Baking up a storm

Today I ran a model Matza bakery for the children of the Lubavitch Early Childhood Center in S. Paul MN. It's a bit of a pretentious name for a preschool, but it works for them, so who am I to say anything? So yeah, it was cute. All the kids were really enthusiastic and made the room pretty messy, which I think is a good sign. The Matza we made was of course not Kosher for Pesach, which my partner, and fellow Shliach of YHSTC, Eli Posner was very happy about, as he got to eat. We even had some excitement, as the smoke alarm went off due to the Matzas burning. Hey, they taste better that way, no?
I would love to say that I vividly remember my own experience baking Matza before Pesach, but unfortunately I really can't claim that. This is probably because I was a young tyke, new to the world and all the experiences contained therein. What I do recall is sitting on the floor in the Rapaport's basement, which doubled as the Shul in Mequon, being entertained by (The future Rabbi) Mottel Friedman, and later receiving my Matza, fresh from the oven, which looked liked a pita.
That's the extent of my memory. Sorry. The good news is that I'm still keeping Pesach after all these years, which would seem to imply that something right was done at some point.
Moving right along, it seems that we're having another winter storm here in the beautiful Midwest. Some people think winter is a bad thing, and that winter storms should be banned altogether due to lack of funding. Others have the position that winter storms are not only a necessary part of life but are in fact the blood that runs through the veins of any true Midwesterner. These latter types also believe that slaughtering deer is an acceptable sport, and that moose heads look great on their bathroom walls, so you don't have to take their opinion too seriously. Of course, people who wish to eliminate winter storms are probably delusional, so you don't really have any clear-cut choice in the matter.
What's the Torah perspective? I'd venture to say that the Torah falls on the side of those who like storms; after all, we pray for rain three times a day, but at the same time there is also room for vacations to Miami or Palm Springs.
As for a quick Pesach Halacha? As far as I can tell, there is no prohibition of eating peaches on Pesach, as long as they've been peeled of course. Grapes are also permitted, but anyone who has the patience to skin a grape should either look for a position in the education or else find something better to do with their time. Peach cobbler and grapeheads are, however, prohibited, due to their ingredients. Now that you know this, the question is, what do you do? And that, my friends, is up to you. After all, Pesach is all about the celebration of freedom, and this precious gift is what was given to all of you. Exercise it, or grow indolent with power. Or something like that. Enough of my rambling, Pesach cleaning is issuing a clarion call, and I for one shan't be slow to heed it. Onward (to the kitchen?) and upward (the ceiling, presumably)!

