essence of the created existence, of what we call reality.
An axiom of the Jewish faith is that G‑d is infinite--without beginning and without end. This raises the problem, addressed by all major Jewish philosophers, of how our world can possibly exist, since a truly infinite being precludes the existence of anything other than itself. Indeed, the Torah asserts that "There is nothing else besides Him." But what about ourselves, our world, our reality? Are these not existences besides Him?
In his Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi lays the groundwork for a resolution of this problem by defining the created reality as divine speech. In the first chapter of Genesis, G‑d's creation of the world is described as a series of (ten) utterances: G‑d said, "Let there be light!" and there was light; G‑d said, "Let the earth sent forth vegetation," "Let there be luminaries in the heavens," "Let the waters spawn living creatures," and plants, stars and fish emerged into existence." Citing teachings from the Midrash, the Kabbalist Rabbi Isaac Luria and Chassidism's founder Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Schneur Zalman deduces that these divine utterances are not merely the cause of these existences--they are these existences. What we experience as "light" is but the embodiment of G‑d's articulated desire that there be light; what we experience as a "tree" is but the embodiment of G‑d's articulated desire that there be a tree.
So the created reality is not, in truth, something else besides Him, any more than our spoken words are things distinct of ourselves. Speaking is a creative act; but when we speak we are not creating anything that is other than ourselves--we are giving vocal form to our own ideas, feelings and desires. In describing G‑d's creation of the world as a series of divine utterances, the Torah wishes to convey the idea that the world is not something distinct of its Creator, but His spoken words--His articulation of concepts and potentials which are an integral part of His being.
The implications of such a conception of ourselves and our world--of reality as divine speech--are numerous and manifold. One is the realization that the differences between things are secondary to a primary sameness that embraces them all. A language might include millions of words, but these are all variations on a handful of consonants and vowels. On a more basic level, these consonants and vowels are just variations on how a minute expulsion of breath is bounced off the speaker's vocal cords, tongue, palate, teeth and lips.
A tree might seem very different from a ray of light, as might a fish from a star. But each of these objects is, in essence, the same thing: a divine word, an articulation of divine will. In origin, they share a singular essence; their differentiation occurs at a latter stage, as they pass through the divine mouth that imparts to them their respective forms and characteristics.
Thus the Torah relates how, on the first day of creation, "G‑d differentiated between light and darkness." What can be more different than light and darkness? What differentiation is necessary between such obviously different phenomena? But light and darkness are both creations of G‑d; both are divine words, formulations of the same surge of divine will. Their distinction is the product of a divine act of havdalah, of a deliberate differentiation between two essentially synonymous realities.
Daat
In light of this, we can better understand the above-quoted Talmudic dictum regarding the connection between daat and havdalah. The Talmud is discussing the fact that in the evening prayers recited after the close of Shabbat, the text of the Havdalah is inserted in the prayer which begins: "You grant daat to man, and teach the human being understanding; grant us, from You, wisdom, understanding and knowledge..." The reason for this placement, says the Talmud, is that "If there is no daat, how can there be havdalah?"
On the most basic level, the Talmud is saying that an act of havdalah requires the discriminating intelligence of daat. On a deeper level, it is saying that havdalah is possible only because "You grant daat to man"--only because G‑d Himself grants us the capacity to differentiate between various elements of His creation.
For if the world is divine speech, if all created things are essentially the same, how can we differentiate between them? And if we do differentiate, what significance can there be to our differentiation? We might discern light and darkness; we might identify certain things as holy and others as mundane; we might designate the first six days of the week for material achievement and its seventh day for spiritual rest; but if all of these are, in essence, divine words, what power have we to differentiate between them?
But G‑d wanted a moral world--a world in which the deeds of man are purposeful and meaningful. So He imparted variety, diversity and distinction to His creation, decreeing that the differences between things should possess import and significance. His act of creation was an act of havdalah--of differentiating between essentially similar entities. And He granted the human being a mind capable of appreciating the paradox of havdalah--the paradox of meaningful difference imposed upon intrinsic synonymy--thereby empowering us to implement, through our awareness and our actions, the differentiations He decreed in His world.
The Second Paradox
Havdalah carries another paradox--that its ultimate function is to join and unite the very things it comes to differentiate.
The Torah commands us to remember and to preserve the day of Shabbat--to distinguish it, in mind, word and deed, from the six days of work. Yet Shabbat is integrally bound to the other days of the week. It is the culmination of our weekday endeavors--the day on which all that we labored for and achieved in the preceding six days ascends on high, attaining its most complete and perfect realization. And Shabbat is the day from which all days are blessed--the source of the fortitude and energy that drives our efforts of the workweek that follows it.
We are told to preserve our uniqueness as Jews--to safeguard the delineation between Israel and the nations. Yet the people of Israel are designated to serve as "a light unto the nations," as the conveyers of the ethos and ideals of Torah to all inhabitants of the earth.
We are instructed to differentiate between the holy and the mundane--to embrace what is sacred and G‑dly in our lives while exercising wariness and restraint in the material aspects of life. At the same time, we are told that "the purpose of man's creation, and of the creation of all worlds, spiritual and material is to make for G‑d a dwelling place in the lowly realms"--to involve our everyday material pursuits in the quest to know and serve G‑d, thereby making Him at home in the lowliest, most mundane stratum of creation.
For it is only through our awareness and enforcement of the boundaries within creation that these objectives can be achieved. Only if Shabbat is preserved in its distinctiveness and transcendence can it elevate and empower the other six days of the week. Only in their uniqueness as G‑d's chosen people does the nation of Israel have anything of true value to offer the peoples of the world. Only when our spiritual life is kept inviolably apart from the coarsening influence of the material can it in turn sanctify the material by enlisting it to serve its spiritual aims.
From Unity to Symphony
Havdalah is the substance of our daily lives, as every hour and moment confronts us with the challenge to define and differentiate--to distinguish between right and wrong, between holy and mundane. But these delineations are merely a means to an end, a process springing from a primordial unity and leading toward a future synthesis.
In origin and essence, all is one. But an even deeper unity is achieved when differentiations and demarcations are imposed upon the primordial oneness, and its component parts are each given a distinct role in creations symphonious expression of the goodness and perfection of its Creator.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson; adapted by Yanki Tauber.
Originally published in Week in Review.
Republished with the permission of MeaningfulLife.com. If you wish to republish this article in a periodical, book, or website, please email permissions@meaningfullife.com.
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YOUR QUESTIONS
Is Egg Matzah Kosher For Passover?
I often see egg matzah for sale, and have been wondering whether we can serve it at the Seder instead of regular matzah. I have always found it so much tastier . . . by Menachem Posner
Question:
Rabbi, I often see egg matzah for sale, and have been wondering whether we can serve it at the Seder instead of regular matzah. I have always found it so much tastier . . .
Answer:
The matzah used at the Seder must be made of only flour and water. This is because the Torah (Deuteronomy 16:3) refers to this matzah as lechem oni,which can be translated as “poor bread.” As you point out, matzah made with juice or eggs is much tastier, and is by definition “rich bread.” So egg matzah is out for fulfilling the mitzvah of eating matzah at the Seder.
But is it kosher for consumption during the rest of the holiday?
On Passover we are forbidden to eat chametz. Now, what constituteschametz? A mixture of flour and water that has leavened, whether through the addition of yeast or the passage of time (18 minutes). However, flour mixed with other liquids, such as fruit juice, oil, wine or eggs, does not constitutechametz.
So far, it would seem that there would be no problem whatsoever with eating egg (or juice) matzah.
However, there is a caveat: If the flour was mixed with both water and any of those other liquids, it can become chametz. Not only that, it actually becomeschametz at a much faster pace than an ordinary flour and water. Because of this concern, it is forbidden to make matzah for Passover with a mixture of water and other liquids.
But how about matzah made of flour and a liquid—containing no water whatsoever?
Well, in light of the fact that matzah made with water and other liquids becomes chametz so quickly, Rabbi Moshe Isserles (16th century) notes the time-honored custom of Ashkenazic Jewry not to eat matzah that contains in its ingredients a liquid other than water, lest even a drop of water is mistakenly added to the dough. He adds, however, that an exception is made for the elderly or unwell, who are allowed to eat certified-kosher-for-Passover egg matzah.
Some Sephardic communities have also adopted this stringency, while others have not. So if you are Sephardic, please consult your rabbi to find out about your custom.
Wishing you a kosher and joyous Passover,
Rabbi Menachem Posner
P.S.: If you have some time, here is a wonderful class all about the spiritual difference between the “rich” and “poor” matzahs.
Source:
Code of Jewish Law, Orach Chaim 462.
Why Is Passover on Nissan 15, Not Nissan 14?
The Bible states that Passover is on the 14th of Nissan, yet the Jewish calendar shows Passover starting the following night! by Yehuda Shurpin
I’m of Jewish ancestry but lived most of my life as a Christian. Now, after many decades, I’m returning to my roots and planning to hold a bona fideSeder for my family. I’m confused, however, regarding when to celebrate. In a number of places in the Bible it states that Passover is on the 14th of Nissan, yet the Jewish calendar shows Passover starting the following night, which is already the 15th of Nissan. How come?
Reply
Welcome home! How inspiring that you are reintroducing Judaism to your life and the life of your family.
In response to your question, you’re correct that the Torah refers to Passover on the 14th. But it also refer to the “Festival of Matzot” on the 15th. Why the discrepancy? Let’s examine these verses from Leviticus 23:
“In the first month, on the 14th of the month, in the afternoon, the Passover to the L‑rd.”1
“And on the 15th day of that month is the Festival of Matzahs to the L‑rd; you shall eat matzahs for a seven-day period.”2
So what is this “Passover” on the 14th? It is not the Festival of Matzahs, since that only begins that evening (since the Jewish days begin at nightfall). Rather, it is the Passover offering, which was slaughtered on the 14th and eaten that night—the 15th—together with matzah at the onset of the Festival of Matzahs.
