My kids have a joke about me. Scratch that; rewind. One of the jokes my kids have about me is this: When R' Fuerst learns some new, obscure halacha and thinks to himself, "Who would do this? I know! Michael will." Guilty.
As proof, I offer the following incident that occurred just this last Pesach. Before Pesach I had been discussing some issue with R' Fuerst, in the midst of which the rav said: "A person like you should only eat hand matzah on Pesach." It was more or less out of the blue, so I was taken by surprise and didn't ask any clarification questions. Besides, it was easy enough; only money.
We had a beautiful Pesach in Boca Raton and were invited to have the last s'duda with the rav, R' Noach Light, and his family. Wonderful. As the s'uda is tables are being set and the kids are all playing, I noticed only machine matzah on the table. I asked the rav about hand matzah and he said, "Funny thing; we ran of out hand matzah just last night."
Fortunately, I have visited the community many times and R' Light and I know each other well; R' Light also knows R' Fuerst very well. I approached R' Light quietly and explained my issue; I had a p'sak from R' Fuerst to eat only hand matzah. Yes, I know it is the last day of Pesach. Yes, I know this machine matzah is made with the all the appropriate stringencies in halacha. None the less... I have a p'sak from my rav. R' Light agreed that I didn't have much choice in this situation. Besides, being as the value of matzah was going to plummet in just a few hours, it was no problem to find a neighbor who was only too happy to find a good home for his extra hand matzah. (Though I had a quite uncomfortable 20 minutes while the s'uda was held up to get the matzah for me. I protested they should start without me, but to no avail. Their grace and kindness only added to my feelings that perhaps I was being too stringent in this matter...)
When I got back to Chicago, I had approached R' Fuerst to clarify the p'sak. I got as far as, "The rabbi told me that I should only eat hand matzah...", when R' Fuerst nodded and added one word: לכתחילה. Ummm... לכתחילה? So I was able to clarify that I could have eaten the machine matzah, all the more so since it was the last day of Pesach. My follow up question was, "Did I -- according to my mistaken understanding -- do the right thing?" R' Fuerst affirmed that I had acted correctly. (And so my discomfort was finally assuaged.)
R' Light (yes, self same R' Noach Light) is a frequent contributor to Torah Anytime. He has an amazing shiur on Lag b'Omer, in which he addresses the famous question: How is is possible that the talmidim of R' Akiva -- R' Akiva who is know to stand for and live the dictum that loving every Jew as yourself is a great foundation of the Torah; how is it possible that they didn't have proper respect to each other?
Answer: They drank in R' Akiva's genius. They basked in R' Akiva's holiness. They did not, however, attach themselves to R' Akiva as their direct line to Sinai. They did not look to incorporate even the the nuances of his speech and expression into their daily lives. They did not attach themselves to R' Akiva's מסורה. Just as hemlines has little to do with modesty (though one can certainly express immodesty with hemlines), so to "tradition" has little to do with מסורה. (Though, again, מסורה can be broken by ignoring traditions.) To be a Torah Jew, you must have a rav. Not someone who is more convenient than Google to get a quick halachic answer. A Torah Jew needs a relationship with a rav; a relationship where he can sense the מסורה behind the p'sak.
I had a friend in grad school who was a music major. He told me that in music theory class they had learned how Beethoven's entire 5th symphony develops from the first five notes. That's cool, I thought (physicist that I was), so I (physicist that I was) asked, "So why not start with any five notes and develop a symphony?" You can't do that, I was told. Of course, not. You can't connect with a symphony by studying each note; you have to also hear the music.
You can't connect with the Creator by simply studying His Torah as you would science; you have to experience the מסורה; you have to hear the music.
As proof, I offer the following incident that occurred just this last Pesach. Before Pesach I had been discussing some issue with R' Fuerst, in the midst of which the rav said: "A person like you should only eat hand matzah on Pesach." It was more or less out of the blue, so I was taken by surprise and didn't ask any clarification questions. Besides, it was easy enough; only money.
We had a beautiful Pesach in Boca Raton and were invited to have the last s'duda with the rav, R' Noach Light, and his family. Wonderful. As the s'uda is tables are being set and the kids are all playing, I noticed only machine matzah on the table. I asked the rav about hand matzah and he said, "Funny thing; we ran of out hand matzah just last night."
Fortunately, I have visited the community many times and R' Light and I know each other well; R' Light also knows R' Fuerst very well. I approached R' Light quietly and explained my issue; I had a p'sak from R' Fuerst to eat only hand matzah. Yes, I know it is the last day of Pesach. Yes, I know this machine matzah is made with the all the appropriate stringencies in halacha. None the less... I have a p'sak from my rav. R' Light agreed that I didn't have much choice in this situation. Besides, being as the value of matzah was going to plummet in just a few hours, it was no problem to find a neighbor who was only too happy to find a good home for his extra hand matzah. (Though I had a quite uncomfortable 20 minutes while the s'uda was held up to get the matzah for me. I protested they should start without me, but to no avail. Their grace and kindness only added to my feelings that perhaps I was being too stringent in this matter...)
When I got back to Chicago, I had approached R' Fuerst to clarify the p'sak. I got as far as, "The rabbi told me that I should only eat hand matzah...", when R' Fuerst nodded and added one word: לכתחילה. Ummm... לכתחילה? So I was able to clarify that I could have eaten the machine matzah, all the more so since it was the last day of Pesach. My follow up question was, "Did I -- according to my mistaken understanding -- do the right thing?" R' Fuerst affirmed that I had acted correctly. (And so my discomfort was finally assuaged.)
R' Light (yes, self same R' Noach Light) is a frequent contributor to Torah Anytime. He has an amazing shiur on Lag b'Omer, in which he addresses the famous question: How is is possible that the talmidim of R' Akiva -- R' Akiva who is know to stand for and live the dictum that loving every Jew as yourself is a great foundation of the Torah; how is it possible that they didn't have proper respect to each other?
Answer: They drank in R' Akiva's genius. They basked in R' Akiva's holiness. They did not, however, attach themselves to R' Akiva as their direct line to Sinai. They did not look to incorporate even the the nuances of his speech and expression into their daily lives. They did not attach themselves to R' Akiva's מסורה. Just as hemlines has little to do with modesty (though one can certainly express immodesty with hemlines), so to "tradition" has little to do with מסורה. (Though, again, מסורה can be broken by ignoring traditions.) To be a Torah Jew, you must have a rav. Not someone who is more convenient than Google to get a quick halachic answer. A Torah Jew needs a relationship with a rav; a relationship where he can sense the מסורה behind the p'sak.
I had a friend in grad school who was a music major. He told me that in music theory class they had learned how Beethoven's entire 5th symphony develops from the first five notes. That's cool, I thought (physicist that I was), so I (physicist that I was) asked, "So why not start with any five notes and develop a symphony?" You can't do that, I was told. Of course, not. You can't connect with a symphony by studying each note; you have to also hear the music.
You can't connect with the Creator by simply studying His Torah as you would science; you have to experience the מסורה; you have to hear the music.
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