Tremendous Shtuff

I just heard a great story, and though it's well known it's well worth repeating. A Chassid once had occasion to visit a Misnagdic stronghold, and he received a warm welcome. What I meant to write was that he got a lot of heat from his fellow Jews for his personal views. Anyway, once it got time for him to leave his ever-solicitous hosts wanted to know what he thought of their city. How did they compare to the Chassidim he usually associated with? The Chassid answered, "The difference between a Misnaged and a Chassid? Simple! A Misnaged goes around thinking about Hashem all day, while a Chassid thinks about himself." The villagers were delighted, and they gave the Chassid extra Challah and Chrein to take on his long journey. As the Chassid was getting out of dodge, accompanied by the elders of the city, he said, "Oh, and to explain myself a little: A Chassid knows that Hashem exists, but he has his doubts about his own existence, so he goes around all day troubled by the matter. A Misnaged, on the other hand, knows that he exists, but as for Hashem? He wonders about Him all day, trying to figure out if He truly is there." It was lucky that the only people there were old, and the tomatoes they lobbed at him were fairly easy to avoid.
What does this story have to do with Pesach? Lots. No, really. Pesach is all about cleaning out the Chametz within you, escaping your own personal (as opposed to someone else's personal?) Egypt, walking three hours to eat Matza and drink wine with a bunch of people from S. Louis Park. What? You don't do that? Do you even have a Seder? Is there Judaism in your life?
Seriously folks, Pesach is serious business. Once upon a time, back in the day, in the land before time, many years ago, when they weren't so enamored of repeating themselves in order to artificially lengthen their blog posts (not that they had blog posts or anything), Pesach was very different. Cleaning? It's not like anyone had too much Chametz in the first place, so all they had to do was a little of this and a little of that, and presto! Life was good. They did have to Kasher their dishes, but they had a Rav to take care of that. Pesach was mostly about making sure the Matza remained dry and the wine remained wet. Interestingly enough, it was much easier to ensure the latter than the former. Who would've thought?
Nowadays, we've got problems. There's Chametz all over, our cars are filthy, and we can't even afford to go to Florida for the holidays, because the economy is in the trash. Oh right, six of you can afford to go to Florida. Sick. Anyway, as I was saying, cleaning is the biggest thing we do to prepare for Pesach. Our Matza? Most of us just buy it, along with wine, and anything else one might need to celebrate the holiday in style.
Is there a lesson in all of this? Way back when the main thing was keeping away from things: keeping the flour dry, the wine free of alien influence, the Goyim out of their cemeteries and our houses. Today things are different. We're cleaning, shopping, cleaning some more, shopping some more (the President is so proud). Maybe we're just not good enough to stay away from sin and temptation, after all, we're the lowest generation of all time. At the same time though, we can do, accomplish, make things happen. Sure, we're pathetic losers for being alive now, but we also have the unique capability to bring Moshiach. No other generation was given the same tools we were. Is it difficult? Of course. Can we do it? Do we have a choice?

Fine, so I didn't really connect the story and its moral. What you're gonna do, shoot me?

Pesach Menora

For the last week or so I really wanted to learn the Maamar Al Hanisim, 5729, which I blogged about four or five months ago, and today I finally got around to it. It was disappointing. I just didn't get the same high that I got last time. At first I thought that the problem was in me, but then I realized that actually the main issue was that I was learning it by myself. No one else was too interested in being my Chavrusa, study partner, primarily because it's a Chanuka Maamar, but also because I was learning it during Shacharis.
Is it weird to learn about Chanuka right before Pesach? Sure, Chassidus is everlasting, and applicable every day of a person's life, but it's not like I've finished everything on Pesach that I can now switch to Chanuka. On the other hand, as the Gemara says, a person should always study what his heart desires, so at least I was fulfilling that.
As to the Chavrusa thing, it really underscores the story of Reb Yochanan and Reish Lakish. As is related in Bava Metzia 84a, Reish Lakish got angry at Reb Yochanan, Reb Yochanan felt bad about it, Reish Lakish was struck by illness for causing Reb Yochanan pain, his wife (Reb Yochanan's sister) came to her brother pleading for his life, no luck, Reish Lakish died, Reb Yochanan got really depressed, the Rabbis sent R' Elazar Ben Pedas to comfort him, a task which he failed miserably in, and which resulted in Reb Yochanan going around, tearing his clothing and crying out, "Where are you Bar Lakisha! Where are you Bar Lakisha!" Reb Yochanan eventually went crazy, and the Rabbis prayed that he should die. So he did. It was all very sad.
The point is, if you've no one to be with, no friends, then you might as well die, like we find by Choni Hamagel, who slept for seventy years (or something like that) and, realizing that all of his friends were long gone, decided to join them in heaven. Learning also is much easier when there's someone with whom to learn. Obviously, many times there is no fit Chavrusa, and in those cases you're better off learning by yourself, but when there is opportunity, and you can't avail yourself of it...
Enough of Chanuka. As Pesach is rapidly approaching, I think it would be a nice thing to write a Halacha for the masses. The first one that comes to mind is one dealing with the Zeroah, the shankbone which is put on the Seder plate as a remembrance of the Pesach offering. We don't eat this, because we would hate for people to think that we're actually eating a sacrifice. See, eating a sacrifice outside of the Temple is forbidden by the law. We go so far as to use a chicken neck, not a lamb shankbone (thingamajiggie), in order to avoid confusion. Helpful? I sure hope so. OK, so you all probably knew this already. Tomorrow I'll hopefully have some in-depth discussion based on this, but it's dependent on The Almighty Editor getting back to me at some point tomorrow. The world is hanging on your shoulders, oh great grammarian, so answer well.
That, my friends, was a charge for the ages. Almost like the time someone put a Boeing 787 on their American Express.

