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The Israel Koschitzky
Virtual Beit Midrash
Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion
Pesach
by
Rav David Silverberg
Yesterday,
we discussed the Gemara in Masekhet
Pesachim (108a) concerning the obligation of heseiba (reclining) while drinking the arba
kosot (four cups).
The Gemara could not reach a decision on the
issue of whether heseiba is required while drinking
the first two cups or during the final two cups, and therefore, given the
uncertainty, rules that we recline while drinking all four cups. The Rishonim, as we
saw, wonder why the Gemara establishes this
stringency, given the famous principle of safeik de-rabbanan le-kula that we may
assume the lenient possibility when faced with a doubt concerning an obligation
ordained by Chazal (as opposed to Torah law). Here, why dont Chazal
permit us to recline for either the first two or last two cups?
The
Ran, as we cited yesterday, explained that applying safeik
de-rabbanan le-kula in this
case would not allow us to decide on either the first two or last two. Rather, it would mean that as we prepare to
drink each of the four cups, a situation of doubt arises concerning heseiba for this specific cup. The rule of safeik
de-rabbanan would then allow drinking without
reclining. It would thus turn out, the
Ran claims, that we would not perform heseiba for
either of the four cups, as regarding each we have a doubt concerning a
rabbinic obligation, allowing us to act leniently. In order to preserve the practice of heseiba, Chazal had no choice but
to suspend the rule of "safeik de-rabbanan" in this case and mandate heseiba
for all four cups.
Rabbi
Akiva Eiger, however, dismissed this reasoning of the
Ran, arguing that when we prepare to drink the third cup, after not having
performed heseiba for either of the first two,
undoubtedly an obligation of heseiba sets in. Whether the obligation applies to the first
two or last two, one who did not recline during the first two would have to
recline for the last two. Therefore,
according to the Ran's reasoning, Chazal
should have legislated that we recline while drinking the last two.
How
do we resolve Rabbi Akiva Eiger's objection to the Ran's explanation?
Wherein lies the point of disagreement between
these two approaches?
It
would appear that the Ran and Rabbi Akiva Eiger here
reflect two different perspectives on the relationship between the obligation
of arba kosot, and that of heseiba. All agree,
of course, that one must recline while drinking either the first two or last
two of the four cups. The issue under
debate is how these two obligations reclining and drinking the four cups
relate to one another. One approach
views these two as fundamentally unrelated.
One halakha requires us to drink arba kosot, and a separate halakha requires that we recline at the seder. As a
practical matter, we observe the latter obligation while observing the former;
we must recline as we drink the first/last two cups of wine. Fundamentally, however, these two obligations
are unrelated. The second approach would
claim that heseiba, rather than being separate from arba kosot, constitutes but a
detail within the mitzva of arba
kosot. We
recline at the seder not due
to a separate obligation of heseiba, but rather
because the obligation of arba kosot
is defined as drinking two cups while reclining, and two cups without
necessarily reclining.
One
might argue that these two possibilities form the conceptual basis for the
debate between the Ran and Rabbi Akiva Eiger. Let us examine their respective arguments
more closely. According to Rabbi Akiva Eiger, the obligation of heseiba
automatically sets in as one prepares to drink the third cup, for even if Halakha requires drinking the first two cups while
reclining, if this was not done, the obligation is transferred to the final
two. The Ran, apparently, disagreed on
this very point. He believed that if the
heseiba obligation applies to the first two cups,
then the failure to recline while drinking the first two cups will not require
reclining during the last two.
Presumably, Rabbi Akiva Eiger viewed heseiba as an independent obligation, rather than a detail
of the mitzva of arba kosot. Since a
separate mitzva requires reclining at the seder, then even if optimally this
is to be done while drinking the first two cups, the opportunity is not lost if
one neglected to do so. The Ran,
however, likely felt that heseiba merely defines the mitzva of arba kosot. Thus,
according to the view in the Gemara requiring heseiba for the first two cups, the mitzva
of arba kosot is defined as
an obligation to drink two cups while reclining and later drink two cups
without necessarily reclining. Since
reclining for the first two cups is the very definition of the mitzva, one would accomplish nothing by reclining for the
last two cups. Therefore, in the Ran's view, when one prepares to drink the third cup, a
situation of doubt arises. According to
the view requiring heseiba for the first two cups, he
need not recline now, for he already missed the opportunity to observe the heseiba requirement.
Only according to the second view would he have to recline, and the rule
of safeik de-rabbanan
allows him to follow the lenient possibility.
