On the “Decree” of Kitniyot, Conservatism, and Desecration of God’s Name (Column 2)

Zevik:
Gevvalt!!
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Nadav Gasner:
Rabbi Michael,
I find it hard to accept the disdain for a custom instituted by the great halakhic authorities. The Rema and the Maharil would not have observed a strange and annoying custom.
I don’t know about all kinds of odd and bizarre explanations, but after studying the sugya in the Gemara, the Beit Yosef, the Shulchan Arukh, and their commentators, I saw that the custom has three main reasons: 1. Lest one confuse a cooked dish made from legumes with a cooked dish made from grains. 2. Lest one confuse foods made from legume flour with grain flour. 3. Mixing of grains into legumes. These reasons have an understandable rationale, even if they are not strong enough to make it obvious that one must prohibit them, because you can always find concerns—and why not. But is the existence of relatively remote safeguards in halakha something new to you?
As for the first reasons, clearly nothing has changed, because today people cook legumes and bake from their flour no less—and even more—than in the past. As for the third reason, I’ve already heard Rabbi Eliezer Melamed say several times in lectures that today’s reality has not only not changed, but has actually worsened. He also addressed this briefly in his Revivim column http://www.yeshiva.org.il/midrash/15751.
Maybe with rice, which doesn’t resemble wheat, it’s easy to sort industrially. But with cumin, for example, where wheat is grown in the same field, Rabbi Eliezer said that once they showed cumin produce at a kashrut conference, and only after being shown the subtle difference between cumin and wheat did they realize the ratio was 1 to 20. Not even nullified in 60! And we’re talking about חמץ, which prohibits even in the tiniest amount.
Moreover, in a lecture by Rabbi Mikha Halevi this year, he told how recently he dealt with a spice factory that had precisely this problem! After the grinding, he realized that the grains from which the spices had been made contained wheat in a proportion of less than 1/60. The rabbi ordered the factory to halt operations for a few days (the rest of the incident is not relevant here).

My question is: do you deal with kashrut? Do you know the reality in the fields? In the packaging plants? Or are you just saying, “I never found wheat in rice”? Because that doesn’t sound like a serious enough argument to me. Maybe only for rice. (Certainly not the argument that by law undeclared gluten is a serious issue. Do we live in the same country? Since when is the law here a guarantee of anything?).

To sum up:
This is a decree as a safeguard. There are plenty like this in halakha, more remote or less so. All the reasons still exist. Therefore there is no place to abolish laws of this kind just because, in our opinion, the reasoning of the great authorities of that generation was foolish.
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The rabbi:
Hello Nadav.
Only now did I see your response. Sorry for the delay.
I already wrote that all these unconvincing justifications, even if they are true, are irrelevant to the discussion. On your view, we should prohibit things based on the actual concern that exists in practice, not because of a custom, and not permit them based on formal questions like whether this is a legume that existed at the time of the “decree,” or whether it is green. Go out and see where there is chametz and where there isn’t. Moreover, if there is a real concern, then Sephardim too should be stopped from eating legumes. Nobody recommends doing that. Therefore I do not buy the enthusiastic reports of the supporters of this custom, and no expertise in kashrut is needed for that.
If chametz is found in some product, production should be stopped or the kashrut certification removed. That is what they did and do in such cases, and the prohibition on all legumes does not become any less ridiculous because of that.
The gluten law is very significant, just like Rav Moshe Feinstein’s consideration regarding gentile milk in a modern state. Even in the State of Israel they are careful about it, if only for economic reasons (the fine if they violate it). If you do not trust the system—then don’t eat any kosher product, because maybe it contains pork or blood and they didn’t tell you. By the way, do you know many gluten-sensitive Sephardim who were harmed by eating legumes on Passover because gluten got into their product? From what I have been told, even in restaurants—which are far less supervised than industrial products—this almost never happens anymore.
I do not know whether in the time of the Maharil or the Rema there was a concern about chametz or not, and therefore it is possible that in their time there was some point to this prohibition. We will leave the discussion of capital liability for another opportunity…

