Chad Gadya! What's the story behind the lyrics?

Does the singing of "Chad Gadyo" feature among your earliest and most powerful childhood Pesach memories? That beloved song -- now rebranded "Chad Gadya" -- remains eternally young even we we grow old. Here's Max Stern's arrangement of Chad Gadya for unaccompanied female voices. It's a real treat -- and it sounds much like the tune this blogger learned when he was a small child.  If you want to know more about the lyrics, read on. The information below is taken from Wikipedia.

Chad Gadya (Aramaic: חַד גַדְיָא, "one little goat", or "one kid"; Hebrew: "גדי אחד,  gedi echad") is a playful cumulative song in Aramaic and Hebrew. It brings to an end the Passover Seder. Curiously this song first appeared in print in a Haggadah compiled in Prague in 1590, which makes it the most recent inclusion in the traditional Passover seder liturgy.

As with any work of verse, Chad Gadya is open to interpretation. According to some modern Jewish commentators, what appears to be a light-hearted song is deeply symbolic. One interpretation is that Chad Gadya refers to the different nations that have conquered the Land of Israel:

·       The kid symbolizes the Jewish people;

·       the cat, Assyria;

·       he dog, Babylon;

·       the stick, Persia;

·       the fire, Macedonia;

·       the water, Roman Empire;

·       the ox, the Saracens;

·       the slaughterer, the Crusaders;

·       the angel of death, the Ottomans.

At the end, God returns to send the Jews back to Israel. The recurring refrain of 'two zuzim' is a reference to the two stone tablets given to Moses on Mount Sinai (or to Moses and Aaron themselves). This interpretation, first widely disseminated in a pamphlet published in 1731 in Leipzig by Philip Nicodemus Lebrecht, has become quite popular, with many variations of which oppressor is represented by which character in the song.

Though commonly interpreted as an historical allegory of the Jewish people, the song may also represent the journey to self-development. The price of two zuzim, mentioned in every stanza, is (according to Targum Yonatan to I Shmuel 9:8) equal to the machtzit hashekel tax upon every adult Israelite male (in Shemot 30:13); making the price of two zuzim the price of a Jewish soul. 

Also, we have these explanations:

Rabbi Yaakov Emden: a list of the pitfalls and perils facing the soul during one's life.

Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschuetz: a highly abbreviated history of Israel from the Covenant of the Two Pieces recorded in Bereshit 15 (the two zuzim), to slavery in Egypt (the cat), the staff of Moses (the stick) and ending with the Roman conqueror Titus (the Angel of Death).

Rabbi Moshe Sofer (the Chatam Sofer): a description of the Passover ritual in the Temple of Jerusalem. There the goat is purchased for the Paschal sacrifice. The cat is an allusion to the Talmudic notion that dreaming of a cat is a premonition of singing such as occurs in the seder. Likewise, dogs bark after midnight which is the time limit for the seder. The Kohen who led the cleaning of the altar on Passover morning would use water to wash his hands; many people at the Temple that day would bring oxen as sacrifices, and the Angel of Death is the Roman Empire that destroyed the Second Temple.

The Vilna Gaon: the kid is the birthright that passed from Avraham to Yitzchak; the father is Yaakov; the two zumin is the meal Yaakov paid Eisav for his birthright; the cat is the envy of Yaakov’s sons toward Yosef; the dog is Egypt where Yosef and his clan were enslaved; the stick is the staff of Moshe; the fire the thirst for idolatry; the water the sages who eradicated idolatry; the ox is Rome; the shochet is the Messiah; the Angel of Death represents the death of Moshiach; the Holy One is God, who arrives with Moshiach.

Being in control: Vayikra 5785

The book of Vayikra, which we begin to read this Shabbat, contains very little narrative. This book is also called Torat Kohanim since it features the laws of the Mishkan service, the duties of the Kohanim, the laws of ritual purity, and the detailed descriptions of the sacrifices offered in the Mishkan. 

To many people these laws are anachronistic, if not completely unintelligible in the context of our present world. Yet every word of the Torah has eternal value for all at any given moment in human time. I think that it is obvious that the Torah here shows us that there is a world that requires sacrifices and is somehow influenced by offering those sacrifices. It is also a world where ritual purity matters greatly and profoundly influences human society. In this alternative world that we sense and sometimes even glimpse, the chumash of Vayikra reigns supreme. In that basically unseen world, every law of Vayikra is vitally relevant. 

