Before, during and after the beginning of each month (Rosh Hodesh,) we make statements and prayers related to miracles.  On Rosh Hodesh Adar and Rosh Hodesh Nisan, it is particularly easy to see why.  Each month is marked by a holiday (Purim and Pesach, respectively) celebrating and commemorating miracles.  Almost every Jewish holiday or festival falls in the middle of the month and Rosh Hodesh marks the time when you’d better start getting ready for the upcoming holiday.  If you aren’t thinking about Pesach (Passover) yet, you haven’t been reading this blog much and you have some catching up to do.  The traditional observance of Pesach involves learning a lot of rules, cleaning a tremendous amount, inviting a lot of guests and a whole lot of cooking.

But Rosh Hodesh Nisan has another function, too.  In some communities, no Matzah is to be eaten from RH Nisan onward, in order to whet our appetites for Matzah at the Seder.  In other communities, this practice begins only the day before the Seder, but it is a lot more dramatic done the first way, and I have always had some questions about it.  I think this year I’ll follow the longer practice.  Did I mention Rosh Hodesh Nisan is tonight and tomorrow?

The Sources

In the Halakhic (legal) work Be’er Heitev by Rabbi Yehuda Ashkenazi, “the Dayan of Ticktin” (according to the Title Page of my copy of Mishna Berura, where the commentary can be found,) we read the following:

כתב דרבים נוהגים שלא לאכל מראש חדש

“He writes that many follow the practice of not eating [matzah] from Rosh Hodesh [Nisan]“  (BH 5 to OH 471)

In the Shulhan Arukh text upon which Be’er Heitev is commenting, we learn that the reason is to have a strong appetite (לתאבון), presumably for Matzah at the Seder.

Questions

• Why is it so important to have an appetite for Matzah on the first night of Pesach?
• Does refraining from eating Matzah really give someone an appetite for it?

Why is it so important to have an appetite for Matzah on the first night of Pesach?

Matzah is supposed to be the “bread of affliction,” (לחם עני) so why should we be excited to eat it?  Though my mom and plenty of other people with questionable taste really like it, this is what our forefathers ate as they left Egypt and not exactly a delicacy.  [L'Havdil notice!] When Jesus is reported to have said “this is my body” in reference to Matzah (the Last Supper was a Seder, don’t forget,) he was likely referring to its burnt, crumbled, sort of disgusting form and its bland, inconsistent, dry content.  [L'Havdil notice lifted.]  I think the reason that we’re supposed to enjoy it is because Matzah is, on balance, a good thing.  It symbolizes the hurry our afflicted ancestors were in, yes, but also the salvation that accompanied it.  It is quick-bread, yes, but it also reflects the miracle of God giving us back our time, freeing us from servant labor.  It is the bread of affliction but, by our eating it at the Seder, it becomes the bread of salvation.  This is something we should savor and enjoy.

Does refraining from eating Matzah really give someone an appetite for it?

Let’s just say that there are certain things in my life that, when I have a little, I want more, not less.  Perhaps you’ve had this experience, too.  And some foods (and definitely not some of the things I was just referring to,) if I don’t have them for a long time, I have no craving for them at all; it’s like I forget about them.  Out of taste, out of mind?  So why is the traditional assumption here that refraining from Matzah will increase our appetite for it?  What’s more, we’re putting off Matzah until a time when we are required to eat it!  Most people I talk to about this agree with me that if there is one way to make something unappetizing or unattractive, it is to require it.  (Incidentally, maybe this is why the Talmud teaches that “greater is one who is commanded and does something than someone who is not commanded, but does it anyway.”  גדול מצווה ועושה ממי שאינו מצווה ועושה)  Learning to engage in Tzimtzum , contraction, is a lesson we should learn all year long, particularly now, when this practice can help us realize that consumption should not beget more consumption, but that moderation should rule; we should hold off on things so that they can be special when the time is right.  Likewise, we can learn to be excited to do mitzvot, especially the annual ones, like eating Matzah.

There’s a Costco-sized package of Matzah sitting here, just begging to be eaten, but it is still in shrinkwrap and I told my friend we’d share it.  I have dozens more questions I could ask (and answers I could posit) about refraining from any Matzah for the first half of Nisan, but I have to make up my mind whether I’m doing this pretty soon.

Okay, I’ve made up my mind:  I’m doing it.  There will be plenty of time to ask the questions (and, God-willing, so many more) when I am excitedly eating the Matzah at the Seder.