Parshas HaChodesh 5784
I remember once visiting the Israel Museum in Yerushalayim and seeing a pair of ancient tefilin. There was much about the tefilin that were so similar to my own and I recall being struck by the sense that something I do each morning truly transcends time, connecting me with practices kept by Jews who lived thousands of years before. But, at least for a moment, another thought slipped into my head.
“Pfft. Mine are nicer.”
Parshas HaChodesh is the special maftir we read in advance of Rosh Chodesh Nissan each year and serves as a reminder of how things are actually supposed to get done. No checking a printed calendar, no browsing myzmanim.com. No, the dates of the Hebrew calendar are supposed to be determined in a more ad hoc capacity. You determine the first of each month only once the new moon appears and then continue to count from there, until the process is repeated anew the next month.
That the Jewish calendar is now pre-determined, that you can check right now when Pesach is scheduled to fall in the year 2050 is something to bemoan. Only because of the destruction of the Bais Hamikdash, the disbanding of the central Bais Din, and the loss of proper rabbinic ordination, do we find ourselves in this fix. The defaulting to a pre-calculated calendar is an unfortunate reality, not an achievement to be celebrated.
Which is at odds with the usual arc by which history unfolds. The difference between ancient tefilin and my tefilin is representative of the standard interaction between technological advancements and halachic practice. The modern era has graced us with heavy duty machinery, hydraulic presses, and other novelties that have made for a more beautiful set of tefilin.
Rabbis and laymen alike make no apologies for seizing upon new developments that will permit a more beautiful manner of fulfilling a mitzvah. We relish the fact that enhanced growing methods make for more beautiful esrogim, new materials permit more sound and waterproof sukkahs, and modern day candles, oil, and wicks make for enhanced Shabbos or Chanukah lights.
Yet when it comes to Kiddush HaChodesh, an apology is issued. Yes, the calendar is more precise now than ever, but it’s a shame. True, we’re relying upon sound mathematical calculations, but what a pity. No, the calendar cannot be thrown into confusion by an isolated foggy morning the way it once could, but how we miss those days of old.
Halacha generally welcomes the development of new technology and new methods. Why is the establishment of the dates of the Jewish calendar any different?
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the expression used by the Torah to introduce the process of sanctifying the new moon is precise. The Torah says, “החודש הזה לכם ראש חדשים—This month is for you the first of all months.” The first month is not only identified as such, but is branded by the words “to you,” as actually belonging to the Jewish People.
A holiday, Rav Hirsch explains, is a celebratory rendezvous between Hashem and His People. It is a time to be together, to enjoy one another’s company, and to remember fondly the experiences of the past that the holiday commemorates. In truth, this is not something that can be demanded of the People any more than a husband can demand that his wife celebrate their anniversary. If it must be demanded, there’s nothing to celebrate. If there isn’t an eager willingness to participate, then what’s the point?
Hashem says, “לכם—To you. You’re in the driver’s seat. You control the calendar. You determine when Pesach comes. Because if I must demand it of you, if I must impose it upon you, if I have to threaten that you’d better be at the Seder Table on such-and-such a day or else, then what’s the point of it all?”
The reality is that we are bound by the mitzvos. There are expectations and demands that we perform. And when that performance can be made better, more precise, or more beautiful by supplementing human frailties with modern advancements, we welcome those opportunities with open arms. But not for the calendar itself. The calendar must be beset by human limitation and be subject to human error. If it’s not, it’s not really “לכם—yours.” A calendar bereft of human weakness is also stripped of human emotion.
Where, then, does that leave us today? Pesach—the 15th of Nissan—will fall on a day already determined centuries ago. It is calculated and formulaic, rather than an expression of love and yearning. Perhaps, though, we can generate the emotion no longer latent in the establishment of the date itself by at least being conscious of the language we use and the tone we strike in making our preparations for the holiday.
Pesach places more demands upon us than any other holiday by far. The cooking, cleaning, shopping, and kashering necessary for Pesach has no peer anywhere else on the calendar. What mentality do we adopt in undertaking these tasks? What is the language we use in readying ourselves for Pesach prep? Do we speak of chores and errands? Do we gripe and groan?
What if the language we use and the energy we emit focused more on the excitement of being around the table with family and friends? The anticipation of nachas in hearing our children and grandchildren share divrei Torah? The appreciation of being freed from slavery and being uplifted by the purposeful living Hashem has blessed His chosen nation with?
The journey leading to Pesach is meant to be a decidedly human one. One that allows for human error, but also encourages human emotion. The current calendar has eradicated error, but let’s ensure that the journey is still rich with emotion. With love, with longing, and with anticipation of enjoying a night around Hashem’s table.