Dressing for Prayer — BT Shabbat 10a (#1) — #81

Rava bar Rav Huna would put on fine shoes and pray. He said, “Prepare to meet [your God, O Israel] (Amos 4:12).” Rava (Abba b. Yosef bar Chama) would cast off his cloak, clasp his hands, and pray. He said, “[One should dress for prayer] like a servant before his master.” Rav Ashi said, “I saw Rav Kahana [do the following]: When there was suffering in the world, he would cast off his cloak, clasp his hands, and pray. He said, ‘One [should dress for prayer] like a servant before his master.’ When there was peace, he would get dressed, covering and wrapping himself, and pray. He said, ‘Prepare to meet [your God, O Israel].’”

INTRODUCTION

Fashion changes quickly but in any age clothing communicates many things: socio-economic status, profession, respect or disrespect. The story of Tamar in Genesis chapter 38 makes it clear that when she donned the clothes of a prostitute, her father-in-law Judah failed to recognize her on the road; he saw only her clothing.

Similarly, body language communicates many things. Consider what these gestures communicate: arms crossed over the chest, clenched fists, fake smile, looking down at the ground rather than making eye contact, furrowed eyebrows 

Prayer is conceived by the Rabbis as one’s time to communicate with God. The Amidah, in particular, was conceived by the Sages as a time, metaphorically, when one has a private audience with God in the divine Throne Room.

It seems that every generation, as fashions change, some older folks object to the way some younger folks dress, accusing them of wearing “inappropriate” or “disrespectful” clothing. We all learn as youngsters what is considered appropriate, but times, standards, and sensibilities change. The Talmud reminds us that clothing and body language communicate to the beholder, but also reflect the thoughts and feelings of one who presents them—hence there is no one right way.

COMMENTARY

The Gemara compares the differing prayer styles of two Babylonian rabbis, both named Rava. Rava bar Rav Huna was a third generation amora, the son of Rav Huna who headed the academy of Sura. The second is Abba b. Yosef bar Chama (known throughout the Talmud as just “Rava”) a fourth generation amora who lived and established a yeshivah in Machuza. Rav Ashi, born the year Rava died, headed the academy in Sura. He attempts to reconcile the two divergent views.

Rava bar Rav Huna dressed up for prayer, donning fine shoes. Why shoes? Perhaps because shoes, hidden beneath a long robe, are the least visible sartorial item. If he paid so much attention to shoes, imagine how scrupulous he was about everything else he wore for prayer? In quoting the prophet Amos (4:12), he yanked the verse out of its context. Amos warned the people to prepare themselves for the coming punishment that God would inflict on the northern tribes. For Rava bar Rav Huna, however, “Prepare to meet you God” means dress as you would to meet a president or king—express respect through dress because talking to God is a great honor.

In contrast, Rava did the opposite. He removed his g’limah (a cloak that signaled his status) and clasped his hands together as one who is helpless in the face of a far greater power. Rava explained that for him, the experience of prayer was akin to that of a servant appearing before his master. Updating a bit: One would not appear before one’s boss wearing far dressier or costlier clothing and behaving as if the employee were the boss in the relationship.

Rav Ashi followed the model of Rav Kahana, who followed the models of both Rava bar Rav Huna and Rava, depending upon the circumstance. When times were bad and people were suffering, he adopted the humble style of Rava, removing his g’limah and clasping his hands in petition. When times were good, however, Rav Kahana followed the model of Rava bar Rav Huna and dressed up to pray. Rav Ashi confirms that there is no one single appropriate way to pray—either with respect to clothing or body language. Circumstances and needs change—and vary with individuals—and prayer should be a sincere expression of the one who utters it. 

