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Not Everything In Hebrew Seforim Deserves To Be Read – R’ Avigdor Miller

RAV AVIGDOR MILLER ON THE TEN DROPS OF WINE AT THE SEDER

Q:

The Rabbi mentioned in his lecture tonight that we are expected to rejoice at the downfall of the wicked and that’s why we celebrate the punishment of the Mitzrim. If that’s really true, then why do we take drops of wine out of the cup of wine at the Seder?

A:

This gentleman is asking, why is the cup of wine diminished by drops at the Seder? Which means that this person has heard that the significance of the drops that we remove from our cup at the Seder is that the suffering of the wicked is a diminishing of our own happiness.

 

Now, I want to tell you people something that will come in handy. There are many explanations that have been invented to suit the modern taste. But at this table (the Rav zatzal banged on the table) the principle is that we’re suiting nobody’s taste except the truth.

 

Now, I understand that if I had to speak someplace else I couldn’t speak on this subject. And that’s because the spirit of the gentile world is not to exalt in vengeance. Oh no! They only exalt in killing Jews, and in gas chambers and crematoria. They wouldn’t think of such a wicked thing as vengeance. The Pope and the bishops of the Anglican Church are very much interested only in the nobler aspects of life. And so when the Jews were being shipped off to the death camps and being burned at the rate of twenty-thousand a day, so the Pope was busy talking about peace and the love of all man. And the archbishop of the church of England was busy talking about brotherhood and friendship. All the time, words of love were gushing forth from these two fountains of saintliness. But never did one of them speak up that it’s time to stop murdering Jews. Maybe instead of twenty-thousand Jews a day, maybe they should kill only ten thousand Jews a day?! No, this they didn’t even try. Twenty-thousand, that’s fine. It’s good enough. It’s not thirty-thousand, they said. What do you want already?

 

And so, nobody intervened for the Jews. But at the same time they would deign to say such wicked words like I’m saying here tonight; about rejoicing in the downfall of would-be murderers and such terrible oppressors as the Egyptians were. To rejoice in their downfall is a righteous thing?! Oh no; that, they would never say!

 

So the modern rabbis who are paid by the Sisterhood are busy reinterpreting the Torah in a way that is acceptable to them. And therefore, after a while it becomes widespread in the Jewish street that this is a Torah attitude – that you take out drops of wine in order to signify that our happiness is diminished because of the suffering of the wicked.

 

And I want to tell you, even if you saw it in a chassidishe sefer, don’t be excited. I can tell you that not everything that is printed, even in lashon kodeshdika seforim, deserves to be read. And even some seforim that are three-hundred and four-hundred years old.

 

You have to use discretion in what you read. Drush has been in force for at least three-hundred years, so don’t be excited even if you saw this in a sefer. It’s absolutely not true! That’s not the significance of this minhag.

 

And if you want – now, I’m just telling you a guess of mine, but if you want a more true significance, I’ll tell you that we’re shedding the blood of the Egyptians when we drip the drops from the cup; we’re taking part because we’re happy על דם רשעים שנשפך, about the blood of the wicked that has been spilled. That’s a different explanation, a better explanation.

 

Now, of course, if I was out in Westchester or in Scarsdale, and I was giving a pre-Pesach class to the Ladies’ Auxiliary, I would speak about something else. So, it may be that you saw this in some good sefer, but I’m not impressed anyhow. You have to know that not everything printed is worth repeating.

TAPE # 26 (April 1974)

Editor’s Note: Although this reason of “our diminishing joy due to the suffering of the Mitzrim” is widely quoted in many hagadahs today (and sometimes even wrongly attributed to the Abarbanel) it is actually a quite recent explanation that was first invented in the late 1800’s and then recorded in print for the first time by Eduard Baneth in 1904. This reason was then popularized among the masses when it was quoted in haggadahs that were printed in America in the 1940’s and 50’s. For example in a popular haggadah published in 1943 by the National Jewish Welfare Board “for members of the armed forces of the United States to address the compatibility of Jewish and American values” this is the reason given for the minhag.

