The Joy of Judaism
When does Pesach begin? The obvious answer is the 15th of Nisan, but it's not so clear. In several places, the Torah seems to name the 14th as the start of Pesach.
Indeed, we know that a number of Pesach laws already apply even before the chag (holiday) begins, such as not eating chametz from the morning of the 14th and not eating matzah all day long. No other chag starts its particulars before the prescribed day; so why does Pesach?
In truth, the 14th of Nisan ought to be the beginning of our holiday, not the 15th. After all, that was the day on which we were commanded to offer the korban Pesach, though we were told not to actually eat the lamb until the evening. That is why we stop eating chametz early, even before Pesach actually begins, since we are already in "Pesach mode."
But Pesach does not officially begin until the 15th, when we celebrate the Seder. Why? Consider: The offering of the korban Pesach was filled with trepidation and anxiety; after all, this was the Egyptian god we were killing. I suggest that we waited until evening to start Pesach because we wanted to associate our holiday with joy and exultation, not with fear and foreboding.
We are making a statement here, folks: Judaism is about joy. Yes, we fight. And yes, we suffer. But that is not the essence of a Jew - simcha is! Indeed, chazal (our sages) suggest that we do not recite a b'racha (blessing) on the reading of the Hagada because the early pages deal with our slavery and pain, and thus are not appropriate for a blessing.
Note that "Part I" of the Hagada (pre-meal) contains the "down" side of the Egyptian experience, while post-meal is all about singing, Hallel and happiness. Yet, so many people concentrate on that first part and "drift off" after the Afikoman. (For proof, just check your Hagadahs for food stains and fingerprints; almost all vanish with the bentsching!)
We owe it to our kids to teach them that Yiddishkeit is more about blessing and joy than about tears and trauma. The tears do exist, but only in Part I; we must be sure to stick around for Part II.
A basketball coach once went to the dean of his college. "I have a 6'6" (2m) boy whose grades are bad," said the coach, "but if he plays, we'll win every game!" The Dean knowingly nodded his head and said, "OK, I'll ask him a question; if he answers right, he plays."
"Son, how much is two plus two?"
The large fellow hesitated, then said, "Four!"
With that, the coach jumped up and shouted, "Please, Dean, give him just one more chance!"
Unfortunately, many of us are not clued in; we wrongly concentrate on the negative "spin" of Judaism. Only if we know the truth - that Judaism is optimistic and upbeat and headed for glory - can we hope to pass it along to the next generation.
[I would like to thank friend and colleague Rabbi Joseph Radinsky for inspiring the sentiments expressed in the foregoing commentary.]
The Many Moods of Matzah
On this we can all agree: Matzah is the symbol of Pesach. But why? What is it about this unattractive, bland wafer - which tastes almost as good as the box it comes in - that gives it such a special character?
There are two sides to every matzah, for matzah stands for two distinctly different traits. On the one hand, matzah mimics the "poor bread," the meager fare upon which our ancestors subsisted in Egypt. Thinking luxury, affluence, cravings? Then think chocolate fudge cake, onion bialys, eclairs. Thinking austerity and poverty? Then think matzah.
On this side, the matzah represents pure humility.
But on the other side, the matzah represents the pride and enthusiasm with which we left Egypt at the "cracker" of dawn and ran after Hashem into the wilderness. Why, we rose to the occasion - and didn't even wait for that dough to rise - the moment G-d told us it was time to head home. We shot out the door and grabbed that matzah, hoisting it like a flag of loyalty and self-determination.
Viewed from this side, matzah is assertiveness and Jewish courage.
The matzah carries a mighty message for every Jew. Be humble, like a matzah, like Moshe. Be as concerned for others as for yourself. Don't think you know everything, don't always have the last word. Appreciate all G-d gives you, and approach the world with gratitude and a gentle spirit.
At the same time, whenever it is called for - and it's called for a lot! - be proud and passionate, like a matzah, like Moshe. Stand up for what you believe in, don't back down, do what it takes to succeed. Fly your faith like a flag unfurled, without shame or apology.
Now you may ask, "How can the very same item contain diametrically opposed qualities? How can the matzah - or the Jew - be both humble and aggressive all at once?"
The answer lies in the making of the matzah itself.
Consider: Both matzah and its opposite number, chametz, have the same exact ingredients: flour and water. The only difference between them is time - how long they are baked. And that is a function of our own discipline, knowing when to bake bread, and when to bake matzah; when to be heroic and when to be humble.
This is the hidden secret of Pesach's primary symbol. For the rest of the world, I say: Let them eat cake! We'll stick with our mystical, magical, meaningful morsel of matzah.
Chag Kasher V'Sameach.