Incidentally, if this were a decree (and as I wrote, in my opinion it really is not, but a concern), then none of this would be needed, since even if the reason ceases, the decree does not cease. However, I already wrote about that as well—that the Rishonim abolished dozens of such decrees. The rules of halakha are not universal mathematical rules, but that is already a subject for another discussion.
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Oren:
Following what was said about Rabbi Haim Navon, there is an article of his with similar points, and I’d be glad to hear your opinion of them:
Rabbi Haim Navon:
A new Torah genre has come into the world: mocking the excessive cleaning for Passover. “According to halakha, in three hours you can kasher the whole house,” people read in Sabbath pamphlets, and immediately rush to disparage those who clean. My wife really doesn’t like these statements. Maybe according to halakha three hours are enough, she says (and I say: I doubt it), but this is how my mother cleans, and this is how we will clean. And she is right. Because our Passover is not determined only by halakhic books. I believe with all my heart in the vitality of halakha for our spiritual lives. In a world where all loyalties decay and all commitments dissolve, in a world where people pride themselves on being freed from the chains of religion while at the same time worshipping themselves as a selfish and deranged idol, in such a world our loyalty to halakha is a vital and heartening wonder. Halakha is the skeleton of our spiritual world. But that skeleton must be covered with skin and sinews and flesh. One must not give up halakha, but one can and should add to it. Our customs and traditions are what give volume and power to our religious lives. What would our Passover look like if it contained only halakha? In terms of halakhic mathematics, it is enough for a person to recite short, fragmented sections of the Haggadah. In terms of formal halakha, if the Passover cleaning can be finished in three hours, then the Seder night can be finished in an hour and a half, including the meal. This is not only about Passover. If we reduced ourselves to formal halakha, much of the flavor and aroma of our religious life would be stolen from us. According to halakhic books, one need not pray Kabbalat Shabbat. I am not even coming to say that one need not pray it in the Carlebach style—that is certainly true, and even recommended, regardless of halakha—but rather that one need not pray Kabbalat Shabbat at all. Sabbath songs also appear in no סעיף of the Shulchan Arukh. Even Kol Nidrei on the night of Yom Kippur can be skipped. And one need not rise early for Selichot. Our lives are wrapped in customs and habits, without which we would be lost and poor. One cannot turn everywhere to books as the sole source of authority. In no sphere of life do we act that way. Respectable people pride themselves on wearing neckties. Does anyone have a logical explanation for this item of clothing? When we meet, we shake hands. What is the meaning of this practice? It is neither hygienic nor logical. No explanation for it is found in books. We can only find theories about the historical origins of the handshake, theories that only make it look even more ridiculous. Whoever checks the rational explanation for every step and the justification that can be found for it in books will shrink his life to an astonishingly short list of purposeful actions. None of us lives that way. Even when we do things that have a clear purpose, that reason is not what motivates our action. Sometimes people proudly tell me that they explain to their small children the reason for every religious act and every commandment. And I ask: do you also teach them an accelerated course in bacteriology before brushing their teeth? We do what we do because that is how life is in our home, and at the most basic level that reason is enough. This is the basic layer of family and communal identity with which every child should grow up. As our children grow, they understand more and more. But we too, their parents, press the microwave button and trust that the food will heat up without having the faintest idea how that wondrous mechanism works. If we limited our actions only to what we can explain and justify rationally, we would still be heating our food over bonfires (assuming we understand the theory of combustion). Our customs have a double value. First of all, they shape the hidden corners of our souls. Each of us longs for the melodies of the High Holy Days from our parents’ home. Not because they are really more beautiful than the melodies of the cantor in our present synagogue, but because that is what we grew up with. Beyond that, customs have another value: they preserve the wisdom of our ancestors. The understanding of many generations has been poured into these customs. And if the accumulated experience of our forefathers led them to gather together for Kabbalat Shabbat, even though halakha does not require it, then apparently that really is the way to elevate our Shabbat. Because of all this, I appreciate the devotion to Passover cleaning. Whoever finds it too much—let him cut back. Whoever feels that the smell of bleach is turning him into an obsessive-compulsive monster—let him stop. But those who are willing to make the effort and clean more than necessary because that is what was done in their parents’ home, and that is how they want their Passover—deserve appreciation, not contempt. I have much more to say on this subject, but the panels are waiting for me. (The weekly column in the Motza”sh magazine—your new week).
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The rabbi:
Halakha itself sees custom as something binding. But at the same time it also says that foolish customs should be abolished. And when a custom becomes a nuisance and it is clear to everyone that it is nonsense, there is no reason to preserve it. And when it comes to a concern that by inertia became a custom—like the broom of the Rebbe of Gur—then it is already a joke. And if Passover cleaning is a fashion like wearing neckties, then let them clean. Just don’t tell me it’s an obligation. If one searches for chametz in a place where it may be, then there is some point. But cleaning for no reason is not a custom but a nuisance. Rabbi Navon is reacting hysterically to reform and excessive innovation (in his view), and in doing so, in my opinion, mixes unlike things together. Incidentally, I also don’t have much faith in the collective wisdom of the generations. For example, I clearly prefer scientific medicine to the “accumulated wisdom” of the Chinese in acupuncture.
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Gadi:
Congratulations on the new site. A. Why not fear that same biting snake? B. In my opinion the snake is not necessarily metaphysical but rather the feeling of separation, which is not good for one’s self in relation to the public one belongs to. C. See the Maharil, who says regarding Passover customs that one must not depart from the tradition even in a foolish custom. D. This is a slippery slope, and this is how Reform began; it too had plenty of halakhic supports until it deteriorated. In any case I hope that Your Honor did not in fact eat legumes on Passover. For me personally that would hurt [of course that does not obligate Your Honor], and I imagine it would hurt you too. חג שמח.
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The rabbi:
Hello Gadi. Thank you for your response. If something isn’t good for someone, then he shouldn’t do it. The question is not one of feelings but of prohibition or permission. Even if the Maharil wrote so, I disagree with him. Once one treats a foolish custom like halakha, the damage is far more severe. Reform (and the Haskalah) began from two forces combined together: rebellion from below, and the wrong reaction from above (of the rabbinic establishment: condemnation and ostracism instead of substantive engagement). Sorry to disappoint you, but this year I indeed ate legumes.
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Gadi:
I’ll add a few more words. We are all part of the public. If everyone decides to do what seems right to him, it won’t hold up. The idea that after the sealing of the Talmud there is nothing further is the same principle: they accepted it upon themselves, and that’s that. I am being very brief, and there is more to elaborate.
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The rabbi:
Regarding entrusting the decision to each individual, I will cite something I told my students about twenty years ago at the hesder yeshiva in Yeruham before they went out to the officers’ course. I told them that I would not want to go to war with soldiers whom I know would never refuse an order. Every soldier must refuse an order when a red line is crossed for him, of course after considering that the matter is sufficiently severe and justified. This is not only the soldier’s right and duty for the sake of his own values, but is also necessary for the proper functioning of the army. A commander who knows that if he gives an order the soldiers may refuse will weigh every order more seriously, and the functioning of the army will only improve. A commander who knows that every order of his will be fulfilled automatically will give orders without enough thought.
As for the status of the Talmud, it is indeed based on public acceptance, like at Mount Sinai. But the foolish custom of legumes they did not accept upon themselves, and even if they did—that is acceptance in error, like any other foolish custom.
I’ll add that the arguments you have raised here apply to every custom, and what follows from them is that there is really no such thing as a foolish custom. After all, one can always say that one must not depart from the community and that its acceptance is binding, etc. etc. But there is such a concept. So when are we to say that foolish customs should be abolished? I mentioned in my remarks that even decrees from the Talmud were abolished by the Rishonim when there was a need to do so. So all the more so with a mere concern or a foolish custom—there is no problem, and it is even desirable, to abolish them.
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Yeruham:
The honorable rabbi “forgot” that on the matter of legumes the Beit Yosef cites Rabbenu Yeruham, who writes “and it is a foolish custom”—that is, your entire long [and enjoyable] verbiage in one word: “nonsense.” From the flow of the Beit Yosef it seems he is rubbing his hands with delight upon hearing R. Yeruham’s words, and he adds fuel to the fire, writing: “And in Spain they never practiced this,” i.e. don’t confuse us with absurd Ashkenazi customs. See you at the university.
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The rabbi:
Hello Yeruham.
In my remarks I did not need sources at all, because even if there were no such sources, my point would still stand.
Gadi above you brings a source that speaks of the “decree of legumes,” and that too is a source (and I didn’t forget that one either).
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Gadi:
Naively I thought you meant a foolish custom in our own time, but it is of course clear that this is an ancient custom [a decree—see the Maharil who wrote that there is liability to death], with its own reasons [though there are several]. In any case, our Shulchan Arukh, the Rema, wrote as halakha: “one should not deviate.” As I wrote, if we drift away from halakha [especially publicly], each person with his own reasoning, there will be no end to it. This is Reform. To speak about it publicly is contagious. I have not elaborated, and perhaps I will write to you privately. [Is there any chance that I might change your mind somewhat, that in principle you would be convinced of the correctness of these points?]
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The rabbi:
It is hard for a baker to testify about his own dough. I can only express appreciation and hope that if good evidence is brought, I will gladly retract.
At its origin, I assume there was logic to this concern. I have no reason to assume that our fathers and rabbis were fools. Therefore it is obvious that when I speak of a foolish custom, I mean in our own time. What I claimed לגבי the time when people first began abstaining from legumes is a different claim: I argued that it was probably a concern, not a decree or a custom, and I assume that then there really was a basis for this concern. Once that basis disappeared, there is no reason to continue with it. I detailed this in my column.
The treatment of this as an ancient custom is only because people do not understand why everyone does it and do not have the courage to change and abolish it as they ought. And inventing “capital liability” here is really absurd, with all due respect.
I once heard from Rabbi Meidan (perhaps I wrote this in my remarks; I don’t remember) that he knows 22 reasons why we read the Book of Ruth on Shavuot, but only one reason for reading the Book of Esther on Purim. All the reasons for the “decree of legumes” testify a thousandfold that it has no reason at all. Just now an acquaintance sent me the words of R. Haim Palaggi, who wrote that the prohibition of legumes is because it is undignified food for the festival. And according to that, of course, one should avoid them also on Sukkot and Shavuot (he himself writes this explicitly). See how far these bizarre notions go, and how any of this relates to distinctions between different kinds of legumes (what existed in their time, green and not green, etc.).
If everyone coming with his own reasoning is Reform—then I am a Reform Jew. I am one of those who use their reasoning (though I try to be careful in doing so). That is what our sages did throughout the generations, and they did not fear all these fears (see, for example, the sources Yeruham brought in the message before yours).
This is not drifting away from halakha, but drifting away from the words of some halakhic authorities. And everyone does that. To call it drifting away from halakha is begging the question (you assume this is halakha. But that very point is what the dispute is about, and in my view it is not so).
I certainly hope that speaking about this publicly is contagious. You surely understand that my purpose in publishing these things was not to hide my views. I hope this will infect many others who will abandon their mothers’ tradition on this matter. The proper way, if you want to prevent that, is to raise good arguments against it—and not privately but publicly. So that everyone may see and judge.
All the best
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Gadi:
Rabbi Michael, if I thought you were Reform, I wouldn’t be debating the matter. You are not the first and not the last who each year can wonder to himself or to his friend why legumes are not permitted in our day, and still everyone keeps the Rema’s ruling that one must not change, despite his knowing that already in his day there was no concern [except perhaps the concern of dragging in wheat and rice]. There was no shortage of leaders in previous generations who had more than enough credibility to permit the matter without fearing for their own skin, and because of the danger involved they did not permit it. The people are not prepared for essential changes because it is a slippery slope, all the more so when it comes together with contempt for what is necessary, namely the absolute honor for our early authorities who are still called “If the earlier ones were like angels, we are like men…” These are beliefs necessary for our survival, and those greater than I would also say that this is reality [the decline of the generations, etc.], and for others these will be necessary customs, and “the custom of Israel is Torah” and its reward comes with it. Without these foundations I see no continuation or survival.
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The rabbi:
Hello Gadi.
First of all, I do not think it is right not to debate with Reform Jews. Arguments should be met with arguments, not with boycotts or taking offense. What I wrote was that if the use of reasoning is Reform (as you claimed), then I am Reform. That is not a rhetorical statement; I meant it quite seriously.
In my estimation, the fear of permitting this did not stem from personal fear but from a reaction to Reform and to demands for change that had arisen or were feared to arise. I think that at least in our time this is a mistaken policy. Contrary to what used to be accepted in the past—that when there is a breach one must block every change or raise the walls—today that policy is destructive and harmful. What needs to be done is to explain what is really prohibited and what is not, and not to blur the line between customs and prohibitions, and certainly not to insist on foolish customs.
I do not know who “the people” are that are prepared or not prepared. I actually think the people have stopped being prepared for total non-change, especially in matters as stupid as legumes. And if we do not change, many will throw out everything (and already do so). People are losing trust in a system that is so fossilized and anachronistic.
The question whether the Rishonim were like angels, and what that means, is not relevant to us. I am not claiming that someone among the founders of this prohibition was stupid. On the contrary, it is obvious to me that he had a good reason, but I claim that now it no longer exists (and put aside these concerns of dragging-in). It seems to me that if we preserve the notion of “the earlier ones were like angels” in this sense, we have no right to exist. Our own eyes see the decline (and justified decline) of public trust in halakha and its decisors. This is a result of their/our fossilized conservatism. We have earned it honestly.
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Gadi:
Rabbi Michael, with a Reform Jew I would not discuss legumes—it has nothing to do with a boycott. Regarding the fear of permitting, yes, that is indeed what I wrote. I disagree with Your Honor regarding conservatism. I think conservatism is necessary, and for some reason you write that we need to loosen the reins [at least in what you think], which in my opinion is destructive. And indeed, when an important Jew, a Torah scholar and talented person, somehow mocks what is holy and precious in the Ashkenazi religious ציבור, which observes the words of the Rema as halakha and did not think this was a foolish custom, that does indeed cause distrust—and that was my claim from the outset. History proves this trend again and again: toward Reform, abandonment of religion, conversion to Christianity in the past, and in our day see the Religious Zionist ציבור, which for all the leniencies that apply to it emotionally and mentally, does not hold up.
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The rabbi:
Hello Gadi. Apparently we disagree about what causes contempt and what endangers the status of halakha. This is a factual dispute, and I do not see a way to resolve it here, and my position has already been stated.
As for your historical proofs, of course there is much to discuss. I see in all the examples you brought proofs for my own position. Regarding your comments on the Religious Zionist ציבור, I completely disagree with you. In my opinion that ציבור is what keeps the Haredi ציבור going, which itself really is not holding up (and many of those who do hold up are, in my view, failures). Moreover, Haredism—even if you claim that Judaism in the past was Haredi, which is itself a very difficult claim—all the things we know today (Reform, Enlightenment, Religious Zionism, etc.) came out of it and from its failures. But that really opens an entirely different argument, which is not the place for here.
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Gadi:
That’s like claiming that all the failures of the generation of the wilderness and those after them came from Sinai, because they all came out from there. In any case, to claim that conservatism or excommunications or the ways of coping with the beginnings of Reform are what gave it legitimacy is, in my opinion, exactly backwards and not even in the realm of conspiracy. The exceptions one may find for this idea do not amount to enough to build such a reality. Since we became a people there have always been “reformers” in various forms, so this is not something new as people like to think, and in any case we are here in our land today thanks to the continued existence over the generations of Pharisaic Judaism, and that is what held us together.
Here is the head of the practical reformers (Aharon Chorin), who for some reason is not so well known in the public.
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The rabbi:
Mount Sinai caused no failure. But the Haredi policy of ostracism played a central role in the failure to deal with the new winds.
I did not write that ostracism gave legitimacy, but that it was a partner in the failure. That is not the same thing at all.
The Pharisees are today’s Reformers. So to claim that we are the continuation of the Pharisees, and that their way is what preserved us, and at the same time to argue against the Reformers, seems to me a plain contradiction.
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Gadi:
Rabbi Michael, good morning,
Your response seems like checking a V.
I used an extreme word, legitimacy, in the sense of legitimate = reasonable,
That is, the reality of Reform became reasonable because of the attitude…
As I wrote, we do indeed disagree about this.
As for the Pharisees then being the Reformers of today—if you mean because the Sadducees preceded them, then I really feel I am only dragging Your Honor down by this argument -:}
And if you simply mean changes, there is no doubt that they were mainly in the direction of piety and raising fences, not the opposite.
Even if there were indeed changes to ease punishments, then a] we have no historical record of what they practiced before,
b] many significant punishments were added: disciplinary lashes, punishments extra-legally, a rabbi administering lashes, etc.,
stonings as principal categories or derivatives, etc. etc.,
of course all this besides decrees and enactments and fences and safeguards and prohibitions, etc…………
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The rabbi:
I did not mean that the Sadducees preceded them, but that their attitude did. The Pharisees created a period of דרשות and far-reaching changes in halakha, in both lenient and stringent directions. Incidentally, the difference between leniency and stringency is not always clear, even in our day.
But this whole historical argument is not relevant to our discussion. Even if you were right and this really was the policy of the Pharisees (which in my opinion it definitely was not), you would still suggest deviating from it. After all, I completely agree that this indeed was the policy practiced through most of our history: raising the walls when there are calls to breach them (“in a time of scattering, gather in”). But I already wrote that there is no sanctity in halakhic policy, and unlike halakha there is no obligation at all to cling to it. Policy should be judged by success or failure and by its fit to reality. My claim is that today this really does not fit. The opposite is true.