The earliest reference to the minhag itself is actually found in the Pesach Drashos of the Rokeach (c. 1176-1238) and his mystical explanation of the sixteen drops of wine seems to be more in line with Rav Miller’s words above, in that it hints to the “sixteen sides sword of Hakodosh Boruch Hu.” The Sefer Maharil quotes the Rokeach and explains that we want the vengeance of Hashem “to fall upon our enemies.” The Darkei Moshe quotes the Maharil and writes that the minhag hints to the “angel in charge of vengeance.”

From Toras Avigdor, here.

A Short Story of Capitalism: The Charity of the Free Market

Title:     How Good Fortune Came To Pierre
Author: Orison Swett Marden [More Titles by Marden]

Many years ago, in a shabby room in one of the poorest streets of London, a little golden-haired boy sat singing, in his sweet, childish voice, by the bedside of his sick mother. Though faint from hunger and oppressed with loneliness, he manfully forced back the tears that kept welling up into his blue eyes, and, for his mother’s sake, tried to look bright and cheerful. But it was hard to be brave and strong while his dear mother was suffering for lack of the delicacies which he longed to provide for her, but could not. He had not tasted food all day himself. How he could drive away the gaunt, hungry wolf, Famine, that had come to take up its abode with them, was the thought that haunted him as he tried to sing a little song he himself had composed. He left his place by the invalid, who, lulled by his singing, had fallen into a light sleep. As he looked listlessly out of the window, he noticed a man putting up a large poster, which bore, in staring yellow letters, the announcement that Madame M—-, one of the greatest singers that ever lived, was to sing in public that night.

“Oh, if I could only go!” thought little Pierre, his love of music for the moment making him forgetful of aught else. Suddenly his face brightened, and the light of a great resolve shone in his eyes. “I will try it,” he said to himself; and, running lightly to a little stand that stood at the opposite end of the room, with trembling hands he took from a tiny box a roll of paper. With a wistful, loving glance at the sleeper, he stole from the room and hurried out into the street.

“Who did you say is waiting for me?” asked Madame M—- of her servant; “I am already worn out with company.”

“It is only a very pretty little boy with yellow curls, who said that if he can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep you a moment.”

“Oh, well, let him come,” said the great singer, with a kindly smile, “I can never refuse children.”

Timidly the child entered the luxurious apartment, and, bowing before the beautiful, stately woman, he began rapidly, lest his courage should fail him: “I came to see you because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I thought, perhaps, that if you would sing my little song at some of your grand concerts, maybe some publisher would buy it for a small sum, and so I could get food and medicine for my mother.”

Taking the little roll of paper which the boy held in his hand, the warm-hearted singer lightly hummed the air. Then, turning toward him, she asked, in amazement: “Did you compose it? you, a child! And the words, too?” Without waiting for a reply, she added quickly, “Would you like to come to my concert this evening?” The boy’s face became radiant with delight at the thought of hearing the famous songstress, but a vision of his sick mother, lying alone in the poor, cheerless room, flitted across his mind, and he answered, with a choking in his throat:–

“Oh, yes; I should so love to go, but I couldn’t leave my mother.”

“I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening, and here is a crown with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here is also one of my tickets. Come to-night; that will admit you to a seat near me.”

Overcome with joy, the child could scarcely express his gratitude to the gracious being who seemed to him like an angel from heaven. As he went out again into the crowded street, he seemed to tread on air. He bought some fruit and other little delicacies to tempt his mother’s appetite, and while spreading out the feast of good things before her astonished gaze, with tears in his eyes, he told her of the kindness of the beautiful lady.

An hour later, tingling with expectation, Pierre set out for the concert. How like fairyland it all seemed! The color, the dazzling lights, the flashing gems and glistening silks of the richly dressed ladies bewildered him. Ah! could it be possible that the great artist who had been so kind to him would sing his little song before this brilliant audience? At length she came on the stage, bowing right and left in answer to the enthusiastic welcome which greeted her appearance.

A pause of expectancy followed. The boy held his breath and gazed spellbound at the radiant vision on whom all eyes were riveted. The orchestra struck the first notes of a plaintive melody, and the glorious voice of the great singer filled the vast hall, as the words of the sad little song of the child composer floated on the air. It was so simple, so touching, so full of exquisite pathos, that many were in tears before it was finished.