The Name Change
Oddly, although the weeklong celebration is consistently called the Festival of Matzahs in the Torah, it has come to be known as Pesach, or Passover, in common parlance and even in our liturgy.
Why is that?
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev has a beautiful explanation for this: We, asG‑d’s children, love Him deeply and refer to the holiday as Pesach, Passover, because G‑d “passed over” our homes and spared us when he was smiting the Egyptian firstborns. G‑d, the ever-loving parent, calls it Chag Hamatzot, a reference to our preparing matzah in anticipation of our redemption, relying on G‑d to provide for us.
G‑d uses the name that recalls our goodness, and we use the name that recalls His kindness to us.3
A Long Day
Also note that, in a certain sense, the celebration of the 15th is considered to be an extension of the 14th. How so? With regard to sacrifices, the verse states, “And the flesh of his thanksgiving peace offering shall be eaten on the day it is offered up; he shall not leave any of it over until morning.”4 In other words, if you were given one day to eat an offering, the day consisted of the daytime followed by its night (unlike all other purposes, for which Jewish calendar days consist of the night followed by the day). Thus, as far as sacrifices are concerned, the night after a sacrifice is brought is an extension of the day it is brought.5
Therefore, when it comes to the celebration of the Passover sacrifice, while it was eaten on the 15th, it was considered to be the same day as the 14th.
The Celebration of the 14th of Nissan
Today, even though the Temple has been destroyed and we no longer offer Passover sacrificial lambs (or other sacrifices for that matter), the Passover of the 14th of Nissan is not forgotten. Indeed, it still has practical implications for us:
1. The Torah tells us that we were not to sacrifice the lamb while we had unleavened bread in our possession.6 Even in our times, we rid ourselves of all leaven before midday of the 14th of Nissan, the time when the sacrifice was once brought. (For exact times in your location, see here.)
2. Additionally, the day that one would bring a sacrifice in the Temple was considered a minor holiday, and people would refrain from working. Today, we still refrain from doing work on the 14th. (This work restriction is not the same as a full-on holiday. You may make any preparations you need for the holiday that will begin that night on the 15th. If you need to do other kinds of work, please feel free to discuss the specifics with a rabbi).
3. Many also “reenact” the day’s sacrifices by reading how it would take place in the Temple. You can find a standard text printed in the Chabad siddur, and you can supplement it with as much additional detail as you wish.
Our observances of the 14th of Nissan are also an expression of our fervent hopes and prayers that the Temple be rebuilt speedily in our days and we once again bring an actual Passover lamb on this day.
As we conclude in the Passover Haggadah, “Next year in Jerusalem!”
For more on the laws, custom, insights and stories of Passover, as well as the complete Haggadah text, visit our Passover megasite, Passover.org.
FOOTNOTES
1.Leviticus 23:5.
2.Leviticus 23:6.
3.Kedushat Levi, Parshat Bo.
4.Leviticus 7:15.
5.Talmud Chulin 83a.
6.Exodus 23:18.
YOUR QUESTIONS
Is Egg Matzah Kosher For Passover?
I often see egg matzah for sale, and have been wondering whether we can serve it at the Seder instead of regular matzah. I have always found it so much tastier . . . by Menachem Posner
Question:Rabbi, I often see egg matzah for sale, and have been wondering whether we can serve it at the Seder instead of regular matzah. I have always found it so much tastier . . .
Answer:
The matzah used at the Seder must be made of only flour and water. This is because the Torah (Deuteronomy 16:3) refers to this matzah as lechem oni,which can be translated as “poor bread.” As you point out, matzah made with juice or eggs is much tastier, and is by definition “rich bread.” So egg matzah is out for fulfilling the mitzvah of eating matzah at the Seder.
But is it kosher for consumption during the rest of the holiday?
On Passover we are forbidden to eat chametz. Now, what constituteschametz? A mixture of flour and water that has leavened, whether through the addition of yeast or the passage of time (18 minutes). However, flour mixed with other liquids, such as fruit juice, oil, wine or eggs, does not constitutechametz.
So far, it would seem that there would be no problem whatsoever with eating egg (or juice) matzah.
However, there is a caveat: If the flour was mixed with both water and any of those other liquids, it can become chametz. Not only that, it actually becomeschametz at a much faster pace than an ordinary flour and water. Because of this concern, it is forbidden to make matzah for Passover with a mixture of water and other liquids.
But how about matzah made of flour and a liquid—containing no water whatsoever?
Well, in light of the fact that matzah made with water and other liquids becomes chametz so quickly, Rabbi Moshe Isserles (16th century) notes the time-honored custom of Ashkenazic Jewry not to eat matzah that contains in its ingredients a liquid other than water, lest even a drop of water is mistakenly added to the dough. He adds, however, that an exception is made for the elderly or unwell, who are allowed to eat certified-kosher-for-Passover egg matzah.
Some Sephardic communities have also adopted this stringency, while others have not. So if you are Sephardic, please consult your rabbi to find out about your custom.
Wishing you a kosher and joyous Passover,
Rabbi Menachem Posner
P.S.: If you have some time, here is a wonderful class all about the spiritual difference between the “rich” and “poor” matzahs.
Source:
Code of Jewish Law, Orach Chaim 462.
Why Is Passover on Nissan 15, Not Nissan 14?
The Bible states that Passover is on the 14th of Nissan, yet the Jewish calendar shows Passover starting the following night! by Yehuda Shurpin
I’m of Jewish ancestry but lived most of my life as a Christian. Now, after many decades, I’m returning to my roots and planning to hold a bona fideSeder for my family. I’m confused, however, regarding when to celebrate. In a number of places in the Bible it states that Passover is on the 14th of Nissan, yet the Jewish calendar shows Passover starting the following night, which is already the 15th of Nissan. How come?Reply
Welcome home! How inspiring that you are reintroducing Judaism to your life and the life of your family.
In response to your question, you’re correct that the Torah refers to Passover on the 14th. But it also refer to the “Festival of Matzot” on the 15th. Why the discrepancy? Let’s examine these verses from Leviticus 23:
“In the first month, on the 14th of the month, in the afternoon, the Passover to the L‑rd.”1
“And on the 15th day of that month is the Festival of Matzahs to the L‑rd; you shall eat matzahs for a seven-day period.”2
So what is this “Passover” on the 14th? It is not the Festival of Matzahs, since that only begins that evening (since the Jewish days begin at nightfall). Rather, it is the Passover offering, which was slaughtered on the 14th and eaten that night—the 15th—together with matzah at the onset of the Festival of Matzahs.
The Name Change
Oddly, although the weeklong celebration is consistently called the Festival of Matzahs in the Torah, it has come to be known as Pesach, or Passover, in common parlance and even in our liturgy.
Why is that?
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev has a beautiful explanation for this: We, asG‑d’s children, love Him deeply and refer to the holiday as Pesach, Passover, because G‑d “passed over” our homes and spared us when he was smiting the Egyptian firstborns. G‑d, the ever-loving parent, calls it Chag Hamatzot, a reference to our preparing matzah in anticipation of our redemption, relying on G‑d to provide for us.
G‑d uses the name that recalls our goodness, and we use the name that recalls His kindness to us.3
A Long Day
Also note that, in a certain sense, the celebration of the 15th is considered to be an extension of the 14th. How so? With regard to sacrifices, the verse states, “And the flesh of his thanksgiving peace offering shall be eaten on the day it is offered up; he shall not leave any of it over until morning.”4 In other words, if you were given one day to eat an offering, the day consisted of the daytime followed by its night (unlike all other purposes, for which Jewish calendar days consist of the night followed by the day). Thus, as far as sacrifices are concerned, the night after a sacrifice is brought is an extension of the day it is brought.5
Therefore, when it comes to the celebration of the Passover sacrifice, while it was eaten on the 15th, it was considered to be the same day as the 14th.
The Celebration of the 14th of Nissan
Today, even though the Temple has been destroyed and we no longer offer Passover sacrificial lambs (or other sacrifices for that matter), the Passover of the 14th of Nissan is not forgotten. Indeed, it still has practical implications for us:
1. The Torah tells us that we were not to sacrifice the lamb while we had unleavened bread in our possession.6 Even in our times, we rid ourselves of all leaven before midday of the 14th of Nissan, the time when the sacrifice was once brought. (For exact times in your location, see here.)
2. Additionally, the day that one would bring a sacrifice in the Temple was considered a minor holiday, and people would refrain from working. Today, we still refrain from doing work on the 14th. (This work restriction is not the same as a full-on holiday. You may make any preparations you need for the holiday that will begin that night on the 15th. If you need to do other kinds of work, please feel free to discuss the specifics with a rabbi).
3. Many also “reenact” the day’s sacrifices by reading how it would take place in the Temple. You can find a standard text printed in the Chabad siddur, and you can supplement it with as much additional detail as you wish.
Our observances of the 14th of Nissan are also an expression of our fervent hopes and prayers that the Temple be rebuilt speedily in our days and we once again bring an actual Passover lamb on this day.
As we conclude in the Passover Haggadah, “Next year in Jerusalem!”
For more on the laws, custom, insights and stories of Passover, as well as the complete Haggadah text, visit our Passover megasite, Passover.org.
FOOTNOTES
1.Leviticus 23:5.
2.Leviticus 23:6.
3.Kedushat Levi, Parshat Bo.