Ephraim:
It may be that you’re right, that it’s irrelevant—but why the coarseness?!
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The rabbi:
Ephraim, are you sure you’re on the right site? Were my remarks about yours? What is irrelevant, and what coarseness?

Amihai:
1. As you can see from many of the responses here, the ability to debate logically and rationally with an average Orthodox person is impossible, since arguments like “How can one be dismissive?” or “There is no rabbi who permits this” are arguments meant to undermine the capacity to think, and therefore thought will not persuade a person who (consciously or not) gives it only minimal weight in life. That is to say, the average Orthodox person is ultimately occupied with preservation (of what he inherited), and he is not willing to actualize what he inherited. This is very jarring today, because with the return of Israel to its land and the establishment of a state and an Israeli society, we should have moved into a mode of implementation and actualization, not remain in preservation mode as Orthodoxy does today, in my view.
2. Your assumptions regarding customs and decrees, and regarding the ability to abolish or change them, are also questionable. About much of what was written one can ask, “Who says so?” I mean that there are “rules” that for some reason someone decided had been established that way, without reality requiring it. Even the statement that a Sanhedrin cannot revoke something enacted by a Sanhedrin greater than it requires clarification—what exactly cannot be revoked, and under what circumstances?
3. I wanted to ask your general opinion about many Talmudic dicta whose reason is not relevant today. What is your attitude toward them?
For example, a niddah woman keeping seven clean days (R. Zeira’s statement about the daughters of Israel). As I understand it after studying the matter, what happened was that women would sometimes bleed not at the regular time for niddah (zivah illness), and this was relatively common compared to our times. In addition—and this was the root of the problem—it was hard for women to count properly the days of the onset of menstruation, and therefore the days on which they were supposed to menstruate (there wasn’t a calendar and pen available to every hand, certainly not an app for calculating menstruation time). Therefore the daughters of Israel decided not to take the risk of violating a Torah prohibition of zavah, and so they were stringent even with niddah blood (and every blood) to keep 7 clean days afterward. That is, the daughters of Israel gravely damaged the intention of the Torah (to permit a niddah woman to be with her husband after 7 days as she was supposed to, to permit a woman to be in her blood of purity after childbirth), all because in the balance of considerations the fear of the prohibition outweighed the nullification of what the Torah did want us to do. And after all this I ask myself: today, when zivah blood is relatively rare, today when there is no problem with the help of a calendar and pen (or an app) understanding whether blood flowing on a given date is in the monthly range that can be defined as niddah blood or is zavah blood—in addition, today there are women who are halakhically infertile and suffer all kinds of procedures just because of this stringency—today the will of the Torah (to permit a niddah after 7 or to permit a woman in blood of purity) is nullified, while opposite it there is no consideration at all that justifies this. In fact I feel that by keeping this stringency we are sinning. It seems as if this stringency is sometimes more important than the commandment to be fruitful and multiply.
Unfortunately, even the discussion I want to conduct with my surroundings on this issue stops very quickly because of people’s lack of willingness to discuss it—“Gevvald.” In my opinion, the root of the refusal to discuss it stems from the religious approach that clung to Judaism in exile, namely that stringency is always blessed and as though prohibiting what is permitted is a wonderful thing that certainly does not damage the will of the Torah. I, of course, think that prohibiting the permitted is at least as serious, or nearly as serious, as permitting the prohibited (and here too there is much to elaborate on in the worldview—namely that Judaism in my conception is a culture and a natural way of life that seeks to clothe a person in higher morality and values, as opposed to most Orthodox people who hold that Judaism is a religion that mainly seeks to create laws and norms unnatural to man so that a person will always “overcome”; proof of this is that most religious people today feel satisfaction from the fact that they suffered greatly in performing a mitzvah and nevertheless did it, like cramming down 3 matzot on Seder night even if you prove to them there is no need for that quantity).
That’s it, I typed carelessly and didn’t even go back to edit. I’d be glad to hear what you think about what I wrote.
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The rabbi:
Hello Amihai.
You raised several very weighty questions, and I won’t be able to exhaust them. I’ll try briefly.
1. I actually disagree with your interpretation. Those claims are claims like any other. A person argues that tradition has a truth-value and that collective rationality somehow hits upon it, and therefore they trust its results. That is an approach like any other, and it can and should be engaged with. It is true that sometimes there is a lack of listening and people do not abandon their basic assumptions, but that is true of all parts of the population and certainly not only of religious Orthodoxy.
2. About anything one can say “Who says so?” Do you have no assumptions in your own thinking? The question is whether there is an answer to the “Who says so?” Sometimes there is and sometimes there isn’t. It is important that you understand that sometimes the answer will not address the matter itself but the question of authority. Every normative system (for example, state law) establishes rules that are binding regardless of whether they are correct. If there is a bad law or a wrong judicial interpretation, there is still an obligation to obey them. Halakha is no different in that sense. Therefore an answer that says we have no authority to change, or that to change something one needs a court (greater or not), is a perfectly legitimate answer. Again, one must examine whether it is correct or not, but there is no a priori flaw in it.
3. This is a specific halakhic and meta-halakhic discussion, and this is not the place to conduct it. I am not at all sure that today it is irrelevant. And I also don’t think we have the authority to abolish it, just as an irrelevant law of the Knesset can only be changed by the Knesset (see the previous sections about this kind of answer). But given that it really is irrelevant, there is no obstacle to change (one naturally has to find a mechanism that solves the authority problem, and such mechanisms exist in some cases).

To prohibit the permitted is problematic, and today even more than in the past. I completely agree.

I do not agree with your claim that the distinction between religion and moral and other values is mistaken. I do agree that it is late (that is, once that distinction was less sharp). But that is a separate discussion, and this is not the place to elaborate on it.
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Oren:
1. You often compare the authority of the Knesset to the authority of Hazal, but regarding the authority of the Knesset, if there is agreement to change an outdated law that is no longer relevant, this can happen easily, whereas regarding the authority of Hazal, it seems that even broad agreement would not help to change the decree.
2. Regarding the halakha that one needs a court greater in wisdom and number to repeal an ordinance, why not add a clause that in a case where it is clear to everyone that the reason for the ordinance has ceased, the sages of the generation are sufficient to repeal the ordinance?
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The rabbi:
I am not very expert in the legal world, but as far as I understand, no law can be repealed without Knesset legislation. There is the innovation that the attorney general does not enforce something when there is no public interest, but even that is a procedure the Knesset can approve or cancel.
As for the authority of Hazal, in my opinion if there is broad agreement then it is null and void. There simply is no agreement on that. What is the difference between agreement to accept their authority (which is the basis of the authority they have) and agreement to nullify it? The same mouth that prohibited is the mouth that permitted. See Kesef Mishneh on the beginning of chapter 2 of Hilkhot Mamrim, that there is no principled limitation on repealing ancient halakhot. Rav Kook also wrote that all Israel has the power of the great court, and therefore their agreement nullifies whatever you want.
What do you mean, why not add? Because we do not add to or change the decrees of Hazal (unless there is general agreement, as above. Purely hypothetical). In practice, however, this is done all the time, and I even brought examples and references for it in my remarks.

Arik:
“First of all, I don’t recall ever finding grain inside packages of legumes. For some reason, the great sticklers regarding the prohibition of legumes report finding grain in rice every other day. Why on earth does it happen only to them? Why shouldn’t the Holy One, blessed be He, also grant me, His faithful servant, the merit of finding some little grain? In any case, amazingly, people I know haven’t really had this stirring experience.”

I don’t recall ever finding a grain of wheat in a vacuum-sealed bag of Sugat rice, but in bags of legumes bought in bulk from bins in stores (that is, where there are drawers with different products and you fill a bag from them), there definitely is sometimes something that is not the original product, so it is reasonable that from time to time there would be wheat there too.

This Passover I found something unclear in a bag of soybeans (which I eat relying on Rabbi Feinstein, who says legumes that did not exist at the time of the custom are permitted), which may have been chametz or at least something that could be chametz.

To say that for this reason legumes should be prohibited? Probably not. To say that there is some added stringency value in this, like soaked matzah, etc.? One can understand that.
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The rabbi:
As I wrote in my remarks, this is true of anything, especially anything sold loose. So what is the point of prohibiting legumes, and certainly of limiting the prohibition to legumes that existed in their time? Prohibit everything regarding which there is a concern today (if the concern is significant). Therefore I do not agree that this is similar to soaked matzah.
Arik:
Legumes, in their broad definition (edible seeds or something like that), include all or almost all of the things sold loose and liable to be confused with grain.
At the moment I am speaking according to the view that even legumes that did not exist at the time of the decree are prohibited.
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The rabbi:
Even according to that view, this is not a prohibition of legumes but a concern of chametz. Go and see whether it is appropriate to prohibit because of it. Legumes are not everything sold loose. These are mere excuses meant to defend a custom that has no reason. But this does not defend that custom at all, only other things, as explained.
You are talking about the possibility of confusion with grain, but here we are talking about the concern that grain may be found. These are two completely different reasons. The concern of confusion exists with waffles and cakes sold on Passover—so should we now invent a new decree of our own lest people become confused?!
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Arik:
A. The original concern was (perhaps) that in a bag of legumes grain might be found (because of mixing in sacks or for some other reason). And even today there is (in a considerable number of places where legumes are sold) a possibility of finding grain or chametz among legumes.
So at most (assuming the rabbi is right that there are other things that are commonly sold loose near grain and sometimes grain falls in there too—not entirely clear to me whether this is common with other things), there would be reason to expand the custom, assuming that preserving a custom also obligates preserving everything that falls under its original rationale—and that assumption seems quite novel to me.

Gadi:
Rabbi Michael,
Thank God, so you agree that this was the case throughout history, and to suggest in the time of the Tannaim deviating from it while there was a Sanhedrin in Israel …………?
That is indeed what we lack for changes: a Sanhedrin. In our time establishing a Sanhedrin is in the category of “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb,” and we still haven’t reached that point…
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The rabbi:
Your remarks here are not clear. I don’t understand what you are saying, and mainly what it refers to. It is advisable to respond to the specific point you are referring to so that I can understand.
If you mean to refer to my statement that one should not change halakhot established by the Sanhedrin without a Sanhedrin, that is not the case here. And if you mean my statement that policy that used to be practiced—namely to be strict when there is concern for breaches—should be changed, then I have already explained elsewhere that there is authority to change policy. I argued this because policy is not halakha, and therefore it can be changed even without a Sanhedrin. It should be evaluated according to its utility. But perhaps I did not understand your intention.
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Gadi:
Indeed, in order to change the words of the Rema one needs a Sanhedrin or something of equivalent power,
As I wrote my opinion, alone and in public this is a deterioration,
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The rabbi:
Indeed, quite a novelty. In order to change the words of the Rema one needs a Sanhedrin???
Henceforth I must relate to you as my master, champion, and intimate acquaintance who has taught me some new thing.
I have only one question: and this very novelty itself, which has no source, no precedent, and not a trace of grounding in reason or Scripture—does that not require a Sanhedrin? I am astonished!

