The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit
MidrashThe Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit
Midrash
Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion
PESACH 5766
By Rav David Silverberg
While it is commonly assumed that the four cups of wine required at the seder correspond to the four "expressions of redemption" in God's prophecy to Moshe in Sefer Shemot (6:6-7), the Talmud Yerushalmi in Masekhet Pesachim (chapter 10) cites a different basis for this requirement. According to Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levi, the four cups of wine correspond to the four references to the word kos (cup) in the verses in Parashat Bereishit (40:11-13) describing the dream dreamt by Pharaoh's cupbearer and Yosef's interpretation of that dream. Many writers and darshanim have raised the question of why those verses are of any relevance to the celebration of Pesach. Why, according to Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levi, were Chazal interested in reminding us on this occasion – the seder – of the cupbearer's dream?
Instinctively, we might explain that Chazal wished for us to bring
to mind on this night not merely the story of the Egyptian bondage, but also its
roots and origins: the story of Yosef's travails in
Rav Eliyahu Klatzkin, in his Chibat Ha-kodesh (cited in the Ke-motzei Shalal Rav compendium on the Haggada), suggests a much different explanation, one which takes into account the particular significance of the term kos in these verses. A cursory reading of the cupbearer's report of his dream to Yosef reveals that he unnecessarily repeats and appears to emphasize the expression kos Pharaoh ("Pharaoh's cup"). Interestingly, the other prisoner, the baker, makes no mention of Pharaoh whatsoever in his dream. Rav Klatzkin suggests that this distinction perhaps served as a clue to Yosef of the differing attitudes of the two servants. The cupbearer very genuinely wished to serve Pharaoh, and this longing found expression in his repeated mention of his master's name. Yosef therefore understood that he had not been lax in his service, and his offense must have resulted from some unavoidable mistake. The baker, by contrast, displayed little loyalty or devotion to Pharaoh, and it thus stood to reason that his offense indeed stemmed from carelessness and disinterest.
For this reason, Rav Klatzkin suggested, Chazal made a point of reminding us of this incident at the seder, when we experience (or should experience) a genuine longing for the final redemption and the full restoration of our nation's special bond with the Almighty. Just as the cupbearer longed to return to his service of Pharaoh, so must we feel such a longing for our release from the "dungeon" and our reinstatement as the Almighty's servants in His Temple.
We might suggest a slight modification to this approach. On Pesach, we left the service of Pharaoh to become the servants of the Almighty. Chazal perhaps sought to show us a true example of servitude, or the type of servitude that is required in our relationship with God. We should approach our role as avdei Hashem – servants of God – with joy and anticipation. If the cupbearer, as indicated in his repeated references to Pharaoh, so eagerly desired to return to the service of the Egyptian king, then certainly we, as we reaffirm our status as avadim la-Makom, must assume this position with fervor and excitement, and perceive it as the greatest privilege and honor that one could hope for.
******
The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (116b) discusses the status of a blind individual with respect to the obligation of sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim, and records that two famous blind sages, Rav Yosef and Rav Sheshet, would read the Haggada on behalf of the others at their seder. Seemingly, the reading of the Haggada by a blind man to fulfill the obligation for others proves that the blind are included in this mitzva. A fundamental halakhic principle establishes that one can fulfill an obligation involving a given recitation by hearing that recitation from another only if that other is obligated on the same level. Hence, the Gemara tries to deduce from the accounts regarding Rav Yosef and Rav Sheshet that a blind person is included under the obligation to tell the story of the Exodus on Pesach.
However, the Gemara proceeds to refute this proof, suggesting that these
rabbis perhaps followed the opinion that the obligation of matza
nowadays, in the aftermath of the
Today we will discuss the first of these two assumptions; tomorrow we will iy"H address the second.
The Gemara's first assumption involves a dependent relationship between the mitzvot of matza and that of sippur of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, and says that when the Torah obligation of matza does not apply, neither does the Torah obligation of sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim. Why should the obligation to tell of the Exodus depend upon the obligation to eat matza?
The most likely answer, as suggested by Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Rinat Yitzchak commentary to the Haggada, and Rav Shemuel Eliezorov, in his work Devar Shemuel on Masekhet Pesachim, emerges from a famous comment of the Gemara earlier in Masekhet Pesachim (36a). Commenting on the Torah's description of chametz as lechem oni (Devarim 16:3), which is generally translated as "bread of affliction" (or "bread of poverty"), the Gemara understands this expression to mean, "lechem she-onin alav devarim harbei" – "bread upon which many words are said." Meaning, sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim is to be conducted specifically over matza. The Gemara perhaps extended this concept to its logical conclusion, asserting (albeit implicitly) that when the obligation of matza does not apply as a Torah obligation, neither does sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim.