4.Leviticus 7:15.
5.Talmud Chulin 83a.
6.Exodus 23:18.
STORY
Before I Said “Yes” to Tefillin
Have you ever strolled on a college campus on a Saturday at eight in the morning? No one is around, no one is up. But I was—because I wasn’t going to get trapped into joining the minyan. by John Yaakov Guterson
In 1975–76, my senior year at the University of Washington in Seattle, I lived at the Chabad House on Campus.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t observant in the least. My interview went something like this:
Rabbi Samuels: “So . . . tell me about your Jewish background.”
Me: “I won the attendance award twice for the Temple de Hirsch choir. MyI wasn’t observant in the leastfather drove me there every Saturday, even when it snowed.”
Rabbi Samuels: “You’re in.”
And so I moved in. Chabad of Seattle, led by head shliach (emissary) Rabbi Sholom Ber Levitin and Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld, had wisely purchased a former sorority house. So there I was, right in the midst of Greek Row, with a room of my own and dinner, all for $75 per month—clearly the best deal on campus!
Or so I thought. My first Saturday there, I was suddenly awakened all too early. “Please, please, John, can you help us out—we need you for aminyan.”
“What? What are you talking about?” I exclaimed. Having been told by Rabbi Samuels that the only rule was to have my head covered while I was in the house, I was quite perturbed by this sudden inflation of expectations. They pleaded that all I had to do was to be there, to sit in shul. I told them I just wanted to read my novel. They said okay. So I sat there. They prayed. I read.
From then on, every Saturday morning, I would rise early and get out of there, determined to avoid the minyan. Have you ever strolled on a college campus on a Saturday at eight in the morning? No one is around, no one is up. But I was—because I wasn’t going to get trapped.
Rabbi Samuels never lost sight of his mission. He sold delicious tuna and egg salad sandwiches at the Student Union Building for a nickel less than what they cost in the cafeteria—anything for a Jewish student to eat kosher. He told me how special I was because my grandparents came from Yekaterinoslav, where the Rebbe was born, and that it was extremely likely that the Rebbe’s father officiated at their wedding. And then, when my stereo was stolen from my room one Friday night, Rabbi Samuels promised with absolute certainty that it would be found, because the theft happened while I was at the Chabad House Shabbat meal. Sure enough, two months later, the stereo was located. Rabbi Samuels, in his loving way, never let me forget that.
That year, the Rebbe had also sent yeshivah students to Seattle. To me, these fellows—who were about my age—looked like they were from another planet. They seemed totally out of touch with the earthiness, the humanist spirit, of the great Pacific Northwest. I simply did not relate.
However, two of the yeshivah students engaged me. One, Abba Perlmutter, talked with me relentlessly about baseball—whether it was Carlton Fisk’s dramatic home run just inside the foul pole, or Joe Morgan’s on-base percentage, Abba knew it all. And then, after our two-week nonstop baseball talk, without missing a beat, he asked if I knew anything about hockey, “because that’s the sport I really know well.” Go figure.
The other student, Mendy Gluckowski, talked politics with me, specifically about Ronald Reagan. In 1976 he predicted that Reagan really had his eye on becoming president in 1980 and ushering in a whole new wave of conservatism in America. I told Mendy he was completely crazy . . . but, it turned out, he was precisely correct.
Smart guys. Great guys. Guys who connected with me where I was at.
But not when it came to tefillin. I must have been asked 60 times during that year if I would put on tefillin, and 60 times I said no. To me, those black boxes and straps made no logical sense.
As much as I admired Rabbi Samuels, Abba and Mendy, I held my own, steadfast in my conviction that humanism and making the world a better place simply had no space for such an ancient rite. Upon their offer, I would respond with a simple “no, thank you.” I wouldn’t debate, I wouldn’t get riled up. Just a “no.” A dispassionate “no.” An unfazed “no.”
None of this, of course, affected our friendship. But the tefillin remained untouched.
Two years later, I had moved to the East Coast and was teaching history at a high school in Boston. One night I received a desperate call from my parents: “John, we’re very worried about your sister. She’s somewhere in Brooklyn, living with I received a desperate call from my parentsthat Chabad group. Please check up on her and, if you can, influence her to leave.”
And so, a respectful son, I went to Crown Heights. Lo and behold, my sister was happy and healthy as could be.
The next morning, just out of curiosity, I wandered over to Chabad’s beginner yeshivah, Hadar HaTorah, on Eastern Parkway. As I stood outside, looking through the open doorway, I saw a bearded young man at the top of a steep flight of stairs. “Good morning,” he said. “Would you like to put on tefillin?”
I was caught off guard, speechless. He looked at me; I looked at him.
Tefillin. Two black boxes with words of Torah inside. Two black leather straps. All made from a cow’s hide, transforming the physical to the spiritual.
Tefillin. Submitting head and heart—in essence, self—to a Higher Power, toG‑d.
Tefillin. A connection to 3,300 years of Jewish history.
But none of that occurred to me at that moment. All I could think of was Rabbi Samuels, Rabbi Levitin and Rabbi Kornfeld, Abba and Mendy. I thought of their sincerity, their unabashed devotion. I thought about all they had given of themselves to settle in the exile of Seattle. I thought about the purchase of a huge former sorority house on campus just so fellows like me, who seemingly didn’t care, would have a place to eat kosher and a place to be (or escape from) on Shabbat.
I was suddenly filled with a feeling of resonance, a feeling of home.
Shluchim may never know the impact they make, but, thanks to G‑d, thanks to the wisdom of the Rebbe, they always do make an impact. It’s just that sometimes it takes time to sink in.
Gently, the young man repeated, “Would you like to put on tefillin?”
I looked I guess I was readyup.
After 61 loving requests, I guess I was ready.
And I climbed those stairs.
(By the way, my parents never sent any of my other siblings to check up on me.)
Before I Said “Yes” to Tefillin
Have you ever strolled on a college campus on a Saturday at eight in the morning? No one is around, no one is up. But I was—because I wasn’t going to get trapped into joining the minyan. by John Yaakov Guterson
In 1975–76, my senior year at the University of Washington in Seattle, I lived at the Chabad House on Campus.Now, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t observant in the least. My interview went something like this:
Rabbi Samuels: “So . . . tell me about your Jewish background.”
Me: “I won the attendance award twice for the Temple de Hirsch choir. MyI wasn’t observant in the leastfather drove me there every Saturday, even when it snowed.”
Rabbi Samuels: “You’re in.”
And so I moved in. Chabad of Seattle, led by head shliach (emissary) Rabbi Sholom Ber Levitin and Rabbi Yechezkel Kornfeld, had wisely purchased a former sorority house. So there I was, right in the midst of Greek Row, with a room of my own and dinner, all for $75 per month—clearly the best deal on campus!
Or so I thought. My first Saturday there, I was suddenly awakened all too early. “Please, please, John, can you help us out—we need you for aminyan.”
“What? What are you talking about?” I exclaimed. Having been told by Rabbi Samuels that the only rule was to have my head covered while I was in the house, I was quite perturbed by this sudden inflation of expectations. They pleaded that all I had to do was to be there, to sit in shul. I told them I just wanted to read my novel. They said okay. So I sat there. They prayed. I read.
From then on, every Saturday morning, I would rise early and get out of there, determined to avoid the minyan. Have you ever strolled on a college campus on a Saturday at eight in the morning? No one is around, no one is up. But I was—because I wasn’t going to get trapped.
Rabbi Samuels never lost sight of his mission. He sold delicious tuna and egg salad sandwiches at the Student Union Building for a nickel less than what they cost in the cafeteria—anything for a Jewish student to eat kosher. He told me how special I was because my grandparents came from Yekaterinoslav, where the Rebbe was born, and that it was extremely likely that the Rebbe’s father officiated at their wedding. And then, when my stereo was stolen from my room one Friday night, Rabbi Samuels promised with absolute certainty that it would be found, because the theft happened while I was at the Chabad House Shabbat meal. Sure enough, two months later, the stereo was located. Rabbi Samuels, in his loving way, never let me forget that.
That year, the Rebbe had also sent yeshivah students to Seattle. To me, these fellows—who were about my age—looked like they were from another planet. They seemed totally out of touch with the earthiness, the humanist spirit, of the great Pacific Northwest. I simply did not relate.
However, two of the yeshivah students engaged me. One, Abba Perlmutter, talked with me relentlessly about baseball—whether it was Carlton Fisk’s dramatic home run just inside the foul pole, or Joe Morgan’s on-base percentage, Abba knew it all. And then, after our two-week nonstop baseball talk, without missing a beat, he asked if I knew anything about hockey, “because that’s the sport I really know well.” Go figure.
The other student, Mendy Gluckowski, talked politics with me, specifically about Ronald Reagan. In 1976 he predicted that Reagan really had his eye on becoming president in 1980 and ushering in a whole new wave of conservatism in America. I told Mendy he was completely crazy . . . but, it turned out, he was precisely correct.
Smart guys. Great guys. Guys who connected with me where I was at.
But not when it came to tefillin. I must have been asked 60 times during that year if I would put on tefillin, and 60 times I said no. To me, those black boxes and straps made no logical sense.
As much as I admired Rabbi Samuels, Abba and Mendy, I held my own, steadfast in my conviction that humanism and making the world a better place simply had no space for such an ancient rite. Upon their offer, I would respond with a simple “no, thank you.” I wouldn’t debate, I wouldn’t get riled up. Just a “no.” A dispassionate “no.” An unfazed “no.”
None of this, of course, affected our friendship. But the tefillin remained untouched.