Moshe Kogan:
The truth is that once I did find a grain of wheat in a vacuum-packed package of rice, but I strongly identify with your remarks. Even the Yaavetz wrote that this is a foolish custom, but that he lacked the power to change it. And in general, if a person buys fresh legumes (corn, peas in pods, etc.), where is the problem? And if we’re already talking about customs, the whole custom of “our water” stems from the belief that at night the sun heats the springs, and therefore the warm water might cause the wheat/flour to ferment, so they drew the water earlier. So is there not also room to abolish this nonsense (though of course there is a major difference here, since this concerns something that doesn’t really change anything, whereas the prohibition of legumes does relate to what one can eat on Passover. And by the way, the whole “stringency” of disposable utensils “kosher for Passover” really began because of competition among merchants, and likewise the ridiculous certifications on bleach, and as people say, “the world is foolish”—so if in that case people understand that it’s foolish and there’s no need to be strict, why in the matter of legumes “must” one act differently…?)
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The rabbi:
Indeed, I would abolish everything, and much more as well (second festival day, waiting periods, and so on), but the rule of “our water” (like second festival day and waiting periods) is a law, not a concern, and one can argue that another formal quorum is needed to permit it (though when the law is based on an error in reality there is room to abolish it even without that, and as I wrote, even laws are at times annulled without another quorum).

Gadi:
Rabbi Michael,
On the contrary, I will send the question back to you:
When all the decisors in the later generations thought they lacked the power to permit it,
and you would ask them in what way there could have been an option and a reality in which the matter would be permitted and removed—what would they answer Your Honor?
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The rabbi:
I have no idea, and I do not understand why that matters.

Gadi:
“Henceforth I must relate to you as my master, champion, and intimate acquaintance who has taught me some new thing”

I was only referring to these words. It turns out in the end that this isn’t so novel after all, and others preceded me in it,
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The rabbi:
Various emails got dropped here within the discussion and mine got mixed up with yours. But I think we have exhausted the matter.

Ayin:
This question came up for me when I heard something from a friend about the rabbi’s view regarding legumes, but it connected for me more generally to the halakhic and philosophical clarification I am trying to make. Suppose I decide that in my opinion (after checking, etc.…) there is no reason not to eat legumes on Passover, and that the Holy One, blessed be He, has no interest in this—do I need to keep observing it because of the laws of custom? (What exactly is the place of “Hear, my son, your father’s instruction” versus independent clarification and conduct based on one’s own halakhic clarification? Is it possible that every clarification will remain theoretical most of the time so as not, say, to “separate from the public”?) And another side of the question—must one say that the fact that this remained in the people of Israel indicates that God wants me to behave this way?
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The rabbi:
There are laws of custom, and custom is something binding. But my claim is that legumes are not a custom but simple nonsense. As for the other side of the question: not necessarily. A custom is binding because there is a law of custom, not necessarily because it expresses some truth.
As I explained here, legumes are not a custom but a concern, and therefore regarding this whole matter the discussion is irrelevant.
But I will answer with my view regarding real customs. With customs one should distinguish between a custom of ruling and a custom unrelated to halakha. A custom to rule in accordance with one view or another is, in my opinion, not binding if you have a view of your own (not even going like the Mehaber for a Sephardi or the Rema for an Ashkenazi). But a non-halakhic custom is binding by virtue of “do not forsake,” unless it is a foolish custom. Regarding such customs there is no dependence at all on the substantive question whether God wants or does not want this act itself. One does not do it because it is the correct act but because that is the custom. This is unlike a custom of ruling, where one certainly seeks the correct ruling. And there one follows the custom only if one has no view of one’s own, as we find in the Talmud: “If you do not know, O fairest among women, go forth in the footsteps of the flock”—that is, only if the halakha is hidden from you should you follow the custom.
Metaphysical considerations regarding the desires of the Holy One, blessed be He, do not play on the halakhic field. Even if they are true, at most they are after-the-fact explanations for halakhic principles. So too here: the fact that one must keep customs may perhaps be explained by saying that the survival of the custom indicates that God wants it. But we follow the custom because of the halakhic principle itself (“do not forsake”), not because of the metaphysical explanations for it.

Nun:
A good week, Rabbi Michi,
Usually I don’t send you posts I write on Facebook, but this time I thought I would send this one (especially in light of your argument back then with Rabbi Navon on this), perhaps you’ll like it:

1) R. Yankele lived in a little town in Poland about 250 years ago. One day he entered a meat production factory, and noticed that the packages of kosher meat (slaughtered by rabbis) were mixed carelessly with packages of meat from impure animals sold to gentiles. He was shocked, and when he told his friends, they told him that they too had encountered such a situation, and it turned out that there were several other factories that had suffered the same failure of mixing the pure with the impure.
From then on they decided—they prohibited the eating of meat altogether because of these factory mishaps, lest people come to eat impure meat.

2) R. Yudel lived in a little town in Hungary about 250 years ago. One day he noticed that horse meat sold to gentiles looked very much like beef. He told his friends, and they thanked him.
From then on they decided that they would no longer eat meat at all, lest they come to eat horse meat.

3) After 250 years, when Jewish slaughterhouses are very careful not to let impure meat get there, everything is packaged and checked, it is clearly marked what type of meat it is, the Jews of Hungary and Poland still refrain from eating meat. This is contrary to the Torah, which permitted pure meat; contrary to all the Tannaim, Amoraim, and great Rishonim and Aharonim, all of whom ate meat and saw no reason to decree because of such concerns. Yet no one rises to abolish this custom even though it is completely irrelevant and its logic is flawed.

4) The above story is fiction, a parable I invented in my mind on Shabbat as I walked home from synagogue, but the custom of not eating legumes on Passover among people of Ashkenazic descent and some of Moroccan descent is a true story. Great halakhic authorities already said that it is a foolish custom (and with very good reason), and one of the great later Ashkenazic halakhic authorities called for abolishing it.

And yet… despite all the progress in Torah scholarship and science alike, the change in actual reality, and the study of the roots of customs and laws, some Orthodox Jews continue this irrational custom because that is how their forefathers behaved, or because in their opinion a custom cannot be abolished (an opinion that stems from ignorance and unfamiliarity with the vast halakhic literature of the last thousand years).

And I ask: how long will an irrelevant and irrational tradition continue?

#Legumes as an example of the gap between common sense and reality and the institutional Orthodox religion.
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The rabbi:
Nice. And that is exactly what I wrote in the post.

Hello,
First of all, thank you. These things were familiar to me, but I did not act accordingly in practice. It was clear to me that no “ruling” was needed here to permit something where, even if there had once been some hypothetical need for such a ruling, its reason had passed and therefore the ruling itself should pass as well. In the past this didn’t bother me very much, but about a year ago I became vegan (for reasons of preventing suffering and ecological reasons), and it became really difficult on Passover. This coming Passover I will eat legumes fully. I did not feel in the past that this was something I would do on my own (I have other issues about which I think one should fight in halakha, and I think every person within Orthodoxy has to choose his battles very carefully). Thank you for the backing you give me…
It would be interesting to compare the issue of legumes on Passover among Ashkenazim to the issue of fish and milk among Sephardim (a scribal error)… To the best of my knowledge, among Sephardim there is no shortage of rabbis who permit it despite the “pseudo-custom of the fathers,” whereas among Ashkenazim they take this whole matter much harder. It would also be interesting to see where else in halakhic rulings those differences come into play.

With wishes for a happy Purim…
Hananel

By its nature, reform-hysteria is more widespread among Ashkenazim. Moreover, much earlier too, Ashkenazic halakhic ruling (at least the early one) is also more precedent-based and founded on customs (= Ashkenazim tend to follow their customs).

בס”ד Eve of Shabbat Kodesh, Taharot 77

In Pesahim 50b it is explained that a local custom binds future generations as well משום “Do not forsake your mother’s teaching,” as Rabbi Yohanan instructed the sons of Beishan, whose fathers had been accustomed not to sail from Tyre to Sidon on Friday, and whose sons found it difficult to continue the custom. Rabbi Yohanan told them: “Your fathers already accepted it upon themselves, as it is said: ‘And do not forsake your mother’s teaching.’”

According to the Ramban (cited in the book Masa Melekh by Rabbi Yosef Ibn Ezra, ed. Yad Harav Nissim, p. 197), this is a custom practiced as a safeguard, and these are his words: “The general rule regarding customs: in a place where they practiced something as a custom, and the earlier ones knew there was no prohibition in it, but they were stringent upon themselves in order to make a safeguard for the commandment… one does not permit it to them even though they wish to retract, like the sons of Beishan.” (Similarly wrote the Ritva and the Ran, ibid., pp. 197–198.)

According to the reason written by the Semak in section 222 (concern for the ignorant who might err and permit grain too, since from both one makes a cooked dish), and likewise according to the reason written by the Ritva in Pesahim (concern for a mixture of grains among legumes, since they are mixed in the places of growth and packaging, because of which some refrained entirely from eating them and some were stringent to check them three times)—then this is a custom practiced as a safeguard, which also binds future generations.

With blessing, S.Z. Levinger

בס”ד 15th of Iyyar 77

In the Yerushalmi (Hallah 1:5 and Pesahim 2:4), it appears that the dispute between the Sages and Rabbi Yohanan ben Nuri stems from differing results of tests conducted by each of the disputants:

And these are the words:
“Rabbi Yohanan ben Nuri said: Karmit is liable for hallah, for it can become matzah and chametz. And the Rabbis say: it cannot become matzah and chametz. But let them test it?—They disagree about the very basis of the testing. Rabbi Yohanan ben Nuri said: they tested it and found that it can become matzah and chametz, and the Rabbis say: they tested it and did not find that it can become matzah and chametz.”

From experiments conducted at the request of Dr. B.P. Monck (Tehumin, 1, pp. 101–102), it emerged that rice by itself indeed reaches putrefaction and not fermentation, but rice starch combined with the enzyme “Bacterial Alpha-Amylase” does ferment.

By contrast, Rabbi Idoa Elba testifies: “And behold, I tested this matter in reality (with my friend R. Shimon Ginzburg), and I saw that it is possible to make rice and millet rise without their putrefying, and only if the dough remains for a long time does it rot” (Matzah Ashirah – Studies in the Parameters of Leavening, p. 49)

It appears on the face of it that both in the days of the Tannaim and in our own time, different experiments led to different results. This fact invites renewed laboratory and Torah-based examination of the question of the possibility of fermentation in rice and legumes.

