Every year it repeats itself. Almost at the same time, sometimes even in the same place. All you need is a little leaven, a rabbi and a goy. Oh, and a handkerchief too.
So if it's so simple, why is it so complicated?
This year I decided to get to the bottom of the crumbs. Not sweep them under the table - they are still leaven. This year I will not go to the rabbi "because everyone goes", I will not shove a note into his hand "because it is unpleasant", nor will I bring him a handkerchief just "because that is what the rabbi said".
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Peace and blessings to the former Chief Rabbi and current Rabbi of Tel Aviv-Yafo, the great Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau.
""Peace to you too, my friend," the rabbi begins pleasantly and moderately, as if today were not Passover Eve and he had tons of leaven on his shoulders to sell.
I just wanted to understand the issue of selling leaven. - I apologized.
""I'll explain to you," the rabbi replied with sweet lips. "Take a piece of paper and a pen and write it down.".
I have the page. The pen too.
""The foundation for the whole issue of selling leaven is found in the verse "It shall not be seen to you Leaven and it will not be seen to you "Light in all your borders" (emphasis is at the request of the Rabbi - 1A). Hence the Sages demanded: Go! - You do not see your own, but you see others'. In other words, the prohibition of "not to be seen or found" during the seven days of the holiday only applies if the leaven belongs to the Jew, but if the leaven belongs to a non-Jew, the prohibition "not to be seen or found" is not violated.
Based on this sermon, permission is found for the continued existence of chametz, provided that it is owned by a non-Jew for the duration of the holiday. Otherwise, it falls under the category of "chametz that has been passed over by Passover" - which is forbidden even for enjoyment.
This permit is suitable for owners of factories and companies whose main livelihood depends on leaven. Such as Osem, Bagel et Bagel, whiskey factories, and more (examples in the original - Y.A.). In large companies like these, whose business throughout the year is leaven, if they have to liquidate everything before Passover they will go bankrupt. Therefore, they were allowed to sell outright to a non-Jew and they will be able to continue producing and selling this leaven after Passover.".
And what about private individuals who come to the rabbi to sell chametz? - I asked, interrupting the rabbi from his fluent speech.
""For them, the sale is indeed problematic from a halachic perspective. After all, someone who has a little chametz is better off eating it or burning it before Passover. Such a person should not rely on the permit to sell chametz, which is intended primarily for those whose livelihood depends on it.".
"Only what? - It is said about this: "Israelites who practiced a matter - the custom of Israel is law." Therefore, we rely on the opinion of the lenient ones that it is possible for anyone to sell their leaven to a foreigner, provided that the sale is done properly.""
And how is this done by the Rabbi?
""The rabbi draws up a permit, which states that all the places and authorities where a Jew's chametz is found will be rented to a gentile. In other words, the gentile buys the chametz itself, but the place where the chametz is found - a room, a closet, a balcony, a warehouse, and also the utensils that may have chametz stuck to them - the gentile rents.
The non-Jew pays rent plus advance payments. The price is determined in advance by special appraisers so that the sale will be realistic.".
To what extent does it really need to be detailed to a rabbi, and then to a gentile, the location of the chametz?
""The details must be precise. In order for the foreigner to actually receive the chametz in terms of the area, he must be told the exact addresses and locations where the chametz is found during the holiday. This is the bill of sale that is made with the rabbi and everyone signs it - it details the value of the chametz and its location.".
You can't trade in an iPhone.
After gaining wisdom in conversation with Rabbi Lau, I went to the court of the Gaon Rabbi Shmuel Eliezer Stern in Bnei Brak, in order to physically experience what I had learned from the rabbi of Tel Aviv-Yafo.
The number of people crowded into the room indicated that one of the biggest deals of the day was about to be closed here. Photographers wearing kippahs and wigs, alongside photographers wearing scarves and earrings - all came to document the once-in-a-lifetime moment.
The gentile is due to arrive in the next few minutes, and in the meantime the rabbi is making the final preparations for the sale. Several avrechims are sitting around a table with three types of landlines and five more mobile phones next to them. One by one the phones ring and the avrechims answer questions from pious women about the laws of Passover.
""The gentile is coming, the gentile is coming" - a wig-curled boy joyfully exclaimed. He has been here since morning, waiting in anticipation to see how the gentile buys the Bissell and biscuits he didn't have time to bury in his stomach. The gentile, whose ice and sunglasses indicate that he is not a "regular" gentile, but a little more "polished", entered the room and turned to his seat, while chanting "Sholam Aleichem" in a stilted Yiddish imitation.
