Lend Me Your Hands

January 30, 2009
Rabbi Seymour Rossel

     We do not usually think of the Mishnah as a cook book, but the Torah portion that we read tonight from the Book of Exodus gives us reason to look at how thorough the rabbis were in interpreting the laws of the Torah to adapt them to the times in which they lived. And I am sorry to report that we do not find in the Mishnah a good recipe for chili. But we do find the recipe for making matzah.

     Tonight's portion includes laws for two festivals and we could even say for three festivals. There are laws for observing the festival of Passover, roasting a lamb or goat before sunset, and celebrating a night feast to remind us of the hurried preparations to leave Egypt. Though it is connected to the Exodus in this portion, we know that Passover was an ancient fertility festival celebrated by shepherds in the springtime when the new foals began to arrive.

     There are also laws for celebrating an agricultural fertility festival called the festival of matzot, unleavened bread -- a festival that lasted for seven days in the springtime when the new grains began to sprout.

     Both are combined in a special festival which was only observed one time ever. This was the night prior to the Exodus, before the plague of the killing of the first-born, when the blood of the goat or lamb was painted on the doorpost of the Israelites' houses in Egypt to tell the angel of death to pass over this particular house. The goat or lamb was then roasted and eaten with unleavened bread, matzah (even though we are later told that matzah was created the next day when the Israelites had no time to allow the dough to rise and it was baked flat and unleavened by the sun).

     Of course, we know that in the land of Israel, these festivals were combined to make a domestic festival of seven days, with a first night celebrated with a roasted lamb or goat and seven days of eating matzah, unleavened bread. Later, probably in the time of Jeremiah, under King Hezekiah or King Josiah, the festival underwent another change, when it was removed from the home and transferred to a pilgrimage festival centered on bringing Israelites to Jerusalem to share their feast at God's table, the altar in the First Temple. Then, the sacrifices were offered by the priests of the Temple, and the lamb or goat was returned to the family to be barbecued within the environs of the Temple. This seems to have been a bigger event than the annual chili cookoff at Terelingua, Texas which, as everyone knows, is the granddaddy of all chili cookoffs.

     But let us return to ancient times. By the time the Mishnah was issued around the year 300, the Temple had been destroyed and the rabbis had encouraged the Israelites to go back to celebrating Passover as a home festival. Nevertheless, people needed to have good cooking instructions. The meat was not too much of an issue. Barbecuing goes back to the invention of fire. But cooking matzah definitely does not go back to the invention of flour.

     The Mishnah gives some instructions for the preparation of the matzah. It can be made of only five possible grains: wheat, barley, spelt, emmer, or oats. It can only be made from grain that comes from a field or harvest that has already been tithed, in other words grain on which the taxes are already paid. You do not have to make it yourself. It is perfectly acceptable if you buy it from a baker who has taken care to fulfill all these obligations. Of course, it cannot be allowed to rise. If the dough even hints at rising, it becomes unacceptable. In practical terms, this means that you have to work fast. From the time of mixing the dough, you have about eighteen minutes to get it into the oven.

     So the Mishnah allows women who are making matzah to work in groups of three. Rabban Gamaliel, who was head of the academy (and probably not the best cook in the bunch) said that "Three women may knead the dough at the same time and bake it in the same oven, one after the other." But the other sages tried to straighten out his thinking on this point. They say: "Three women may work on the recipe at the same time: one doing the kneading, one rolling out the dough, and one tending to the cooking." This makes more sense in light of the short time that it takes before the dough starts to rise.

     But Rabbi Akiba, a man who knows a lot about everything, says: "Beware, because all kinds of wood for burning, all kinds of ovens for cooking, and all kinds of women are not the same." Therefore, he says, if it ever looks like the dough is about to rise, "let the woman slap it with cold water."

     In practical terms, almost all matzah is made from wheat and it is always perforated to make sure that any air bubbles are released during the cooking process. In that way, the heat of the oven can never cause the dough to ferment and rise.

     Passover comes only once a year, but the Mishnah's recipe for making unleavened bread can bring us a message for the whole year. Whenever things need to be done in a hurry and done carefully, we should not rely on ourselves alone. We need help from other people. We need to divide the tasks, to share the burdens, especially when things are important to us.

     As Rabbi Akiba pointed out, not every situation is equal, not every fire is equally hot, not every issue is equally important, and not every one of us is equally prepared for the task. But together, we can get things done, whether it is slapping cold water on dough that threatens to rise, or making corned beef sandwiches and packing pickles to go with them. A synagogue is a place where we come together to get things done for the community. But it is never a good idea for any single volunteer to take on a synagogue task alone. It's not only more fun, but it's more Jewish for us to help one another.

     Originally, there was a spring festival only for the farmers and another only for the shepherds, but bringing them together created Passover which has helped bind the Jewish people from ancient times to the present. Bringing us together to do work we care about with people we care about will also bind us together as a community. It will strengthen us as individuals, and strengthen us as a sacred house of worship. If you have not volunteered some of your time lately, you have been missing a wonderful opportunity. As the old Yiddish saying goes, "Life is with people." Come and be with people, your people. Pick a project and lend us your hands. And let us say: Amen.