With blessing, S.Z. Levinger

The rabbi already wrote that all these matters apply only when there is a Sanhedrin (according to the Rambam in the introduction to Hilkhot Mamrim), as was the case in the period of the sons of Beishan. I do not know whether the Ramban disagreed with him, or whether he too was speaking generally about the laws of custom without referring specifically to his own time.

As for the Semak’s reason, see my remarks to Rabbi Shmuel Ariel. I also brought there an example from the very example he himself cited, namely the sale of small cattle to a gentile, which was abolished openly and without batting an eye in the Shulchan Arukh. And there too it was for the sake of a safeguard. Besides, I am speaking about a concern, not a custom or a safeguard. Especially since this is not a custom of all Israel but of certain communities.

As for the rice, by all means let them test it. If they prohibit it by law, I will see that as something entirely legitimate. But that has not the slightest connection to the custom of legumes, of course. That is a completely different discussion.

Ilan, custom has validity even without a Sanhedrin.

With respect to a custom created during the time of the Sanhedrin, that is clear. But with respect to a custom created outside the time of the Sanhedrin, the rabbi says that this is only in a case where the custom still has a reason (a good reason). It is still not clear from what force exactly this comes (unless he holds that it is a vow, but then annulment of vows would still be needed; the other reasons such as “your mother’s teaching” and “do not remove the ancient boundary” are still not exactly clear to me—are these words of Kabbalah? Then that too is rabbinic). It seems that the Sanhedrin turns a custom into something like an ordinance, such that even if the reason ceases, the ordinance does not cease (the Rambam mentions decrees, ordinances, and customs as separate concepts with different laws). I do not know why the rabbi says that legumes are not called a custom but a concern. In practice, if people, because of concern for a transgression, “adopted the practice” of not eating legumes, that is called a custom. There was a conscious decision here not to eat legumes specifically, and it seems to have become something institutionalized already in their period. If there had been a Sanhedrin in the time of the Rishonim (and the custom had spread throughout all Israel), then legumes could not have been abolished except by a court greater in wisdom and number. (I personally am not sure the rabbi is right that when the reason ceases, the custom ceases [without a Sanhedrin]. Rather, then one needs to find a good definition of when something becomes a custom. Is there an obligation to spin dreidels and eat sufganiyot on Hanukkah?)

I did not say that a custom is valid only if it has a reason. What I said is that if it has no reason, then it is proper to abolish it if it causes
damage (such as חילול השם in our time).
And all this is only regarding a court custom, and that is what the Rambam there is speaking about when he includes it under “do not deviate.” By contrast, a custom practiced “from below” (whose validity is based on “do not forsake,” and according to some opinions—strange in my view—on the law of a vow), when its reason has certainly ceased, it ceases. That is what I called a concern and not a custom. As long as there is a concern, one should certainly be concerned. But once the concern has ceased, there is no reason to continue being concerned about it (and at most one ought to perform annulment of vows, according to the side that treats it as a vow and if it was practiced three times). Therefore a “grassroots” custom whose reason has ceased is abolished. And when it causes damage, it is certainly proper to abolish it.

That is only because you buy your legumes in the supermarket, where the legumes are relatively packaged and clear.
If you went to the market to buy legumes by weight, you would see that the mixing in of wheat grains is very common (legumes also enrich the soil with nitrogen, and therefore many sow legumes and wheat alternately, which can further increase the chances of admixture).

As stated, according to that one should prohibit legumes for all ethnic groups and communities. This is a concern about chametz, not a “decree of legumes” or any such custom. And certainly there is no basis for distinguishing between green legumes and others, or between those that existed in their time and those that did not.

Does the rabbi really think that according to the Rambam there is a difference between a custom that the Sanhedrin instituted on its own and a custom that the people practiced on their own and the Sanhedrin did not protest? In chapter 1 of Mamrim the Rambam speaks of “allowing the people to continue this custom,” and in chapter 2 “they decreed a decree or enacted an ordinance or instituted a custom” (regarding uprooting them in halakha 2, and in halakha 3 regarding the idea that if it was a safeguard for the Torah it can never be abolished). Rabbi Shilat, in his book on the Rambam’s introductions, does not distinguish between them and argues that every custom is the people’s initiative, unlike an ordinance which is initiated by the Sanhedrin (perhaps from the language of fixing something broken, though that is not always the Rambam’s usage). It may be that regarding a safeguard, this refers only to decrees, as in the wording of the second part of halakha 2 and the rest of the halakhot from there until the end of the chapter (except the beginning of halakha 5), and likewise as seems from the Rambam’s introduction to the Mishnah in the fourth part of the divisions of the Oral Torah (a decree in the sense of a fence, by interchange of resh and dalet). The major practical implication is the matter of seven clean days (of the people, not in the fields), which seems to be a custom (not an ordinance and not a decree) that the daughters of Israel adopted on their own. Can it really never be repealed, even when there will be a Sanhedrin?

Personally, it really isn’t clear to me whether this can be inferred precisely from the Rambam, or whether he simply abbreviated in the rest of chapter 2 and means ordinances and customs as well, and that “instituted a custom” is shorthand for “left the people to their custom”; otherwise, what exactly is the difference between a custom they instituted and an ordinance? (Maybe these are two different practical names but formally it is the same thing.)

It also isn’t clear to me what the difference is. Perhaps the court established something as a non-binding custom, and only when it was accepted did it become a court custom that requires repeal. This is unlike an ordinance, whose force comes from the enactment itself. But I don’t have a good answer to that.

The view of those who do not distinguish between legumes that existed in their days and “new” legumes is indeed more understandable to me (“a large part of the new legumes are not legumes in any sense—not in terms of admixture concern and not botanically). And it seems to me that most of those who practice abstaining from legumes also abstain from new legumes (they refrain from corn, peanuts, soy, and quinoa, which were unknown to our early rabbis).
The opinion that distinguishes between old and new legumes holds that this is an explicit decree, perhaps even from Talmudic law itself (that is the view of the Gra and the Pri Hadash), whose reason may perhaps not be significant today, but when the reason ceases, the ordinance does not cease.
As for differences between communities, is there really anything unique in the fact that different communities adopted different safeguards? Ashkenazic communities practiced not eating legumes because of fear of admixture (which is alive and kicking even today), while Sephardic communities practiced sorting the legumes very carefully (because of the same concern).

Neither this nor that makes sense to me. At most one should distinguish between legumes in which there is a concern for chametz admixture and those in which there is not, and that changes from place to place and from time to time.

Hello Rabbi,
Thank you for an illuminating article.
One of the reasons for the prohibition of legumes is lest one confuse them, etc. Is there room today to permit regular legumes, but prohibit things where there is a concern of confusion? For example, Passover-kosher waffles, Passover-kosher bread, and the like? In these things perhaps the concern of confusing them with chametz does apply.

בס”ד 30th of Av 77

To Alon – greetings,

Indeed, this is Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun’s view: that based on the reason for the prohibition of legumes, namely lest they be confused with chametz, one should prohibit things that resemble chametz, such as waffles and cakes.

With blessing, S.Z. Levinger

That sounds absurd to me. We do not have the power to innovate decrees on our own. If you want to be cautious—fine. And the “prohibition” of legumes is not a sufficient basis either, for it too was established without authority (therefore, as stated, it is clear that this is not a prohibition but a concern). If you accept the ability of the Rishonim to establish a prohibition, then we ourselves also have such ability. So establish a prohibition, that’s all. So either way I do not understand why one needs to rely on the absurdity of legumes.

Hello Rabbi Michi!

I am writing in great agitation.

Someone asked me to read your unequivocal words about the custom not to eat legumes on Passover. Those words convinced her and greatly weakened her commitment to the matter.

I read them.

After some time I approached our pantry and looked at a package of quinoa we had bought (since I had decided to rely on the lenient opinions regarding quinoa, not to consider it a legume included in the custom). I discovered that the package explicitly says: “Allergen information: may contain wheat”! In other words, your decisive proof from the extreme care observed nowadays because of celiac patients has nothing to stand on.

In addition, with respect to the product’s Passover kashrut it says that for those who eat legumes it is kosher for Passover, except that it must be sorted three times. The righteous Orit sat down to sort it, and indeed discovered several grains of another cereal in it—apparently oats (we are not sufficiently expert to identify them).

I don’t have a package of rice at home to check what is written on it. But I can’t hold myself back.

Did you check what is written on the rice package?

It seems you did not check what is written on the quinoa package, and did not sort even a single package of quinoa or rice. Maybe I am mistaken.

But if I am right—how can you use such harsh expressions of disparagement toward those who maintain the custom, without checking? How can you claim that you never found wheat in a package of rice, if you never looked? Do you know what an oat grain looks like, and how large it is? It is apparently quite tiny.

Does contempt for an ancient custom without proper examination not also cause desecration of God’s name?

Happy festival!

Hello Rabbi A’.
I hope you are all well.

Thank you very much for your words, and I am glad you wrote to me about this and fulfilled in me the command “you shall surely rebuke.” Incidentally, my words have already helped prevent a mishap involving the eating of quinoa and the chametz grains within it.

I will begin by saying that those words of mine were written several years ago, and they too were written in a stormy mood, hence the sharpness of the wording. I indeed went too far in the sharpness and I regret that, but I stand entirely behind my point. I was simply angered by this nonsense that takes up almost the whole “screen” of our Passover, arouses learned but baseless discussions, and causes endless hassles and great misunderstandings among the public. In any case, I maintain that this foolish custom should be abolished.

I wrote that I had heard the claims that there are chametz grains in packages of legumes, and as I wrote, I personally in my poverty did not find this in rice (I am not among the quinoa eaters). But I already wrote in my original remarks that this can happen (and not only in legumes), and still that does not explain this strange custom. If one is concerned about chametz grains—I would expect this to be prohibited for all Israel and not only for those who observe the legumes prohibition. Beyond that, what room is there to distinguish between legumes that existed at the time this custom/concern originated and those that did not, or to distinguish between green legumes and others? Is there no concern about grains of wheat or oats in packages of legumes that did not exist then, or in pink legumes? You yourself wrote here that you decided to be lenient with quinoa because it is not included in the “decree.” And I wonder what the definition of the “decree” has to do with the concern about chametz. All these distinctions and leniencies and stringencies that everyone chews over on Passover (an international desecration of God’s name, in my eyes) lose their meaning according to your claim. One should abolish all these (foolish) halakhic discussions and declare that all legumes—and in fact all vulnerable packages, not only legumes—are prohibited as chametz and should not be given certification. Is that what you are proposing? If so, then your claim is not against me.