Halakha, of course, follows the view that the obligation to eat matza nowadays applies on the level of Torah law; by extension, then, sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim is also presumed to be a Biblical obligation even in the Temple's absence. However, the question arises as to whether one who, for whatever reason, does not have matza at the seder is obligated to recite the Haggada on the level of Torah obligation. Seemingly, if, indeed, the Torah envisioned sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim taking place specifically over matza, the absence of matza would result in the absence of the Torah obligation of sippur. On the other hand, one might contend (as Rav Eliezerov does, in Devar Shemuel) that only when the obligation of matza is fundamentally inapplicable is the obligation of sippur affected. But when the obligation of matza pertains, the mitzva to tell about the Exodus remains intact, regardless of whether practically one fulfills the obligation of matza.
Interestingly, Rav Yerucham Perlow, in his famous commentary to Rav Sa'adya Gaon's listing of the mitzvot (asei 33), deduces from a responsum of Rav Natrunai Gaon that one who does not have matza is indeed exempt from the obligation of sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim. Rav Natrunai remarked that a person who does not have wine for the seder is nonetheless required to tell of the Exodus. By speaking only of one who does not have wine, without mentioning the case of a Jew who has no access to matza, Rav Natrunai Gaon perhaps indicatest that if one does not have matza, he is not obligated in sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim.
******
Yesterday, we discussed the Gemara's exchange in Masekhet Pesachim (116b) concerning the issue of whether a blind person is included under the obligation of sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim. The Gemara attempts to draw proof from a report of two blind Amora'im who recited the Haggada on behalf of others, indicating that the obligation indeed includes the blind. But the Gemara then refutes this proof, arguing that these Amora'im perhaps followed the view that the matza obligation nowadays applies only on the level of rabbinic enactment, in which case the obligation of sippur also applies on this level, rather than as a Torah obligation. (Yesterday we discussed the basis for this connection between the two mitzvot.) The blind Amora'im were therefore allowed to recite the Haggada for others, since even for the others the obligation applies only on the level of de-rabbanan (rabbinic obligation).
It remains unclear why the rabbinic stature of the mitzva of sippur nowadays would affect the status of a blind person with regard to this mitzva. If the Torah exempts him from sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim, why would he be permitted to fulfill the obligation for others, even if they are obligated only on the level of de-rabbanan?
It appears, at least at first glance, that the Gemara assumed that even
if the Torah obligation of sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim does not apply to
those who are blind, they are nevertheless bound by a rabbinic obligation to
tell the story of the Exodus on Pesach.
Hence, if nowadays the general obligation of sippur applies only
on the level of de-rabbanan, then all Jews – both the blind and those
blessed with vision – share the same level of obligation, and for this reason a
blind person can recite the Haggada on behalf of others. This is, indeed, the approach taken by
Tosefot in Masekhet Megila (19b) in explaining the Gemara's refutation. But Tosefot then proceed to question
this rationale, arguing that a person included in an obligation at the level of
terei de-rabbanan – a combination of two rabbinic enactments – cannot
fulfill that obligation for a person included at the level of chad
de-rabbanan – a single rabbinic enactment. A blind man, according to the Gemara's
contention, is included in sippur only on the de-rabbanan level
even during the times of the Mikdash; it thus takes two rabbinic
enactments to require him to perform this mitzva nowadays. Others, however, are obligated in
sippur when the
There is, however, an alternative reading of the Gemara. One might explain that according to this
view, during the times of the
The Turei Even (Megila 24a) infers from the Rashbam's
commentary (here in Pesachim) that he accepted this reading of the Gemara, and
the Turei Even objects to this approach. How is it possible, he asks, that a
rabbinic obligation would require a blind to recite the Haggada after the
In any event, the Gemara ultimately concludes that the Amora'im recited the Haggada on behalf
of others because they indeed held that the Torah obligation of sippur
applies equally to the blind and to those blessed with eyesight. Accordingly, the Shulchan Arukh Ha-Rav (473:52) ruled that a blind person may
recite the Haggada for others for them to fulfill their
obligation of sippur yetzi'at
Mitzrayim.
******
The Shulchan Arukh writes (481:2), "One is obligated to engage
in the laws of Pesach and the Exodus and tell of the miracles and wonders that
the Almighty performed for our forefathers, until he is overtaken by
sleep."