The chumash of Vayikra comes to remind us of our limitations, both mental and spiritual, and that we must be able to accept that we cannot always fathom God’s motives in telling us how to behave in a certain fashion. This book is not meant to confuse and unnerve us. Rather, it is meant to humble us. 

Human beings always wish to be in control. But life blindsides at unexpected moments and in unpredictable ways. Life’s experiences only reveal to us how powerless and irrational we really are. There is very little that we can actually control. 

Human beings long for solutions and answers that emanate from the occult—from another world of being, the existence of which we are only dimly aware. So here we have the rub. The Torah is unalterably opposed to magic, superstitions, and appeals to spirits. So how do we square that strict approach with the presence of laws in Vayikra that clearly on the existence of another, unseen world rely for their relevance and strength of purpose? 

The answer lies in our understanding that all the words of the Torah are to be taken at face value and that the ultimate reason for obedience to them derives from the fact that we are commanded to do so. Many times the correct answer to the ubiquitous question of “Why?” is “Because!” Parents frequently apply this technique while attempting to raise their children in a proper fashion. The Lord for His own reasons, so to speak, employs this same method when dealing with the Jewish people who had already previously pledged allegiance to the Torah and its values. The chumash Vayikra is a prime example of this axiom of Jewish life. 

Shabat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein 

Korbanot -- the meaning and the mystery

In this thought-provoking piece, Rabbi Paul Bloom throws some highly relevant light on the concept and practice of ritual sacrifices in the Mishkan and Beit HaMikdash.

A Small Reminder

Our Sages of blessed memory refer to the Book of Vayikra as Torat Kohanim ("The Law of the Priests"), as it primarily deals with the laws of sacrifices, which were performed by the kohanim. The very first word of Parashat Vayikra sets the tone for the entire book:

“ויקרא אל־משה וידבר ה אליו מאהל מועד לאמר”
 

"And He called to Moshe, and Hashem spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying" (Vayikra 1:1).

A well-known peculiarity of this verse is the small alef (א) in the word Vayikra (ויקרא). Many commentators understand this as a symbol of Moshe's humility—despite his unparalleled sanctity and closeness to Hashem, he sought to minimize his own importance. However, the Zohar offers a radically different perspective. According to the Tosafot HaZohar (quoted in Itturei Torah, vol. 3, p. 7), the small alef signifies imperfection. Why? Because this Divine calling took place in the Mishkan (Tabernacle), which was situated outside the Land of Israel. True perfection, the Zohar teaches, can only be found in Eretz Yisrael.

This idea is striking. Was there ever a time in history when the Jewish people experienced a more intimate relationship with Hashem than during their forty years in the wilderness? They were enveloped by Heavenly clouds, sustained by manna, and led by Moshe Rabbeinu himself. Most significantly, they had a portable Beit HaMikdash, the Mishkan, where they could offer sacrifices and connect directly with God. Yet, despite these miracles, something was missing. The Jewish people were in the wrong environment. Only in Eretz Yisrael—where they would work the land, wage wars, and engage in the struggles of physical existence—could their avodat Hashem reach its full potential.

This lesson resonates powerfully today. Many Jews feel deeply fulfilled in their spiritual lives outside of Eretz Yisrael. Baruch Hashem, vibrant communities thrive in the Diaspora, boasting yeshivot, Torah institutions, and extraordinary chesed organizations. Yet, the Zohar reminds us that even the most elevated existence in Chutz LaAretz is inherently lacking. If the generation of the desert, who lived under direct Divine protection, still fell short because they were outside of Eretz Yisrael, how much more so must we recognize the importance of returning to our true spiritual home.

Thus, the small alef at the beginning of Vayikra serves as a subtle but powerful reminder: our ultimate goal is to serve Hashem in utter perfection—in His Chosen Land.

Korbanot: A Bridge Between Heaven and Earth

With this understanding of Vayikra’s opening words, we can better appreciate the role of korbanot. The Torah immediately introduces us to this world:

"Adam ki yakriv mikem korban laHashem" (Vayikra 1:2)

"When a man among you brings an offering to Hashem."

From this point forward, the Torah details the various offerings, their procedures, and their spiritual significance.

