Shalom to all kitchen-scrubbers and closet-sweepers, removing the empty wine bottles to look for pretzels in the crevices of your couch!

If you need, want or are compelled by saner minds to take a break in your pre-Pesach cleaning, here is a small offering to smooth the transition between Pour 'em and Pay Sack. (I'm cleaning the chametz out of my storehouse of puns, as you can see most painfully).
We think you'll find this month's line-up most uplifting and edifying. We also would like to direct you to our Pesach Seder Companion, available in Word, HTML or PDF format.  Print out and distribute as you wish.

If you missed Rav Daniel Kohn's U.S. teaching and recruiting trip, chaval, it was dynamite. Rav Natan Greenberg is scheduled to be in the U.S. in May. You can be sure to get all the latest updates in real-time by subscribing to our Bat Ayin Updates List - click here.  Check the appropriate box at the bottom of the subscription page.

If you haven't heard the new Bat Ayin Yeshiva CD, AZ YASHIR, go to www.batayin.org, click on the link, and enjoy!

And finally... Atchalta - a Program for Beginners at the Bat Ayin Yeshiva - click here for an introductory peek!

The Golden Calf: The First Purim Shpiel - by David Maayan

As we now find ourselves in the turning from Purim towards Pesach, these in between days remind us of the need to connect these two times. The halachah reflects the need for Purim to be joined with Pesach, for when there is an added month of Adar in a leap year, we celebrate Purim in the second Adar. The Gemara asks, "When it is time to do a mitzvah, don't we do it at the first chance possible? Why do we push off Purim for a whole month!?" Answers the Gemara: We need to connect the ge'ulah (redemption) of Purim and the ge'ulah of Pesach. What's striking, of course, is that Purim and Pesach seem to be such opposites. The essence of Pesach is the Seder, which means "order," and in general to prepare for and keep Pesach requires discipline, order, restriction. Bread, which is permitted all year, and connected with mitzvot such as Shabbos meals, becomes absolutely forbidden! On Purim, just the opposite, getting drunk which is forbidden all year, and connected with sins, becomes a mitzvah! Besides, whether you drink or not (and there are people and situations where it's not appropriate), the whole atmosphere of Purim is the opposite of order, a kind of (hopefully holy) chaos.

You know, on the one hand, all the mitzvot are from Hashem, and so we hope to fulfill all of them equally. At the same time, the mitzvot offer an amazing way to gain self-knowledge - by paying attention to which mitzvot come naturally, or "resonate" with us, and which grate upon our sensibilities. The truth is there are really Pesach people and Purim people, for example. Purim people look forward to Purim all year, or at least from when they've gotten over their hangover from last year's Purim. They long for the freedom and joy, the spontaneity and chaos of Purim! Pesach, and Pesach cleaning - well, that sometimes seems to a Purim person like the kind of obsessive-compulsive behavior that gives observant Jews a bad name. Pesach people, of course, love the meticulousness of preparing for Pesach, and the scrupulousness with which one must approach eating. In the detail and discipline which is involved, a person can be truly transformed, and go beyond themselves. Holy consciousness. For Pesach people, Purim is at best distasteful, or even scary. Even if stuff doesn't get broken at the Seudah, consciousness is likely to be obliterated rather than elevated, and frankly a Jewish frat party doesn't seem like the most spiritual event of the year.

Every year right around Purim, we read Parshas Ki Tissa, and hear again the story of the Golden Calf. The most famous question in the world is: how could the Jewish people, so soon after the awesome revelation of Har Sinai, fall so low so fast? Mere days before we ourselves heard G-d say "Anochi Hashem Elochecha,"- "I am Hashem your G-d"… how could we make an idol? I want to approach this almost clich?d question in a new way - and approach Purim and Pesach as well with the following introduction: According to the holy Ari, R' Isaac Luria, the beginning of creation was not as smooth as you might imagine. In fact, the Ari taught, the primordial "vessels" (sephiros) that Hashem created to contain His light were overwhelmed by the light, unable to contain it, and so they shattered. This is called "Sheviras HaKelim," the Shattering of the Vessels. This traumatic event was the foundation of the world we live in now, which is known as the world of Tikkun, or Fixing. In this world, the vessels do not break. This is where we strive to repair the damage, to gather the lost sparks amongst the shards of the broken vessels. The earlier world is called the world of Tohu, the World of Chaos.