At first glance, the Shulchan Arukh requires that one continues learning and
studying the subjects relevant to Pesach until he is overcome by fatigue to the
point where he physically cannot stay awake any longer. However, Rav Avraham Gurvitz, in his
Or Avraham commentary to the Haggada, suggests a much more lenient reading of
this halakha in the Shulchan Arukh.
Rav Gurvitz compares the Shulchan Arukh's comment to a famous remark of the Rema in
Hilkhot Sukka (O.C. 639:7) criticizing one who insists on remaining in the
sukka in situations where he is exempt due to
rain, discomfort and the like. Such
a person, the Rema comments, is considered a hedyot (polite term for "fool"). One might ask why the Rema would
discourage people from endeavoring to fulfill mitzvot beyond the strict call of duty. If a person truly and genuinely desires
to perform the mitzva of sukka, why is it improper for him to stay in the
sukka and brave the elements? The Gaon of Vilna explains that under
such circumstances, the sukka loses its halakhic status as a sukka, and thus eating in the sukka simply has no religious value
whatsoever. One who eats a meal in
the sukka in the torrential rain is halakhically
equivalent to one who eats outside, directly under the skies; he performs no
mitzva whatsoever. Understandably, then, the Rema deems
such a person a "fool," for subjecting himself to misery to do something that is
religiously meaningless.
But the Bei'ur
Halakha cites a different
explanation from the work Olat
Shemuel, who claimed that this
individual is branded a hedyot because his passionate self-sacrifice for
the mitzva of sukka infringes upon his observance of a
different mitzva – simchat Yom Tov (rejoicing on Yom Tov).
Even should one argue that eating in a rainy sukka indeed constitutes a mitzva act, one should not adopt such a stringent
measure at the expense of another, conflicting obligation, to enjoy oneself and
rejoice on Yom Tov.
Once the individual is technically exempt from the sukka obligation, he should not exert himself to
perform this mitzva if by doing so he forfeits another
mitzva.
A similar concept, Rav Gurvitz suggests, would seemingly apply to
remaining awake all night to study the laws of Pesach and yetzi'at Mitzrayim on the night of Pesach. Since one fulfills his strict obligation
by reading and studying the Haggada, continued studying represents a level of
fulfillment beyond the strict letter of the halakha.
Although the Shulchan
Arukh writes that one is
"obligated" to make the effort to extend his period of study on this night, its
halakhic stature is clearly than of an enhancement, a level beyond the actual
requirement. Therefore, the
Shulchan Arukh limited this "obligation" to the period of
time in which the individual is not "overtaken by sleep," when he does not find
himself struggling to stay awake, an experience of discomfort that diminishes
from his simchat Yom Tov.
According to this reading of the Shulchan Arukh, one must continue studying on the night of
the seder not until he is physically incapable of
studying any further, but until the point at which his fatigue causes him
considerable discomfort, thus disturbing his sense of celebration and enjoyment
of Yom Tov.
*******
The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (120b) cites the famous debate between
Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya as to the time by which one must partake
of the korban pesach on the night of Pesach. Whereas Rabbi Akiva held that one may
partake of the sacrifice until daybreak, Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya argued that one
must finish eating until chatzot (midnight as defined by Halakha).
The Gemara proceeds to cite Rava's comment that according to Rabbi Elazar
Ben Azarya's position, nowadays one must eat the afikoman, the piece of matza commemorating the paschal offering, before
chatzot.
The Rishonim disagree as to which position should be
accepted as the final halakha.
The Rosh (Pesachim, 10:38) records that Rabbenu Tam would make a point of
completing the afikoman before chatzot, and this is indeed the position of the
Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 477:1).
The Avnei Neizer, in one of his responsa (381), advanced a
famous and controversial theory regarding this halakha that has generated an entire literature and
much discussion and debate. Since
in many homes – particularly of families that host large sedarim – the discussions during Maggid continue for quite some time, such that it
is difficult to complete the meal and eat the afikoman by chatzot, the Avnei Neizer proposed a novel approach to avoiding this
halakhic dilemma. His proposal is
predicated on the assumption that according to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, it is
permissible for one to eat after eating the afikoman once chatzot has passed. The famous halakha known as "ein maftirin achar ha-pesach
afikoman" (Mishna, Pesachim 119b)
dictates that one may not eat on the night of Pesach after partaking of the
korban pesach, so that the taste of the sacrifice remain
in his mouth throughout the night.