Two years later, I had moved to the East Coast and was teaching history at a high school in Boston. One night I received a desperate call from my parents: “John, we’re very worried about your sister. She’s somewhere in Brooklyn, living with I received a desperate call from my parentsthat Chabad group. Please check up on her and, if you can, influence her to leave.”
And so, a respectful son, I went to Crown Heights. Lo and behold, my sister was happy and healthy as could be.
The next morning, just out of curiosity, I wandered over to Chabad’s beginner yeshivah, Hadar HaTorah, on Eastern Parkway. As I stood outside, looking through the open doorway, I saw a bearded young man at the top of a steep flight of stairs. “Good morning,” he said. “Would you like to put on tefillin?”
I was caught off guard, speechless. He looked at me; I looked at him.
Tefillin. Two black boxes with words of Torah inside. Two black leather straps. All made from a cow’s hide, transforming the physical to the spiritual.
Tefillin. Submitting head and heart—in essence, self—to a Higher Power, toG‑d.
Tefillin. A connection to 3,300 years of Jewish history.
But none of that occurred to me at that moment. All I could think of was Rabbi Samuels, Rabbi Levitin and Rabbi Kornfeld, Abba and Mendy. I thought of their sincerity, their unabashed devotion. I thought about all they had given of themselves to settle in the exile of Seattle. I thought about the purchase of a huge former sorority house on campus just so fellows like me, who seemingly didn’t care, would have a place to eat kosher and a place to be (or escape from) on Shabbat.
I was suddenly filled with a feeling of resonance, a feeling of home.
Shluchim may never know the impact they make, but, thanks to G‑d, thanks to the wisdom of the Rebbe, they always do make an impact. It’s just that sometimes it takes time to sink in.
Gently, the young man repeated, “Would you like to put on tefillin?”
I looked I guess I was readyup.
After 61 loving requests, I guess I was ready.
And I climbed those stairs.
(By the way, my parents never sent any of my other siblings to check up on me.)
PARENTING
What I Learned from My 4-Year-Old
Imagine that a family celebrates their daughter’s birthday at home, and doesn’t even know that three of their child’s classmates will show up to the party in wheelchairs. The issue never once came up in discussions with her child! That’s what happens when a school holds inclusive classes, where children with and without disabilities learn side by side. It is both ordinary and remarkable. by Susie Sokol
My darling daughter Talya is a child with disabilities.
When she was 4, I approached the local Jewish school to find out whether or not she might be able to attend. I thought it was a futile gesture; I was expecting a “no.”
“Yes, absolutely,” the teacher replied. You can imagine my delight and surprise!I thought it was a futile gesture
This educator, who had taught for more than 20 years, had no personal or professional experience with children who have disabilities. What she said after that surprised me even more.
“I’m not doing this only for your daughter,” she said, “but also for the rest of the class. They are our future doctors, teachers, rabbis and neighbors, and they need to know Talya.”
That was many years ago. We have since lived in a number of communities. Talya is now an adult. But what I learned so long ago is that authentic and long-lasting inclusion that begins when a child is young will develop naturally and instinctively as they become adults.
Inclusion experts Jack Pearpoint, Marcia Forest and Judith Snow wrote:
Children learn to read by reading.
Children learn to write by writing.
Children learn to include by including.
It is a beautiful sight to behold when 6-year-olds fight over who will hold thesiddur (prayerbook) for a classmate who has a physical disability, or argue over whose turn it is to push their friend’s wheelchair to the playground for recess. The motives of children are simple, pure and honestly reflexive. Essential life lessons are learned at this tender age.
Imagine that a family celebrates their daughter’s birthday at home, and doesn’t even know that three of her child’s classmates will show up to the party in wheelchairs. The issue never once came up in discussions with her child!
That’s what happens when a school holds inclusive classes, where children with and without disabilities learn side by side. It is both ordinary and remarkable.
In Jerusalem, new mothers literally call the inclusive preschool Gan Harmony from their labor rooms to place their healthy newborns on the waiting Everyone benefitslist. This reveals the positive attitude about inclusion that these mothers will pass onto the next generation.
In all of the above situations, everyone benefits. The children with disabilities have models for communication and behavior; they learn academic skills and life skills from their contemporaries. Relationships are initiated at the perfect teachable stage, ensuring that friendships will develop and mature.
The benefits to children without disabilities cannot be overestimated. Most importantly, they honestly enjoy the friendships they have with children with disabilities. They learn tolerance, acceptance and patience. They develop a sense of achieving what is principled, significant and morally correct, while discovering the authentic implication of Torah-true values and the meaning of community. These informal connections are strengthened throughout the formative years, until the concepts of inclusion become an integral element of daily life in our Jewish communities.
How to Teach Your Child Gratitude
Although parents may feel awkward about insisting that their child thank them, they need to remember that this thanking is not for their own sake, but for the child’s sake. by Sarah Chana Radcliffe
Children are born needy. Before they can do much else, they make their needs known with their wails and tears. “Do this for me, do that for me, do more for me,” they communicate, even without words. It would be nice if a baby would turn to its mother within minutes of entering this world and say something like “Thank you so much for going through all that just to bring me into the world!” But no, it’s “Give me this, and give me that, and do it right away or I’ll scream my heart out!”
Things don’t get much better over the next few years. Children are born needy“MOMMY!” is a regularly heard shriek, and it means, “Come here, fix this, fix that, help me with this and help me with that, bring me this and bring me that.” Toddlers and preschoolers sit like little kings and queens, issuing commands from their booster seats: “Water!” “Juice!” “Cookie!” Of course, by this time, parents are at least trying to civilize the tots. For a few years, the conversation sounds like this:
Child: “Water.”
Parent: “Say please.”
Child: “Please, can you get me water?”
Parent: “Sure. You asked so nicely.”
And then the parent runs off dutifully to serve the child, hoping that the first two steps of the conversation will soon be omitted. However, what is more likely to happen in the subsequent years is this:
School-aged child: “I need water.”
Parent: “Mommy, could you please get me some water?”
School-aged child: “Could you please get me some water?”
Parent: “Sure.”
And then the parent runs off dutifully to serve the child, hoping that the first two steps of the conversation will eventually sound like this:
Teenager: “I’m getting water. Would anyone else like a cup?”
Now, the truth is that hope is not enough to achieve this result. A child must actually be trained to think of others. Whereas needs are inborn—and no education is required to teach children to ask for their needs—giving is quite different. Even those born with a naturally generous disposition still require training in how to give appropriately. Modeling is not enough. For example, when a mother routinely offers to bring water for her children, the children don’t necessarily learn how to offer to bring water. (What they might very well learn is how to sit and receive water!) Indeed, parents who give, give, give often end up with children who take, take, take. Children don’t learn to be givers just by watching their parents give; they also need to practice giving themselves.
The lesson in giving begins well before the teen years. G‑d gives us the curriculum: We are to teach children to respect their parents according to theTorah’s laws of honoring parents. These laws mandate behaviors that inculcate certain character traits. For instance, the law that a child must ask a parent, rather than tell, inculcates a sense of respect and the corresponding trait of humility. The laws about serving parents also train a child to adopt an attitude of giving. The law that a child must wait to eat until his parents start eating inculcates sensitivity to the parents’ G‑d gives the curriculumfeelings, as well as appreciation for his parents. After all, shouldn’t the one who slaved over a stove for several hours sit down and eat before the others jump in? It happens all too often that the family has finished eating even before the one who cooked and served has had a chance to begin!
One who raises children according to these Torah precepts will find it natural to encourage able-bodied, competent children who can reach the sink to get their own water rather than asking their mother, who has finally sat down, to get up again and serve them. Here is where a child first learns that Mom is a person rather than a personal slave. “Sweetie, I just sat down. Please go to the sink and get the water, and find out if anyone else at the table needs some.” Mom has to teach this. If she drags her exhausted body to the sink for a 10-year-old who can run races around her, she is encouraging narcissism in her child!
But even more simple than all of this is the necessity to teach children how to show appreciation. And this lesson takes place as soon as little ones can speak. Although we talk a lot about teaching children to say “please” and “thank you,” in actuality many conversations end as shown above, with the parent doing something for the child. The second step—teaching the child to say “thank you”—is often omitted. The water has been delivered and Mom is sitting down again. Since childrearing isn’t about serving water, but rather about building character, it is essential to use everyday opportunities to foster traits consistent with Torah values.
Gratitude is an essential trait from the Torah point of view. As we read in the Torah portion of Va’eira,1 Moses’ brother, Aaron, rather than Moses himself, was called upon to turn the water of the Nile into blood, because the water had been the source of salvation for Moses when he was placed in it as an infant. Even though the water had “performed” this kindness passively, it was essential that Moses honor it and not cause it harm.
Similarly, the Talmud advises, “If you drank water from a well, do not throw stones in it.”2 Again, we are taught to be sensitive to anyone, and even anything, that does something for us.Gratitude doesn’t come naturallySurely, children must be taught to access and express feelings of gratitude to their parents, who intentionally, with their full hearts, do everything possible for them! And yet, this gratitude doesn’t come naturally; it must be taught.
Parent: “Here’s your water.”
Child: “Glub, glub.” (Drinks the water.)
Parent: “Excuse me. I think you’ve forgotten something. What do you say to Mommy for bringing the water?”
Child: “Thank you, Mommy.”
Parent: “You’re welcome!”
Although parents may feel awkward about insisting that their child thank them, they need to remember that this thanking is not for their own sake, but for the child’s sake. With two decades of practice, and the gratitude wiring firmly established in her brain, a child leaves her home with the quality of gratitude. This trait will bring her success in every endeavor, because G‑d rewards gratitude with blessing. The habit of gratitude will also facilitate positive relationships, because expressing gratitude brings out the best in everyone.