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. There was a time when people dressed up to attend a synagogue service. Many still do, but today many congregations encourage people to “come as you are” in casual dress. What do you think is gained by loosening the requirements? Is anything lost? 
2. In Rava bar Rav Huna and Rava’s day, Jews conceived God on the model of a powerful king. Today, Jews conceive God in widely divergent ways. How does your conception of God influence your thoughts about clothing and body language during prayer? What prayer experience (e.g. liturgy, venue, rituals) or style (e.g., meditation, movement, music, chanting) is most meaningful to you?
3. Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (Ein Eyah vol. 3) explains that differing styles of Rava bar Rav Huna and Rava reflect two types of prayer: Petition and Praise: “Rava emphasized the aspect of prayer that corresponds to Yirah, the awe and reverence of a self-effacing servant before his master. Rava bar Rav Huna, on the other hand, stressed prayer as an expression of Ahavah, out of love for God. He conducted his prayers in the manner of a loving and favorite son, proudly wearing his finest clothing before his father.” Yirah instills humility and makes the worshiper aware of God’s kindness and mercy; Ahavah lifts up the soul and makes the worshiper receptive to spiritual truths. What are your thoughts on Rav Kook’s interpretation of this Talmudic passage?

Are You a Good or Bad Guest? — BT Berakhot 58a (#2) — #80

[Ben Zoma] used to say: What does a good guest say? “How much trouble my host went to for my sake! How much meat he served me! How much wine he served me! How many cakes he served me! Every effort this host expended was only for my sake!” But what does a bad guest say? “How much trouble did this host go to for me? I ate one serving of bread. I ate one piece [of meat]. I drank one cup [of wine]. Every effort this host expended was taken only for his wife and his children.” Concerning a good guest, what does [Scripture] say? Remember, then, to magnify his work concerning which people have sung (Job 36:24) Concerning a bad guest, it is written, Therefore people fear him (Job 37:24).

INTRODUCTION

Hakarat ha-tov means “recognition of the good”—in other words: gratitude. In TMT 79, Ben Zoma’s blessing upon seeing a crowd of people at the Temple revealed his unique sense of  gratitude for his blessings. Talmud juxtaposes another saying of Ben Zoma concerning gratitude under very ordinary circumstances: You are invited to someone’s home for a meal. Do you marvel at everything you are served and revel in the efforts of your host? Or do you minimize—or worse, denigrate—your host’s efforts? As recounted in the Talmud, attitude distinguishes a “good guest” from a “bad guest,” but clearly there is much more to the distinction Ben Zoma draws. Ben Zoma’s comparison of the “good guest” and “bad guest” demonstrates both how to cultivate gratitude and how to express it. We come to realize that feeling and expression appreciation are inextricably intertwined. In expressing gratitude, we come to experience it. In experiencing it, we learn to articulate it.

COMMENTARY

When Ben Zoma compares the “good guest” and the “bad guest,” we are to assume both received the same food and service, but reflected their experience differently. The distinction is not in the facts of what occurred, but in their attitude and response to the experience.

The “good guest” appreciates every effort the host goes to, and explicitly expresses: (1) appreciation for each item on the menu; (2) gratitude for the generous quantity of each dish served; and (3) the generous presumption that the effort expended by the host was for the guest, in particular.

In contrast, the “bad guest” undervalues everything by focusing on how little the host needed to expend to feed him, and presumes that the host’s efforts were expended primarily for his own family, not for his guest. In this way, the guest need not feel any appreciation at all since, “He hardly did a thing for me.”

The subject of each sentence uttered by the “good guest” is the host: He went to so much trouble; he served me meat, wine, and cakes; he went to this trouble for my sake alone. The subjects of the “bad guest’s” sentences are both “I” and the host: He went to little trouble. I barely ate anything.  He was more concerned with his family than with me. Good guests believe they receive more than they deserve; bad guests believe they receive less than they deserve.

Having recounted Ben Zoma’s description of the “good guest” and “bad guest,” Gemara supplies proof texts from the ever-enigmatic biblical Book of Job. There is not unanimous agreement about the inherent meaning of these verses (and hence how they ought properly be translated) nor how they function here to bolster Ben Zoma’s teaching. Job 36:24, the verse associated with the “good guest,” seems to support praising one’s host’s efforts (even though the original speaker, Elihu, had praise of God’s deeds in mind). Job 37:24 suggests that just as people cannot see and fully appreciate God, so, too, the “bad guest” fails to fully see all that the host does for the guest and therefore fails to feel gratitude and express appreciation.

Gratitude rejoices with her sister, Joy, and 

is always ready to light a candle and have a party. 

Gratitude doesn’t much like the old cronies of 

Boredom, Despair, and Taking Life for Granted.

—Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlov

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Compare the order of food and drink items, and the language used to describe them, recited by the “good guest” and the “bad guest.” Note that the “good guest” states that s/he is served meat, wine, and cakes, while the “bad guest” names only bread and then claims to have consumed only trivial quantities of meat and wine. What does this reveal about the attitude of each? When are you a “good guest” and when are you a “bad guest”?
2. The “bad guest” is someone who ignores a salient part of reality: his host certainly expended effort on his behalf, and not merely for the sake of his spouse and children. The “bad guest” manages not to see or acknowledge all that was done to make him comfortable and happy. But is the “good guest” entire honest? Didn’t the host expend effort for his own family as well  as for his guests? If we cannot see the full picture of reality, on which side should we err? What are the advantages to us and to others of erring on the side of the “good guest”?
3. Might Ben Zoma have in mind that we are guests in God’s home, the world God created? If so, the difference between being a “good” guest and being a “bad” guest concerns how we experience God’s blessings, evaluate them, and respond to what we have. When are you a “good guest” and when are you a “bad guest”?

Thank you, thank you! — BT Berakhot 58a (#1) — #79

Our Rabbis taught [in a baraita]: One who sees a crowd of Israelites should say, “Blessed is [God] who discerns secrets,” because the mind of each is different from that of the others, just a s the face of each is different from that of the others. Ben Zoma once saw a crowd on a step of the Temple Mount. He said, “Blessed is [God] who discerns secrets, and blessed is [God] who has created all these to serve me”—because [Ben Zoma] used to say, “How hard Adam must have labored so that he could eat a piece of bread; he had to plough, and sow, and weed, and tend, and harvest, and thresh, and winnow, and sift, and grind, and mix, and knead, and bake, and after that he could eat, whereas I am able to wake in the morning and find all this already done for me. And how hard Adam must have labored so that he could have a garment to wear; he had to shear the sheep, and bleach the wool, and beat it, and dye it, and spin it, and weave it, and wash it, and sew it, and after that he could be clothed, whereas I am able to wake in the morning and find all this already done for me. How many workers wake up every morning to stand at the door of my house? I wake up in the morning, and find all these things before me.”

INTRODUCTION

The tractate Berakhot concerns prayer. Prior to the account above, the Talmud has been discussing blessings to recite over various kinds of foods, as well as blessings to say under special  circumstances, e.g., hearing good news or bad news, seeing a rainbow, seeing a king or scholar, or being in a place where a miracle occurred. These special blessings are one way in which people can cultivate in themselves an appreciation for all life’s blessings. By noticing, naming, and thanking God for them, we feel grateful and are probably a good deal happier. 

In the midst of Gemara’s discussion of blessings of thanksgiving, the Rabbis bring a baraita (oral teaching from the first two centuries of the Common Era) that says when one is in the midst of an enormous crowd, one should say, “Blessed is God who discerns secrets,” a blessing recognizing the uniqueness and individuality of each soul. Ben Zoma has his own unique take on this blessing.

COMMENTARY

Gemara records that Ben Zoma was amidst an enormous crowd of Jews. Standing up on a step in the Temple Mount, he was able to view this enormous crowd, presumably assembled to celebrate a festival. This, in itself, is strange because Shimon ben Zoma, a contemporary of R. Akiba, was likely born after the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE, and hence this is not an experience he would have had. Nonetheless, he would have heard older colleagues, including his teacher, R. Yehoshua b. Chananiah (as suggested by Nazir 8:1), who did live when the Temple existed, recount the awe-inspiring sight of vast crowds of Jews gathered at the Temple for pilgrimage festivals. Ben Zoma marvels not only at the individuality of each person—with distinct minds and thoughts— but also reflects on the blessings he personally enjoys thanks to others.

We might be inclined to understand “who has created all these to serve me” as a hubristic statement, but it is not meant this way. Perhaps a better (though less literal) translation would be,  “who has created all these people from whose labors I benefit.” To illustrate his insight, Ben Zoma compares his life with that of Adam. Adam and Eve, the only human beings, did not benefit from the labor and skills of others. For two of the most basic elements of life—food and clothing—Adam had to engage in every task of the long, elaborate, back-breaking process of turning wheat into bread, and wool into a garment. Ben Zoma, however, lives in city where people with special skills put them to constructive use to support themselves and their families and whereas he merely walks outside in the morning and finds bread and clothing for sale.