The Rashab, Akiba, and other shtuff

Today is the anniversary of the passing of the fifth Lubavitcher Rebbe, the Rashab. He was an interesting personality, as a quick search on Google will bear out. According to many he was medically depressed, or as the Rebbe put it, “The head grasps what the heart is unable to contain, and the heart cannot tolerate.” He was known to compare himself negatively to his predecessors, and to wonder if he was accomplishing anything.
I think that everyone has these feelings at one time or another. We all feel inadequate, and wonder what the point is. Actually, the Rebbe Rashab never wondered about this, because he knew exactly what the point was: To make a dwelling place for Hashem down here. The only difficulty is in the implementation. A similar query was posed to me by a well-respected person, “How does one do Teshuva?” I responded, “Regret the bad you've done and resolve to do only good in the future.” Again, a simple answer, but ever so difficult to apply practically.
This is something which annoys me to no end; why can't people just do the right thing and stop thinking so much? In the long run they'll be so much happier, so why bother with all the stupidity in the middle? Obviously I'm mainly addressing these comments to myself. We have a heart, and it exhibits strangely powerful tendencies which cause some bad things.
A Bochur here at YHSTC told me on Shabbos that he has a Facebook account. I began to tell him of all the evils to be found on social networking, and he stopped me with, “Oh, I'm careful, no harm harm will come my way.” This argument was so obviously flawed that it took all my analytical powers to comprehend how a boy who I thought was quite intelligent could make such a mistake. What's the problem? We pray every day that Hashem not expose us to temptation. Going on Facebook, and truth be told going online, is exposing oneself to major temptation. Fine, so I'm a hypocrite. Big deal. Everyone at some point in their life has to understand that life is not black and white, and that hypocrisy is a necessary component of survival. Conservative talk show hosts are always going on about the “hypocrisy of the left”; I would venture to say that conservatives are just as hypocritical as their liberal colleagues. All that's needed is to change the word to “compromise” and everyone feels good. Does it accomplish anything? Possibly not. But then when did the pursuit of truth become the standard that all of us lesser mortals were forced to be crucified upon?
Getting back to the temptation, which is something that I'm sure all of us are happy to do, the Talmud also states that one can't trust himself until the day he dies. No man, no matter how holy, is immune. Rabbi Akiba once said that he was too old, and the evil inclination had no power over him. The Satan appeared to the great sage in the visage of an extremely beautiful young maiden, and Rabbi Akiba was so taken by “her” appearance that he began to follow. The Satan started to run, and the Rabbi followed in close pursuit. Eventually “she” ran up a tree, to the end of a branch, and Rabbi Akiba was about to grab “her” when Satan revealed his true colors. Rabbi Akiba learned that no man is safe, not even a person who is renowned as being the savior of the Oral Torah.
In conclusion-wait, that would imply that there was some method to my madness over here. The truth is that I began to write without the vaguest premonition of where it would all end up, but it appears that it all turned out for the best, so that's good.

Nissan's upon us-are you ready?