And little Pierre? There he sat, scarcely daring to move or breathe, fearing that the flowers, the lights, the music, should vanish, and he should wake up to find it all a dream. He was aroused from his trance by the tremendous burst of applause that rang through the house as the last note trembled away into silence. He started up. It was no dream. The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song before a fashionable London audience. Almost dazed with happiness, he never knew how he reached his poor home; and when he related the incidents of the evening, his mother’s delight nearly equaled his own. Nor was this the end.

Next day they were startled by a visit from Madame M—-. After gently greeting the sick woman, while her hand played with Pierre’s golden curls, she said: “Your little boy, Madame, has brought you a fortune. I was offered this morning, by the best publisher in London, 300 pounds for his little song; and after he has realized a certain amount from the sale, little Pierre here is to share the profits. Madame, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven.” The grateful tears of the invalid and her visitor mingled, while the child knelt by his mother’s bedside and prayed God to bless the kind lady who, in their time of sorrow and great need, had been to them as a savior.

The boy never forgot his noble benefactress, and years afterward, when the great singer lay dying, the beloved friend who smoothed her pillow and cheered and brightened her last moments–the rich, popular, and talented composer–was no other than our little Pierre.

[The end]

(Find it here.)

‘We Wanted the Best, but It Turned Out Like Always’

What’s been popular recently on Hyehudi.org:

Rabbi Tzvi Kushelevsky is now a hot property. I think the searchers were looking for this:

קו השגחה פרטית: ראיון עם אבי הבן, הגאון ר”צ קושלבסקי שליט”א

Walter E. (Ze’ev) Block EXCLUSIVE for Hyehudi: Cops and Robbers

Cops and Robbers (914 words)

By Walter E. Block

Should there be a cease-fire between the cops and the robbers? No. The cops should never cease to put the robbers in jail. Should there be a pause in the efforts of the police to stop the rapists? Should the former make peace with the latter, and no longer catch them and send them to the courts for punishment? No. The police should continue, to their level best, to bring rapists, all of them, to justice. What about the sheriff and his deputies in their goal of eradicating murder by arresting those responsible? Should there be a “humanitarian” end to their efforts to call a halt these unjustifiable killings? Maybe the murderers should be given a state of their own from whence they can launch their future attacks on their victims? Of course not.

These questions are stupid, silly, ridiculous, foolish, deranged and unhinged. Not even a three year old child would ask them. Every sensible person would look upon these questions as some sort of a sick joke. We all know that if we are to have a civilized society, if we are to promote human flourishing, if justice is to be attained, the forces of law and order must never cease. Given human nature, their efforts to root out criminality must continue.

Hamas is a criminal organization. They use tunnels to spring forth and murder innocent people. They place rocket launchers in schools and hospitals, using as shields the very people they are sworn to protect. They are not above a bit of rape, more than just a bit. If there were any doubt about their moral stature, the events of October 7, 2023 should have put paid to all such forevermore.

No, I take that back. Hamas is far worse than a mere criminal gang. Far worse. They are terrorists. At least an ordinary murderer, after he kills someone, leaves his family alone. At least a run of the mill rapist does his evil deed and departs. He does not make a film about his depredations and brag about it to his friends. He has some vestige of decency. No mere criminal kills babies. Oh, no, Hamas deserves a special place in hell off limits for relatively agreeable ordinary criminals.

The IDF is the good cop. It is now in the process of attempting to bring Hamas to justice. This time, the Israeli military does not have in mind a mere slap on the wrist. That sort of lawnmower operation has been tried several times in the past and Hamas keeps coming back. We must acknowledge the perseverance of this terrorist organization.

What of widespread public opinion? Are the masses of people in the west, in Europe, at prestigious American universities, cheering on the good guys in this conflagration? Do they look upon the Hebrew soldiers as they would the cops stopping murderers, sheriffs corralling rapists, police arresting robbers? Alas, they do not. Even leading newspaper columnists take the very opposite point of view. Yes, they will acknowledge that the sickening behavior of October 7, 2023 was appalling. But so is the defense against a repetition of those horrid events “over the top” and unjustified.