By extension, nowadays, when we eat the afikoman in lieu of the korban pesach, one may not eat on the night of Pesach
after eating the afikoman.
But the Avnei
Neizer boldly asserts that
according to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, who requires partaking of the korban pesach by chatzot, this prohibition applies only until
chatzot.
In the view of the Avnei
Neizer, the Sages wanted the taste
of the afikoman to remain in one's mouth only throughout
the period relevant to it, meaning, the period within which the afikoman must be eaten. Since one cannot partake of the
afikoman beyond chatzot, the second half of the night – from
chatzot on – has no halakhic significance as far as
the afikoman is concerned, and there is therefore no
prohibition against eating past this point, according to the view of Rabbi
Elazar Ben Azarya.
Armed with this assumption, the Avnei Neizer contends, one has a simple solution to the
"chatzot problem" at the seder.
Namely, if one sees that chatzot is approaching and he is still in the
middle of his meal, he may eat a ke-zayit of matza at that point, stipulating that this
matza should be considered the afikoman if Halakha follows Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya's view,
whereas if we should accept Rabbi Akiva's position, this is just ordinary
matza.
He should then refrain from eating until after chatzot, and then continue with his meal and the
rest of the seder as usual. This way, he has indeed eaten the
afikoman by chatzot if Halakha requires doing so, without rushing through
his meal.
Among those who disagreed with the Avnei Neizer's proposal is Rav Moshe Feinstein, who
discusses this topic in his Iggerot Moshe (O.C. vol. 5, 38:8). Rav Moshe argues that even Rabbi Elazar
Ben Azarya would extend the prohibition against eating after partaking the
afikoman throughout the night of Pesach. Despite the fact that he requires
partaking of the korban
pesach – and, by extension, of the
afikoman – by chatzot, it is quite conceivable that Chazal nevertheless wanted that the taste of the
korban remain in one's mouth throughout the
night. Rav Moshe does not elaborate
on this point, but he perhaps had in mind the comments of Ibn Ezra regarding the
Torah's description of the night of Pesach as leil shimurim (commonly translated as "a night of
watching" – Shemot 12:42). Ibn Ezra
cites those who interpret this to mean that the night of Pesach should be spent
discussing and praising God for the miracles of the Exodus, rather than
sleeping. Perhaps, therefore,
Chazal required that the taste of the korban remain in one's mouth throughout the night
to remind him to engage in the subject of Pesach throughout the night. This halakha would thus be entirely independent of the
debate between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya. (We might add that Rabbi Elazar Ben
Azarya himself was one of the five sages who attended the famous seder in Bnei-Brak, which, as recorded in the
Haggada, lasted until the morning. Despite his view that the korban pesach must be eaten by chatzot, he nevertheless stayed awake with his
colleagues throughout the night to discuss yetzi'at Mitzrayim.)
It is worth noting that Rav Avraham Pam (as recorded by Rabbi Shalom Smith in The Pleasant Way), while undoubtedly aware of the objections of Rav Moshe and others to the Avnei Neizer's theory, encouraged relying on this position to avoid tension at the seder. He bemoans the fact that the rush to complete the meal in time to eat the afikoman by chatzot often results in immense pressure on the wives, who are expected to serve the meal quickly. Rav Pam felt that it is preferable to rely on the Avnei Neizer's solution rather than impose this kind of pressure on the family to rush through the meal.
******
Yesterday we discussed the famous debate between Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya and Rabbi Akiva (Pesachim 120b) as to whether one is required to eat the meat of the korban pesach specifically before chatzot (midnight as defined by Halakha), or if it may be eaten throughout the night of Pesach. As we mentioned, the Rishonim are in disagreement as to which view is accepted as the final halakha.
The Gemara in Masekhet Zevachim (57b) discusses this debate in the context of the final Mishna of the fifth chapter of Zevachim, which states unequivocally that the korban pesach may not be eaten past chatzot. Though the Gemara instinctively concludes that this Mishna follows Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya's view, that the Torah requires partaking of the meat of the korban pesach by chatzot, Abayei makes an attempt at explaining the Mishna in accordance with all views. Perhaps, Abayei argues, the Mishna refers to the level of rabbinic enactment, where even those who disagree with Rabbi Elazar require eating the korban pesach before chatzot. Ultimately, the Gemara rejects this reading, and demonstrates that the Mishna must be speaking on the level of Torah law. The simple reading of this Gemara suggests, however, that it accepts Abayei's underlying premise – namely, that even Rabbi Akiva requires partaking of the korban pesach before chatzot by force of a rabbinic decree.
