Rabbi Yisroel's Blog

I flew into NY today and 9 hours later am already returning.  The purpose of the short trip?

1) Bringing back lots of Passover Supplies

2) Some time dedicated to spiritual preparation before the upcoming holiday

3) Prayer and Reflection at the Rebbe’s Resting Place, Yhe Ohel, on the date of his birthday.

4) Sushi. That’s right. With the hectic Passover preparations going on, I really wanted to surprise Chana with some easy-to-eat kosher food that I know she enjoys.

Well, the first 3 things went pretty much as planned. It took a bit longer to get around the city than I had anticipated and while I wish I had a longer time at the Ohel, I was grateful have the opportunity to be there, albeit for a short amount of time.

I found myself rushing to get back to LGA. And then I remembered...The Sushi. 

I made a dash for a Large Kosher Market in Queens. As we pulled up, I couldn’t believe my eyes. After living in Cary for 6 years, I must have forgotten what a “peak-time” Passover shopping looked like in NY.

The Parking Lot reminded me of the State Fair. Inside it was so crowded there was literally no room to push a cart. I quickly found the sushi in the “non Passover Section” and ran to the checkout. But each of the ten or so counters had huge lines with carts literally packed with grocery items...I stood out with with my 3 little packages of Sushi.

To my relief, there was an express lane. But then I noticed about 20 people in front of me. What to do? Return the sushi and hurry on to LGA? Or stay but risk arriving to the airport late.

Well, I stayed. And it It took a long time. I was nervous and constantly going back and forth between gazing at the line ahead and checking my phone hoping for a plane delay. Finally, I made it out with that Sushi.

Thank G-d, there was no traffic and I just made my flight. But as I settled into the seat on the plane, I began to ask myself..."Why did I cut it so close?" I mean I had accomplished the purpose of the trip without this food. I could certainly explain to Chana how I wanted to get her something but there was simply no time. Was it really worth risking my flight over?

All of a sudden the perspective came to me from something I had learned about the MAH NISHTANA…

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Tonight, millions of children around the world will ask the Four Questions.  What you may not have known is that the order of the Four Questions in the Chabad Haggadah—is a bit different than what most people are used to.

1. Why do we dip the foods? 2. Why eat matzah? 3. Why eat bitter herbs? 4. Why do we recline? Many early additions of the haggadah  had this order but it is different from the regular tradition in which we first ask about the Matzah.

Most begin with Matzah as it is the the most important issue out of the 4 questions. Then comes Maror. Dipping is only a custom and hence #3. (And Reclining is #4 as it was added only later in history after reclining while eating ceased to be in vogue)

So why do some ask about the dipping first? Shouldn’t we begin with the essentials?

To understand this we need to take a step back and understand why the Jewish legal structure is so complicated.  Some mitzvot are from the Torah, others are “only” rabbinic in nature, and then there are the myriads of minhagim, what we usually call customs. I mean, If G‑d wanted us to do all of these things, why not just directly communicate them all?

Here’s one way of looking at it:

We can easily view a mitzvah in the Torah as nothing more than a commandment that we are obliged to obey, failing to realize that a mitzvah is not only a decree—but aconnection. It is our way of creating a relationship with G‑d.

The Rebbe once illustrated this idea using a parable of a parent and a child. There are times when a mother or father will give their child direct and precise instructions. For instance, “Do well in school!” or “Be careful when crossing the road!”

On other occasions, It will only be a hint to their child. Perhaps saying, “We have a lot of dirty dishes tonight.” The child is meant to take the hint and wash the dishes.

Finally, there are those times when the parent will remain totally silent. Not even a clue is offered to the child. For example, no mother or father will mention to his child that he has an upcoming birthday in the hope that the child will be thoughtful enough to buy him a present. Such a gesture must come from the child on his own initiative.

Similarly, there are certain commandments that G‑d clearly spelled out in the Torah.

Others were only hinted to us—perhaps through an extra letter or superfluous verse in the Torah.

Finally, there are those things that G‑d didn’t mention to us at all. Yet, as His children, we know this is what our Father wants.

Which  of the above-mentioned “duties” takes precedence?

Disobeying an express order is certainly worse that merely failing to catch a hint. And most certainly, a child won’t receive a punishment for for forgetting a mom’s birthday.

And as such, if you are focused on the “commandment” aspect of the mitzvot, then those that are written into the Torah take precedence.

But if we focus on the “relationship” aspect, it is clear that the custom expresses the deepest bond and richest love between father and child. 

It goes one step further. When we cherish the “custom”, sensing how it highlights the personal relationship, that itself helps ensure we will always observe the more important commandments. But once we lose sight of “the relationship component” and begin seeing Judaism as only a set of rules even the more serious commandments can sadly begin to grow weaker…  

As such, in Chabad Tradition, we begin the Four Questions with asking about the dipping. It is only a minhag/custom but we deeply cherish these and recognize how they help support the rest of the Torah.

Connecting to this idea, perhaps that is why I cared so much about that Sushi. Certainly, the other 3 issues were the more important components to the trip. Nonetheless, there was something about returning with that surprise for Chana that was special, even to the point of running very late for a flight...

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With all this thought about Sushi, a related-issue suddenly came to mind.