It turns out, then, according to the Ran, applying safeik
de-rabbanan le-kula in this
instance would in effect abolish heseiba something Chazal did not want to allow.
(Based on an article by Rav Avraham
Yeshaya Berman zt"l,
Rosh Yeshiva of "Kenesset Meir"
in Rishon Le'tziyon)
David Silverberg
*****
In one of the most famous sections
of the Haggada, it depicts four types of children and
the manner in which each asks (or does not ask) for an explanation of the
rituals he observes. The third child,
the "tam," generally translated as "simple son," asks very
"simply," "Ma zot" "What
is this?" It is commonly understood
that the "tam" lacks the sophistication of the "chakham" (wise son), and therefore formulates his
question more simply than the "chakham,"
but he has more intelligence than the "she-eino yodei'a li-shol," who knows
not how to ask at all. And unlike the
"rasha" (wicked son), he asks his question
sincerely, not with antagonism.
However,
the Haggada's recommended response to the
"tam" requires some explanation.
Based on a verse towards the end of Parashat
Bo (13:14), the Haggada has us reply to this child,
"With a mighty hand the Lord took us from Egypt, from the house of
bondage." Why must we emphasize
God's "mighty hand" manifest during the Exodus? Does not a "simple" question
warrant a "simple" answer? Why
not "simply" explain to this child that we were enslaved by the
Egyptians and the Almighty freed us, and we thus observe the laws of Pesach to
commemorate this event and give thanks to God?
Wherein lies the importance of the wonders and
miracles accompanying the Exodus in our response to the "tam"?
Some
have explained that the "tam" is not "simple" in the sense
of an unsophisticated mind. Rather, he
does not understand why we can't keep things "simple." Based on the Haggada's
response to his question, it appears that he already knows about the Exodus and
perhaps even understands the need for commemoration. What he does not accept, however, is the
"fuss" surrounding this commemoration. Why the weeks of cleaning and shopping, why
all the complicated halakhot, why the changeover of
the kitchen, the seder
table, the hours of discussion during "maggid,"
and so on? Why can't we celebrate Yetziat Mitzrayim with a simple
dinner? Why does Halakha
require such a fuss?
The
Haggada answers, "With a mighty hand the Lord
took us from Egypt." We make a fuss about Yetziat
Mitzrayim because God made a fuss about Yetziat Mitzrayim. He could have very easily ensured our freedom
far less spectacularly, such as, for example, the way He saved us from Haman's decree in Persia many centuries later. Natural law was not established in order to
be broken; God works within the natural order unless some pressing need
warrants otherwise. If God chose to
release us from slavery "with a mighty hand," then undoubtedly He
wanted to impress upon us the singular, unparalleled importance of this event. We, in turn, likewise emphasize the unique
significance of Yetziat Mitzrayim
by celebrating Pesach the way we do after immense preparation and with much
excitement and "fanfare."
We
thus tell the "tam" that we cannot keep Pesach simple, because the
Exodus was no simple matter. If God made
such a big deal about it, then so must we.
David Silverberg
*****
With
the advent of modern machinery in the 1800's, many Jews began producing matza via machine, which was far more cost effective than
baking by hand. This development gave
rise to considerable controversy in the Torah world, and the issue has yet to
be fully resolved to this very day.
Authorities who at that time opposed the use of machine matza on Pesach include the first Gerrer
Rebbe (the Chiddushei
Ha-Rim), the Avnei Nezer,
Rav Chayim of Sanz, and Rav
Shlomo Kluger.
By contrast, Rav Avraham Sofer (the "Ketav Sofer," son of the Chatam Sofer), Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson and others
permitted using machine-made matzot on Pesach.
Many
different reasons were given for forbidding the use of machine matzot; we will cite several of them. One concern had to do with the impossibility
of keeping the machines perfectly clean.
This meant that residual dough would collect and become chametz, which would then render chametz
all matzot produced subsequently. Others claimed that the heat generated by the
motor warmed the parts of the machine that came in contact with the matza, thus accelerating the fermenting process. It would then take less than the traditional
eighteen minutes for the dough to become chametz. Yet another problem had to do with the oil
dripping from various sections of the machine, which could also cause the dough
to ferment. Other authorities objected
to the square shape of machine matzot, claiming that
the traditional round shape was of important symbolic significance. Some rabbis opposed the use of machines
because it meant the loss of employment for those who earned a living by baking
matzot. Many
objected simply due to the conservative instincts of the traditional Jew, who
abhors deviation from time-honored custom, particularly in an age when many
Jews campaigned for the "modernization" of Judaism and sought to
detach it from its spiritual roots ("chadash assur min ha-Torah").