So go that extra mile and complete the gratitude lesson every time. One day, your children will thank you.
FOOTNOTES
1.Exodus 7:19.
2.Talmud, Bava Kamma 92b.
What I Learned from My 4-Year-Old
Imagine that a family celebrates their daughter’s birthday at home, and doesn’t even know that three of their child’s classmates will show up to the party in wheelchairs. The issue never once came up in discussions with her child! That’s what happens when a school holds inclusive classes, where children with and without disabilities learn side by side. It is both ordinary and remarkable. by Susie Sokol
My darling daughter Talya is a child with disabilities.When she was 4, I approached the local Jewish school to find out whether or not she might be able to attend. I thought it was a futile gesture; I was expecting a “no.”
“Yes, absolutely,” the teacher replied. You can imagine my delight and surprise!I thought it was a futile gesture
This educator, who had taught for more than 20 years, had no personal or professional experience with children who have disabilities. What she said after that surprised me even more.
“I’m not doing this only for your daughter,” she said, “but also for the rest of the class. They are our future doctors, teachers, rabbis and neighbors, and they need to know Talya.”
That was many years ago. We have since lived in a number of communities. Talya is now an adult. But what I learned so long ago is that authentic and long-lasting inclusion that begins when a child is young will develop naturally and instinctively as they become adults.
Inclusion experts Jack Pearpoint, Marcia Forest and Judith Snow wrote:
Children learn to read by reading.
Children learn to write by writing.
Children learn to include by including.
It is a beautiful sight to behold when 6-year-olds fight over who will hold thesiddur (prayerbook) for a classmate who has a physical disability, or argue over whose turn it is to push their friend’s wheelchair to the playground for recess. The motives of children are simple, pure and honestly reflexive. Essential life lessons are learned at this tender age.
Imagine that a family celebrates their daughter’s birthday at home, and doesn’t even know that three of her child’s classmates will show up to the party in wheelchairs. The issue never once came up in discussions with her child!
That’s what happens when a school holds inclusive classes, where children with and without disabilities learn side by side. It is both ordinary and remarkable.
In Jerusalem, new mothers literally call the inclusive preschool Gan Harmony from their labor rooms to place their healthy newborns on the waiting Everyone benefitslist. This reveals the positive attitude about inclusion that these mothers will pass onto the next generation.
In all of the above situations, everyone benefits. The children with disabilities have models for communication and behavior; they learn academic skills and life skills from their contemporaries. Relationships are initiated at the perfect teachable stage, ensuring that friendships will develop and mature.
The benefits to children without disabilities cannot be overestimated. Most importantly, they honestly enjoy the friendships they have with children with disabilities. They learn tolerance, acceptance and patience. They develop a sense of achieving what is principled, significant and morally correct, while discovering the authentic implication of Torah-true values and the meaning of community. These informal connections are strengthened throughout the formative years, until the concepts of inclusion become an integral element of daily life in our Jewish communities.
How to Teach Your Child Gratitude
Although parents may feel awkward about insisting that their child thank them, they need to remember that this thanking is not for their own sake, but for the child’s sake. by Sarah Chana Radcliffe
Children are born needy. Before they can do much else, they make their needs known with their wails and tears. “Do this for me, do that for me, do more for me,” they communicate, even without words. It would be nice if a baby would turn to its mother within minutes of entering this world and say something like “Thank you so much for going through all that just to bring me into the world!” But no, it’s “Give me this, and give me that, and do it right away or I’ll scream my heart out!”Things don’t get much better over the next few years. Children are born needy“MOMMY!” is a regularly heard shriek, and it means, “Come here, fix this, fix that, help me with this and help me with that, bring me this and bring me that.” Toddlers and preschoolers sit like little kings and queens, issuing commands from their booster seats: “Water!” “Juice!” “Cookie!” Of course, by this time, parents are at least trying to civilize the tots. For a few years, the conversation sounds like this:
Child: “Water.”
Parent: “Say please.”
Child: “Please, can you get me water?”
Parent: “Sure. You asked so nicely.”
And then the parent runs off dutifully to serve the child, hoping that the first two steps of the conversation will soon be omitted. However, what is more likely to happen in the subsequent years is this:
School-aged child: “I need water.”
Parent: “Mommy, could you please get me some water?”
School-aged child: “Could you please get me some water?”
Parent: “Sure.”
And then the parent runs off dutifully to serve the child, hoping that the first two steps of the conversation will eventually sound like this:
Teenager: “I’m getting water. Would anyone else like a cup?”
Now, the truth is that hope is not enough to achieve this result. A child must actually be trained to think of others. Whereas needs are inborn—and no education is required to teach children to ask for their needs—giving is quite different. Even those born with a naturally generous disposition still require training in how to give appropriately. Modeling is not enough. For example, when a mother routinely offers to bring water for her children, the children don’t necessarily learn how to offer to bring water. (What they might very well learn is how to sit and receive water!) Indeed, parents who give, give, give often end up with children who take, take, take. Children don’t learn to be givers just by watching their parents give; they also need to practice giving themselves.
The lesson in giving begins well before the teen years. G‑d gives us the curriculum: We are to teach children to respect their parents according to theTorah’s laws of honoring parents. These laws mandate behaviors that inculcate certain character traits. For instance, the law that a child must ask a parent, rather than tell, inculcates a sense of respect and the corresponding trait of humility. The laws about serving parents also train a child to adopt an attitude of giving. The law that a child must wait to eat until his parents start eating inculcates sensitivity to the parents’ G‑d gives the curriculumfeelings, as well as appreciation for his parents. After all, shouldn’t the one who slaved over a stove for several hours sit down and eat before the others jump in? It happens all too often that the family has finished eating even before the one who cooked and served has had a chance to begin!
One who raises children according to these Torah precepts will find it natural to encourage able-bodied, competent children who can reach the sink to get their own water rather than asking their mother, who has finally sat down, to get up again and serve them. Here is where a child first learns that Mom is a person rather than a personal slave. “Sweetie, I just sat down. Please go to the sink and get the water, and find out if anyone else at the table needs some.” Mom has to teach this. If she drags her exhausted body to the sink for a 10-year-old who can run races around her, she is encouraging narcissism in her child!
But even more simple than all of this is the necessity to teach children how to show appreciation. And this lesson takes place as soon as little ones can speak. Although we talk a lot about teaching children to say “please” and “thank you,” in actuality many conversations end as shown above, with the parent doing something for the child. The second step—teaching the child to say “thank you”—is often omitted. The water has been delivered and Mom is sitting down again. Since childrearing isn’t about serving water, but rather about building character, it is essential to use everyday opportunities to foster traits consistent with Torah values.
Gratitude is an essential trait from the Torah point of view. As we read in the Torah portion of Va’eira,1 Moses’ brother, Aaron, rather than Moses himself, was called upon to turn the water of the Nile into blood, because the water had been the source of salvation for Moses when he was placed in it as an infant. Even though the water had “performed” this kindness passively, it was essential that Moses honor it and not cause it harm.
Similarly, the Talmud advises, “If you drank water from a well, do not throw stones in it.”2 Again, we are taught to be sensitive to anyone, and even anything, that does something for us.Gratitude doesn’t come naturallySurely, children must be taught to access and express feelings of gratitude to their parents, who intentionally, with their full hearts, do everything possible for them! And yet, this gratitude doesn’t come naturally; it must be taught.
Parent: “Here’s your water.”
Child: “Glub, glub.” (Drinks the water.)
Parent: “Excuse me. I think you’ve forgotten something. What do you say to Mommy for bringing the water?”
Child: “Thank you, Mommy.”
Parent: “You’re welcome!”
Although parents may feel awkward about insisting that their child thank them, they need to remember that this thanking is not for their own sake, but for the child’s sake. With two decades of practice, and the gratitude wiring firmly established in her brain, a child leaves her home with the quality of gratitude. This trait will bring her success in every endeavor, because G‑d rewards gratitude with blessing. The habit of gratitude will also facilitate positive relationships, because expressing gratitude brings out the best in everyone.
So go that extra mile and complete the gratitude lesson every time. One day, your children will thank you.
FOOTNOTES
1.Exodus 7:19.
2.Talmud, Bava Kamma 92b.
WOMEN
My New Kosher Kitchen
How did I get to this point? Of not only wanting to have a kosher kitchen, but actually having it koshered? by Renata Magurdumov
How did I get to this point? Of not only wanting to have a kosher kitchen, but actually having it koshered?
A year ago, out of the blue, a woman from my Parshah class gave me a book about faith in Judaism. She said she thought I could use it (or something like that). When I got home, I realized that it was the same book recommended by a new friend I met at last year’s International Conference of Chabad-LubavitchEmissaries (Kinus Hashluchos). Call it Divine Providence.
Another woman from that class told me that I’m on a “beautiful journey,” and I thought to myself, “A journey?” The word stuck in my head. Is that what this was? And how did people know that before I even felt it? Was I really on a journey?
“So it must be,” I said to myself. A journey, or the way Was I really on a journey?to becoming more observant. Some years ago, I read a prayer for my son and came across the sentence, “May my children be committed to Torah.” I thought to myself, “I’m not sure that this part applies to us. Do I want my children to follow the Torah?” That just wasn’t our lifestyle, but I finished the prayer anyway.
They say be careful what you wish for—or, in this case, pray for. Here I am today, praying for nothing more than for my children (my son and daughter) to follow in the Torah’s ways. For them to be spared the emptiness of a Torah-less life. I want only the best for my children; why else am I doing this? For them, and for G‑d. I know that doing His will is the best feeling in the world.