On one level, korbanot are deeply familiar to us. From the days of Kayin and Hevel to Avraham's offering of Yitzchak, from the korban Pesach in Egypt to the sacrifices in the Mishkan, korbanot played a central role in Jewish worship. Yet, on another level, they remain an enigma. The physical actions—slaughtering an animal, sprinkling its blood, burning its flesh—seem foreign to our modern spiritual sensibilities. How did this serve as an uplifting experience? This is a question for Eliyahu HaNavi and Mashiach to explain when the time comes. For now, we continue to study Torah, whose messages are eternal. Each generation uncovers new depths of understanding, and korbanot are no exception.

The Universal Message of "Adam"

One striking feature in the opening verses is the use of the word "Adam" rather than the more common "Ish" (man). Why "Adam"? This word holds profound meaning. First, it is a reference not only to an individual but to all of humanity, recalling Adam HaRishon. Additionally, "Adam" is encoded with deeper significance:

●      Aleph represents Hashem, the infinite One.

●      Dam means blood, the physical life force.

Man is thus a fusion of the divine and the earthly.

The Arizal further explains that "Adam" is an acronym for three fundamental aspects of Avodat Hashem:

●      Aleph – Emunah (Faith): Strengthening one’s belief in Hashem.

●      Daled – Dibur (Speech): Using speech properly in Torah, tefillah, and relationships.

●      Mem – Ma’aseh (Action): Performing mitzvot and righteous deeds.

The use of "Adam" also teaches another powerful lesson: korbanot were not exclusively for Jews. The Gemara (Menachot 73b) states that a God-fearing non-Jew could bring voluntary sacrifices. The Beit HaMikdash was called "Beit Tefillah le’chol ha’amim", a house of prayer for all nations (Yeshayahu 56:7). Shlomo HaMelech, in his inaugural speech for the Beit HaMikdash, acknowledged that non-Jews who sought to pray and offer korbanot were welcome.bThis universal invitation highlights the korbanot as a bridge between humanity and Hashem, emphasizing that all people can strive for holiness.

The Tamid Offering: A Lesson in Constancy

Among all the korbanot, the Korban Tamid stands out. Each day, without exception, began with the morning Tamid and ended with the afternoon Tamid. This concept of constancy—temidut—has deep significance. Rabbi Moshe Isserles (the Rema), in his commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, emphasizes two core themes:

1. Emunah – The opening words of the Shulchan Aruch cite "Shiviti Hashem lenegdi tamid", that Hashem should always be before us.
   
   
2. Simcha – The final words quote "Tov lev mishteh tamid", that one with a good heart is always celebrating.

These two constants—faith and joy—parallel the two Tamid offerings. No matter what challenges arise, a Jew’s foundation remains rooted in emunah in Hashem and simcha in the privilege of serving Him. Even though we do not bring korbanot today, these two principles guide our daily avodah. Our lives must be anchored in faith, and our service of Hashem must be infused with joy.

As we enter the month of Nissan, the month of redemption, may we merit to see the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash and the restoration of the korbanot. Until then, we continue to draw inspiration from their eternal lessons, deepening our faith and joy in serving Hashem—in Eretz Yisrael, our true spiritual home.

The Healing Haggadah: a new approach to the Pesach seder service

Last month Beit Knesset Hanassi hosted the launch of The Healing Haggadah: Passing Over Trauma, by Rabbi Michael Friedman. The author, a seventh-generation rabbi, licensed professional counselor, and educator, is eminently qualified to write on this delicate and sensitive topic, being the co-founder and Wellness Rabbi of Nafshi, a non-profit organization that blends Torah-based principles with holistic psychological and emotional wellness. Through Nafshi, he helps individuals to achieve spiritual and emotional balance using Jewish wisdom and modern psychology.

This is what Mosaica, the publisher, has to say about the book:

The Healing Haggadah: Passing Over Trauma offers a unique, experiential, and therapeutic approach to the Pesach Seder, guiding individuals and communities in processing collective and personal trauma. Through the lens of the Exodus story, Rabbi Michael Friedman, M.Ed., LPC, weaves psychological insights with Torah wisdom, making the themes of yetzias Mitzrayim deeply personal and transformative.

Rooted in traditional Torah commentary and modern psychology, this Haggadah empowers readers to identify their inner struggles, confront their personal Mitzrayim, and find redemption through the timeless lessons of the Seder night.