The
first several arguments have since become obsolete. Technological advancement has found ways to
ensure that the machine remains perfectly clean and that the motor's heat does
not reach the dough, and oil-leaks are rare. As for the insistence on round matzot, the halakhic basis for
such a requirement is far from clear.
And although, indeed, a number of jobs might be lost by the use of
machinery, this legitimate concern is clearly offset by the drastic drop in matza prices resulting from the use of machines, which
would enable many Jews to purchase matza more easily. And the instinctive disdain for innovation,
critically important as it is, has its limits.
One could easily argue that the transition from manual labor to
machinery in the production of matza does not mark
significant enough a deviation from tradition to forbid the use of machine-made
matzot.
There
remains, however, one important halakhic factor which
would perhaps disallow the use of machine-made matzot. The mizva of eating
matza on the first night (or first two nights in the
Diaspora) requires eating matzot that were prepared
specifically with this obligation in mind ("li-shma"),
at least from the time of the wheat's grinding, preferably from the point of
harvesting. One ramification of this halakha is that anybody not included in the mitzva of matza may not take part
in the process of baking. Thus, for
example, one does not fulfill his mitzva of eating matza if a gentile or Jewish minor baked the matzot. This applies
even if a Jewish adult stands over the non-Jew or child and ensures that
everything was done properly. Therefore,
many argued, how can we allow the use of matzot
produced by a machine? Certainly the
machine can be no better than a gentile or Jewish child!
Other
authorities, however, argued that a Jewish adult pressing the button to set the
machine into motion suffices for us to consider the matzot
as having been prepared by somebody included in the obligation (Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank, among others).
All
this applies specifically on the first night(s) of Pesach, when there exists a specific obligation to eat matza. During the duration of Pesach, however, this
factor would appear to be irrelevant, and we should therefore permit the use of
machine matzot.
However, the Mishna Berura
(460:2) approvingly records a practice among many to maintain throughout Pesach
the same standards regarding matza as Halakha requires for the first night(s). This custom thus insists on eating "matza shemura" matza that has been guarded against chametz
and prepared specifically with the mitzva in mind
throughout the entirety of the festival.
Accordingly, there might be room as an additional measure of stringency
to eat only handmade matzot throughout Pesach.
In
practice, many people make a point of using handmade matzot
for the mitzva on the first night(s) of Pesach, but
will eat machine matzot during the rest of the
festival. It would seem that those who
find it difficult to eat handmade matzot (for any
reason, such as financial, dental, and so on) may rely on the lenient position
and eat machine matzot even on the first night.
Importantly,
the Nit'ei Gavriel mentions
in the name of the Kloizenberger Rebbe
that even the stringent view would not treat machine-made matzot
as chametz. He
adds that even the 19th-century authorities who declared these matzot chametz did so only for
purposes of emphasis, and due to the difficulty involved in cleaning the
machines and so on, as discussed above.
David Silverberg
*****
Towards
the end of the "maggid" section of the Haggada, we read of a seemingly peculiar debate among the Tanna'im as to how many plagues actually occurred in Egypt, and how many occurred at the Yam Suf (Sea
of Reeds). According to all opinions, however, five
times as many plagues took place at the sea than in Egypt. This emerges from the fact that after the
third plague (lice), Pharaoh's astrologers acknowledge that the plague is
"the finger of God" (Shemot 8:15), whereas
after the splitting the sea "Israel saw the great hand" (Shemot 15:31). If
the plagues in Egypt are
likened to a "finger," while the miracle of the sea is considered a
"hand," then we must conclude that the splitting of the sea included
five times the number of plagues that occurred in Egypt. If we assume, then, as does Rabbi Yossi Ha-gelili, that only ten plagues were visited upon Egypt,
it would turn out that the Egyptians suffered fifty plagues at the sea. According to Rabbi Eliezer's
view, that the Egyptians actually suffered forty plagues in Egypt, two hundred plagues occurred
at the sea.
What
is this discussion all about? What does
it mean that the Egyptians suffered five times as a many plagues at the sea as
they did in Egypt? What underlies this comparison between the
plagues and a "finger" and hand"?