In a massive rejection of justice, popular opinion makers now call upon the soldiers who are doing the Lord’s work to cease and desist. They claim they are guilty of, wait for it, genocide. It cannot be denied that hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent Gazans are now perishing in this attempt to eradicate Hamas. Some from bombing, some from starvation, some from a lack of shelter, health care, etc.

But whose fault are these needless deaths? Obviously, if people have not taken complete and total leave of their senses, they would lay the blame squarely where it belongs: at the feet of Hamas. Instead, all too many take the side of the robbers, rapists and murderers, not the cops who are dedicated to stopping them.

If this group of terrorists would lay down their arms and surrender, if they would release all captured hostages, not a single solitary Gazan would henceforth lose his life. These deaths would cease immediately. Has Hamas done any such thing? To ask this is to answer it: of course not. Instead, they continue to hide behind innocent Gazans, the very people in whose name they supposedly act. Several tens of thousands of them have already died, if we are to believe the statistics offered by Hamas.

All too much of the civilized world has completely taken leave of their senses. They confuse the cops and the robbers, the police and the murderers, the sheriff and the rapists. They are blaming the victim, the innocent Israelis who have been murdered and raped, and those who are struggling to ensure this occurs never again, the IDF.

Shame on you.

They call for a “humanitarian” end to the war to conquer Hamas. But this group has promised one, two, many, repetitions of the abomination of October 7. How is it humanitarian to allow monsters like that to continue in operation? How “humanitarian” is it to call for a cessation of the effort to stop them?

Imagine if, God forbid, Hamas conquered the IDF. What would be the result? It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that every single Jew in Israel would be put to the sword, with no mercy extended to any of them. Genocide? Yes, that is the middle name of Hamas. Innocent defense, is what the Israeli military is involved in.

Pegs:

Friedman, Thomas. 2024. “Israel Is Losing Its Greatest Asset: Acceptance.” February 27; https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/27/opinion/israel-gaza-peace-thomas-friedman.html

Stack, Megan K. 2024. “Starvation Is Stalking Gaza’s Children.” February 29

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/29/opinion/gaza-israel-palestinians-starvation.html

A Non-Smartphone Non-Jew Describes His Life…

Some excerpts from the London Review of Books, 15 FEBRUARY 2024:

If I need to find somewhere new, I look it up on my laptop and draw a map on a scrap of paper, or ask a black cab driver at a red traffic light. They seem increasingly bemused. If I get lost while driving, I pull over to peer at my A to Z through a credit card-sized magnifying glass. My son learned to map-read while I maintained an unpopular holding pattern on a roundabout.

… My heart sinks at a QR code menu. I either ask the hard-pressed waiter (half guilty, half indignant) to root around for a paper menu, or submit to my companion reading it out from their phone as if to a child.

I use a watch, an alarm clock, a camera and a CD player. I listen to a portable analogue radio with headphones, or download radio programmes onto a mini-MP3 player. I have a paper appointments diary and a pocket notebook with a pen. My daily newspaper lands on the mat. On holiday, I rely on guidebooks. When I was last abroad, I walked to a restaurant and made a reservation by writing my name on a napkin.

This one sounds familiar:

When someone wants to show me a photo on their phone, I count in my head how long it takes them to find it. It’s usually about two minutes. The person tries to continue the conversation while they search, but they usually can’t help also reading a message they’ve just received. I used to fill the time by babbling on. Now I sit and wait. When the tiny image is finally located, it rarely adds much. I hate phones, but I also hate the gap they open up between me and the people around me who mean well.

And this:

WhatsApp is the big one. The primary school PTA year group rep wouldn’t put announcements on email and made it clear that if I missed out, it was my problem.

So unfair!

Here’s the scary ending:

The 3G mobile signal is about to be switched off, older digital radios can no longer receive the new DAB+ signal, and landlines will soon be replaced by something called Digital Voice. At some point my refusenik status may become not just eccentric but practically impossible. I only hope a bigger backlash kicks in before then.

Read the rest here…