Today was the first day of Nissan, a day that some people mark by fasting a "Taanis Tzaddikim", a fast of righteous people. I'm not sure if these people fast every Rosh Chodesh, or if it's just Nissan, but either way, it's got to be a bit of a kill-joy for everyone else. Here you are, celebrating the birth of the new moon by having a moon bounce in your backyard for all the neighborhood kids, and some pretentious guy who thinks he's all holy comes around and asks everyone to quiet down, he's having a nap, he has a big headache, after all Bush and Congress made it daylight savings time for this time of the year, which means another hour of fasting, which he is doing right now, thank you very much. What do you do with a guy like that? Tell the kids to go home? That wouldn't be fair. I've heard from at least one person that he was attracted to Lubavitch specifically because they knew not to take themselves too seriously. Anytime someone gets are starts preaching what they claim is the ultimate truth, which is exactly what I do, it's a good thing to also have a healthy perspective. The Talmud provides a pretty good recipe for this, by telling us that fleas are greater than us; after all they took precedence in creation. So whenever people get carried away, they should just know that they're not so special after all.
Of course once you start talking like this people get all depressed, so you have to tell them that they really are very special, and they really do matter, and a whole bunch of similar claptrap, which may be true, but also gets you back into the vicious cycle, so it's dangerous.
Oh, right, back to the first of Nissan. Today is also the first day of the recitation of the "Nassi", a portion in the Torah that deals with the sacrifices of the princes of the tribes of Israel. I haven't yet been able to ascertain why exactly we say this. Where's the source? I asked the Rabbi at "Ask The Rabbi" at chabad.org, and hopefully he'll have some good info. Otherwise what'll I do? Nothing different than I'm doing now. I'm not one of those people who refuse to act if they don't know the purpose of their action. Those type of people end up driving off cliffs because they don't believe the signs telling them that the bridge is out. The rest of us turn off in time and go to a bar to drink a Guinness, only to discover, to our horror, that the price has risen so much that it's no longer economical to buy imports. Not that there are many people like this in America. Your average American would rather have his toe nails pulled out in a strange and vicious fashion by Asians in hoods drinking tea during breaks than give up his G-d given right to buy cheap shtuff from those very same Asians. Not that I have anything against Asians. Heck, some of my best friends are Asians. If you think I'm about to break out into some sort of anti-Asian rant right now, then I'm sorry, but I'll have to disappoint you. Anyone who works hard and keeps the law is welcome in my country. That includes those from south of the border. I realize that many Republicans wouldn't approve of those sentiments, but there you have it. This country was founded on the backs (probably broken) of hard working slave labor, oh sorry, I meant immigrants. As for Spanish becoming the new language of America? People were scared that German would do that, back in the day, but we managed to survive. I have a great deal of confidence in this country. Sure, we're going through a bit of a rough patch right now, and we may just need a Democrat to fix things up again, but all in all we still rock the house.
As Lucy Van Pelt once said, "Be of good cheer." As I recall, Snoopy wasn't too appreciative of her encouragement, but I'm no girl, and you're no dog, so it should all work out satisfactorily.

Medical Ethics

It's 2:45 AM, so I'll make this as snappy as possible. Oh, by the by, it's not Ira's fault this time, it's The Almighty Editor's. Go figure.
Rabbi Chayim Friedman Farbrenged earlier this evening. Shocked by the lack of titles? I told you I was going to make this brief. When a surgeon prepares to do surgery, he (or she, for that matter) prepares himself extensively. He cuts his fingernails, and blunts, them. Then he washed his hands to the elbow, and then puts on latex-free gloves. The janitorial staff, meanwhile, has been working hard to ensure that the operating room is completely sterile, that not a single germ should be left standing. What happens then? The patient is wheeled in, the doctor takes out a knife, and boom! There's blood everywhere. What was the point of all that preparation? Obviously, it was to ensure that there's be no infection, that the patient shouldn't be damaged. Even though it may seem like he's being hurt by the doctor, the whole point is to help, and it would be terrible for anything to go wrong.
So too a person who comes to criticize his friend; he has to make sure that his motives are pure, and that his words are measured. He must keep in mind what he is doing, and what his goals are. The point is not to cut open, though that may have to be done; rather, the point is to heal.
After Rabbi Friedman said this I wandered on over and made the observation that in an emergency, there's no time for the doctor to wash his hands. A paramedic, if necessary, will plunge right in, disregarding the circumstances he finds himself in. Why? Because time is of the essence, and what good will it do the patient if his doctor's hands are pure but he is dead?
So too with education. Sometimes a Mashpia has the advantage of time, the ability to objectively evaluate a situation and ensure a sterile environment for his reprimand. Sometimes though, on the front line, the fire is burning, and someone has to put it out. There's no time for dilly-dallying, no opportunity to calm down. The guy has just got to go in there with guns blazing, and hopefully it'll all turn out all right.