Ashkenazi Jews have traditionally not eaten corn, rice, or beans on Passover.  These foods are not Biblically considered Chametz. They are not even prohibited by the Rabbis in Talmudic times.  It was only later on when the medieval Jewish sages placed a ban on eating these legumes (called kitniyot) on Passover. And since the 1200's,Ashenkazi Jews have not eaten rice and corn on Passover.

This past week I was asked for my thoughts on whether it is still important to keep this tradition.

Isn’t it only a more recent custom? Isn’t it true that historically it was only accepted by Askenazim and not Sefardim? Doesn’t observing this tradition limit the holiday menu and detract from the joy of the holiday? Doesn’t the original reason for the decree no longer apply?

The answer (for Ashkenazi Jews) is that we absolutely still keep this custom. These foods may not be actual Chametz but avoiding these items on Passover is a time-honored custom that is meant to be not only observed but cherished.  Customs like this become part and parcel of our eternal Torah.  And viewing the custom as a “rule” or “restrictions” that get in the way of the joy of the holiday sadly misses out on what a Jewish tradition is essentially about – ways in which the Jewish people have voluntary enriched our festivals and observances. It is a practice to be loved as it highlights our personal relationship with G-d.

So in a funny way,. the reason for my bringing back Sushi this week and our not eating Sushi next week are actually one in the same…

A local Jew came to Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveichik with a strange question. "Is it permissible to use four cups of milk at the seder instead of four cups of wine?"

Understanding that this was an issue of finances (not health or any other reason), the Rabbi, without even responding, reached into his pocket and told the person "Take these twenty rubles and purchase wine."

After the Jew had left, a student asked the Rabbi, "Why did you have to give him twenty-five rubles? Five would be more than enough to purchase the required amount of wine."

Rabbi Soloveichik answered, "If he intended to use milk at the Seder, that means he also doesn't have money for meat [For Jewish law forbids having milk and meat at the same meal], and he probably also doesn't have money for the other items served at the Seder. I wanted to give him enough so that he could have a complete Seder."

I’ve always loved this story. It highlights what it means to really listen. To respond to only a particular question but to understand where a question is coming from. To truly care. And that care for others needs to be at the center of Pesach.

In just one week we will be sitting down at the seder. The Magid portion of the seder in which we tell over the story of the Exodus begins with the section of “Hei Lachma Anya” in which we extend an open invitation for anyone to join our seder Table.  It's am unusual introduction, especially as such invitations should take place long before the seder begins.

One moving explanation is that at this point in the Haggada we are giving a definition of freedom -- the ability to help others.  (A slave just doesn’t have those same opportunities to give…)  As we open the seder by contrasting slavery and freedom, we immediately note that in our own lives we leave our “spiritual Egypt” when we are able to transcend the occupation with oneself and begin to truly notice those around us that may need help.

As we prepare for the holiday this week, I suggest spending a few quiet moments thinking about who may need assistance this Passover.  Is there someone that may not have a seder to attend that you can invite or refer to our community Seder? An individual who needs some financial help before the holiday? Perhaps someone that needs a ride or some assistance around the house? Maybe just a warm call with wishes for a Happy Pesach?

And if you know someone that can use our assistance, please do not hesitate giving Chana or me a call. There is no better way to prepare for Passover…

Locally, the Sports News may have been dominated by College Basketball talk, but many fans around the country celebrated something else big in American tradition this week: Opening Day in Baseball.  

While every sport has its "first game of the season" there's something about baseball's opening day. Perhaps it’s the association with fresh cut grass and the sunshine of spring. Maybe it’s due to the country’s long history with baseball.  (Or maybe, it's just the way I grew up!) Whatever the case, opening day is big enough that there’s a movement out there to officially declare the day a national holiday.

One thing special about the "opening day" of a 162 game season is that the past is history. The disappointment of the previous season is forgotten.   Every team is at exactly the same place.  Everyone thinks this might just be their year.  In June, it might be a different story, but for now, each team has real hope and optimism.

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As Jews, we have many opportunities to experience this feeling. One is each morning.  In fact, one of the reasons G-d created us in a way that requires us to sleep (just imagine how much we could get done without needing to sleep!) is to allow us that “fresh start” every morning.  Without sleep life would be ever-continuous and we’d never have the ability to start anew and put yesterday behind us.  A new morning allows us to declare, “Today will be different.” 

And in a greater sense, Shabbos is a reset button for the disappointments of the previous week.  As Shabbos concludes and we wish each other “Shavua Tov,” we leave the beautiful oasis of Shabbos and begin the work week anew.

And then, we have the renewal new month. It’s not by coincidence that the word in Hebrew for month, “Chodesh,” literally means “new.” With the new moon comes new hope and opportunity. 

But this Shabbos we experience this renewal in a deeper manner.  Called in the Torah “the first month of the year,” the month of Nissan is when our people became a free people. It is when we were able to rid ourselves of the negativity of our past and leave Egypt behind.  Today too, Nissan is called “the month of redemption,” a time we are given the ability to transcend our natural limitations of the past and “pass over” the factors that so often restrict our growth. Passover may begin in two weeks, but the opening day of Nissan is this Shabbos.