Accordingly, the Rambam, in Hilkhot Korban Pesach (8:15), writes
explicitly that the meat of the korban pesach may be eaten only until
chatzot, "kedei le-harchik min ha-aveira" – to keep a person away
from sin. The Rambam refers here to
the famous Mishna in Masekhet Berakhot (2a) where Rabban Gamliel tells his sons
of the rabbinic decree requiring that one recite shema and partake of
sacrificial meat only until chatzot. Even though these mitzvot may be fulfilled throughout the night,
Chazal decreed that one perform them by chatzot, as a safeguard against laxity. Thus, according to the Rambam, Halakha follows Rabbi Akiva's position, that
strictly speaking one may partake of the korban pesach until daybreak, but Chazal decreed that it should be eaten by
chatzot.
The question arises as to whether a similar rabbinic decree applies to
the logical extension of Rabbi Akiva's view, namely, that one may eat the
afikoman – which serves to commemorate the korban pesach – throughout the night of Pesach. As we discussed yesterday, the Gemara
cites Rava as commenting that according to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, one does not
fulfill his obligation if he partakes of the afikoman after chatzot.
Might this suggest that Rabbi Akiva allows eating the afikoman after chatzot (as was our assumption yesterday)? At first glance, this is, indeed, Rava's
implication. Upon further
reflection, however, one might explain Rava to mean that only according to Rabbi
Elazar Ben Azarya does one not fulfill his obligation if he partakes of the
afikoman past chatzot.
Rabbi Akiva perhaps agrees that one should, optimally, eat the afikoman before chatzot, only since this stems from a rabbinic
enactment, if one missed the chatzot deadline he may – and therefore must –
still eat the afikoman.
Rava simply meant that according to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, if one
missed the chatzot deadline there is no longer any purpose for
him to eat the afikoman, since the time for the mitzva has passed. Indeed, the Rosh in Masekhet Pesachim
raises the possibility that even Rabbi Akiva requires that one eat the afikoman before chatzot.
Interestingly, however, the Rambam, in Hilkhot Chametz U-matza (5:1),
codifies Rabbi Akiva's position, allowing the consumption of the afikoman throughout the night, without making any
reference to a rabbinic decree imposing a chatzot deadline. It emerges, then, that according to the
Rambam, Rabbi Akiva distinguished between the korban pesach and the afikoman which we eat to commemorate the korban pesach.
Whereas Chazal required that the meat of the paschal
offering be eaten before chatzot, no such decree was enacted with regard to
the afikoman.
How might we account for this distinction? Instinctively, we would perhaps
distinguish between the realm of kodashim (sacrifices) and regular mitzvot.
Since a grave transgression is involved in partaking of sacrificial meat
past the allotted time, Chazal found it necessary to impose an earlier
deadline to safeguard against violations of the Torah's deadline. Eating the afikoman, of course, while serving as a
commemoration of the paschal offering, clearly does not entail this grave
prohibition, and for this reason, it would appear, Chazal did not move the deadline up to chatzot with regard to the afikoman.
However, as mentioned earlier, Chazal did enact such a decree with regard to the
shema recitation, which obviously does not entail
the gravity involved in the consumption of kodashim.
The question thus arises, why – according to the Rambam's understanding
of Rabbi Akiva – did Chazal demand reciting shema before chatzot, but did not impose such a requirement with
regard to the consumption of the afikoman?
The Beit Halevi (1:34:2) suggests, very simply, that
Chazal were not concerned that people would
neglect to eat the afikoman before daybreak, given the unique context
of this obligation. Shema is recited each night, and the regularity
of this obligation results in a lower level of excitement and fervor, which gave
rise to Chazal's concern that one may forget to recite
shema should he delay the recitation until late
at night. No such concern arises
with regard to the afikoman, a ritual that is performed as part of the
unique experience of the seder night. The Beit Halevi cites as a precedent the comment of the
Magen Avraham (687) that Chazal did not require reading the Megila before
chatzot on Purim night, because given the
excitement surrounding this once-a-year mitzva, they were not concerned about the
possibility of its neglect.
Similarly, according to the Rambam, no such concern arises in the case of
the afikoman, since it is a mitzva that applies only one night a
year.