Ben Zoma cites the mundane facets of life—think bread and t-shirts—and finds cause for enormous gratitude. It is altogether easy to take much in our lives for granted. Ben Zoma not only reminds us to feel and express appreciation, but also to be keenly aware of not only the “stuff” that enhances our lives, but all the many people who contribute to making the “stuff”we enjoy.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Many psychologists, pointing out the emotional, physical, and social benefits of gratitude, recommend keeping a “Gratitude Diary” or “Blessings Journal” to record what we are grateful for, from the pleasure of a chocolate bar, to getting a good night’s sleep, to having a job, to the love of friends and family. What would you write in your journal today? Try keeping a journal for a month—write something brief two or three times a week—and gauge its effect on your happiness and well being. Reflect, as did Ben Zoma, on what life would be like without the blessings you enjoy.
2. The blessing over bread (Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha-olam ha-motzi lechem min ha-aretz / “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, ruler of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth”) is a peculiar blessing. After all, bread does not come forth from the earth. In fact, it requires many skilled people to work cooperatively to produce bread. In that sense, it is a blessing not only over bread, but over society, through which we make available to one another our skills and combine them to produce life-sustaining bread. Consider the next time you recite the blessing: does it enhance the flavor and enjoyment of your bread?
3. The podcast “Planet Money” explored how a t-shirt is made from scratch, from harvesting cotton through sewing it together—including the hundreds or thousands of people around the world involved. You can listen here. Does it give you a new vantage point on your wardrobe?

The Rabbit Hole Deepens — BT Yebamot 62a — #78

It was stated: If a man fathered children when he was an idolater, and then converted [to Judaism], R. Yochanan said he fulfilled the mitzvah of procreation, but Resh Lakish said he did not fulfill the mitzvah of procreation. R. Yochanan said he fulfilled the mitzvah of procreation because he had children, and Resh Lakish said he did not fulfill the mitzvah of procreation because a proselyte who converts is like a newborn infant.

 [In another case,] they follow the same reasoning: It was stated: If a man fathered children when he was an idolater, and then converted [to Judaism], R. Yochanan said he cannot have a firstborn with respect to inheritance because [the child born before he converted] is the “first fruit of his vigor” (Deuteronomy 21:17), and Resh Lakish said he can have a firstborn with respect to inheritance because a proselyte who converts is like a newborn infant.

It is necessary [to mention both the case of procreation and the case of inheritance] because, had they told us only the first (i.e., procreation), [I might think] R. Yochanan [held his view concerning the legal status of children born prior to conversion] since originally he was obligated to procreation, but in the case of inheritance, I might have assumed that he agrees with Resh Lakish. And if [their dispute] were stated only concerning this (i.e., inheritance), [I might think] Resh Lakish says only here [in the case of inheritance, children born prior to conversion do not have legal status], but with regard to [procreation], I might have said that [Resh Lakish] agrees with R. Yochanan. [Hence, both cases are] necessary.

INTRODUCTION

After a brief hiatus to learn some texts from Tractate Pesachim for Passover, we return to Tractate Yebamot (see TMT-72-75) and the Rabbi’s conversation about the obligation of procreation, which was inaugurated by a mishnah that recounted the differing views of Bet Hillel and Bet Shammai concerning how many children one must have to fulfill this obligation. The discussion in the Gemara takes a detour to examine the first segment of two disputes between R. Yochanan bar Nappacha and Shimon b. Lakish (known as Resh Lakish), famous for their complicated relationship as teacher and disciple, study and sparring partners, and brothers-in-law. Gemara asks: What is the legal status of children born to a man prior to his conversion to Judaism vis-a-vis procreation and inheritance? Do these children count toward his obligation to procreate? Does the firstborn prior to conversion count as the firstborn for the purposes of Jewish laws of inheritance? And why does Gemara recount both disputes between R. Yochanan and Resh Lakish, rather than just one? With this discussion, we dive into a murky discussion of the status of non-Jewish children born prior to conversion and thereby, the nature of conversion itself. Another version of this passage is found on BT Bechorot 47a.