Rav
Yechiel Michel Epstein (author of the Arukh Ha-shulchan), in his commentary to the Haggada
(entitled "Leil Shimurim"),
explains that the astrologers' acknowledgment of the "finger of God"
fell short of recognition of God's supreme power. The natural world consists of four basic
elements: air, fire, water and earth.
When the plague of lice descended upon the Egyptians, the astrologers
noticed that this peculiar species of lice could not have originated from any
of these four elements; it must have resulted from a different force. They therefore concluded that there exists a
fifth element in the universe, a physical force in addition to the four of
which they were already aware. They thus
described this power as a "finger" one of five. What they recognized as divine power worked,
in their view, alongside the familiar forces of nature, rather than controlling
them.
Only
with the splitting of the sea was the message of "the hand of God"
fully manifest. Here the Almighty showed
that His might is not just a "finger," it is not one of several
forces on earth, but rather the supreme force that exerts absolute control over
the others. Just as the hand enjoys
total control over the fingers, so does God have full power over the
"fingers" all the natural forces in the world.
David Silverberg
*****
On
the second night of Pesach we begin counting sefirat
ha-omer. In
Eretz Yisrael, this first night of counting resembles every other night, and is
performed immediately following the arvit
service. In the Diaspora, however, the
second night of Pesach marks the beginning of Yom Tov
Sheni the second day of Yom Tov observed outside
the Land of Israel.
For most Diaspora Jews, the fact that this night is Yom Tov has no bearing on the mitzva
of sefirat ha-omer; the
counting is performed on this night, as well, immediately following the arvit service.
Chasidim living in chutz la-aretz, however, have the practice of delaying the counting
of the omer until after the seder (before nirtza,
which, technically speaking, is not part of the actual seder). This practice is attributed to the Ba'al Shem Tov himself, founder
of chasidism (though there are conflicting reports in
this regard).
Halakhically speaking, this practice appears, at first
glance, problematic, for several reasons.
Firstly, besides the fact that the performance of mitzvot
should not be unnecessarily delayed, Halakha forbids
eating a meal or engaging in any other significant activity once the time for a
certain mitzva arrives until its performance. Thus, for example, during Chanukah one may
not conduct a meal from the time the obligation of candle lighting takes effect
(either sundown or nightfall) until he lights.
Several nights ago, when we fulfilled the mitzva
of bedikat chametz
(searching for chametz), it was forbidden for us to
eat a meal after nightfall until we performed the bedika. Seemingly, then, it should be forbidden to
conduct a seder after dark
before performing the mitzva of sefirat
ha-omer.
(Indeed, the Rema rules explicitly that one
may not eat a meal before sefira 889:4.) Secondly, a famous halakhic
principle dictates that "tadir ve-she'eino tadir, tadir kodem." Whenever we have before us two mitzvot to perform, the more frequent mitzva
precedes the less frequent mitzva. So when night falls in chutz
la-aretz on the night of the sixteenth of Nissan, and
a person becomes obligated in the mitzvot of the seder and of sefirat
ha-omer, he should, presumably, first perform sefirat ha-omer, which occurs
forty-nine days a year, before the twice-a-year mitzvot
of the seder.
Other
objections to this custom have been raised, as well, including the concern that
after an entire seder, which
obviously includes drinking four cups of wine, one may likely forget to
count. One might argue, however, that
since nowadays everyone follows the seder
with a Haggada, many of which include sefirat ha-omer after hallel, this concern no longer applies. Finally, some object to the chassidic custom in light of the ruling of the Shela, cited in several halakhic
sources (including the Chok Yaakov, Be'eir Heiteiv, and Siddur of Rav Yaakov Emden), that
sefirat ha-omer should
preferably be performed together with a congregation. One should not, therefore, refrain from
counting the omer in the synagogue after the arvit service in order to count in the privacy of one's
home.
Several
explanations have been offered to justify the practice of the chasidim. Rav Soloveitchik (as cited by Rav Herschel Shachtar
in "Mi-pninei Ha-Rav") suggested basing
this practice upon the comments of the Sefer Ha-chinukh regarding this mitzva. Already the Rambam,
in Moreh Nevukhim,
explained sefirat ha-omer
as expressing our eager anticipation and countdown to Shavuot the
commemoration of the receiving of the Torah.
The Sefer Ha-chinukh
thus asks, why dont we start counting on the first
night of Pesach? Shouldn't we begin
anticipating Matan Torah immediately following our
Exodus from Egypt? The Chinukh answers
that in theory, sefirat ha-omer
perhaps should commence on the first night of Pesach, but the Torah wanted us
to devote the first night of Pesach entirely to sippur
Yetziat Mitzrayim telling
about the Exodus. Counting the omer, which means looking ahead beyond Yetziat
Mitzrayim to the next critical stage Matan Torah, would diminish our single-minded focus on the
Exodus itself, which is what the first night of Pesach is all about.