******
In outlining the proper procedure at the seder, the Shulchan Arukh Ha-Rav (code of law by the Ba'al Ha-Tanya, the first Lubavitcher Rebbe) writes that after eating the matza, "one should immediately take a ke-zayit of marror" (475:11). The Shulchan Arukh Ha-Rav emphasizes that one should partake of the marror immediately upon eating matza, indicating that there should be no delay in between the fulfillment of the mitzva of matza and that of marror. What might be the reason for this halakha? Instinctively, we might explain this emphasis simply as requiring the standard quality of zerizut (alacrity) in mitzva performance. This is perhaps just one example of the general importance of performing mitzvot with zeal and energy, rather than with dispassionate lethargy.
Alternatively, however, the Shulchan Arukh Ha-Rav's emphasis on "immediacy" may have a more specific halakhic basis. Rav Chanoch Henich Karlenstein, in his work Chok Ha-melekh on the Rambam's Hilkhot Chametz U-matza (8:8), suggests that Halakha indeed requires eating the matza and marror in close proximity to one another. In Masekhet Pesachim (115a), the Gemara records a debate between Hillel and the other Sages as to whether or not the korban pesach, matza and marror must be eaten together. Of course, as we commemorate through the koreikh ritual, Hillel understood from the Torah's phraseology – "al matzot u-merorim yokheluhu" (Bamidbar 9:11) – that all three had to be eaten together, as a sandwich. The majority view of the Chakhamim, however, holds that they may be eaten separately. The Gemara concludes that the halakha was not definitively determined to follow either Hillel's view nor the majority position of the Chakhamim, and therefore we do both: we first eat the matza and marror separately, and then combine them into a sandwich in accordance with Hillel's position.
Rav Karlenstein suggested that the Ba'al Ha-Tanya perhaps understood the Chakhamim as agreeing fundamentally with Hillel, that the pesach, matza and marror must be eaten in conjunction with one another. After all, the Torah does require eating the korban pesach "al matzot u-merorim" – together with matza and marror. They disagree only on the technical point, as to how this is practically to be accomplished. Whereas Hillel insisted that all three be combined into a single food, the Chakhamim felt that it suffices merely to eat them in immediate succession. For this reason, perhaps, the Shulchan Arukh Ha-Rav emphasized that one should partake of the marror "immediately" after eating the matza, because even the Chakhamim demand close proximity between the performance of these two mitzvot.
*****
Towards the end of Shir Hashirim, the allegorical love story between the dod (male lover) and re'aya (female lover), the re'aya exclaims, "Shelomo had a vineyard in Ba'al Hamon, and he gave the vineyard over to watchmen; each [person] would bring a thousand silver coins for his fruit. My vineyard is before me; the thousand is for you, Shelomo, and the two hundred for those who watch its fruit" (8:11-12).
These verses, like many verses in Shir Hashirim, lend themselves to different interpretations. But it appears that the re'aya seeks to demonstrate the difference between her attitude towards her vineyard, and Shelomo's handling of his vineyard. Shelomo treated his property as nothing more than an investment; he hired watchmen to look after it, and he sold its produce for enormous sums of money. The re'aya tells the king that she prefers having her vineyard "before me," as a place to spend time with her beloved, to enjoy the beauty and fragrance of its fruit, to take pride in her work, and to appreciate the sense of connection with her family heritage that she receives from her land. Shelomo, as far as she is concerned, can continue paying meager wages to the watchmen and earning large profits from the sale of his fruits; she prefers enjoying her own field, rather than using it as a financial asset.
Much can and needs to be said about the allegorical meaning of the
re'aya's statement. But
however one interprets the meaning of this allegory, this reading perhaps sheds
light on a different verse in Tanakh, in Sefer Melakhim I (21:1), that
introduces the famous story of kerem Navot, the vineyard in the
Rav Yigal Ariel, in his work Mikdash Melekh, suggests that this
phraseology subtly expresses the deep-seated tensions underlying the
confrontation between Navot and Achav.
Navot, like the re'aya in Shir Hashirim, emphasizes his loyalty to
his ancestry and tradition, as represented by his modest vineyard. Achav, by contrast, like Shelomo in Shir
Hashirim (again, leaving aside the question of whom Shelomo allegorically
represents), saw the vineyard as a financial opportunity, as presenting the
opportunity to further expand his palace and make the Jezreel Valley more
attractive to visitors. (Recall
that the
Therefore, the story of Navot is introduced with terminology intended to bring to mind these two verses of Shir Hashirim, the verses that speak of loyalty to one's past and heritage as a priority that must take precedence over profit-making and commercialism. Yirmiyahu perhaps sought to introduce Navot as the real-life re'aya, the one who remains loyal and devoted to his past, resisting the temptation to forsake one's tradition in the pursuit of financial gain.