My claim is that if there is a concern of chametz in the package of some product, then please prohibit it and do not grant it Passover kashrut certification (if only to prevent Sephardim—who according to your view are enjoying the eating of chametz on Passover—from violating a prohibition), or tell everyone (including Ashkenazim) to sort it before use (and really preferably before Passover, since during the festival there is the prohibition of it being seen, if that applies with less than an olive’s bulk, or at least a concern that one may come to eat it). And if, as you claim against me, people do not know the difference between grains of wheat and oats, then the option of sorting does not exist and one must prohibit legumes for everyone (I assume you are not claiming that only little me understands nothing about this, while all the rest of Israel know how to distinguish between true tekhelet and indigo, and between rice and oats). We are actually causing the many to stumble in the prohibition of chametz, are we not? So how is everyone silent?!
In short, none of this has anything to do with the custom of legumes or the “decree” (which I claim never existed and was never even a parable). And certainly there is no place to prohibit things containing some admixture of legumes (concern for legumes in cottage cheese) and other such absurdities. These strange defenses, from which a strong apologetic odor wafts, that keep arising in relation to the legumes custom are what originally aroused my anger, because they involve a great desecration of God’s name. People understand that this is nonsense (and rightly so), and serious Torah scholars repeat it seriously and pilpul over distinctions in the laws of legumes as if there were substance here. In my opinion this makes halakha into a farce, and that is exactly what I was sick of when I wrote those things. The insane proportions this matter receives around this colossal stupidity (the broom of the Rebbe of Gur becoming the essence of Passover) are, in my eyes, a severe desecration of God’s name and point to a shameful fossilization of halakha.

In conclusion, I accept your comment about the sharpness of the wording. But my claim is that the custom is a foolish custom and should be abolished. And if there is concern about chametz, please deal with it like any other concern about chametz, and don’t let half the people of Israel eat chametz on Passover with deluxe certification. The one who causes desecration of God’s name is the one who acts this way, much more than the one who warns about it (even if sharply). The fact that they keep this going and are unwilling to admit error—that, in my opinion, is the greatest desecration of God’s name.

Happy festival and see you,

And especially since today even floor-cleaning soap has Passover certification (a decree lest one fall on one’s face to the floor, as is well known), they can just as well sell quinoa with Passover certification. The concerns are no less great than for any other certified product.

May I ask which kashrut certification the quinoa had?

Dear Rabbi Michi!

The sharp cuts of your tongue pleased me.

I will enter into the thick of the beam:

1. If so, are you willing to admit that the central claim you made—that today this stringency has no factual basis, since production processes are free from gluten concerns because of celiac patients—that this claim is incorrect?

2. Your claim about the disproportionate amount of discussion devoted to this topic: I am perplexed. How am I to continue the discussion without stumbling in this sin? In the halakhic page I distributed in my community before Passover, the issue of legumes occupied a very small percentage of the space. Therefore I propose, in order that we can continue the discussion, that we split the blame equally. Let us state it as a general claim—the disproportionate discussion arises each year at least equally from both sides. Therefore this is not a substantive argument. After all, the question who is to blame for this improper discussion, or who is causing a desecration of God’s name, is begging the question—whoever turns out to be mistaken at the end of the discussion will turn out to be the one causing it. So for heaven’s sake, let us leave that aside and focus on the discussion itself.

3. The claim that this is a concern and not a custom—I do not understand it in depth. Where does this sharp distinction come from? The Rema writes that it is a custom. The Hatam Sofer writes that it is a communal vow that has no annulment. Are you making your claim based on historical sources? Halakhic ones? Does it simply seem that way to you? If it simply seems that way to you—then that is at most one possibility, but it is legitimate (and not foolish) for someone to think differently from you. Do you have evidence that this is a concern and not a custom?

4. Suppose it is indeed a concern and not a custom. Why then, in your opinion, should it be handled identically by Sephardim and Ashkenazim? Maybe there is a real concern—it exists to this day (as I saw on the quinoa package)—and different communities instituted different ways of dealing with it? (When I wrote “a real concern” I meant to say that it has a factual basis.) The specific way in which one community or another handled the problem then becomes a custom that should be preserved as ancestral custom. It is like the custom to wait a certain number of hours between meat and milk, or to distance oneself in various ways from polygamy. The underlying concern is a real one, even if remote, and different communities instituted different ways of guarding against it. Why does the specific way I practiced guarding against this concern obligate the Sephardim? They distanced themselves through intensive sorting of the legumes, whereas the Ashkenazim through refraining from eating them.

5. Your claim that one should sort before Passover is not clear to me. The grain in the package is not chametz. But if I cook it on Passover without sorting it—then I will violate the prohibition that it not be seen. Therefore one should not cook it on Passover without sorting it. And really, according to Ashkenazic custom it is permitted to cook on Passover, and apparently the concern was viewed as so factually low that they sufficed with caution from eating, which is a much graver prohibition than the prohibition that it not be seen or found.

6. Regarding the difficulty of sorting—it really is hard. Orit sorted the quinoa three times, as it says on the package. She found oats even on the second time! It took a lot of time and concentration. She also testified that if the children had been around her she would not have managed to find them. The practice of not eating it is very understandable to me, at least as an option, certainly not foolish.

7. I still do not understand—did you check what is written on the rice package? Is there a gluten concern or not?

8. I still do not understand—did you sit down and sort a package of rice three times before writing what you wrote?

Happy festival and Shabbat shalom!

To my friend, the valiant Rabbi A., may he live long. “Happy are you, Israel—before whom are you purified, and who purifies you” has been fulfilled in me (that is what friends are for).
As for your actual points, I will say this (not according to the order of your sections, but I hope I addressed them all):

A. Regarding the concern you raised. Indeed, בעקבות your remarks I went back and saw that there are packages bearing a warning (some phrase it as traces of gluten and some as concern about grains) and some that do not. For example, rice products like rice flour and rice noodles are sold with no warning at all and with ordinary Passover certification for those who eat legumes (there one cannot sort anymore). In any case, I am willing to admit that my claim that there is no concern at all about grains being found because of celiac patients is incorrect with respect to packages of grains. But even that, of course, has no connection to legumes. It could be true of many packages of many types, with no connection to legumes in the usual Passover sense.
All this, of course, concerns the factual concern about grains being present. To get from here to a prohibition of chametz, one would also need to discuss the laws of doubt and nullification before Passover and during it.
B. With legume products (which cannot be sorted, such as rice flour or rice noodles), and certainly with products where there is concern of a mixture of legumes, such as cottage cheese or dairy desserts and the like, there is absolutely no place to prohibit them.
Now let us return to packages, for only about them is the discussion.
C. I sort rice once, because that seems reasonable to me both for Passover and for an ordinary day. I am sure that if there are grains, then there can also be cases where on the fourth sorting you will find some grain, and there is no end to the matter. In my experience I have not found wheat or other suspicious grains. Of course, it is possible that I was mistaken because of similarity, or because my packages were clean (by chance or not by chance), but if so then all Israel can err in the same way, and one ought not rule permission to eat on the basis of sorting. And even if you do it three times, it will not help anyone who cannot distinguish between the grains.
D. The concern of chametz exists only if water came upon the grains, of course. But that itself is the concern that prevents leaving packages of wheat grains (or flour) in the house on Passover. If so, there is no difference with legumes, and one should worry that water came upon them too; that is why I wrote that one should sort before Passover. And indeed some decisors prohibited even legumes on which water had not come, and these are really astonishing words (part of the same disproportion I described, whereby legumes became an object-prohibition in their own right).
E. Everything you raised is not a reason to prohibit legumes but to be concerned about chametz. That is absolutely not identical with the prohibition/custom of legumes. And of course all the various distinctions between legumes that existed or did not exist at the time of the decree/custom are irrelevant. The question is where today there is a concern about chametz and where there is not. That’s all.
F. My distinction between custom and concern is between two categories that can both be called custom in the decisors. Therefore their wording is no proof. Even a custom rooted in concern is called by them a custom (and as is known, sometimes they use such language because of those who might make a business of it), and of course there is also custom that is mere custom. My claim is that concerns apply only so long as there is a concern; when there is none, there is none (unless they were established in an ordinance of a duly authorized court, in which case some opinions hold that one needs a court greater in wisdom and number to repeal them even if the reason has ceased—though that too can be challenged, but this is not the place). It should be added that this concern arose at a time when there was already no authority to establish a prohibition in the matter, and therefore I do not accept either the term “decree” or its force once the reason has ceased. I would note that the multiplicity of rationales offered to explain this custom indicates that there is nothing clear here, and the various concerns indicate apologetics after the fact that we would never have entertained had we not needed to defend a custom that has outlived itself (Rabbi Meidan would say that he knows 22 explanations for why we read Ruth on Shavuot but only one for why we read Esther on Purim).
G. The difference between Ashkenazic and Sephardic communities is not in how they handle concern about chametz but in the custom of legumes. If there is a real concern of chametz, I see no community that would permit such a thing. And if the concern is not significant but very remote, then there is no reason to treat it in such proportions. As I wrote, my סערה is mainly because of the contrast between the intensity of the concern and the proportions of the attention given to it. Especially on your view, that the concern is not remote at all. After all, in a random package you checked in your home, you found chametz. So what place is there for different treatment between the communities? Do you really think there are decisors who would permit keeping wheat grains in the house? Many prohibit even selling wheat grains to a gentile (of course because of the concern that they got wet). And if one is concerned that people do not know how to distinguish (as you wrote with respect to me), then of course there can be no distinction between Ashkenazim and Sephardim.
H. When I said it takes up the whole “screen,” I did not mean that rabbis and decisors who deal with the laws of Passover touch only this issue or mainly this issue. But the ordinary people of Israel deal mainly with this. Go and look at shopping in a store or supermarket—what do people check? Almost all the discussions and checks regarding Passover prohibitions (and I assume also a considerable portion of the questions you are asked) concern legumes. Beyond that there are all the distinctions made by the decisors in this non-sugya, though as stated it is not their main occupation.
I. The source of my position is the total lack of proportion in treating something that is at most a remote concern, where the treatment depends on distinctions some of which are unrelated to the concern, and this is the main thing that occupies the broader public regarding Passover. All this seems entirely unreasonable to me.

With this we conclude:
1. There is no prohibition on legumes as such; there are cases in which there is a concern about finding chametz grains. These are two entirely different things, and there is no reason for differences between community customs here (apart from differences in halakhic rulings between them, like enriched matzah, etc.).
2. The concern is remote, and it exists only in products that are packages of grains.
3. We are dealing with grain packages that are not necessarily legumes in the accepted halakhic sense, but rather according to present-day reality. Therefore there is no point in discussing formal distinctions about the “decree of legumes” and what is included in it.
4. Even if there are grains, there is no reason to be concerned here about a prohibition of chametz, because of the laws of doubt and nullification, etc.
5. In the case of such a package, if one nevertheless adopts the view that there is a prohibition, then it applies to all Israel and not only to Ashkenazim, at least those who, like me, do not know how to sort oats from quinoa. And those who do know, even if they are Ashkenazi, are permitted. And if one is concerned for those who do not know, then again one should prohibit it for everyone. It is a great stretch to hang the distinction of custom on the law of re-awakening on Passover (which also does not overlap with the division of communities in the legumes custom).
6. In products that are not packages of grains—that is, almost the entire supermarket (cottage cheese or dairy desserts with a legumes concern, not to mention oil and legume products)—there is no prohibition and nothing to discuss.