Over the past few years, I have learned to see that G‑d’s hand is in everything. I have learned how to read His messages through various messengers, such as when friends casually suggested that if I felt so strongly inclined towards Judaism, then why don’t I start keeping kosher? After all, I was the one who did the shopping and cooking. They were right; why did I keep complaining that my husband was “just not feeling anything”? Why was I using my husband as an excuse for things I could do easily without his involvement?
So I acted. My friends and I were part of a Shabbat Club, and we took turns hosting Friday night dinners. So when I next hosted a Shabbat Club dinner, I challenged myself to buy only kosher food. It proved to be a piece of cake; I was blown away by how easy it was to get all the kosher products I needed. If one item I picked up wasn’t kosher, the next item over was. I proudly announced to our club that all the food that night was homemade and kosher!
Six months later, we were eating only kosher food in my house. I asked my husband if he had noticed a difference. He had no idea what I was talking about.
How did I manage to come so far? I can pinpoint the moment the spark was ignited, that pintele Yid (essence of the soul) my rabbi speaks of. It was on the night of Shabbat Shuvah dinner, the first Shabbat dinner that my husband agreed to after six years of my rabbi and his wife inviting us over. It was after that dinner that I experienced my neshamah (soul) doing cartwheels. Yes, I now can tell you that that’s how the soul feels when it’s ignited; it rejoices and does cartwheels. I was physically moved—moved in this direction, the direction of Judaism, the way of seeking out G‑d and clinging to Him.
And that’s how it’s been ever since—a strong pull to move forward. And yet, after the rabbi left from the preliminary walkthrough of my kitchen and the examination of all my utensils, my yetzer hara (evil inclination) suddenly surfaced. What was I What was I getting myself into?getting myself into? Why was I doing this? Who said there was even a G‑d? And yet, the thought of putting all this on hold seemed unbearable.
The weight on my shoulders was lifted when the wife of the rabbi who was set to kosher the kitchen offered to help me prepare before the big day. That support gave me the energy to keep going with lifted spirits.
Now it’s done. The kitchen is koshered. I feel like a new mother. I feel like the rabbi and his wife were like a doctor and midwife helping me deliver the future. I open the drawers and look at them with pride and pleasure. I very carefully do a little reheating of kosher takeout, thinking through every move (like feeding a baby for first time). I’m happy we did it; everyone in my family is also happy and eager to learn.
And what could be more reaffirming than seeing my son put the cereal bowl and milk glass in the right sink? We’ve come so far! He’s actually doing it without being told. I can’t go back now; I owe it to my family to continue moving forward.
Dear Little One by Rochel Levine
You started growing inside of me
I felt you through the sickness
I felt you through my mood
I felt you through my change of appetite
I sensed you through my sensitivity to smells
I sensed you through my happiness
I sensed you
I imagined you
Your face
Your personality
We gave you a name
I saw you when you were 6 weeks old
I saw your heartbeat pumping on the screen
You started to grow
You started your life
I was so happy
I loved you right there and then
I bonded with you
I prayed for you
You were part of me for 12 weeks
Part of my organism
Part of our life
Part of our plan
Part of myself
Then came that day . . .
You stopped breathing
You stopped growing
You are now a lifeless fetus
Partially formed
With a head and a back, I was told
You are still inside of me
You are still part of me
But your heart has stopped beating
I’m sorry they have to take you out of your nest
You won’t feel anything
You might feel lonely, though
You started your life in the same place as Tzviki, Mendy, Dovie and Aryeh:
my womb
You are not meant to develop
You are meant to leave this place of comfort
It is your destiny
You will meet two little souls who have the same destiny as you
Who have also started and finished in the same place as you
You won’t be alone
They will look after you like older siblings look after younger siblings
In the meantime, we will not forget you
We will always remember you
You are part of our life
We won’t be talking about you a lot
But we will not forget you
You are in a place now where you are meant to be
You have left a void in my body
A void in our life
I was lucky to carry you for three months
I just wish G‑d’s plan were different
But I’m sure he has His reasons and He knows what’s best for you and us
We won’t be able to hold you
But you can hold us and keep us strong
From where you are
Love to you from all of us
My New Kosher Kitchen
How did I get to this point? Of not only wanting to have a kosher kitchen, but actually having it koshered? by Renata Magurdumov
How did I get to this point? Of not only wanting to have a kosher kitchen, but actually having it koshered?
A year ago, out of the blue, a woman from my Parshah class gave me a book about faith in Judaism. She said she thought I could use it (or something like that). When I got home, I realized that it was the same book recommended by a new friend I met at last year’s International Conference of Chabad-LubavitchEmissaries (Kinus Hashluchos). Call it Divine Providence.
Another woman from that class told me that I’m on a “beautiful journey,” and I thought to myself, “A journey?” The word stuck in my head. Is that what this was? And how did people know that before I even felt it? Was I really on a journey?
“So it must be,” I said to myself. A journey, or the way Was I really on a journey?to becoming more observant. Some years ago, I read a prayer for my son and came across the sentence, “May my children be committed to Torah.” I thought to myself, “I’m not sure that this part applies to us. Do I want my children to follow the Torah?” That just wasn’t our lifestyle, but I finished the prayer anyway.
They say be careful what you wish for—or, in this case, pray for. Here I am today, praying for nothing more than for my children (my son and daughter) to follow in the Torah’s ways. For them to be spared the emptiness of a Torah-less life. I want only the best for my children; why else am I doing this? For them, and for G‑d. I know that doing His will is the best feeling in the world.
Over the past few years, I have learned to see that G‑d’s hand is in everything. I have learned how to read His messages through various messengers, such as when friends casually suggested that if I felt so strongly inclined towards Judaism, then why don’t I start keeping kosher? After all, I was the one who did the shopping and cooking. They were right; why did I keep complaining that my husband was “just not feeling anything”? Why was I using my husband as an excuse for things I could do easily without his involvement?
So I acted. My friends and I were part of a Shabbat Club, and we took turns hosting Friday night dinners. So when I next hosted a Shabbat Club dinner, I challenged myself to buy only kosher food. It proved to be a piece of cake; I was blown away by how easy it was to get all the kosher products I needed. If one item I picked up wasn’t kosher, the next item over was. I proudly announced to our club that all the food that night was homemade and kosher!
Six months later, we were eating only kosher food in my house. I asked my husband if he had noticed a difference. He had no idea what I was talking about.
How did I manage to come so far? I can pinpoint the moment the spark was ignited, that pintele Yid (essence of the soul) my rabbi speaks of. It was on the night of Shabbat Shuvah dinner, the first Shabbat dinner that my husband agreed to after six years of my rabbi and his wife inviting us over. It was after that dinner that I experienced my neshamah (soul) doing cartwheels. Yes, I now can tell you that that’s how the soul feels when it’s ignited; it rejoices and does cartwheels. I was physically moved—moved in this direction, the direction of Judaism, the way of seeking out G‑d and clinging to Him.
And that’s how it’s been ever since—a strong pull to move forward. And yet, after the rabbi left from the preliminary walkthrough of my kitchen and the examination of all my utensils, my yetzer hara (evil inclination) suddenly surfaced. What was I What was I getting myself into?getting myself into? Why was I doing this? Who said there was even a G‑d? And yet, the thought of putting all this on hold seemed unbearable.
The weight on my shoulders was lifted when the wife of the rabbi who was set to kosher the kitchen offered to help me prepare before the big day. That support gave me the energy to keep going with lifted spirits.
Now it’s done. The kitchen is koshered. I feel like a new mother. I feel like the rabbi and his wife were like a doctor and midwife helping me deliver the future. I open the drawers and look at them with pride and pleasure. I very carefully do a little reheating of kosher takeout, thinking through every move (like feeding a baby for first time). I’m happy we did it; everyone in my family is also happy and eager to learn.
And what could be more reaffirming than seeing my son put the cereal bowl and milk glass in the right sink? We’ve come so far! He’s actually doing it without being told. I can’t go back now; I owe it to my family to continue moving forward.
Dear Little One by Rochel Levine
You started growing inside of meI felt you through the sickness
I felt you through my mood
I felt you through my change of appetite
I sensed you through my sensitivity to smells
I sensed you through my happiness
I sensed you
I imagined you
Your face
Your personality
We gave you a name
I saw you when you were 6 weeks old
I saw your heartbeat pumping on the screen
You started to grow
You started your life
I was so happy
I loved you right there and then
I bonded with you
I prayed for you
You were part of me for 12 weeks
Part of my organism
Part of our life
Part of our plan
Part of myself
Then came that day . . .
You stopped breathing
You stopped growing
You are now a lifeless fetus
Partially formed
With a head and a back, I was told
You are still inside of me
You are still part of me
But your heart has stopped beating
I’m sorry they have to take you out of your nest
You won’t feel anything
You might feel lonely, though
You started your life in the same place as Tzviki, Mendy, Dovie and Aryeh:
my womb
You are not meant to develop
You are meant to leave this place of comfort
It is your destiny
You will meet two little souls who have the same destiny as you
Who have also started and finished in the same place as you
You won’t be alone
They will look after you like older siblings look after younger siblings
In the meantime, we will not forget you
We will always remember you
You are part of our life
We won’t be talking about you a lot
But we will not forget you
You are in a place now where you are meant to be
You have left a void in my body
A void in our life
I was lucky to carry you for three months
I just wish G‑d’s plan were different
But I’m sure he has His reasons and He knows what’s best for you and us
We won’t be able to hold you
But you can hold us and keep us strong
From where you are
Love to you from all of us
LIFESTYLE
Almond Crusted Chicken Tenders with Honey-Lemon Dipping Sauce
Kosher for Passover by Miriam SzokovskiPassover cooking can be tricky, especially since every community has its own list of dos and don’ts. This recipe uses mostly raw ingredients, so it should cover most people’s criteria; but if you have a nut allergy, stay far, far away.