As one might expect from a book that is relatively slender and comfortably affordable, it is not a learned heavyweight tome addressed to scholars. Nor is it a list of superficial suggestions and generalised prescriptions for brushing off trauma and getting on with life as if trauma has had no effect. Rather, its function is to alert and sensitise readers to the way the text of the Haggadah alludes to the collective trauma of the Jewish people and offers paths by which our long-traumatised people can develop a resilience and a positive attitude that transforms us from victims to lead actors in the unscripted drama that is the history of the Jewish people.

Rabbi Friedman has kindly donated a copy of The Healing Haggadah to Beit Knesset Hanassi. You can find it downstairs in the library of our Beit Midrash.

The Wicked Son -- not who you think he is!

No, these two illustrations are not authoritative portraits of the Wicked Son who features so powerfully in our Haggadah shel Pesach! They are artificial and imaginative conjectures composed by the current must-use online tool, AI (artificial intelligence). There is nothing artificial however about the concept of the child who has veered "off the derech" and who appears to be at odds with his family, his faith and Jewish society in general.

Rabbi Kenigsberg tackled this sensitive topic over a selection of fresh and tasty bagels in this week's Munch & Learn discussion group. Let him tell you in his own words about how he invited us to rethink our traditional assumptions about the wicked son:

In our pre-Pesach "Munch & Learn" session, we challenged the traditional image of the rasha, the so-called "wicked son" of the Haggadah. Far from being a villain or a scoffer, he represents a deeper struggle—one that’s uniquely tied to life in Eretz Yisrael.

In exile, the rasha engaged with mitzvot as part of a shared Jewish identity. They were his connection to a national story. But in Israel, where national identity is a lived, civic reality, he views mitzvot as outdated folklore, disconnected from the nation-building he values.

Our rasha is neither small-minded nor rebellious. Far from it. He's actually an idealist. His vision for the Jewish people is grand, but he struggles to see how Torah and mitzvot remain the backbone of Jewish nationhood, even in our sovereign state.

The Haggadah responds with a powerful verse: "Ba'avur zeh asah Hashem li"—“It is because of this [i.e. the Torah and mitzvot] that God took me out of Egypt.” This line, which appears four times in the Haggadah, reminds us that freedom without purpose is empty. The avodah, the physical performance of mitzvot, transforms us from slaves of Pharaoh to servants of God—and that, paradoxically, is the truest form of liberation.

Keep an eye on those details!

On Monday evening Rabbi Jonathan Neril gave a short devar Torah between minchah and maariv. Introducing the Book of Vayikra (Leviticus) which we have just started to lein, he spoke of the high level of detail that is found in the laws relating to the korbanot -- the Temple offerings -- that occupy so much of this Book, just as a high level of detail is encountered in the last five parshiyot of Shemot when specifying the requirements for building the Mishkan and furnishing the Kohanim with their priestly vestments.

Details are important, Rabbi Neril reminded us -- and God is in the details. This is not just a matter of the Torah making lists of small things that have to be properly fashioned if they are to perform their intended function. God's attention stretches so as to cover even the smallest actions we perform. Some things we do are apt to be regarded as trivial, for example discarding wrappers in the street, but these actions have an impact on the world that God created and on the land He gave us. We should therefore take particular care that even our smallest actions be in accord with His wishes.

This message chimes in with the content of volume 2 of Eco Bible, which Rabbi Neril compiled with Rabbi Leo Dee. Subtitled An Ecological Commentary on Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, this book focuses on issues such as biodiversity, environmental protection, sustainability and the need to refresh and rehabilitate the land. A copy of this book can be found in the Beit Midrash library, along with volume 1 which we reviewed here. 

The Hafetz Hayyim on the Siddur (Book of the Month, Nissan 5785)

The Hafetz Hayyim on the Siddur is not the only English-language book to explore the deeper meaning and functionality of Jewish prayer, but it was the first to delve into the subject from the viewpoint of one of the holiest and most learned rabbis of modern times, the Chafetz Chaim (Rabbi Israel Meir HaKohen Kagan). It is the product of considerable team effort: the text was gathered and arranged by Rabbi David Zaretsky, then translated from the Hebrew by Charles Wengrov and edited by Rabbi Isaiah Aryeh and Joshua Dvorkas. 