If we accept
this theory, a problem arises in chutz la-aretz on the second night of Pesach, when sefirat ha-omer begins. If Diaspora Jews must devote the second night
of Pesach, as well, to telling and reliving the story of the Exodus, then the
obligation of sefirat ha-omer
seems to present the same dilemma the Torah avoided by beginning sefira on the second night.
Chasidim sought to avoid this problem by delaying sefirat
ha-omer until after the seder, when we no longer involve ourselves in sippur Yetziat Mitzrayim in any event, and thus sefirat
ha-omer will not undermine the exclusive attention we
must give on this night to the story of the Exodus.
David Silverberg
*****
Yesterday,
we discussed the practice among many chasidim in chutz la-aretz, where Yom Tov is observed for the first two days of Pesach, to delay sefirat ha-omer on the second
night of Pesach until after the seder
(before nirtza).
We saw several halakhic difficulties with this
practice, and cited in the name of Rav Soloveitchik
one possible basis for the custom. Today
we present yet another approach Rav Soloveitchik
suggested as to the basis for this practice of the chasidim.
The
Ba'al Ha-maor, in his
treatment of the laws of sefirat ha-omer (at the end of his work to Masekhet
Pesachim), wonders why Halakha
permits and in fact requires reciting a berakha
over sefirat ha-omer on the
second night of Pesach in the Diaspora.
A well-known Gemara in Masekhet
Sukka (47a) rules that Jews in chutz
la-aretz must sit in the sukka
on Shemini Atzeret. Just as Diaspora communities observe two days
of Yom Tov to commemorate the fact that, centuries
ago, communities outside Israel
were unsure of the precise date of Yom Tov and thus
observed two days, so must they treat Shemini Atzeret as if it might be the seventh day of Sukkot. However, the Gemara
says, no berakha is recited over the sukka on Shemini Atzeret, because this would create a "tartei de-satrei" a
blatant paradox. A berakha
over the mitzva of sukka
means that we treat the day as Sukkot; we cannot do
this at the same time as we celebrate Shemini Atzeret. Diaspora
Jews should therefore sit in the sukka, which itself
poses no contradiction to the Shemini Atzeret (for people might sit outside in any event Rosh),
but without reciting a berakha. Similarly, the Ba'al
Ha-maor argues, on the second night of Pesach, which
in chutz la-aretz is
observed as if it were the first night, we should not recite a berakha over sefirat ha-omer. This berakha identifies this night as the second night of
Pesach, and thus inherently contradicts the Yom Tov
observances (such as kiddush,
matza, marror, "maggid," hallel, etc.).
The
chasidim's practice perhaps emerged as a possible
solution to this halakhic anomaly. On Shemini Atzeret, the problem arises specifically because the berakha over the sukka should be
recited at the beginning of the meal, which on Yom Tov
means during the recitation of kiddush. This the Gemara
would not allow, as it would appear ludicrous to combine the berakha over sukka with kiddush for Shemini
Atzeret. Had
there been some way of separating the two, Chazal
would have, indeed, allowed (and required) reciting the berakha
over the sukka even on Shemini
Atzeret.
Whereas on Shemini Atzeret
this is not halakhically feasible, such a possibility
does present itself on the second night of Pesach. By delaying sefirat
ha-omer until after the completion of the seder, we can separate this mitzva from the mitzvot of Yom Tov, so that no apparent contradiction arises.
(It
is worth noting, however, that the chasidim famously
adopted the practice of eating indoors on Shemini Atzeret, seemingly in violation of the aforementioned
ruling of the Gemara in Sukka. Many different explanations have been
suggested for this practice, and Rav Tzadok of Lublin
even composed an entire work to justify this practice.)
David Silverberg
*****
The
Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 489:1)
rules that sefirat ha-omer
is to be conducted following the arvit service,
indicating that one should make a point of not counting the omer
prior to arvit.
The Beiur Halakha
cites the Chok Yaakov (an important work on Hilkhot Pesach by the author of the "Netivot") as explaining this halakha
on the basis of the principle we mentioned two days ago "tadir ve-she'eino tadir, tadir kodem." Whenever a person has two mitzvot
to perform, the more frequent mitzva precedes the
less frequent mitzva.