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The Mekhilta (Parashat Bo), cited in Masekhet Pesachim (120a), discusses the seemingly conflicting indications in the Torah regarding the obligation to eat matza. In Parashat Bo (Shemot 12:15), the Torah writes explicitly that one must eat matza for seven days, whereas in Parashat Re'ei (Devarim 16:8), we read, "You shall eat matzot for six days…" Chazal determined that if the Torah initially spoke of all seven days collectively, and then explicitly excluded the seventh day from the matza obligation, then this could only mean that the consumption of matza is optional even on the previous six days. On the first night of Pesach, however, the Torah explicitly requires eating matza (the Gemara extracts this halakha from two verses in Parashat Bo). Thus, the consumption of matza is obligatory only on the first night of Pesach, whereas during the remainder of Pesach partaking of matza is optional.
Of course, the fact that the Torah initially spoke of a seven-day obligation to eat matza begs for an explanation. If the Torah would later indicate that the consumption of matza on these days is optional, why did it misleadingly write, "You shall eat matzot for seven days"? Apparently, although partaking of matza is not obligatory throughout the seven-day festival, it nevertheless fulfills a mitzva. This position, that eating matza throughout the seven days of Pesach is not obligatory but nevertheless constitutes a kiyum mitzva (the fulfillment of a mitzva), is most commonly known as the view of Chizkuni (Shemot 12:18) and, much later, of the Vilna Gaon, as recorded in Ma'aseh Rav (181). Both these sources state explicitly that one is not obligated to eat matza after the first night of Pesach (or first two nights in the Diaspora), but he fulfills a mitzva by doing so. In fact, Ma'aseh Rav records that the Vilna Gaon was particularly vigilant in this regard, and made a point to eat matza in abundance throughout Pesach.
In truth, we find other sources to this effect, as well. The Rambam, for example, in Hilkhot Chametz U-matza (6:1), codifies the halakha limiting the obligation of matza to the first night, and yet, in Moreh Nevukhim (3:43), he speaks of the importance of a full week of matza consumption to commemorate the miracles of the Exodus. He, too, perhaps, felt that a mitzva is involved in the consumption of matza throughout Pesach, even though the obligation is restricted to the first night.
Ibn Ezra, in his Peirush Ha-katzar to Shemot 12:39, provides an
explanation for why the mitzva to eat matza applies as an
obligation on the first night, and as a reshut (optional mitzva)
throughout the rest of Pesach.
According to Ibn Ezra, the consumption of matza on the first night
and the consumption of matza throughout the rest of the week originate
from two very different sources.
The obligation to eat matza on the first night of Pesach stems
from God's command to Benei
Yisrael to eat matza with the paschal offering on the night of
the Exodus, before they left
One might question this approach in light of the passage from the
Haggada where we point to the matza and explain our consumption of
this bread based on the Torah's description of Benei Yisrael's haste upon
leaving
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In introducing the obligation to eat matza on Pesach, the Rambam writes (Hilkhot Chametz U-matza 6:1):
There is an affirmative command from the Torah to eat matza on the night of the fifteenth [of Nissan], as it says (Shemot 12:18), "in the evening you shall eat matzot"… But throughout the remainder of the festival, the consumption of matza is optional: if one wishes, he eats matza, if he wishes, he eats rice, millet, parched grain or fruits. But only on the night of the fifteenth is there an obligation.
Rav Menachem Kasher, in his Haggada Sheleima, observes that in the final clause in this passage, the Rambam appears to unnecessarily repeat the distinction between the first night of Pesach and the remainder of the festival: "But only on the night of the fifteenth is there an obligation." He had already explicitly stated that the obligation to partake of matza applies on the night of the fifteenth, and that eating matza is optional after the first night. Why might have the Rambam found it necessary to emphasize once again that the obligation to eat matza applies only the first night?
Rav Kasher suggests that the Rambam was prompted to emphasize this point by the pressure of the Karaite sect, which denied the rabbinic exegetical tradition, and against whom, as we know from many of the Rambam's letters, he struggled throughout much of his career of rabbinic leadership. The Torah in Parashat Bo (Shemot 12:15) writes explicitly, "You shall eat matzot for seven days," indicating that all seven days of the festival share the same status of obligation with respect to the consumption of matza. Chazal arrived at their understanding of the mitzva, as applying only on the first night, through a complex exegetical technique taking into account other verses referring to the obligation of matza. The Karaites rejected Chazal's interpretation, and indeed held that an obligation to eat matza applies all seven days of Pesach. The Rambam therefore emphasized and repeated the point that according to Halakha, the obligation to eat matza applies only on the first night of Pesach.