So on the one hand, in the world of Tikkun, the vessels work well, they don't shatter, they coordinate with one another. This is a well-balanced, "healthy" world. There's just one problem - the vessels hold light alright, but it is a weak light. Not nothing, to be sure, but a pale hint of the original, great light which filled and then shattered the vessels of Tohu. So Tikkun is the place for vessels, but Tohu is the realm of the true light. And here too we can say there are Tikkun people and Tohu people, and often one person in his/her life travels between these realms. Tohu is when everything is falling apart, outside and inside, and yet - you taste a life, a truth, a closeness to G-d you've never known before. Tikkun is when you've managed to get yourself together, got all the foundations in place, and "have it all"- yet somehow there is no taste, no life, no juice to it. I'm exaggerating to make the point, of course, but I think most of us can recognize such a tricky double-bind which life seems to impose on us!

Let me return for a moment to the Golden Calf. I want to show how, based on what we've just laid out, the famous question turns out to be no question at all. We didn't make the Calf despite the Revelation of Har Sinai, but because of it - it was simply too overwhelming, too much light! Didn't we complain to Moshe we couldn't handle it? Doesn't the Midrash emphasize that we died with each word G-d spoke, were blown back several miles, and had to be revived and brought back to hear the next?! Our vessels were shattered into a million pieces! Therefore we fell, therefore we tried to cling desperately onto the solid vessel, the ultimate solid vessel, which is an idol. We needed to get it together, to regain some sense of control… The problem with idolatry, of course, is when the solid vessel becomes a limiter and ultimately a blocker of the great light, of the truth of Hashem. But we can't live on Har Sinai every moment, we weren't meant to - just as G-d didn't "miscalculate" by shattering the vessels in the Ari's teaching, it wasn't a Divine mistake - rather the mysterious process by which G-d brings about His desire…

Listen to one last teaching: Rav Kook says that the true ge'ulah, the true Redemption, will be when the light of Tohu can fill the vessels of Tikkun. This is what the Gemara means - "we need to connect the ge'ulah of Purim and the ge'ulah of Pesach," for the true Redemption is only when there is a oneness of light and vessel. This year, Hashem should bless all of us to bring together in ourselves our Purim and Pesach aspects, our great capacity for light, our ability to form true, holy vessels. And may Hashem bless us in all of our communities, and all the world, for the Light people to truly appreciate the holy work and way of the Vessel people, and the Vessel people to appreciate the holiness of the Light people, until together we are able to manifest the great soul-potential and G-dliness which will heal and sanctify the whole world, Amen!

Searching by the Light of a Candle - by Ariel Burger

The halacha states clearly that the search for chametz must be done by candlelight. Even if the sun or moon are shining we use a single solitary candle. There are a million reasons for this; here's one more.

Rebbe Nachman teaches (LM 34:8) that every person has a nekudah, a point inside, which is a micro-version of the Tzaddik, the great soul who includes all of Israel and the world. Through speaking extemporaneously with the Creator you can illuminate that point so that you can actually feel it in your heart.

Throughout its history, Breslov Hasidism was opposed by other Hasidic groups with vigor. There are a few reasons for this, but one was certainly Rebbe Nachman's assertion that each of us has what we need - a heart and a mouth- to gain full clarity about any life-question we face. The fact that Breslovers did not choose a rebbe to take Rebbe Nachman's place after he died only intensified the concern that Breslovers would become independent to the point of anarachy or antinomianism. Yet through the guidance provided by Rebbe Nachman and Reb Noson, through the assiduous application of spiritual practices like hitobdedut (conversations with God), and through sincere seekers and great teachers in each successive generation (including some you and I may have been privileged to meet) followers of Rebbe Nachman have succeeded in developing spiritual self-reliance while remaining within the Jewish community.