I admitted my mistake regarding the possibility of finding a grain in a package. Do you admit the above summary?

All the pilpul of all of you here is a joke …
You are conducting a discussion from inside your own plates.

You forget that among the people of Israel there are a million ignoramuses who do not know the laws,
and therefore the problems the decisors spoke about are still relevant today.

Not everyone is a scholar like you, and some of you, within your personal learning, also have the brazenness to disparage the great sages of earlier generations.

And therefore they do not change this “foolish” custom—precisely for the sake of the simple common people of Israel.

בס”ד 16th of Elul 78

To David – greetings,

Besides the Semak’s reason, that they were concerned the ignorant might err, there is also the Ritva’s concern in Pesahim about a mixture of wheat kernels in legumes because of their proximity in the place of growth (and in packaging houses), for which reason the Ritva reports that the custom on Passover was to check the legumes three times, and so the Sephardim practice to this very day. Refraining from eating legumes on Passover spares women the trouble of checking three times and allows them to rest during the festival days from their hard work of cleaning and kashering the house, and to turn to more pleasant pursuits. So it seems that even when the vision of “and all your children shall be taught of the Lord” is fulfilled, righteous women will prefer to give up legumes for a week.

With blessings for a good year, a year of freedom and greatness, S.Z. Levinger

To the distinguished Rabbi A., who dwells in XXX and whose net is spread as far as Lod. I hope he and his household are well. First, a few weeks ago I remembered Tosafot on Beitzah 6a, s.v. “ve-ha’idna,” who define the concept of concern and determine that it lapses without needing a quorum (thus we concluded our previous discussion): “And nowadays, since there are friends, we are concerned”—Rashi explains that they coerce Jews to do labor, and when it is Yom Tov they leave them alone, and if they saw that Jews would bury their dead they would force them to do labor. But now, in our time, when there are no such friends, it is permitted. And one cannot say that another quorum is needed to permit it, because since the reason is due to concern, and the concern has passed, the reason has passed. And so too we say regarding uncovered water, which is forbidden lest a snake drank from it, and now that snakes are not found among us, we drink from it even ab initio, although it was something established by a quorum. Nevertheless Rabbenu Tam would prohibit it.” Second, today I received a YouTube clip of Rabbi David Bar-Haim on legumes, and perhaps you may find interest in it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RACQCNzcrEg In my reply I wrote several comments on his words: I of course agree in principle. Even so, a few remarks:
1. He does not address the difference between concern and custom.
2. His conjecture about a Karaite origin sounds very speculative.
3. He treats the custom as a local custom, but it seems to me that nowadays this is anachronistic. Once, when the world was static, custom followed place. Today custom follows ethnic origin. So it is regarding “do not form factions,” for example (which is also mentioned at the end of his remarks).
4. His words about unity are nonsense in my opinion, from beginning to end.
5. I completely agree with his conclusion, that nowadays this foolish custom takes up the whole “screen” and overshadows the real contents of Passover. Distortion of thought, wasted energy, etc. Regards to everyone. Michi Abraham while I am listening to Rabbi David Bar-Haim: Regarding Tosafot—I understand that a law rooted in concern, if the concern ceases, it is reasonable that the law should cease. A law rooted in custom—not so. But several questions remain: 1. Is there proof that legumes are rooted in concern and not in custom? 2. How should we treat a custom that arose because of concern? 3. How should we treat a custom that may have arisen because of concerns, but we do not know for certain because of which concern? Should we also say there that if the concern we suppose to be the root of the custom has ceased, then the custom has ceased?

While listening to Rabbi David Bar-Haim: Regarding Tosafot—I understand that a law rooted in concern, if the concern ceases, it is reasonable that the law should cease. A law rooted in custom—not so. But several questions remain:
1. Is there proof that legumes are rooted in concern and not in custom?
2. How should we treat a custom that arose because of concern?
3. How should we treat a custom that may have arisen because of concerns, but we do not know for certain because of which concern?
Should we also say there that if the concern we suppose to be the root of the custom has ceased, then the custom has ceased?

1. Simply because I see no other basis there. He himself speaks about an error (the perception that there is fermentation in legumes). So there is no substantive reason. What remains are various conjectures, all of which are rooted in concerns (either concern about actual chametz being found, or concern of confusion with chametz). What else could there be?
If it were a custom not based on concern, then it would be a foolish custom. For the Gemara itself explicitly says there is no problem at all with legumes.
2. I do not know whether such a thing has the status of a custom. If it is a concern, then as long as there is concern, that is what one should do. When does a concern become a custom, and why? What is the logic of turning a concern into a custom? After all, whatever is practiced is only because of the concern. So why should at some point it be anchored independent of the concern? There is no logic in that. Alternatively, when does a concern remain a concern and not turn into a custom? When it is short-lived? That does not seem plausible to me.
3. If it arose because of some concern and we do not know which concern, then as far as we are concerned there is no concern. The necessary conclusion is that in their time there was probably a concern, and now there is not. Especially since we have reasonable suggestions for such concerns (those raised by the Rishonim: confusion, or concern over actual chametz being present). So why assume there is some hidden concern we are not thinking of? This is the doctrine of hidden reasons attributed to the Gra, and in my view it is unreasonable. It is like explaining the rule that one does not punish on the basis of inference by fear that there may be a refutation (that is how some later authorities explained it). One can ask that about every rationale we raise, not only an a fortiori inference. Maybe there is a refutation? We have never heard that people do not use reasoning. If we have found no concern today, then there is no concern. And if they were concerned, then apparently in their time there was concern (all the more so since the Rishonim themselves explained it that way).

I am not sure I understood you correctly, but it seems from between the lines that there are only two things—

1. A concern. And even if it crystallized into a custom, it still functions as a concern, meaning that once the concern ceases, the rule ceases.
2. A custom that is not based on concern, in which case it is a foolish custom.

According to your view, is there any custom which on the one hand is not a foolish custom, but on the other hand does not function as a concern? If not, then apparently there is no room for the concept of “custom” in halakha.

There certainly are such customs. For example, adorning the marketplaces of Jerusalem with fruits (though that was an ordinance, but such a thing could also be a custom), beating the willow branches (a prophetic custom), Hallel on Rosh Hodesh, and so on.
The general definition, in my view, is this: a custom is a practice of value in the service of God, which has a good reason (spiritual benefit), but is not a halakhic obligation strictly speaking. Of course this is mainly with positive commandments, but there is room for such customs also regarding prohibitions. For example, distancing oneself from a prohibition (not because of concern but as an extension of the prohibition, just as they distinguish among rabbinic stoppages, some of which are extensions of the Torah law and others decrees lest one transgress the Torah law). Alternatively, waiting six hours between meat and milk is an extension in the form of a custom. Being stringent like a minority opinion can be a custom. And many more such cases.
But a concern becomes law only by determination of a duly authorized court (the Sanhedrin), not as a custom. For example, the prohibition of fowl in milk, which was established in the Talmud or by the Sanhedrin. Regarding such a thing it is said that even if the reason ceases, the ordinance/decree does not cease except by another quorum (and according to the Rambam, only if it is greater in wisdom and number; the Raavad disagrees on this). But legumes arose at a stage when there was already no great court, and therefore this route is closed to us. What remains is either custom or concern. Therefore the talk of a “decree of legumes” strikes me as absurd on its face, regardless of the reasons for the prohibition.

https://m.ynet.co.il/Articles/5497230

בס”ד Na Nach Nachma Nachman from Uman etc.

To the honorable Dr. M. A., greetings. I am new around here and greatly enjoyed reading your opinions (interesting ones..), but דווקא here my heart
tells me that the suffocation caused to Your Honor and our other Ashkenazi brothers/cousins by the lack of legumes—this is what caused
you to shoot the arrow with the apple.

Your distinction between custom and concern is a correct and simple distinction, but in my poor opinion it has no place here at all,
and this is because a necessary parameter of a state of “concern” has been forgotten here, namely—that the matter be forbidden according to the law because of the concern, and then indeed
it makes no sense at all to guide future generations according to the past. But something that was permitted according to the law, and yet our forefathers practiced in it
a safeguard and a fence because of the stringency of chametz (or anything else), is like a full-fledged custom that should not be abolished,
even though the terrifying Talmudic snakes will not come to the abolisher even in a dream (first [terrifying] snake emoji ??).

I do not think it necessary to bring proofs that this custom is merely a stringency and not an essential law, for there were later authorities
who wanted to permit it (the Yaavetz), and some wrote that the earlier generations did not accept it upon themselves in times of poverty and famine (and truly I do not know a clear source for this, but I did not search and meanwhile I do not suspect them of falsehood..), see Arukh HaShulhan (453:5) and Responsa Hatam Sofer (part 1 Orah Hayyim, sections 121–122) and other later authorities. And several early authorities gave reasons like confusion, etc., which apply to those who do not know how to distinguish or
to ignoramuses and the like—in short—that do not constitute an indication of prohibition by the letter of the law.

Likewise this is not a foolish custom; see Maharil (Laws of Passover): “All kinds of legumes—Mahara”sh said that we decree not to cook them on Passover, even though only the five kinds ferment—wheat, barley, spelt, oats, and rye. Nevertheless they decreed all kinds of legumes because of them. And let no man say: since it is not forbidden by Torah law, there is no need to worry, for whoever transgresses anything decreed by the Rabbis is liable to death and transgresses ‘Do not deviate from the matter they tell you.’ And also one cannot say that here the custom is to permit, for that is an erroneous custom; rather, only regarding something completely permitted, where there are places that practice prohibition—about that one may say that here the custom is to permit… But regarding something whose prohibition is obvious, and one comes to permit it by virtue of custom, let the mouth of lying speakers be stopped…” Thus his words.

Another note—I have read here and there your comments on the question of authority. From your words I understood that you have appreciation and love (perhaps hidden..) for
the great men of the generations, but nevertheless, as the philosopher said—our teacher is beloved, but truth is more beloved than he. True and certain.
But—and a very big but—if the Maharil (who, presumably, was a great man) writes that the transgressor is liable to death (and incidentally it is not clear to me from where he derives that one transgresses “Do not deviate”), and all the great authorities of later and earlier generations treat the decree of legumes as a custom and not as a concern according to your distinction—I would suggest reconsidering before pushing some grain of rice into your mouth. And if indeed the matter were true that grains are not found in legumes, they would have taken the decree of legumes out to the city gate and stoned it, as our holy Torah says, and as our sages of blessed memory said, “May you prosper and feast” (ibid., ibid.) [I think I quoted precisely..]