Now, in the name of brutal honesty, this was certainly not the recipe I initially set out to make. I had grand plans for tantalizing chicken meatballs in a hearty thick sauce, but alas—the results can best be described as an inedible pile of purple goop, and that’s the flattering description!
After that dismal disaster, I decided to go “safe” with fried chicken tenders—who doesn’t like that? The almond meal gives it a lovely nutty flavor, and a drizzle of lemon-honey sauce really takes it up a notch.
But first, cut the raw chicken into narrow strips (the narrower the better—mine were a little thick). I find it easier to cut the chicken thinly when it’s half-frozen. Then marinate the chicken in fresh lemon juice for a couple of hours. The acidity might give the chicken a whitish hue, but don’t worry about that.
Coat each piece of chicken in egg, and then in almond crumbs. Fry on medium heat for about 4 minutes on each side (but check that it’s fully cooked through), or drizzle generously with oil and bake at 425° F for 20–25 minutes (the time will depend on how thin or thick your pieces are).
While the chicken is cooking, prepare the lemon-honey sauce. Gently mix the mayonnaise with honey and fresh lemon juice. Mix in one direction until combined—this will ensure you don’t end up with a gloppy mess.
Ingredients:
1 lb. chicken breast, cut into narrow strips
2 eggs, lightly whisked
3 lemons, juiced
2 cups ground almonds
Oil for frying
4 tbsp. mayonnaise
2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp. honey
Directions:
Juice the lemons, and set aside 2 tablespoons for the dipping sauce.
Marinate the chicken strips in the rest of the lemon juice for 2 hours.
Prepare eggs in one bowl, and ground almond in a second.
Dip chicken into egg, then into the ground almond, until fully coated.
Decide if you want to fry or bake your chicken.
To bake, grease a baking tray. Line chicken pieces up (they can be touching). Drizzle generously with oil. Bake at 425° F for 20–25 minutes.
To fry, fill frying pan halfway with oil. Heat to medium, and gently fry each piece until cooked through (approximately 4 minutes on each side). Remove from oil and place on a paper towel.
For the Dipping Sauce:
Mix mayonnaise with honey and lemon, gently stirring in one direction until combined. You may need to adjust the proportions, depending on which mayonnaise you use and according to your taste.
Serve chicken warm, with sauce either on the side or drizzled on top. Enjoy!
Have you ever made almond-crusted chicken? What are your go-to Passover dishes? What was your worst kitchen disaster? Leave a comment and let me know.
Weekly Art: Nadav & Avihu Bring the Unauthorized Incense Offering by Yoram Raanan
Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu each took his pan, put fire in them and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the L‑rd foreign fire, which He had not commanded them. Fire went forth from before the L‑rd and consumed them . . .(Leviticus 10:1–2)
At the inauguration ceremony of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), a “fire of favor” came down from heaven as the people sang praises. In stark contrast to this joyous event was the unauthorized incense which Nadav and Avihu offered up, and in their spiritual intoxication they were consumed in a “counter-fire” from heaven.
In the painting, their ethereal figures seem to be ascending, as if encompassed in the heat of their fervor. The tension of conflicting energies is reflected in the contrast of primary colors (red, yellow, blue) as well as in the flames that surround them.
Almond Crusted Chicken Tenders with Honey-Lemon Dipping Sauce
Kosher for Passover by Miriam SzokovskiPassover cooking can be tricky, especially since every community has its own list of dos and don’ts. This recipe uses mostly raw ingredients, so it should cover most people’s criteria; but if you have a nut allergy, stay far, far away.
Now, in the name of brutal honesty, this was certainly not the recipe I initially set out to make. I had grand plans for tantalizing chicken meatballs in a hearty thick sauce, but alas—the results can best be described as an inedible pile of purple goop, and that’s the flattering description!
After that dismal disaster, I decided to go “safe” with fried chicken tenders—who doesn’t like that? The almond meal gives it a lovely nutty flavor, and a drizzle of lemon-honey sauce really takes it up a notch.
But first, cut the raw chicken into narrow strips (the narrower the better—mine were a little thick). I find it easier to cut the chicken thinly when it’s half-frozen. Then marinate the chicken in fresh lemon juice for a couple of hours. The acidity might give the chicken a whitish hue, but don’t worry about that.
Coat each piece of chicken in egg, and then in almond crumbs. Fry on medium heat for about 4 minutes on each side (but check that it’s fully cooked through), or drizzle generously with oil and bake at 425° F for 20–25 minutes (the time will depend on how thin or thick your pieces are).
While the chicken is cooking, prepare the lemon-honey sauce. Gently mix the mayonnaise with honey and fresh lemon juice. Mix in one direction until combined—this will ensure you don’t end up with a gloppy mess.
Ingredients:
1 lb. chicken breast, cut into narrow strips
2 eggs, lightly whisked
3 lemons, juiced
2 cups ground almonds
Oil for frying
4 tbsp. mayonnaise
2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp. honey
Directions:
Juice the lemons, and set aside 2 tablespoons for the dipping sauce.
Marinate the chicken strips in the rest of the lemon juice for 2 hours.
Prepare eggs in one bowl, and ground almond in a second.
Dip chicken into egg, then into the ground almond, until fully coated.
Decide if you want to fry or bake your chicken.
To bake, grease a baking tray. Line chicken pieces up (they can be touching). Drizzle generously with oil. Bake at 425° F for 20–25 minutes.
To fry, fill frying pan halfway with oil. Heat to medium, and gently fry each piece until cooked through (approximately 4 minutes on each side). Remove from oil and place on a paper towel.
For the Dipping Sauce:
Mix mayonnaise with honey and lemon, gently stirring in one direction until combined. You may need to adjust the proportions, depending on which mayonnaise you use and according to your taste.
Serve chicken warm, with sauce either on the side or drizzled on top. Enjoy!
Have you ever made almond-crusted chicken? What are your go-to Passover dishes? What was your worst kitchen disaster? Leave a comment and let me know.
Weekly Art: Nadav & Avihu Bring the Unauthorized Incense Offering by Yoram Raanan
Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu each took his pan, put fire in them and placed incense upon it, and they brought before the L‑rd foreign fire, which He had not commanded them. Fire went forth from before the L‑rd and consumed them . . .(Leviticus 10:1–2)At the inauguration ceremony of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), a “fire of favor” came down from heaven as the people sang praises. In stark contrast to this joyous event was the unauthorized incense which Nadav and Avihu offered up, and in their spiritual intoxication they were consumed in a “counter-fire” from heaven.
In the painting, their ethereal figures seem to be ascending, as if encompassed in the heat of their fervor. The tension of conflicting energies is reflected in the contrast of primary colors (red, yellow, blue) as well as in the flames that surround them.
JEWISH NEWS
The Seder Explained’: Four-Part Online Course Begins Now
Whether you're a host or a guest, a guide to making the seder more meaningful. by Chabad.org Staff
A four-part online course will explore the primary components of the Passover seder.
With less than a month to go to Passover, preparations for the festival of leaven-free living are evident everywhere—from supermarket shelves to kitchens and dining rooms.
Yet there is another form of preparation taking place as well. Organizers report that thousands of individuals from every continent except Antarctica have signed up for “The Seder Explained,” a four-part online course that will explore the primary components of the seder from both practical and scholarly approaches.
“If you still feel baffled by the rituals and texts of the seder, then this course is for you,” says Yaakov Kaplan, producer of Jewish.tv courses. “And even if you feel like you have a pretty good basic grasp but are looking for enrichment and reinforcement, you’re sure to gain a lot from this series.”
The four segments this latest series will focus on include the prohibition against chametz (any food product made from wheat, barley, rye, oats, spelt or their derivatives, which has leavened, or risen); the four cups of wine; the seder liturgy; and the mitzvah to eat matzah. The lectures will be aired on four consecutive Tuesdays, starting March 29, and can be viewed any time afterwards.
“Rabbi Steiner has prepared a wealth of information and inspiration for this course,” Kaplan reports, “and if you take it, you’ll certainly be well-prepared for the seder.”
Register for the free series here.
Leading the classes: Rabbi Moshe Steiner, co-director of Uptown Chabad in Toronto
Florida Campus Couple Receives AIPAC ‘Ally of the Year’ Award
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, were recognized for their accomplishments on “behalf of the U.S.-Israel relationship on campus.” by Faygie Levy Holt, Chabad.edu
From left: Rabbi Yossy Gordon, executive vice president of Chabad on Campus International, Rabbi Berl Goldman, Chanie Goldman and Adam Teitelbaum, deputy leadership development director at AIPAC (Photo courtesy of Hillel International)
Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries who serve Jewish students at the University of Florida in Gainesville were presented with the “AIPAC Ally of the Year” award on Monday during the annual American Israel Public Affairs Committee conference in Washington, D.C.
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, received the award for their accomplishments on “behalf of the U.S.-Israel relationship on campus.” The couple believes that the honor belongs to a larger group of people as well, including their colleagues, Rabbi Aharon Chaim and Pessie Notik, and the students themselves.
“It’s very humbling to receive this,” said Rabbi Goldman, who pointed to the work of Chabad on Campus International and individual Chabad centers worldwide, which, he noted, “are at the heart” of building Jewish identity on campuses.