We might also suggest another explanation for the Rambam's seeming
redundancy. Earlier in this
passage, the Rambam stresses the independence of the obligation to partake of
matza from that of korban pesach, meaning, that even outside the
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In the section read on the seventh day of Pesach, we read of Benei
Yisrael's panic as they found themselves trapped in between the sea and the
pursuing Egyptian army. God
reassures Moshe, exclaiming, "Why do you cry to Me? Tell the Israelites to move on!" (Shemot
14:15). The Mekhilta
explains how precisely God reassured Moshe, and in so doing, it gives us an
indication of what troubled Moshe at that point: "If for Adam Ha-rishon, who was
alone [in the world], I made dry land…will I not make the sea into dry land for
this nation of holy people?" A
slightly different version appears in the Midrash Shemot Rabba: "If for
Adam Ha-rishon…I made dry land…all the more so for this sacred nation, which
will in the future say to Me, 'This is My God, and I shall glorify Him!'." We find yet another version in the
Midrash Aggada (cited in Torah Sheleima, note 86), where this
passage concludes, "Will I not make the sea dry for the sacred nation that will
ultimately say at Ma'amad Har
Sinai, 'We will do and we will
hear'?"
According to these Midrashim, it seems, Moshe was concerned because
Benei Yisrael faced a situation that could be resolved
only through miraculous divine intervention, which they did not necessarily
deserve. This is also the
implication of Rashi, who comments on this verse, "The sea does not stand before
them; the merit of their forefathers and their merit, in trusting in Me and
leaving [
The obvious question arises, did God really create dry land only for Adam
and Chava? True, until the birth of
their children the world belonged only to them. But quite obviously God did not make
land from water only for the first two human beings; He did so for all of
mankind that would ultimately emerge from them. How, then, can the emergence of land
during the six days of creation demonstrate Benei Yisrael's worthiness for the splitting of the
sea?
The answer, perhaps, is that the Midrash conveys precisely this point:
although it initially appeared as though God created dry land specifically for
Adam and Chava, who independently may not have been worthy of a phenomenon of
this nature, in truth God performed this miracle on behalf of their future
descendants – all mankind.
Similarly, Benei
Yisrael perhaps presently did not
deserve the great miracle of the splitting of the sea; nevertheless, as God
reassures Moshe, He is prepared to make such a miracle "for the sacred nation
that will ultimately say at Ma'amad Har Sinai, "We will do and we will hear." Despite their current unworthiness, they
may still earn salvation in the merit of their future achievements which this
miracle will facilitate.
This message is what allows the Jewish people in every generation to
petition God for His miraculous intervention. We readily acknowledge the fact that
Am Yisrael does not, in its present situation, deserve
the miracles needed to resolve the many crises it confronts. But we appeal to God nevertheless to
change the world in the merit of our future achievements, just as He created the
world in the first place on behalf of all mankind, even though it was initially
inhabited by only Adam and Chava.
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On the seventh day of Pesach, we read the first half of Parashat
Beshalach, which tells of the dramatic incident of keri'at Yam Suf, the splitting of the sea, which, according
to oral tradition, occurred on the seventh day after Benei Yisrael's departure from
Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma, offers a most surprising explanation,
claiming that this "angel" was none other than Moshe. The Meshekh Chokhma notes that we do, indeed, find other
instances where a prophet is referred to as malakh – the word that is generally used for
"angel" but more literally translates as, "messenger" (see commentaries to
Bamidbar 20:16 and Malachi 1:13).
It was Moshe, who had until this point traveled ahead of the nation as
their leader, that now moved behind the camp. In this vein the Meshekh Chokhma explains an otherwise perplexing comment of
the Mekhilta regarding God's instruction to Moshe, "tell
the Israelites that they should travel" (Shemot 14:15). The Mekhilta remarks, "The Almighty said to Moshe:
We might develop this idea further in light of Benei Yisrael's complaints to Moshe upon seeing the
pursuing Egyptians: "They said to Moshe: is it because of the lack of graves in
Egypt that you have taken us to perish in the wilderness? What is this that you have done, that
you have taken us from
Appropriately, then, this narrative concludes, "