And one more tiny note—the one who forbids legumes because of the honor of the festival is not R. Haim Palaggi but none other than Rabbenu Manoah
of blessed memory for the life of the world to come (!!!!), and I will copy for the busy rabbi his words so that he not waste his time searching for them:
R. Manoah (Laws of Chametz 5:1)
“It is written in the Book of Customs: and the whole world practiced not to eat seeds on Passover, because they ferment, and therefore they are called hitzmei. But it is not reasonable to say that the custom depends on prohibition at all, for there is no fermentation in any legumes in the world. Rather, it is because there is no need to eat legumes on the festival, for it is written ‘And you shall rejoice in your festival,’ and there is no joy in eating dishes of legumes. There is no doubt that if one wanted to eat seeds on Passover and the like among other kinds of legumes, it is permitted, and there is no concern of prohibition at all. Even so, they practiced it, for we say in the Yerushalmi, chapter ‘A Place Where They Were Accustomed’: any matter that is permitted, and one errs regarding it as though it were prohibited, one is asked and it is permitted to him.” Thus his pure words.

With the blessing that Freud’s mechanism of denial never rise in you,
and that you continue to be the most perfect Jew,
I acknowledge and will acknowledge the enjoyable reading on the site, and soon one of the guys has already gotten me some of your books,
so thanks in advance for them too.

Ahh… and also for your reply.

Anonymous (because of the concern that they may beat him up)

Sorry for the unexplained line breaks; it’s just that in the comment window I pressed ENTER whenever it seemed to me that the line was over.

All of these points, including Rabbenu Manoah, have already been answered here. And I stand my ground. Everything has been explained. And as for the fact that the great authorities of the generations wrote otherwise—their honor remains in its place, but I disagree. I assume they wrote so as an answer to the heretics, out of fear that people might come to permit what is truly forbidden (and perhaps that is the meaning of what the Maharil wrote, that the transgressor is liable to death—which of course lacks any basis or sense). And in my humble opinion, that is mistaken policy for our generation, when all the information is exposed to everyone’s eyes.

Unfortunately I did not read all the comments, so I am writing here even though the points may already have been discussed in the course of the comments:
In my estimation, preserving customs, including this custom, came in large measure from conservatism—both reasonable conservatism, out of fear of any deviation from the way practiced in the parental home, and from a conservative temperament [anyone who knows old Hungarian Jews, for example, knows that they would distribute Hanukkah money in exactly the amount their father distributed, and they would give their lives to sing in the tune their father sang—with such people, who in certain respects were a high percentage of the Jewish people, it is natural that every custom would be preserved].
At the same time, there is room to ask about our rabbis such as the Gra, the Hazon Ish, and others, who were independent and did not cling to what their fathers practiced [the Gra even adhered to the original halakha in Hazal]—why did they continue to observe the custom?
I would be glad if you would address in your articles the whole issue of preserving customs, because from how it seems to me, it would fit your approach that today there is no reason for a son to preserve what was practiced in his father’s house any more than what was practiced in the neighbor’s house, and to challenge the whole concept so common in our time of “Do not forsake your mother’s teaching.”

It is not something common only in our time. Preserving customs is part of halakha, and is already from the law of the Gemara. So I do not challenge that. I only challenge the absoluteness of the matter. When there is a need, and certainly when damage is caused, there is room to depart from the custom. Especially since legumes, in its origin, are not a custom but a concern (though today it already is).

What about Rabbenu Tam’s view in Beitzah that you brought earlier, that one needs a quorum to repeal it?

I didn’t understand. I no longer remember what the question was or which Rabbenu Tam. Please specify.

I wholeheartedly agree that the excessive decree of legumes should be abolished in the Jewish people, but it is not easy to uproot it because it has already become a tradition among stubborn communities in Israel. Please see the following:
The tradition of the Passover Seder is stronger than a Torah commandment
How many Torah commandments do we observe at the Seder? (3) In fact all the rest are rabbinic commandments and customs according to tradition.
The life of a Jew is conducted, among other things, according to: Torah commandments, rabbinic commandments, customs, and tradition.
The conduct of the Seder night is not a complete tradition containing only three commandments: eating matzah, as it says, “In the evening you shall eat unleavened bread”; telling of the exodus from Egypt; and the Grace after Meals. But there is not even a hint in the Torah to conduct a Seder on the night of Passover. Regarding the commandment of telling the exodus from Egypt, it is written in the Torah: “And it shall be when your children say to you, What is this service to you? You shall say: It is the Passover sacrifice to the Lord, who passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt when He struck Egypt…”
For if we pay attention and read precisely the verse written in the Torah regarding eating the meat of the Passover sacrifice: “And they shall eat the meat on that night, roasted with fire…” eating matzah, as written later: “and unleavened bread…” and eating bitter herbs, according to the end of the verse: “with bitter herbs they shall eat it.” …”
Why do we not eat roasted meat on the night of the Passover festival? Because the Temple does not exist in our days. And because in the present situation it is impossible to fulfill it at all, since without the meat of the Passover sacrifice, the obligation upon us to eat all three of these factors together perhaps falls away entirely, including eating matzah and bitter herbs. But there is a separate commandment to eat matzah. Therefore we cancel the Torah commandment of eating all three together. Rather, it is a rabbinic commandment to eat bitter herbs as a remembrance of that commandment.
But the conduct of the Seder follows a tradition passed from one generation to the next, and its transmission continues without interruption and without basic change, even though additions have been included over time. These are, for example, kiddush of the day, four cups, karpas, dipping in salt water and haroset, and reclining. They are only traditional customs, and the order does not change.
Suppose a certain family established a different order of the Seder: that eating matzah should be done immediately after asking the Four Questions, and eating bitter herbs should be done when they reach the section “And they embittered their lives.” And since Hillel the Elder used to eat the meat of the Passover sacrifice wrapped with bitter herbs between two matzot “when satiated,” at the end of the meal, that family instituted eating the “korekh” at the end of the meal as the afikoman. That family would be conducting their Seder in a much more logical way than we do today. And yet they would not be violating any commandment, not from the Torah and not from the rabbis. So why do we not hear of even one family that instituted such changes? Because the tradition is so strong and firm. Thus, in all the communities of Israel, the basic Passover Seder is conducted according to the same formula.
And here is a story to prove it: There was a case of a son who stayed in yeshiva and learned there according to what is written in halakhic books.
Once, when he was in his father’s house, he saw that his father acted differently from what he had learned.
So he said to his father: “Excuse me, Dad, but that’s not how it’s done.”
His father asked him: “How do you know I’m wrong?”
The son answered: “Because that’s what it says in the Mishnah Berurah.”
He said: “The Mishnah Berurah was written for orphans. You have a father. So this is not about halakha, but about the way things are done in your father’s house, and as long as you are in my house, that is how you too will behave.
With great respect,
Shmuel Shimshoni (Hadera)

I did not understand the purpose of this message. Do you want to explain why the Jewish people act in such a foolish way? I know. Or perhaps you want to support that policy? Against that I wrote what I wrote.
And regarding the dispute between father and son, I am of course with the son (if the Mishnah Berurah represents the halakha. In general, I do not accept the Mishnah Berurah as binding halakha, but that is not the discussion here).

More power to you, Rabbi.
It is a duty to spread the truth.

Working on it. 🙂

Your argument sounds plausible for packaged food products,
but what about huge sacks full of legumes in places like Mahane Yehuda market and the like—if it applies there, perhaps one should not distinguish.

Decree: How do you know this isn’t a decree? Just because you do not know the name of the court? And where did you invent the idea that at some point the authority to enact decrees ceased? And even if you are right that the reason has ceased, until a court convenes and repeals the decree, it still exists and there is an obligation to keep it as such.

Custom: “If this isn’t a foolish custom, then what is?” For example (a true story): there was a woman who used to clean blood out of chicken in her home by filling the whole bathtub with water and cleaning it that way. One day her husband saw her doing this and asked why she didn’t use the faucet. She answered that that was how she had seen her mother do it and she would not change the custom. In the end it turned out that her mother had done so because of her grandmother, who did so because she lived in a place and time when there were no faucets. That is a foolish custom.

I don’t think—and I also don’t think you think—that there is some kind of “terrible desecration of God’s name” in the fact that because of the custom of not eating legumes all the nations of the world mock us and look at us as people living in the Middle Ages, and that if only we would cease this custom we would be a light unto the nations and all the peoples of the earth would see that the name of the Lord is called upon us and would ask to go with us “for we have heard that God is with you,” and would say “surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people,” and “what great nation has statutes and judgments so righteous and just.”

But it is all a matter of attitude.

I have no idea. If in your opinion there is a concern with such sacks, then don’t buy there. What does that have to do with the custom of legumes? Such concerns can exist in all sorts of places, but one has to discuss each case on its own merits and not according to the formal category of the “law of legumes.”
After the Talmud, no one can enact decrees because there is no great court. And if there was somewhere some court that enacted one, then let the people of that place keep it. What does that have to do with us?
I wasn’t talking about gentiles. This is a desecration of God’s name within the Jewish public. We behave like fossilized idiots. It is no accident that I brought the broom of the Rebbe of Gur. It is exactly the same thing.

A. Those sacks are relevant because they show that admixture is indeed possible, and because of things like that they enacted the decree.
Here there is another question: why do those decrees then bind today, or was there even a decree at all, or only a custom—but that is already another discussion; please separate them.
On this point I suggested that perhaps this is because one does not make distinctions but rather erects a general fence.

B. With the argument of each case on its own merits, one can invalidate any law or rule ever enacted, so that is not really an argument.

C. If all the Ashkenazic rabbis and communities accepted this upon themselves, then that is exactly like “the people of that place,” and it is relevant to us.

D. This is not a desecration of God’s name.
E. The broom is not similar, because there there is no rationale, unlike legumes.

And I will repeat again: in the end it is all a matter of attitude.

I answered everything and did not see what was new. There is not a shred of rationale in all this for a law of legumes. At most, in specific places where there is a concern, you may be stringent.

I did not understand why; I would be glad if the rabbi would explain that too.

Although I did not read all the comments here, I have a few thoughts.
I am Ashkenazi and I follow the Rema even though I have my own opinion on the issue and it is not like the Rema’s opinion, and sometimes I feel like saying he is wrong. The only reason is that what is binding in Judaism is tradition, and the way to connect to tradition is through the conduct of our fathers. Without continuity there is no point in all of Judaism, because while Judaism indeed has truth in itself, the connection to Judaism is through continuity, and this is the will of the Giver of the Torah. Therefore a custom that our fathers practiced for whatever reason is itself a reason that I should practice it too. I am connected to the wilderness generation by putting on tefillin, and connected to our ancestors in the Middle Ages by the rice that I do not eat.
Things that do not happen in daily life but only by chance—when the reason ceases, the rule ceases. But something that touches daily life is itself a reason for continuation.