COMMENTARY

In the case of procreation, R. Yochanan says that children born prior to conversion to Judaism fulfill the obligation of procreation which the proselyte takes on with conversion because children are children. But Resh Lakish disagrees, arguing that a convert is like a newborn in the sense that only acts following conversion are considered to fulfill mitzvot. Gemara next recounts a similar disagreement concerning the laws of inheritance. Deuteronomy 21:17 grants the firstborn male a double portion of the inheritance over his siblings; therefore identifying the “firstborn” has tangible implications. R. Yochanan defines the firstborn in biological terms: a son born prior to conversion is the “firstborn.” Resh Lakish says that being like a newborn infant means that the first son born following conversion is his “firstborn” with respect to inheritance.

In both cases (procreation and inheritance), R. Yochanan argues that children born prior to conversion have legal status under halakhah, and Resh Lakish argues that they do not. R. Yochanan argues on the basis of biology; Resh Lakish argues on what sounds like spiritual grounds. We might expect Gemara to proceed with a discussion about the spiritual versus legal  meaning of conversion, but that is a modern distinction. Rather, Gemara wonders: Why do we need to know about both disagreements, given how similar they sound?

Gemara explains that had we known only case #1 (procreation), we might think R. Yochanan claims the only mitzvah for which we recognize the legal status of children born prior to conversion is procreation, but with respect to inheritance, R. Yochanan would have agreed with Resh Lakish. Conversely, had we known only case #2 (inheritance), we might think that Resh Lakish believes that a convert is “like a newborn infant” only with respect to inheritance, but regarding procreation, he agrees with R. Yochanan. Hence Gemara presents both cases.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Jewish laws of inheritance (indeed, all mitzvot) do not apply to the proselyte prior to his conversion. According to Resh Lakish, for whom conversion is a spiritual rebirth, prior children have no halakhic legal standing. What happens to the status of a son he already has? How does this compare with the view of R. Yochanan, for whom conversion does not alter familial relationships? What is your response to these two views?
2. In a midrash (Tanchuma B, Lekh Lekha 6), Resh Lakish suggests a comparison between conversion and Revelation at Sinai, claiming, “More beloved is the proselyte than Israel when they stood at Mount Sinai” because Israel accepted Torah after experiencing revelation directly, but the convert accepted Torah without having that immediate experience. How do you think conversion and Revelation are related?
3. Lurking behind the conversation in the Talmud is the very real concern about the relationship between converts and their families of origin and children born prior to conversion. How do the opinions of R. Yochanan and Resh Lakish contribute to, or complicate, this conversation?

Tasty Tidbits for Your Seder — BT Pesach 115b — #77

#1—Rav Pappa said, “One should not leave the maror in the charoset [for too long] lest the sweet spices annul the bitterness [of the maror], for we require [the bitter] taste of the maror which would not happen.”…

#2—Rava said, “One who swallowed matzah has fulfilled the obligation [to eat matzah]. One who swallowed maror has not fulfilled the obligation [to eat maror]. One who swallowed matzah and maror [together] has filled the obligation to eat matzah, but has not fulfilled the obligation to eat maror. One who wrapped them in bast and swallowed them has not fulfilled even the obligation to eat matzah.

#3—Rav Shimi bar Ashi said, “[Place] matzah before every person [at the seder] and charoset before every one. But remove the table from before only the one who recounts the Telling.” Rav Huna says, “All of them are placed before the one who Tells the Story, as well.” The law accords with Rav Huna. Why do we remove the table? The students of R. Yannai’s academy say: In order that children will notice and ask.

INTRODUCTION

Toward the end of tractate Pesachim, the Rabbis finally get down to discussion the nuts and bolts of celebrating Pesach, centered on “Telling the Story” (the original meaning of “haggadah,” before it came to connote a book that guides us through the seder rituals). Torah provides only the bare bones of how to commemorate the Exodus: clear chametz out of the house for seven days, do not work the first and seventh days of the festival, eat matzah and maror, and tell your children the story of Israel’s redemption from Egypt. The Rabbis put substantial flesh on these bones. But it didn’t stop there: Every generation since has nourished the enterprise with the happy result that today Pesach is a wildly popular festival boasting a proliferation of haggadot, customs, and creative activities to teach traditions seder rituals, encourage new ones, and help people to internalize the story as their own. Above are three gems. Below are commentaries on each, followed by questions to bring to your seder table.

