It never ceases to amaze,
the all-out war on yeast declared each year by thousands of families. Whether
it plays out as a complete eradication of all household dust - spring cleaning
under the guise of religious fervor - or simply the purchase of over-priced
products marked with KP and inevitably including some amount of coconut – the prohibition
on Hametz during Passover remains one of those delicious mysteries of Jewish
civilization.
And like any good
mystery, it has its share of shot-in-the-dark interpretations, embellishments,
re-interpretations and radical departures. As I leave my house with a cardboard box, ready to burn
Cheerios in the crisp spring air, here are a few of my favorite interpretations
to the idea of destroying unleavened bread.
That Original Levain. We used to believe that for every ritual there
is an “original” explanantion, the historical contextualization which would somehow
edify our modern practice, and hopefully show how moral and progressive we were
“already then”. These days that doesn’t seem to hit the spot as much as it used
to. And yet, as we turn to whatever Hametz was in ancient times, the literal Biblical
commandment brings us straight into the kitchens of our ancient mothers.
For seven days, matzot are you to eat; from the first
day you are to get rid of leaven from your homes, for anyone who eats
fermented – from the first day until the seventh day – that person shall be
cut off from Israel. (Shemot 12:15)
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שִׁבְעַת
יָמִים, מַצּוֹת תֹּאכֵלוּ אַךְ בַּיּוֹם הָרִאשׁוֹן, תַּשְׁבִּיתוּ שְּׂאֹר
מִבָּתֵּיכֶם: כִּי כָּל-אֹכֵל חָמֵץ, וְנִכְרְתָה הַנֶּפֶשׁ הַהִוא
מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל--מִיּוֹם הָרִאשֹׁן, עַד-יוֹם הַשְּׁבִעִי. (שמות יב:טו)
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Our good mothers (and
occasional father) – like a good San Francisco baker – would keep a constant
batch of sourdough in their kitchen from which they would ferment their bread.
These starters (aka levain)
would often stay for months and years, the best of them improving with time,
passed from generation to generation. Each family’s Lactobaccillus culture
symbolizes that source of sizzle and growth, of creativity which quietly sits at the center of every home and serves as the centerpiece of the family’s nourishment. Yet once a year – says the Torah – the levain is to be discontinued. As the new wheat grows in the field, it is time to give that
The evil side of the
evil side. Sometimes a two-liner
in an obscure book can reveal a brand new theology, a whole new psychology. This
is the case with a prayer by the Ben Ish Chai, Rabbi Yosef Hayyim of Baghdad.
In his Haggadah, after annulling the Hametz (repeat three times), he includes
the following prayer:
…and just as we burned
the hametz out of our homes today,
So help us to burn out
the bad inclination (yetzer ha-ra) within us.
Please God, remove
from us the bad part of the bad inclination
And purify us
lovingly, empowering our good inclination.
Let our souls shine
and be endowed with Your light,
And be connected to
You in the highest holiness, which shall be with us always.
(Orach Hayim Hagggadah
pg. 61; 19th century Baghdad)
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וכשם שבערנו החמץ מבתינו היום הזה,
כן תזכנו ותסיענו ותעזרנו לבער היצר הרע מקרבנו.
אנא ה', הפרד נא מעלינו צד הרע שביצר הרע,
ותזככנו ותלבבנו בכח היצר הטוב.
ותזכנו לזכך נפשנו ולהאיר בה ולהוסיף בה כח הארה
גדולה ולהתקשר מעלה בקדשה עליונה ותמיד תשרה ותחול עלינו קדשה העליונה.
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The interpretations which
describe Hametz as connected to the Yetzer ha-Ra, that evil inclination within
us, abound. The best of them recognize that the “evil inclination” - like
leavened good and other carbs - is necessary for human life. The Talmud
describes how once the Rabbis sought to destroy the evil inclination, but the
next day they could not find a single egg. Without the evil inclination,
intercourse became tastless, even for chickens… Hidden within the folds of this
“evil” inclination is our source of creativity, of striving and achieving, of
experimentation and risk-taking, of progressing, procreating and multiplying.
Without it, the
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| Karl Nicholason, Psychology textbook, early 70s |
The Ben Ish Chai offers a
language and a challenge. The Yetzer haRa is not Ra, not evil, in its
own right. It is necessary, even desirous. But like all things, it includes in
it a good side and a bad side. The challenge is to peel away the “bad side of
the bad inclination”, to recognize the unhealthy part of our ego, the toxic
aspect of our internal critic, the fermented part of our worst selves. We
search all the rooms of our soul, distinguishing between the various aspects of
our internal inclinations. We peel away the bad side of our ego and bask in our
“best selves”, our yetzer ha-tov. May its light shine through all year long.
Missed Opportunities. The reinterpretations of Hametz are endless.
Search your pockets – not for crumbs but for illegitimate financial gain. Purge
your demeanor of all puffiness and swagger in your step. Distill yourself to
who you really are, before you were allowed to sit and ferment… Modern Hebrew’s
usage of the word Hametz invites a new interpretation: that of missed opportunity.
להחמיץ – to miss. Thus
burning the Hametz becomes about letting go of all the missed opportunities,
the could-have-beens and should-have-dones, the blunders and mistakes, the
missed targets. In the age of multi-tasking and “being everywhere”, burning the
Hametz is about being OK with being in one place at a time, being one person,
flat, unleavened, present. It is the Spring Kol Nidrei – an opportunity to
cleanse ourselves of what we did not accomplish – in order to enter the new
season unburdened by a winter gone stale. As families get together on Passover,
the weight of missed opportunities often eats at the edges, turning into a
defensiveness which overwhelms the
Pesach Sameach, a Happy
Passover!
Mishael