So yeah, short, and not so sweet, but it's not bad for someone whose brain turned off a couple hours ago. (These things happen. Sad, but necessary. Like a cow swimming in the ocean)

The ape's incantations while riding on a motorcycle

Last night Rabbi Chayim Friedman, fearless leader and 15 passenger van driving Principal of the Yeshiva High School of the Twin Cities, Farbrenged. I've heard it before, and a quick search on google revealed that in fact it's as old as the monkeys themselves, which, depending on your religious/socio-political views means somewhere between 5768 and 14 billion years. All this means, of course, is that ever since the beginning of time, when cavemen/Adam and Eve wandered the savanna/Garden of Eden people have been Farbrenging about it. In fact, after reading an atheist's view of the whole matter it seemed to me that anything I could possibly write would be inferior, so why bother? So I won't. Check it out though, because it's a really nice piece.

Some angst for supper

Has anyone ever written any humorous, self-deprecating, existential-angst ridden, and preferably intelligent shtuff? Is this asking for too much? Is it even possible to question life, truth, and various other existential hobby horses without being a pretentious snot?
Way back when, in the land before Lipa Schmeltzer infatuation, there was a kid being home-schooled in the ways of hyphenating and high school. His teacher told him to write a short story that took place in a French cafe, and at the same time she would write a story about a Shul. Neither had ever visited the locations their stories were based on, and consequently both got all the details (about those places) wrong. The lesson? Only write what you know.
I can now reveal that the kid in the story is in fact me, while the teacher was Ms. Hollerich (If your reading, Hi!). He (OK, I'll switch to "I", happy?) learned more about writing from her than anyone else, for which he (oh, right, I'm sorry, "I") is (am?) eternally grateful. In case you were wondering, it's not her fault that I use more parentheses than is healthy.
Why the sudden quest for humility? I was reading Chaim Rubin's shtuff on The 8th Note. Again, I would like to state that I'm a big fan of the CD, and all I'm about to write is merely in the pursuit of life, liberty, and the pursuit of something to write about. Also, I'm a big fan of Chaim, and admit to checking his website at least a couple of times a day.
Right, so as I was saying, Chaim's writing that the CD's incredible, and anyone who disagrees with him is an uncultured boar who should only listen to Shloime Dachs in the future. All right, so he wasn't that harsh; even a real evil person wouldn't condemn someone to listen exclusively to Dachs for the rest of eternity. Getting back to the point, which is something I seem to do an awful lot (perhaps if I stopped straying, it wouldn't be necessary), I wonder why Chaim thinks he's justified in cursing out (that's a bit harsh, I know, but I couldn't really think of another word for it) those who don't like the album. If there's one thing life has taught me, and believe you me, though it tried to teach I haven't really been paying attention, it's that one man's pile of ancient stones is another's fishing pier.
I appreciate reviews, but should I be made to feel bad for disagreeing? Fine, so I don't have to read the review (the thought just occurred to me; I'm doing the existential thing quite well today. Humor, on the other button, is a different tale), but I enjoy reviews. Many people enjoy reviews. The question is, do us review-loving types want to be insulted, or beaten down as lower-class, uncultured, illiterate, Internet Explorer using, beer and pizza consuming (actually, that sounds pretty good right now), Chevy driving (don't kid yourselves GM), low quality blog reading (no, of course not like this one) people?
Any review is of course (the reviewer's) pure bias, but we've all come to trust other people's opinions. Is a wine good? What do the wine snobs say? If they all say it's terrible, then chances are you won't like it either. Same goes for most products. It's one thing when you're judging something with quantifiable qualities; an iPod has more storage capability than a Samsung, a rhinoceros has more feet than a parakeet. Music though, like wine or quality of cabbage, is based purely on opinion. The job of the reviewer is to tell us what they think, not to defend the product (as Chaim has been doing with The 8th Note) or criticize those who don't agree. Moral equivalence should never affect our consideration of religion or culture, but it's no bad thing when it comes to product evaluations.
Chaim and other defenders of the album will tell you that the real problem lies with the record producers; they've accustomed us to such garbage that when something truly revolutionary (and possibly [in this case certainly] tremendous) comes along, we're incapable of appreciating it. Well honeys, sorry to burst your bubble, but that's what capitalism's all about; selling as little as possible to the customer for as much as you can charge. When an 8th Note comes out, the market decides its worth. Perhaps Chaim is desperate for more high quality Jewish music? It's certainly an admirable desire, but hardly justification for branding those who disagree as cretins and Catholics (it just seemed to fit).
So does everybody now understand my sudden quest for humility? Have I attained it yet? Can I get a definitive ruling on the hyphenation (or not) of the word(s) "self-righteous"? Because if there's anything worse than people who think they're better than anyone else (excluding me, of course [why not?]), I'd like to meet it and administer a swift and possibly illegal kick to various parts of their anatomy (if they're cowering in fear in the corner, or are simply rolled up in any confined space, it'll be relatively easy to hit multiple exposed body parts with a single hit).