When does Pesach begin? The obvious answer is the 15th of Nisan, but it's not so clear. In several places, the Torah seems to name the 14th as the start of Pesach.
Indeed, we know that a number of Pesach laws already apply even before the chag (holiday) begins, such as not eating chametz from the morning of the 14th and not eating matzah all day long. No other chag starts its particulars before the prescribed day; so why does Pesach?
In truth, the 14th of Nisan ought to be the beginning of our holiday, not the 15th. After all, that was the day on which we were commanded to offer the korban Pesach, though we were told not to actually eat the lamb until the evening. That is why we stop eating chametz early, even before Pesach actually begins, since we are already in "Pesach mode."
But Pesach does not officially begin until the 15th, when we celebrate the Seder. Why? Consider: The offering of the korban Pesach was filled with trepidation and anxiety; after all, this was the Egyptian god we were killing. I suggest that we waited until evening to start Pesach because we wanted to associate our holiday with joy and exultation, not with fear and foreboding.
We are making a statement here, folks: Judaism is about joy. Yes, we fight. And yes, we suffer. But that is not the essence of a Jew - simcha is! Indeed, chazal (our sages) suggest that we do not recite a b'racha (blessing) on the reading of the Hagada because the early pages deal with our slavery and pain, and thus are not appropriate for a blessing.
Note that "Part I" of the Hagada (pre-meal) contains the "down" side of the Egyptian experience, while post-meal is all about singing, Hallel and happiness. Yet, so many people concentrate on that first part and "drift off" after the Afikoman. (For proof, just check your Hagadahs for food stains and fingerprints; almost all vanish with the bentsching!)
We owe it to our kids to teach them that Yiddishkeit is more about blessing and joy than about tears and trauma. The tears do exist, but only in Part I; we must be sure to stick around for Part II.
A basketball coach once went to the dean of his college. "I have a 6'6" (2m) boy whose grades are bad," said the coach, "but if he plays, we'll win every game!" The Dean knowingly nodded his head and said, "OK, I'll ask him a question; if he answers right, he plays."
"Son, how much is two plus two?"
The large fellow hesitated, then said, "Four!"
With that, the coach jumped up and shouted, "Please, Dean, give him just one more chance!"
Unfortunately, many of us are not clued in; we wrongly concentrate on the negative "spin" of Judaism. Only if we know the truth - that Judaism is optimistic and upbeat and headed for glory - can we hope to pass it along to the next generation.
[I would like to thank friend and colleague Rabbi Joseph Radinsky for inspiring the sentiments expressed in the foregoing commentary.]
The Many Moods of Matzah
On this we can all agree: Matzah is the symbol of Pesach. But why? What is it about this unattractive, bland wafer - which tastes almost as good as the box it comes in - that gives it such a special character?
There are two sides to every matzah, for matzah stands for two distinctly different traits. On the one hand, matzah mimics the "poor bread," the meager fare upon which our ancestors subsisted in Egypt. Thinking luxury, affluence, cravings? Then think chocolate fudge cake, onion bialys, eclairs. Thinking austerity and poverty? Then think matzah.
On this side, the matzah represents pure humility.
But on the other side, the matzah represents the pride and enthusiasm with which we left Egypt at the "cracker" of dawn and ran after Hashem into the wilderness. Why, we rose to the occasion - and didn't even wait for that dough to rise - the moment G-d told us it was time to head home. We shot out the door and grabbed that matzah, hoisting it like a flag of loyalty and self-determination.
Viewed from this side, matzah is assertiveness and Jewish courage.
The matzah carries a mighty message for every Jew. Be humble, like a matzah, like Moshe. Be as concerned for others as for yourself. Don't think you know everything, don't always have the last word. Appreciate all G-d gives you, and approach the world with gratitude and a gentle spirit.
At the same time, whenever it is called for - and it's called for a lot! - be proud and passionate, like a matzah, like Moshe. Stand up for what you believe in, don't back down, do what it takes to succeed. Fly your faith like a flag unfurled, without shame or apology.
Now you may ask, "How can the very same item contain diametrically opposed qualities? How can the matzah - or the Jew - be both humble and aggressive all at once?"
The answer lies in the making of the matzah itself.
Consider: Both matzah and its opposite number, chametz, have the same exact ingredients: flour and water. The only difference between them is time - how long they are baked. And that is a function of our own discipline, knowing when to bake bread, and when to bake matzah; when to be heroic and when to be humble.
This is the hidden secret of Pesach's primary symbol. For the rest of the world, I say: Let them eat cake! We'll stick with our mystical, magical, meaningful morsel of matzah.
Chag Kasher V'Sameach.