Rice and Beans for Jewish Unity - In Defense of All Jews Eating Kitniyot on Passover

This is the sermon in which I say, as senior rabbi of Temple Israel of Great Neck, in front of hundreds of people from multiple backgounds, that all Jews, from all backgrounds, who consider me as a rabbinic authority in their lives are permitted to consume rice, corn and legumes (kitniyot) on Passover.

This is the sermon in which I describe how the custom (followed by many Ashkenazi Jews) of not eating these foods on Passover evolved and how, according to Jewish law, those who have followed this custom are free to change their practice if they so choose.

I’ll get there shortly.  But first I want to say why I think this issue is important.  It’s not just about rice and beans.  Several of my colleagues in the Rabbinical Assembly, whose recent response on the matter I’ll describe in some detail, indicated that one of their considerations in permitting everyone to eat kitniyot was a lack of sufficient healthy eating options on Passover, especially for vegetarians.  Great reason.  The addition of foods that many have avoided provides for a healthier diet during this holiday. 

Another reason given is that the holiday is supposed to be about joy; it’s not supposed to be about self-denial.  Another great reason.  We shouldn’t be suffering on Passover.  It’s not Tisha b’Av.  It’s not even Yom Kippur.  It’s a time of joy. 

A third reason they gave has to do with expense.  Failure to consume rice, corn and legumes helps the cost of kosher for Passover foods to skyrocket.  The holiday is not meant to be a financial burden.  Yet another great reason.

But the reason that is most important, in my view, is that we should do everything we can to remove unnecessary barriers between people – not to eliminate differences, but to remove impediments to people being together, eating together and celebrating together. 

While this is a lofty universal goal, we should start by trying to remove barriers that separate Jews.

In past weeks we have witnessed numerous, intense public statements that aim to drive wedges between people of different faiths and people of the same faith.

Trusting Ourselves to Find and Nurture Love

Recently my Waxman Youth House high school class invited two distinguished guests to speak with us.  Topic?  An honest look at marriage.  To prepare for our conversation, we took a look at Biblical stories about marriage to find positive and negative models.  We discussed what qualities we might look for in a romantic partner, and ultimately in a spouse.  And we spoke about what Judaism might teach us regarding what to look for and how to handle such a relationship overall.

I’ll tell about our guests and the conversation we had shortly.  (The photo below will hopefully tide you over until I do).

Drs. Ellen and Milton Rosen with Waxman High School Students

First, I want to reflect on the teachings of a rabbi who lived over half a century ago who had much to say on this topic, among others.  Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler was born in Europe, moved to England with his parents and was the leader of two famous yeshivot – one in northern England and, years later, another in B’nei Brak, Israel. 

He was part of the Mussar movement, following a tradition of rabbis who emphasized strict ethical behavior as a major element of the religious enterprise.  As a Rosh Yeshiva in England, he taught numerous students who were orphaned during the Holocaust and moved to England subsequently to rebuild shattered lives.

One of Dessler’s primary themes was the power of the יצר הרע yetzer hara, literally translated as the “evil inclination” – which has been understood to include pride and lustfulness.  He believed that a human being is constantly at war with his or her yetzer hara.

Among his prolific writings, he wrote a letter to two 17-year old students defending why a person cannot be trusted to choose a proper spouse and ought to leave that important task to someone else.  To leave it to someone else is to acknowledge the power of one’s yetzer hara and to embrace appropriate fear of God; to try to do it yourself, by contrast, is the height of folly and pride.

Rabbi Dessler wrote, “The simple truth is that when a man chooses a wife for himself he finds, once the first intoxication has worn off, that she is not at all as he thought and that he has made a great mistake.  Even those lustful people who go out whether their friends of the opposite sex day and night for years, and imagine that they have come to know them well, still know nothing of their character and nature; never once do they find after they are married that she is exactly the kind of person they thought she was.” 

And then he wrote the following to drive the point home to his young charges:  “Those who were truly wise…knew very well that no one can rely on his own judgment in these matters and they purposely arranged for other people to make the decision for them; for in a matter on which one cannot trust one’s own judgment one has to seek the advice of others, and if he doesn’t rely on them he will most certainly do the wrong thing.” (Strive for Truth, vol. 1, part 1, p. 213-14)

The essential issue here, as I see it, is the issue of trust.  In general, to what extent can human insight be trusted?  Specifically, for the present conversation, to what extent can we be trusted to make important decisions about the most essential aspects of our lives?

Reflection is Not a Luxury

My colleague and friend, Rabbi Jonathan Spira Savett, got wide and well-deserved recognition for asking a question of one of the presidential candidates at a town hall meeting before the primary in New Hampshire. 

He asked Hillary Clinton how she balances confidence and humility as a leader.

Without getting into the substance of Clinton’s response, it is clear that she used the question as an opportunity for reflection.  She shared insights into the dynamics of leadership that she probably would not have shared, had she not been asked the question.

I want to discuss possibilities and ultimate value of being reflective about ourselves – not just in professional settings, but personally as well.  Without opportunities to reflect, we are far more likely to feel depleted and to suffer burnout.

I'd like to look at Moses’s life for insight into the dynamics of reflection and to suggest ways that a community ought to encourage helpful reflection for people of all ages with special emphasis on teenagers, who desperately need healthy opportunities to reflect.