Pass on Over

Some days I have lots to write, and some days I don't have much of anything. Today I learned several things, and each of them would have been great to blog about. In the end I'll just write about the last thing I learned, even if I really should have written about it two weeks ago. Truth is, the if the Rebbe could talk about it late, than so can I. For anyone who's interested in following along, it's in Hisvaadus 1984, part 2, page 1289, followed by 1349-1351. One thought: does the average non-Jew know what leaven is? How does it help him when you explain the prohibition of Chametz by saying, "Oh, that's leaven". He nods his head and has additional proof that most Jews are off their rocker. Just a thought.

The Alter Rebbe writes in his Shulchan Oruch, in the beginning of Orach Chaim 429, that thirty days before the festival preachers begin to expound publicly regarding the upcoming holiday. This means that on Purim, the 14th of Adar, we begin to prepare for Pesach, which falls out on the 15th of Nissan. Similarly, we begin to prepare for Shavuos on the 5th of Iyar, with the holiday following thirty days later on the 6th of Sivan, and with Sukkos, with preparation beginning on the 14th of Elul for the holiday on the 15th of Tishrei.
The reason for this time of preparation is that the nation needed to be taught the laws of sacrifices, as every single Jew who lived in the land of Israel was obligated to bring three sacrifices every festival. These sacrifices needed to be free of any blemish or any other disqualifying feature, and the Rabbis wanted the public to be ready, so they instituted this 30 day rule.
The Rebbe asks a simple question. Why didn't the Rabbi's begin this public preparation for Pesach on the 13th; after all, the Pesach offering is offered on the 14th itself (unlike the other three offerings, which were brought up on the festival), and we search for Chametz on the night of the 14th. Shouldn't the preparations for these integral parts of the holiday begin thirty days prior, like those of Shavous and Sukkos?
The answer isn't that the offering was only after noon on the 14th, because there would still be many hours missing from the total of thirty days, and many things could be learned in that time. There's also the matter of the search for Chametz, on the night of the 14th, which is necessary for the sacrifice. This also has many laws, and the 30 day rule should encompass it as well.
(The Rebbe says) Some people answered (in the booklets put out by Oholei Torah and the Rabbinical College of America in Morristown, New Jersey) that Tosafos answers this question in Bechoros by stating that the day of the offering itself is not counted. Also, the Rabbis didn't differentiate between one festival and another, and since we start preparing for Sukkos on the 14th, we do the same for Pesach. In addition, most of the offerings are on the festival itself.
Whoever answered should be blessed, but they're missing the point. First of all, the question is on the Alter Rebbe's Shulchan Oruch. He says that this law was not nullified after the destruction of the Temple, even though obviously no sacrifices are being offered outside the sanctuary. The new formulation of the Halacha is, "Every Chacham (wise man) should teach his students the laws of the festival 30 days prior, so that they should be expert in its laws and should know what to do." Meaning, we're not talking about the sacrifices anymore, and instead the question is focused on the search and destruction of the Chametz. So Tosafos' question isn't applicable here, as his answers deal with sacrifices.