This work comprises a collection of thoughts, reflections and interpretations of Jewish prayers. Its highly detailed contents list reveal that the text embraces not merely daily prayers but also the period of compassion and penitence surrounding and including Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, as well as the festive period that follows them. 

You can find this book, which is part of the Marvin N. Hirschhorn collection, on the shelves of Beit Knesset Hanassi.

Natural brilliance meets artificial intelligence

 Last week Rabbi Wein (that's the "natural brilliance" bit) gave a lecture on living as a Jew in a non-Jewish environment (see our note by Bill Gerber here).  Rabbi Paul Bloom fed notes on the same lecture to AI (that's "artificial intelligence" for the uninitiated) and asked it to turn them into an essay. This is what it came up with. For the record, Paul has checked the text before sending it to us. 

Jewish Responses to Dominant Empires: A Historical and Philosophical Perspective

Throughout history, the Jewish people have lived under the rule of major empires—Assyrian, Babylonian, Greek, Roman, and Byzantine Christian civilizations. Each era presented unique challenges, prompting Jews to develop different responses to the dominant cultures surrounding them. Broadly speaking, Jewish reactions to these ruling powers have fallen into three main categories: rejection, accommodation, and assimilation.

Three Approaches to Empire

1. Rejection: Standing Firm in Torah

One group within Jewish society consistently rejected the values and culture of the dominant empire, holding steadfast to Torah and Jewish traditions. This stance was easier to maintain when the ruling empire had little to offer in terms of intellectual or material advancement. When the surrounding culture was unappealing, resistance to assimilation came naturally.

2. Accommodation: Balancing Jewish and Non-Jewish Culture

A second approach saw Jews selectively incorporating aspects of the dominant culture while maintaining their Jewish identity. This response was particularly evident under Greek rule, where Hellenistic culture had much to offer in philosophy, art, and governance. Some Jews found ways to integrate elements of Greek thought while preserving their Jewish beliefs and practices. This middle ground allowed for coexistence but carried the risk of gradual assimilation.

3. Assimilation: Abandoning Jewish Identity

The third response involved complete assimilation—viewing the ruling empire’s culture as superior and replacing Jewish traditions with those of the majority. This approach has been seen at various points in Jewish history, where segments of the Jewish community embraced foreign philosophies or lifestyles at the expense of their own heritage.

The Debate Over Cultural Influence

Jewish history is filled with debates over how much external influence should be allowed. During the early Middle Ages, Aristotelian philosophy became a major force in Jewish thought. Maimonides (Rambam) integrated Aristotelian principles into his theological and philosophical works, arguing that reason and Torah could coexist. However, not all Jewish scholars agreed with this approach.

This debate extended into modern times. The Reform movement, for example, promoted the idea that Jews should adopt the culture of the majority while maintaining a redefined version of Jewish identity. In contrast, figures like Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch sought to find a balance, encouraging Jews to engage with German culture while remaining firmly committed to Torah values. Even Rabbi Joseph Hertz, the Chief Rabbi of the British Empire, quoted non-Jewish scholars to demonstrate the wisdom found outside Jewish sources—yet he remained deeply rooted in Jewish tradition.

The Danger of an Attractive Culture

Throughout Jewish history, cultural assimilation has been most dangerous when the surrounding culture is attractive. In Eastern Europe, where conditions were harsh and non-Jewish society often unappealing, Jews found it easier to maintain their distinct identity. However, in Western Europe and America, where the dominant culture offered social and economic opportunities, assimilation became a real threat.

One example of this struggle can be seen in the development of Yiddish theater and literature. These cultural expressions allowed Jews to engage with modern artistic forms while preserving Jewish values. However, in other cases, exposure to mainstream culture led to a dilution of Jewish identity.

The Modern Challenge: Cultural Pressures and Antisemitism

Today, Jews continue to face difficult choices regarding their relationship with majority cultures. The issue of abortion, for instance, serves as a flagship example of how external ideologies can influence Jewish thought and practice. While Jewish law approaches the issue with nuance, modern political and social movements often push extreme positions that do not align with traditional Jewish perspectives.

Another contemporary example is the presence of antisemitism on university campuses. Many Jews seek to integrate into mainstream academic and social environments, only to find that they are not fully accepted. The hostility faced by Jewish students raises an important question: If segments of society continue to reject Jewish identity, why should Jews work so hard to blend in?