During the sefira period, once night falls,
one has an obligation to recite arvit (which fulfills
the mitzvot of shema and tefila) as well as the obligation to count the omer. Since arvit is clearly the more frequent mitzva,
it should naturally precede the counting of the omer.
The
Beiur Halakha then cites
Rav Yaakov Emden as offering (in his work "Mor U-ktzia")
a different reason why we should recite arvit before
counting the omer.
He suggests that long ago, congregations would conduct the arvit service before dark.
Since one should not count the omer before
dark, they would naturally refrain from counting the omer
until after nightfall, which meant after the conclusion of the arvit service. This
approach of Rav Yaakov Emden strongly suggests that
strictly speaking, sefirat ha-omer
should precede arvit.
Only due to the practice of reciting arvit early
did the need arise to delay sefirat ha-omer until after arvit. Fundamentally, however, one should count the omer before reciting arvit.
This
implication, however, appears to overlook the well-established halakhic principle of "tadir
ve-she'eino tadir
" Why must Rav
Yaakov Emden dig so deep to explain the Shulchan Arukh's ruling, that arvit should precede sefirat ha-omer? Why does he
not apply the famous rule of "tadir ve-she'eino tadir" to this
case?
The
Beiur Halakha suggests that
Rav Yaakov Emden did not apply the "tadir" principle here because the
"competing" mitzvot are not on the same
level of obligation. Sefirat
ha-omer, at least according to the Rambam, is a Torah obligation even nowadays, after the Temple's
destruction. And even according to the
view (which appears to represent the majority opinion) that sefira
in the Temple's
absence constitutes a rabbinic obligation, it
nevertheless has its roots in the Torah obligation of sefirat
ha-omer. Tefila, however, is a rabbinic obligation. Therefore, perhaps, Rav Yaakov Emden felt that sefirat ha-omer should precede arvit despite
the rule of "tadir ve-she'eino
tadir."
This
explanation, however, seems very difficult to accept. As noted in the work "Nimukei Orach Chayim,"
the Beiur Halakha does not
address the mitzva of shema,
which we fulfill as part of the arvit service, and
which is clearly a Torah obligation.
Moreover, even the mitzva of tefila, according to the Rambam,
is Biblical in origin; only the specific format and times were instituted by Chazal. Seemingly,
then, we have no reason to override the "tadir"
rule in this case.
Rav
Moshe Feinstein (Iggerot Moshe, O.C. 4:99) raises but
immediately dismisses another approach to explain Rav Yaakov Emden's position.
The Mishna Berura
(489:2) writes that we count the omer immediately
following shemoneh esrei of
arvit, even before aleinu,
because we must try to perform sefirat ha-omer as early as possible once night falls, due to the
concept of "temimut." The Torah (Vayikra
23:15) requires that we count "seven COMPLETE ['temimot']
weeks." This concept of
"completeness" with respect to sefirat ha-omer has numerous halakhic
ramifications, including, the Mishna Berura writes, the halakhic value
in counting as soon as the time for sefirat ha-omer arrives. One
makes his counting more "complete" by not allowing any time to pass
when he could but does not count the omer. Perhaps it was this consideration that led
Rav Yaakov Emden to conclude that the "tadir" principle would not warrant reciting arvit before counting the omer. The concern for "tamimut,"
he felt, overrides the principle of "tadir ve-she'eino tadir."
As
mentioned, however, Rav Moshe immediately dismisses this possibility. It is inconceivable, Rav Moshe contends, that
there exists an outright obligation of "temimut"
requiring one to count the omer as soon as
possible. Nowhere do we find that
counting later in the night fulfills the obligation only on the level of
"be-di'avad" (ex post facto, but not the
optimal level of performance). When the Mishna Berura writes that one
should endeavor to count the omer as early as
possible because of "temimut," he does not
refer to a strict requirement. Rather,
counting early helps remind us and reinforce in our minds the halakhic concept of "temimut"
regarding sefirat ha-omer. But this is undoubtedly not what we would
call in halakhic terminology a "din le-khatechila" an outright requirement.
Clearly,
then, this element of "temimut," by which
we are encouraged though not required to count as soon after nightfall as
we can, cannot possibly override the bona fide, halakhic
principle of "tadir ve-she'eino
tadir."
Rav Moshe thus leaves this difficulty against Rav Yaakov Emden's position unresolved.
David Silverberg
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To see this year's S.A.L.T. selections:
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www.vbm-torah.org/salt.htm
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