In addition, when the Alter Rebbe writes about the "later generations" (post-Temple types) he differentiates between the Shavuos and the other two festivals, when he rules that on the Shabbos before Pesach and Sukkos the local Rav should give a speech dealing with the laws of the upcoming festival, while there is no such law regarding Shavuos. Thus Tosafos' answer, that we don't separate between festivals, isn't followed here.
The point of learning is to know what to do. Most of the laws which a Jew must know for Pesach, and Sukkos, have nothing to do with the sacrifice. The only law a regular Jew must know about the sacrifice is that it has to be free from blemish or other disqualification. Only a Kohen, a priest, needs to know all the other laws, i.e. animal slaughter, the sprinkling of the blood, the incense, etc. Only a superficial knowledge of the laws of blemishes is needed. Rav, an Amora, studied these laws for 18 months with a shepherd. How much longer would it take a regular Jew? There's no way he could finish it in just 30 days. That's why even after these 30 days of preparation a Kohen would still check each animal.
The laws of Chametz, like the laws of the Sukkah and 4 species, must be well known by every Jew. If the laws of sacrifices, which require only a superficial understanding, must be studied for 30 days, how much more so the applicable laws of Chametz!

(The Rebbe ends off) From all the discussion above, we might forget that we're talking about a living, breathing Jew who has to prepare for Pesach, and has to know what exactly to do!

So what's the answer? As far as I can tell, the Rebbe didn't answer it by this Farbrengen, and I'm not sure if it's answered anywhere else. If anyone does know, I'd really appreciate being told. That would be nice. One of the only problems with learning Sichos straight from Hisvaadyus is that the footnotes aren't really too helpful in situations like this one, where the answer could be found in a Sicha that was said four of five years later.

Fool's Day, Challah, and Hitchens

What is the Jewish view on April Fool's Day? I guess we don't really do it, seeing as we have Purim for comedic news, even if certain websites have issues with that kind of thing, but I was happy to see that everyone else in the known universe participated with gusto. Hey, even Chaim Rubin had something, though he gave it away by naming himself. It's nice to be able to say almost anything without fear of (too much) reprisal from the censoring types that make up the mainstream Jewish media. I can say anything I want on this blog, but it's rather pointless, as almost no one reads it. Besides, by identifying myself with the Lubavitch movement, I have the moral responsibility to write only things that aren't too damaging to the cause. Isn't it nice to have moral responsibility? It makes me feel really important. Of course every Jew has this responsibility, but (YYXPS's confirmation number for his DHL pickup is 143134 [I just thought you should know that])mine is special, because I claim to represent an influential segment of the community. Do I really speak in their name. Well, obviously I do. Do they feel represented by me? Does the American public feel represented President George W. Bush? Do you have your answer? Is it annoying to read a bunch of questions?