Conclusion: Navigating the Future

The Jewish people have always faced difficult decisions regarding their engagement with external cultures. Whether resisting, accommodating, or assimilating, each generation has had to weigh the benefits and dangers of their surroundings. The lessons of history suggest that when Jews remain firmly rooted in their traditions while engaging selectively with the outside world, they are best positioned to thrive. The challenge of maintaining a strong Jewish identity in an attractive but often hostile culture remains as relevant today as it was in the days of ancient empires.

This essay shows what Artificial Intelligence is capable of, when used as a tool in the hands of a responsible rabbi who checks it out. Thanks, Paul, for sharing with with us.

Relating to God, at home and beyond: Pekudei 5785

Ramban (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman, 13^th century Barcelona) points out that the conclusion of the book of Shemot, with its detailed recording of the construction and expenditures involved in completing the Mishkan, places the entire Jewish people at the level of spirituality that was present in the homes of our patriarchs and matriarchs at the conclusion of the previous book, Bereshit. Just as the spirit of the Lord hovered over the tents of our forebears, so too was it recognizably present amongst the nation of Israel. Constructed for that purpose, the spirit of the Lord dwelled within the Mishkan.

This observation contains an important message. Jewish tradition teaches us that there are two places, so to speak, where the Lord’s presence may be experienced and should be cultivated. God’s glory fills the entire universe; He is omnipresent. We puny human beings, however, need a personal God to whom we can somehow relate.  That God can be found in two places in our small and narrow world. One place is in our home, in our family and our daily lives. The second place is in the house of worship, study and Torah service. That is our substitute Mishkan, where we can discern the spirit of God if only we are attuned and sensitive enough to experience it. These two pillars of Jewish life have accompanied us on our long journey in the world—and throughout our history.

 Both these bastions of Jewish strength and vitality—the home and the synagogue or study hall—are the meeting places so to speak of Israel with its God. But they are besieged and under attack in today’s society. The home, marriage, children and a sense of family have yielded to casual relationships, later marriages, more divorces, increased spouse abuse, and the sacrifice of children and family on the altars of career and hedonism.

Without strong Jewish families there cannot be a viable Jewish nation or a strong State of Israel. Certainly, intermarriage has eroded the concept of Jewish family but, even when this does not occur, the bonds of family are frayed by television, the internet and by society generally.

Sometimes, even well-meaning gestures are counterproductive. During my years as a rabbi in Miami Beach we always had many Shabbat guests. Because of that, contact between us and our own young children was pretty much eliminated. One Friday one of our younger daughters said to my wife: “Mommy, are children also guests?” We got the message and then made certain that one of the Shabbat meals would be exclusively with our children.

 The synagogue also has lost much since it became subject to the whims and comfort of the attendees and was no longer the House of God where He is to be glimpsed and served according to His wishes as expressed in Torah and halacha. I hope that the message of the Ramban will certainly not be lost upon us.

The Principle of Accountability

As we reach parashat Pekudei, the conclusion of Sefer Shemot, we find ourselves at the culmination of five parshiyot detailing, in meticulous repetition, the construction of the Mishkan. There are three significant lessons drawn from Chazal, each with deep and contemporary relevance. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom explains.

The Principle of Accountability

The first lesson relates to Moshe Rabbeinu’s scrupulous account of every donation contributed towards the Mishkan. He meticulously records all the gold, silver, and other precious materials that were given, ensuring full transparency. This raises an important question: Was such an account necessary? If there was ever an individual about whom there could be no doubt regarding integrity, it was Moshe Rabbeinu. The Torah itself testifies to his unparalleled trustworthiness, humility, and devotion to transmitting the word of Hashem with absolute fidelity. Why, then, does he feel the need to present a detailed financial report?

Chazal explain that Moshe Rabbeinu was not merely providing an account of the funds—he was teaching a fundamental principle in Jewish life: accountability. No matter how righteous and beyond suspicion one may be, communal leaders, particularly those entrusted with financial matters, must demonstrate transparency. This principle has guided Jewish leadership throughout the ages. Those appointed as treasurers of communal funds, whether in the Beit HaMikdash, charitable organizations, or synagogues, must maintain a standard of conduct that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

The Mishnah in Shekalim reinforces this idea by describing how the treasurer of the Temple would wear a special garment without pockets or folds and go barefoot to ensure that no one could suspect him of wrongdoing. The reason given is that Jewish leadership must be just not only in the eyes of Hashem but also in the eyes of people. There will always be cynics and detractors, and the only way to counteract baseless accusations is to act with complete transparency and integrity.