COMMENTARY

#1—The seder is a feast for the senses: sight, sound, scent, touch, and taste. The Rabbis tell us that tasting the bitter maror and the sweet charoset—the bitterness of servitude and the sweetness of redemption—are essential parts of the experience. There are two dippings at the seder: karpas into salt water, and maror into charoset. In the first dipping, the tears of the slaves “flavor” the sweet promise of springtime, symbolized by the green karpas; but in the second dipping, the sweet charoset of redemption can overtake the bitter maror of slavery. The Rabbis say we may not allow the charoset to entirely overpower the maror—we must still experience its bitterness. 

#2—Those who, as children, popped their peas like pills to avoid tasting them, will immediately recognize Rava’s concern. Exodus 12:18 mandates that we eat matzah, but “eating,” strictly speaking, does not require chewing, and hence does not necessarily involve tasting. It is permissible to swallow the matzah without tasting it. But the purpose of maror is to taste it—swallowing without chewing to avoid its bitterness defeats the purpose and thus fails to fulfill the obligation. Therefore, if you swallow matzah and maror together—without chewing—you have filled to obligation of matzah but not maror. Bast is tasteless fibrous plant matter (sometimes used to make matting). One who wraps the matzah and maror in bast and swallows the package has not have fulfilled either obligation.

#3—This passage paints a picture of how Pesach was celebrated during the Talmudic period: Each participant had ritual “supplies” on the table before them, but only one person conducted the seder, instructing everyone and recounting, in their own way, the story of the Exodus. It may well have been that people sat on the floor around a low table or with small trays in front of them. We might have thought that the reason the table is removed from the leader, per Rav Shimi, is so everyone can see the leader, but the students of R. Yannai explain that this is yet another device to capture the attention of children and provoke them to ask questions.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS (4, because it's Pesach)

1. We are no longer slaves in Egypt. Why, then, do we need to continue to remind ourselves of our ancestors’ misery? Does it affect our character, values, and priorities to continue to taste the maror, and all it represents, each year? We love to taste the sweetness of life, but prefer not to taste its bitterness. Is avoiding the pain and bitterness of reality a wise way to live our lives? What do we lose? Consider the pain of people we don’t know who suffer injustice, the torment that comes when we lose someone, the agony of those close to us when they are struck by illness or loss.
2. Do you ever attempt to sidestep an obligation by doing the minimum, or by doing something that appears to fulfill the obligation? The Rabbis seem far less concerned with our tasting matzah than with our tasting the bitter maror. Pop the matzah, but chew the maror. Which part of the experience of matzah do you think is most important—and why? Here are three possibilities—by all means, suggest others! a) Eat what our ancestors ate on their way out of Egypt. b) Experience the tastelessness of lechem oni (“poor bread”). c) Eat matzah in order to be acutely aware that we may not eat luxurious, yeasty bread. Keep in mind that while one is obligated to eat matzah (at least equivalent in bulk to an olive) at each seder, there is no obligation to eat matzah during the remaining days of Pesach.
3. A goal of the seder is to do things differently to inspire questions and discussion. What will you do differently this year to accomplish that goal?
4. If you were to create a seder for another Jewish holiday, what would it look like? Why?

Who Tells the Story of the Exodus? — BT Pesachim 116 — #76

MISHNAH: [116a] Rabban Gamliel used to say, “Whoever does not explain [116b] these three things has not fulfilled their obligation, and these are they: the pesach offering, matzah, and maror. Pesach: because the Omnipresent passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt, as it is said, You shall say, “It is the passover sacrifice of Adonai, because God pasach (passed over) [the houses of the Israelites in Egypt…] (Exodus 12:27). Matzah: because our ancestors were redeemed from Egypt, as it is said, They baked unleavened cakes of the dough that they had taken out of Egypt (Exodus 12:39). Maror: because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our ancestors in Egypt, as it is said, Ruthlessly they made life bitter for them (Exodus 1:14). In every generation, one is obliged to see him/herself as if s/he had left Egypt, for it is said, And you shall explain to your child on that day, “It is because of this (zeh) that Adonai did for me when I went

 free from Egypt (Exodus 13:8)…”