The Goldmans arrived in the nation’s capital with a dozen students, whose trip to the annual pro-Israel policy conference was sponsored by Chabad of UF. Another 40 or so students from the university’s “Gator for Israel” group were also on hand for the three-day conference, which draws thousands of people annually to hear from U.S. politicians, Israeli leaders, Middle East experts and more in an effort to gain needed advocacy tools to help support Israel.
“There is a strong anti-Semitic, anti-Israel movement on campuses today, and many Jewish students feel disarmed and threatened,” stated Rabbi Goldman. “They feel attacked, and it affects not only their understanding and knowledge about Israel, but their involvement in Jewish life as well. We need to give them the right tools so they can be proud to be Jewish and be involved in Jewish activities.”
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, at the conference, where they were lauded for their work with Jewish students on campus.
Noting that all Jewish students are welcome at Chabad—regardless of their background, political views or other opinions—the rabbi said he and his wife work to provide a wide range of classes and study on Jewish topics that students might not have been exposed to before, such as a biblical perspective of Israel.
They also co-sponsor Israel-solidarity events, including a huge rally in October after a wave of terror attacks and stabbings in Israel, and right before many students traveled to New York for the annual Chabad on Campus International Shabbaton. More recently, they held a forum with a panel discussion on Israel and anti-Semitism on college campuses. This is in addition to their regular slate of Jewish holiday events, Shabbat services and meals, social programs and opportunities for Israel travel.
“We are on the front lines,” said Goldman. “As shluchim [emissaries of theLubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory], we have a responsibility to effect and empower students in a practical way,” explained the rabbi. “Our job is to nurture them and to help them grow in their Jewish learning in order to enhance and empower them, and build a strong Jewish community at the University of Florida.”
Rabbi Goldman wraps tefillin with a student at an October rally and solidarity program for Israel following a wave of terror attacks there. At Goldman's right is his colleague, Rabbi Aharon Chaim Notik.
The Seder Explained’: Four-Part Online Course Begins Now
Whether you're a host or a guest, a guide to making the seder more meaningful. by Chabad.org Staff
A four-part online course will explore the primary components of the Passover seder.
With less than a month to go to Passover, preparations for the festival of leaven-free living are evident everywhere—from supermarket shelves to kitchens and dining rooms.
Yet there is another form of preparation taking place as well. Organizers report that thousands of individuals from every continent except Antarctica have signed up for “The Seder Explained,” a four-part online course that will explore the primary components of the seder from both practical and scholarly approaches.
“If you still feel baffled by the rituals and texts of the seder, then this course is for you,” says Yaakov Kaplan, producer of Jewish.tv courses. “And even if you feel like you have a pretty good basic grasp but are looking for enrichment and reinforcement, you’re sure to gain a lot from this series.”
The four segments this latest series will focus on include the prohibition against chametz (any food product made from wheat, barley, rye, oats, spelt or their derivatives, which has leavened, or risen); the four cups of wine; the seder liturgy; and the mitzvah to eat matzah. The lectures will be aired on four consecutive Tuesdays, starting March 29, and can be viewed any time afterwards.
“Rabbi Steiner has prepared a wealth of information and inspiration for this course,” Kaplan reports, “and if you take it, you’ll certainly be well-prepared for the seder.”
Register for the free series here.
Leading the classes: Rabbi Moshe Steiner, co-director of Uptown Chabad in Toronto
Florida Campus Couple Receives AIPAC ‘Ally of the Year’ Award
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, were recognized for their accomplishments on “behalf of the U.S.-Israel relationship on campus.” by Faygie Levy Holt, Chabad.edu
From left: Rabbi Yossy Gordon, executive vice president of Chabad on Campus International, Rabbi Berl Goldman, Chanie Goldman and Adam Teitelbaum, deputy leadership development director at AIPAC (Photo courtesy of Hillel International)
Chabad-Lubavitch emissaries who serve Jewish students at the University of Florida in Gainesville were presented with the “AIPAC Ally of the Year” award on Monday during the annual American Israel Public Affairs Committee conference in Washington, D.C.
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, received the award for their accomplishments on “behalf of the U.S.-Israel relationship on campus.” The couple believes that the honor belongs to a larger group of people as well, including their colleagues, Rabbi Aharon Chaim and Pessie Notik, and the students themselves.
“It’s very humbling to receive this,” said Rabbi Goldman, who pointed to the work of Chabad on Campus International and individual Chabad centers worldwide, which, he noted, “are at the heart” of building Jewish identity on campuses.
The Goldmans arrived in the nation’s capital with a dozen students, whose trip to the annual pro-Israel policy conference was sponsored by Chabad of UF. Another 40 or so students from the university’s “Gator for Israel” group were also on hand for the three-day conference, which draws thousands of people annually to hear from U.S. politicians, Israeli leaders, Middle East experts and more in an effort to gain needed advocacy tools to help support Israel.
“There is a strong anti-Semitic, anti-Israel movement on campuses today, and many Jewish students feel disarmed and threatened,” stated Rabbi Goldman. “They feel attacked, and it affects not only their understanding and knowledge about Israel, but their involvement in Jewish life as well. We need to give them the right tools so they can be proud to be Jewish and be involved in Jewish activities.”
Rabbi Berl and Chanie Goldman, co-directors of the Tabacinic Lubavitch-Chabad Jewish Student Center at the University of Florida in Gainesville, at the conference, where they were lauded for their work with Jewish students on campus.
Noting that all Jewish students are welcome at Chabad—regardless of their background, political views or other opinions—the rabbi said he and his wife work to provide a wide range of classes and study on Jewish topics that students might not have been exposed to before, such as a biblical perspective of Israel.
They also co-sponsor Israel-solidarity events, including a huge rally in October after a wave of terror attacks and stabbings in Israel, and right before many students traveled to New York for the annual Chabad on Campus International Shabbaton. More recently, they held a forum with a panel discussion on Israel and anti-Semitism on college campuses. This is in addition to their regular slate of Jewish holiday events, Shabbat services and meals, social programs and opportunities for Israel travel.
“We are on the front lines,” said Goldman. “As shluchim [emissaries of theLubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory], we have a responsibility to effect and empower students in a practical way,” explained the rabbi. “Our job is to nurture them and to help them grow in their Jewish learning in order to enhance and empower them, and build a strong Jewish community at the University of Florida.”
Rabbi Goldman wraps tefillin with a student at an October rally and solidarity program for Israel following a wave of terror attacks there. At Goldman's right is his colleague, Rabbi Aharon Chaim Notik.
In Battered Brussels, Purim Subdued in Public, Joyous Within
‘We will not bow our spirits in the face of modern-day Hamans,’ says one rabbi. by Menachem Posner
Rabbi Shmuel Pinson, center, with children at a Purim party at Communauté Israélite D’Uccle-Forest, which is located less than two kilometers from the Brussels apartment where police found and killed terrorists.
As the army stood guard in the muted streets of Brussels and security forces continued their manhunt for an armed terrorist still at large after terror attacks rocked this city on Tuesday, Jewish people gathered to celebrate the joyous holiday of Purim in at least two locations there.
“There were many children, and for a few moments, we managed to leave the tense atmosphere behind and take comfort in our community, our faith andG‑d,” said Chabad Rabbi Shmuel Pinson, leader of Communauté Israélite D’Uccle-Forest, also known as the Maalé Synagogue, which is located less than two kilometers from the apartment where police found and killed terrorists. “We learned from Mordechai of old. He did not bow to Haman, and we will not bow our spirits in the face of the modern-day Hamans.”
The multiple bombings at Brussels Airport and one outside a metro station killed at least 30 people and wounded more than 200. The city remained on lockdown afterwards, with flights suspended and the airport closed until Friday.
Taking part in national mourning, community members came to services with their costumes in suitcases and backpacks, and dressed up inside, once they had cleared security. In Pinson’s community, as well as a second celebration in the south of the city organized by Rabbi Mordehai Chalencon, the services began with a solemn moment of silence and a prayer for King Philippe of Belgium.
“While a number of synagogues closed and some canceled the celebratory aspect of the program, we determined that the best course of action would be celebrate,” says Pinson, who hosted more than 200 people at his synagogue’s event, complete with entertainment in the spirit of the holiday. “The subways are not yet working, the army is out in the street, and it is natural for people, especially Jewish people, to be frightened.
“But for two hours,” he stressed, “it was just Purim.”
Kids and parents take a break from the tension to enjoy themselves for a time.
Grownups celebrated the holiday as well.
Despite Brussels being on virtual lockdown, more than 200 adults and kids gathered for the Megillah reading and party at Chabad.
Listening to the reading of the Megillah just one day after terrror attacks rocked Brussels.
U.S. Senator From Montana Calls ‘Champion Child’ Zeesy Bruk ‘Courageous’
Sen. Steve Daines applauds the leadership of a young Chabad emissary and her family. by Chabad.org Staff
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It’s been just weeks since Zeesy Bruk was appointed the 2016 Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals Champion Child from the state of Montana. Yet already, the 5-year-old child of Rabbi Chaim and Chavie Bruk, co-directors ofChabad-Lubavitch of Montana, has been hailed by fans near and far, including U.S. Sen. Steve Daines (R-Mont.), who released a video statement in which he called her a “very special” and “very courageous” little girl.
Since birth, Zeesy has battled a rare genetic metabolic disorder characterized by the deficiency of a protein required for glucose to cross the blood-brain barrier, something that was only recently diagnosed and is now being treated though special diet.
Noting the crucial leadership role that the Bruks, who have two other children, have played since they arrived in Montana in 2007, the senator thanked Zeesy and her parents for what they “do every day for Montana’s Jewish community.”
Zeesy Bruk of Chabad-Lubavitch of Montana, children’s hospital ambassador for the Treasure State
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