The Spiritual Significance of Simplicity

The second lesson is drawn from the commentary of the Sforno, who highlights an often-overlooked aspect of the Mishkan. While the Jewish people contributed generously, producing gold, silver, and other costly materials, the Mishkan itself remained remarkably small. The Aron, the most sacred object, was only about 1.5 meters in length and barely over a meter in width—smaller than an average breakfast table!

Why was the Mishkan built on such a modest scale? The Sforno explains that as Jewish sanctuaries increased in external grandeur—from the Mishkan to the First Temple and then to the opulent Second Temple under Herod—their intrinsic spiritual content declined. There exists an inverse relationship between external magnificence and inner sanctity. The Mishkan, though physically small, was the dwelling place of the Shechinah in its fullest form. In contrast, Herod’s Temple, though awe-inspiring in appearance, lacked the same level of Divine presence.

This principle applies broadly. While it is important to build beautiful synagogues, schools, and homes in honor of Hashem, we must be mindful of the point at which aesthetics overshadow spiritual substance. Beauty enhances a mitzvah, but an obsession with grandeur can detract from inner meaning. The same holds true for individuals. While outward appearance has value, when excessive focus is placed on external beauty, it risks eclipsing inner virtues. The Sforno’s insight serves as a reminder that true greatness is found not in size or splendor, but in sanctity and purpose.

The Foundations of the Mishkan and the Power of Berachah

The third lesson comes from the structural foundations of the Mishkan. The Torah describes the adanim—solid silver sockets that served as the base for the Mishkan’s wooden beams. These foundations were formed from the half-shekel contributions of every Jew, totaling exactly 100 adanim.

The Ba’al HaTurim makes a fascinating connection: the word adanim shares a root with Ad-onai, one of Hashem’s names. He links this to the teaching in Masechet Menachot that Jews should strive to recite 100 blessings daily. Just as the adanim provided the physical stability of the Mishkan, so too do our daily berachot serve as the spiritual foundation of a Jewish life.

A Jew’s day is built on constant awareness of Hashem’s presence. Whether through blessings over food, mitzvot, or daily prayers, each berachah strengthens our connection to Hashem and reinforces the holiness in our daily actions. By uttering these blessings with mindfulness, we mirror the stability and strength of the Mishkan’s adanim, building a life of sanctity and devotion.

Conclusion

As we reflect on parashat Pekudei, we find powerful lessons that remain deeply relevant. We are reminded of the necessity for accountability in leadership, the importance of prioritizing inner spiritual depth over external grandeur, and the foundational role of daily blessings in our lives.

May we merit to build strong and stable foundations in our communities, infusing our lives with transparency, sanctity, and gratitude. May the Shechinah rest upon our efforts, just as it did upon the Mishkan, guiding us toward a future of spiritual and communal strength.

Chametz after Pesach: why are we so worried about it?

What is the big deal with the status of chametz once Pesach is over? Here's a fascinating piece by Rabbi Wein that addresses not just the halachic, commercial and legal considerations but also a spot of metaphysics. 

Sale and repurchase

There is a strong rabbinic decree forbidding the use of chametz after Pesach by a Jew if that chametz was actually in Jewish possession during the holiday of Pesach. The rationale for this decree is to prevent Jews from having chametz in their possession during Pesach, so to speak hoarding it for use after Pesach. The obvious danger is that this chametz will be used on Pesach and there is a prohibition not only against eating chametz on Pesach but also as to possessing chametz. So, in order to insure that no chametz remains in Jewish possession during Pesach, the rabbis ruled that Jews could not benefit from such chametz even after Pesach. How then can one resolve the challenges this decree poses? The answer lies in the long-accepted Jewish tradition of “selling” the chametz to a non-Jew before Pesach and of reacquiring it afterwards

The legal sale of mechirat chametz is of ancient origin, though it really only came into general use in the late Middle Ages. Jews then were increasingly occupied in operating distilleries for the production and distribution of liquor derived from chametz grain and fermenting agents. Because of the heavy financial implications, the use of a legal sale of the chametz to a non-Jew took hold and has become de rigueur for Jewish individuals and companies in our time and for the past many centuries.