 GEMARA: …Rav Acha bar Yaakov said, “A blind person is exempt from telling the account [of the Exodus] for it is written here, And you shall explain to your child on that day: It is because of this (zeh) (Exodus 13:8), and it is written there, This (zeh) son of ours  (Deuteronomy 21:20). Just as there [the term zeh] excludes a blind parent, so, too, [here the term zeh] excludes those who are blind.” Is that so? But Mereimar said, “I asked the rabbis of Rav Yosef’s academy, ‘Who told the account in Rav Yosef’s house?’ They said, ‘Rav Yosef.’ [I then asked,] ‘Who told the account in Rav Sheshet’s house?’ They said, ‘Rav Sheshet.’”

INTRODUCTION

Many will recognize the teaching of Rabban Gamliel from the Passover Haggadah. Some will be surprised to learn that it comes word for word from Mishnah Pesachim 10:5, where Rabban Gamliel teaches the obligation to explain the three central symbols of the seder: pesach (paschal offering), matzah (unleavened bread), and maror (bitter herbs).

Passover is a celebration with strong didactic qualities. Torah itself instructs us to teach our children, and what better way than with storytelling, visual aids, and materials that tantalize the senses (tastyfoods, interesting smells, catchy tunes to sing), as well as commentary and songs that are, in turns, serious, humorous, dramatic, and downright silly. No wonder Passover captivates the Jewish imagination and marvelously creative seders and haggadot continue to proliferate.

We might, therefore, be inclined to predict that Gemara will dive into Rabban Gamliel’s teaching by discussing the meaning of pesach, matzah, and marror. But Gemara is rather unpredictable, much like the conversation around any seder table. Once launched, there is no predicting the direction the conversation will take.

From the Sarajevo Haggada (14th century)

COMMENTARY

Almost immediately, the Gemara introduces a strange claim by Rav Acha bar Yaakov: Blind people are not obligated to recount the story of the Exodus because the word “this” presumes they are pointing to the items named and explaining them. Since blind people cannot “see” the pesach, matzah, and maror, they are accordingly exempt from Maggid, telling of the story of the Exodus. He supports his contention with  an interpretive technique called gezeirah shavah, whereby meaning attached to a term in one verse of Torah is applied to another verse. In this case, Deuteronomy 21:20 concerns the ben sorer u’moreh (“wayward and rebellious son”), a capital offense. In BT Sanhedrin  71a, the Rabbis explain that the second time the parents bring their son to court, they point to him and say, “This son of ours…” “This” indicates that they must be able to see him, thereby excluding from prosecution any son whose parent is blind. In the context of the rebellious son, this serves to limit instances in which a child can be charged and convicted; in fact, the Rabbis successfully pare down the possibilities for capital convinction to virtually none. But here, Rav Acha bar Yaakov claims that just as zeh exempts blind parents in Deuteronomy 12:20, zeh in Exodus 13:8 exempts blind people from giving the account of the Exodus—the central ritual, and indeed the stated purpose, of the Passover seder.

Mereimar sidesteps the gezeirah shavah argument entirely and seeks empirical evidence concerning the law. Enquiring about two blind rabbis, Rav Yosef and Rav Sheshet, he asks: Who does Maggid at their seders? The answer: Rav Yosef and Rav Sheshet. As far as both blind authorities are concerned, being blind does not exempt them. The conversation doesn’t end here—we’ll continue in TMT #77.

Looking for a new haggadah? Here’s one that is condensed, includes Hebrew, transliterations, and graphics, is appropriate for families with children, has room for your additions—and it’s yours for free: 

http://scheinerman.net/judaism/pesach/haggadah.pdf

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. Will there be differently abled people at your seder this year? What can you do to ensure that everyone participates?
2. The use of zeh to exclude blind parents in the case of the ben sorer u’moreh serves to diminish the possibility of invoking the law and its horrible consequences. However, applying the exclusion to the Maggid has a negative outcome, raising the question whether a literary analogy is sufficient to make a halakhic argument. What are your thoughts?
3. What are you looking forward to most at the Passover seders this year? 

I wish you a happy and healthy Pesach!