Did you know that if you forget to take Challah from your Challah before Shabbos Hagadol this year, then you have no recourse, and you must give all the Challah from that batch to a local Goy, or if you want you can flush it down the toilet. The reason, as laid out in the Alter Rebbe's Shulchan Oruch, is that there's no way follow the normal prescription in such cases, which is to set aside a chunk of the baked Challah on Shabbos and take Challah from it after Shabbos. Since this would involve owning Chametz on Pesach, it doesn't work. Giving that chunk to a Goy also doesn't work, because any gift to him or her must be unconditional, and there's no way of ensuring he won't eat the Challah. Telling him not to eat the Challah would place a condition on the bread, meaning the Goy wouldn't really own it, resulting in the Jew owning the Chametz on Pesach and thereby incurring lots and lots of divine wrath. Even giving it to him with the hope of him saving it would be prohibited, because if he doesn't save it then the Jew would have retroactively eaten Tevel and incurred other types, but still lots and lots, of divine wrath. So as I wrote, the only option is to completely divest ones self of the offending goods.
The above is not an April Fool's Joke. Look it up in the Alter Rebbe's Shulchan Oruch if you don't believe me. It's in Siman 444, Halacha 12.

Speaking of divine wrath raining down upon those sinners who don't take a little piece of dough from their bigger chunk of dough before baking and eating it...Christopher Hitchens, as demonstrated in an interview I recently saw with him on the Hannity and Colmes show (ahh, the joys of watching YouTube over someone's shoulder) has no answer to the fundamental question I blogged about a couple weeks ago, of the initial creation of the universe. Not that it's my question by any means. Hitchens' main argument seems to have the problem as Boteach's. Boteach's main argument was that the world is too complicated to have been made by anyone other than G-d. The response to this is that we're simply too stupid to understand. Fine, I agree that the argument is a stupid one. But at the same time, Hitchen's argument is also illogical. He says that religion has been responsible for more death and destruction than anything else in the world, and that reading the Bible or Koran one gets the idea that this G-d guy isn't someone you'd like to have a BBQ with, particularly as more than likely you'd be the one being cooked. The problem with this is that first of all, it's really more against religion than G-d himself. Perhaps we just haven't founded the right religion? Secondly, who says that G-d isn't a vengeful Old Testament-type? Just because he kills a lot of people doesn't mean he doesn't exist. A religious person could have problems with this, because they've been brought up to believe that G-d is really a nice guy, but again, that doesn't prove anything.
This is similar to my previous post about the guys on Mivtzoyim who didn't like the Bible because it said to wipe out the Amalekites. How do I justify this kind of behavior on G-d's part? There's the famous answer of the Rebbe, which I could've sworn I blogged about once before, but I can't find it in the archive, which is minorly annoying, because it means I'll have to write it now (possibly for the second time) for your reading edification.
In short, and I do mean short, this world is a space craft that's flying to some far out place. Like six million light years far out place (in some cases, this could be the bathroom). Obviously the original travelers won't make it there; rather their descendants will have the task of doing whatever it is space craft personnel do. About five hundred years into the mission one of the kids decides that the whole story is a crock of basted salami (in white wine[that sounds pretty nasty now that I think of it] and possibly some ketchup). He tells his parents/superiors that he's not interested anymore, and he's going to do something horrendous, like turn off one of the switches on the central computer. His parents warn him that it'll destroy everything if he does so, but he says, "Says who?" They answer that this the tradition they've heard from their parents. He says, "And who do they know it from? It seems to me that this whole thing we've got going here is one big lie. I'm going to"...too bad the ship blows up. Or something like that. Point is, this little kid ruined the mission, and now no punishment is too great for him.
The Rebbe said that the same thing applies to Torah and Mitzvos. We don't understand what's going on, but we should rest assured that whatever it is it's extremely important. If we do something dumb, of course the Torah punishes us. It's not vengeful, it's justice. In fact, the Rebbe says, 39 lashes is nothing compared to the damage that's been caused. Blaming religion for the bad it's caused is fine.
Is religion a good thing? No. Is Judaism a good thing? For sure. Is Judaism a religion? Obviously not. For more on that, ask your local orthodox Rabbi.