The rabbi signals everyone to be quiet. "Now I will explain to you," the rabbi turns to the gentile, "what we are actually doing here.".
Even though he is a regular gentile every year, something like a "genitive of chametz," the rabbi repeats his explanations every year. The rabbi apparently believes that the gentile did not pass the "Dershu" tests on the laws of bills and the sale of chametz, and therefore needs to be explained to him again.
""These are the forms that the people wrote on because they appointed me as a messenger to sell them the chametz," the rabbi points to three cartons full of papers. The explanation quickly gains momentum, as the rabbi explains in sequence about the kenyainim and their essence. The rabbi speaks and the gentile nods his head to indicate that he understands the kenyainim of barter for his burying ground. The rabbi moves from buying a yard to buying money, with the gentile following suit, not missing a word.
The issue seems clear to a non-Jew in its conclusions, assumptions, and halachic implications. "Even non-Jews today are scholars," I mused with the envy of scribes.
When the rabbi asks the gentile for an item in exchange for a commodity, he takes his iPhone out of his pocket and hands it to the rabbi. The rabbi looks at the device but does not touch it.
""This is not a good object," the rabbi explains to the astonished Gentile. "In our country, it is forbidden to use this thing. It is unacceptable.".
The Gentile, as before, nodded his head, but it was clear that this was already too much for him. He didn't really understand the problem.
""This is ruining our children's education," the rabbi continued with another attempt, "this device itself is completely rotten and cannot be used as property." The gentile, who had already begun to fear for the fate of the device, put it back in his pocket and instead took off his sunglasses and gave them to the rabbi.
""Now give me the advance payment plus a blank check as collateral because you will pay all the money for your purchase of the chametz," the rabbi requests. The gentile pulls the checkbook out of his pocket, and without any argument or negotiation, writes the rabbi the required check.
Here the rabbi clarifies to the Gentile that the sale has already been made and that it is not dependent on receiving payment. That is, even though the Gentile has not yet paid all the money for the chametz he received, the sale is still complete and no one from Israel will violate the prohibition of "not to be seen or found." It is important to emphasize that the sale is made through both halachic and legal buyers.
""There is chametz that is really tiny and doesn't count," the rabbi smiles. "All the chametz that sticks to the dishes, which is usually not noticeable and you don't see it, you will take it as a gift. We don't ask for money for it.".
The Gentile clears his throat with pleasure, as if he is satisfied with the clean separation he has made from the dirt stuck to the dishes.
I waited for the ceremony to end, to ask the rabbi what I would do if on Passover I needed to remove something from one of the places that had just been sold to a gentile, but then the rabbi's voice was heard:
""Whoever wants to take out of the room or closet that is sold to you," the rabbi continues in conversation with the gentile, "anything that is not leavened on Passover, we ask your permission to allow him to do so.".
I got an answer without asking the question.
The Gentile gives permission to use what he bought.
And the rabbi continues: "Even medicines - whoever, God forbid, needs medicine that is chametz, can use it, and we will pay you for it to the best of our ability. In addition, whoever finds chametz in his house that needs to be burned on Passover, we will pay you for it as well," the rabbi concluded.
""Let's move on," the Gentile shouted after him with understanding.
The rabbi continues to explain to the gentile that even though he is now selling his own chametz and that of his followers, this is not a package deal and each person is responsible for their own mistakes. That is, if for some reason there is a problem with one person's sale, it does not invalidate the sale of all of them.
The ceremony was over. The photographers climbed onto chairs in an effort to film the handing over of the forms from the rabbi to the gentile.
""Well..." the rabbi smiled affectionately, "You now have shares in one of the largest companies in the economy.".
I was intrigued. I approached one of the rabbi's relatives, who seemed to me to be "understanding," and asked him the meaning of the last sentence the rabbi uttered.
""What, you don't know?" - he looked at me with wide eyes - "The rabbi is an emissary of El Al to sell their chametz" - he explained to me kindly while adjusting the Bluetooth headset stuck in his ear.
I hope the gentile - who I just heard say to those present in the room in a deep accent "Salaam aleikum" - didn't take the rabbi's last sentence seriously.