The lesson of "bodkin l'ohr haner"- that we search by the light of the candle- is this: no book that you read is going to speak directly to your situation. What you must seek in Torah are practices and teachings that you can apply to your unique challenges. The chametz we seek to destroy is hiding in the nooks and crannies of our homes and consciousness, and the great light of the sun and the lesser light of the moon are too uniform to reach there. The geeneral principles provided by great leaders are useful, but are no replacement for your own search, your own lighting of your own candle to find your own hametz and release it into fire.

Growing Up - by Gavriel Goldfeder

The transition from Purim to Pesach is a fascinating one, as the two holidays represent opposites in a very important way. It is true, we are encouraged to juxtapose them. This is made clear in the Gemara's question as to whether, in a leap year that gives us two months of Adar, Purim should be celebrated in the first Adar or the second Adar. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel tells us that Purim should be in the second Adar, and Rav Tevi explains that this is in order to place "one redemption in proximity to another".

But the redemptions are actually quite different from one another. While Pesach was a time of overt miracles - the ten plagues, the splitting of the sea, etc. - the redemption of Purim is marked by a total lack of overt miracles. An awareness of G-d's 'presence' in the Purim story is only achieved in a backward glance at the entire series of events.

This lack of miracles is seen as a preferable state. The Gemara in Yoma tells us, "just as the dawn is the end of the night, Esther was the end of all miracles". Whereas we usually think of miracles as 'light' -- clear indications of G-d's presence in the world -- the Gemara sees miracles as a type of darkness that Purim thankfully brings to an end.

If we only "ascend in holiness", how is it useful to move from the heights, the dawn, of Purim, to the dark night of Pesach? This question is particularly poignant in light of R' Shimon b' Gamliel's push to have these two redemptions juxtaposed. But while this juxtaposition brings the two holidays closer in terms of the number of days between Purim and Pesach, it drives them farther apart in terms of the number of days from Pesach to Purim. This is so since Nissan (the month of Pesach) is the Rosh Hashanah of months, it is month 1 and Adar is month 12.

Thus these two redemptions book-end a year that, essentially, starts with Pesach and ends with Purim. Within that span is a growth process from the miracles of Pesach to the relative independence of Purim. This is a process of growing up. The process of the year can be described as moving from dependence on miracles to a relationship to G-d that is not dependent on miracles. On Pesach, a new light enters our consciousness. At that point, the light is a total gift. We have no claim on it. It is the 'bread of shame', for we did not at all work on it. Our job is to work toward 'earning' that light - of not needing it to be miraculously given in order to be experienced. This process is accomplished throughout the year - every Shabbat, every Rosh Chodesh, every holiday does its part to help us integrate that light in the most mature possible way. Purim is the final moment in that process, when we choose to receive that light without coercion.

Thus we can understand Purim as the fruition of a light that began on Pesach. Purim is marked, as the Gemara (Shabbat 88) says, by 'kimu v'kiblu' - 'they fulfilled and received': on Purim the Jews re-received the Torah. But this time they were not coerced, as they were at Sinai. How were they coerced at Sinai? By miracles. When a person experiences the spoken word of the Living G-d, one does not have choice. But, on Purim, we desired the Torah, even without seeing miracles. We decided to become fully participatory partners in the covenant of Torah.

In this sense, Purim does not offer anything new. It merely offers us the opportunity to open a sense of the Divine as it has been a part of our lives, retrospectively. There is no outward transition on Purim - only a shift of perspective. This manifests in the discussion in the Gemara (Megillah 14a) as to why we do not say Hallel on Purim. The answer given is that, before Pesach we were slaves to Pharaoh, and we became servants of G-d. But by Purim it is not so. Before Purim we were slaves to Achashveirosh, and after Purim we are still slaves to Achashveirosh. The only thing that changed was our perspective on the situation.

Purim encourages us to develop the capacity to generate our own happiness independent of external circumstance. It begs us to go beyond the world of dichotomies, of good and bad. In fact, we are told in Gemara (Hullin 139b) that Haman appears in the Torah as the question 'HaMiN ha'etz' - '[G-d asking Adam] did you eat from the tree?' Haman is deeply related to the 'tree of knowledge of difference'. Our job is to go beyond that. We should reach a point where we experience G-d as much being slaves as we do being free. This knowledge of G-d is the very light we are given on Pesach, but at that point it is given in such a way that we are incapable of generating it on our own. By Purim, we must accomplish our ability to find G-d regardless of external circumstance.