While this solution avoids any problems regarding use and benefit from chametz, stores and companies need to notify their Jewish customers after Pesach that they in fact did sell their chametz before Pesach, thus obviating any hesitation on the part of their Jewish customers in purchasing chametz goods.

When solutions bring their own problems

As the economies of the world became more complex and intertwined, our rabbinic decisors had to deal with new situations and financial arrangements. What about Jews who own shares in public companies that do business on Pesach with chametz goods? What about large supermarket chains outside of Israel that sell their chametz before Pesach but nevertheless continue to sell those products on a regular normal basis in their stores on Pesach itself? Does this not render the sale of their chametz to a non-Jew before Pesach a sham? In countries that require that tax stamps be affixed to the sale documents, is this necessary for the sale of the chametz to the non-Jew and the reacquisition of the chametz after Pesach by the Jews as well? Whose loss is it if the chametz became damaged or destroyed during Pesach while technically under the ownership of the non-Jew?

Ultimately we need to know how real an apparently unreal sale really has to be. All the questions we have just listed have been thoroughly discussed and argued over by the great halachic decisors of the past centuries. Needless to say, proper solutions to all these issues have been found and implemented. It is an irony, but a very true one, that it is the very rigidity of halacha and its absolute adherence to traditional norms and constructs that allows it to be so flexible and fresh in addressing problems of this nature.

A world of chaff

In Jewish kabbalistic and philosophical thought, chametz on Pesach represents our evil inclination and immoral desires. The holiday of Pesach is instrumental in making us more focused Jews and better people. But, for this self-improvement mode to take hold within us, the chametz after Pesach that still somehow remained within us must be removed from our midst. The rabbinic decree regarding chametz after Pesach should not be reduced to its simple, practical terms. Rather it should be elevated to its highest spiritual form.

In a world of chaff, we should be the true kernel of nourishing grain and, in a world of self-promotion and puffery, we should continue to be the unleavened matzah with its low profile and holy form. Perhaps this spiritual lesson is one of the very reasons that our rabbis so emphasized the problems associated with the concept of chametz after Pesach. The lessons of disciplined freedom that Pesach created within us have to be reinforced and nurtured after Pesach too. The temptations of chametz on Pesach are well known to all of us. The harm that undisposed of chametz after Pesach can cause us should also be recognized and dealt with.

Living in a Non-Jewish Environment

UPDATE (31March): Rabbi Nachum Amsel has kindly furnished us with a recording of Rabbi Wein's speech. It comes in two parts. The first 52 seconds are here; the subsequent 28 minutes are here.  Thanks, Rabbi Amsel, for sharing.

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Last Motzaei Shabbat, at Rabbi Nachum Amsel’s double book launch, Rabbi Wein gave a lecture under the title “A Jew Living in a Non-Jewish Environment Today”. A packed house sat in rapt attention while he expounded his theme.  Our member Bill Gerber was among that audience. We thank him for the following note.

The essential problem faced by the Jewish people in this regard is the relatively small numerical size of the Jewish people in comparison to the numbers of those in the non-Jewish world. Even during the Davidic era and the years before that, after the Exodus, Jews found themselves confronted by empires and cultures (Rabbi Wein here lisred the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Persians, Seleucid Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Arab-Islamic, and so on, up to and including the British). These non-Jewish cultures and civilizations have all been based on concepts alien to those which animate Jews.

Rabbi Wein opined that, speaking generally, Jews have responded in three broad ways to the unfamiliar environments which have confronted them:

·       total rejection,

·       partial accommodation, and finally

·       surrender and assimilation.

Thus, in antiquity, Jews rejected and fought the Seleucid Greeks even though their culture was rich in many ways. The second modality of partial accommodation stems from recognizing that an alien culture has qualities and values that may be valuable to Jews. Thus, for example, in nineteenth century Germany, some great rabbinic authorities wrote in German and studied great German authors.

Rabbi Wein then observed that our situation is similar to the mixed reaction in that there can be both some acceptance of the majority culture along with a push-back in other areas. But the same issues remain such matters as

·       how much accommodation should there be?

·       How much of the majoritarian culture do we accept?

·       do we expose our children to these cultures, especially given that ,in some instances, these cultures include genocidal and destructive inclinations?

Thanks, Bill, for letting us know what we missed!