And then we start over. A new level of G-d's involvement in our lives is introduced on Pesach. It promises to be deeper, more intimate and compelling. We are shown a new level of liberation that we are capable of achieving. But we are made to understand that, if we want to achieve this new level of liberation in a complete way, we will have to work for it. And when we have worked, we will arrive at Purim, and we will celebrate.

Play I Some Music - by Shaul David Judelman

The other day I sat with a friend and we listened to an album of Duke Ellington and John Coltrane-purely incredible music- such expressions of soul and self… and in listening to this recording from 1964, we both remarked on the transportive property of the music. Music is truly a fruit of the imagination, both in how it's prepared, and in how it's consumed. Its ability to awaken within us deep reservoirs of memories, passions and yearnings is strikingly powerful. And in this globally connected world, the music we hear and the places it can take us has no limits… I remember sitting on a bus listening to Cuban music a few months ago, and I found myself instantly brought to my own virtual Cuba, created through the stories, pictures, friends and images that have provided an incredible, though imaginary, acquaintance with that place in my mind. Rebbe Nachman in Torah 64 teaches that the music of a culture holds in it the roots of its cosmology, a really deep presentation of the essence of a place.

And now we come upon, in this month, the longest music fast of the Jewish people. Starting from the end of Pesach (most commonly) we have become accustomed to not listening to music until Shavuot (even though what is really strictly prohibited is the type of music experience had while dancing at a wedding, I feel the custom of our people has in it a deep teaching).

The night of Pesach shines to each one of us a tremendous light. Of freedom, of ideal self, of where and who we want to be…It is a night of prayer like no other, of retelling and reawakening the Jewish spirit of redemption, to leap out from the places where we've become accustomed to restricting ourselves to. Our slave masters are our habits, our despondencies, our depression, our voices of apathy that hold us back from being who we see we can be. Just as matza is made up of only the purely essential elements of bread, our freedom too is found when we are living off of our essential elements. We tell and live the story that is closest to our hearts and will. On the night of leaving Egypt, Hashem came down to each house and checked the doorposts. At the seder Hashem is coming to each of our seders to dance with our deepest praying parts… The ridding ourselves of our chametz leaves us able to speak from a new place of realness and depth.

And the day after starts the nurturing of this newly opened storyline. In the sefirat ha'omer we learn that the first week is that of chesed- the giving and celebrating of this new light. This week ends with the height of celebration, the seventh day, where we once crossed the sea in song. To cross the sea is to get to a new level of our personal freedom, to be singing a new song from our released soul. Then as Pesach ends, we enter into the next phase, the week of Gevura… the protective celebration cocoon of Pesach is over, and it is now time to start defining our freedom in everyday life. The gevura needed to not go back to our slave self is tremendous. There is a very real struggle in leaving the habits that once surrounded us. Even though we have felt that tremendous light- the world at large is maybe not also looking to change- and it is our struggle to live strong and pure from our essence. One of the biggest challenges to change is surely the voices that say it's all the same as it used to be. A voice that our minds hear the clearest is the music of what used to be… Our song, the fruit of our redemption, that carried us across the sea- needs it's time to develop and affect our daily habits, to paint new colors in our imagination, open up the channels of emuna that we will need for this coming year.

So when the desires arise to hear the music of yesteryear, the answer is not to sit in silence- but to compose, to improvise, to work out the next movement in your concerto.

The halacha teaches that for a person whose livelihood comes from music, it is permitted to practice in this time…A free spirit is surely dependent for their livelihood upon the melody of their faith…

At Yeshivat Bat Ayin, we are committed to…
Torah as traditionally learned and lived,
Openness to the world around us,
the spiritual path of Hasidut, broadly understood yet intensely practiced,
and the people and land of Israel.

We invite people who are passionately concerned with all these commitments,
and who are not willing to compromise on the dream of a Jewish life
in which they complement instead of compete with one another, to contact us.

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