“RABBI’S MUSINGS (& AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh parshas Bereishis
25 Tishrei 5781/October 1, 2021
Mevorchim Chodesh MarCheshvan
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לרפואה שלימה נטע יצחק בן רחל
VERY FISHY
I don’t
like fish.
Well,
that’s not really true. I enjoy watching fish swimming around and I find them
to be fascinating. But that’s while they are alive. Once they are dead, I don’t
like them anymore, especially not on my plate.
What?
You don’t eat gefilte fish?
Nope!
Fish sticks?
Nope!
You
don’t have tuna fish at Shalosh Seudos?
Absolutely
not!
But
you for sure like sushi!
Raw fish
is the worst!
So,
you don’t eat herring? Are you Jewish?
I can’t
even stand the smell of herring.
What
about the fact that it says one should eat בשר ודגים on Shabbos?
The next
line is וכל מטעמים – and all
tasty delicacies. I don’t find fish to be מטעמים!
The
bottom line is that I don’t like fish – not with chrayn, not in the rain, not
on a plane, and not down the drain.
On Rosh
Hashanah evening, instead of fish, our family eats the candy jelly fish. In fact,
we have two jelly fish. One upon which we say the prayer for when eating fish,
and the second from which we eat the head and say the prayer for eating the
head of a fish.
When my
children shared with me the story of Yonah before Yom Kippur, I told them that
it’s similar to the story about why I don’t eat fish.
When I
was young, despite my protestations, my parents insisted that I eat gefilte
fish. On one difficult occasion, I forced down the gefilte fish. As soon as I
did, I felt that the fish was davening to Hashem to be rescued from inside my
stomach. Then, just like Yonah, on the third day I opened my mouth, and out
came the fish. I’m not sure if it went to Nineveh afterwards[1], but that’s when I stopped
eating fish. My children were skeptical of my story.
I
remember one Shavuos morning, when we were invited out for the day seudah.
After being up all night and then sleeping for a few hours, I plied myself out
of bed where we were served… a fish meal. How were they to know that I wouldn’t
eat fish? At that point I wasn’t just grumpy from being tired I was also grumpy
from being hungry.
Interestingly,
I have a couple neighbors who are in the same boat as me (pun intended) when it
comes to eating – or not eating – fish. That makes it easier when we have
Shabbos meals together.
My
sensitivity is pretty extreme. On one occasion I ordered a bagel from a store.
When I took a bite out of it, I was able to tell that the knife used to spread
the butter had been previously used to smear tuna fish. I couldn’t eat it.
I especially
detest the smell of baking or fried fish, especially salmon.
All this
leaves me a bit concerned during the Succos season. Don’t get me wrong – I love
Succos and enjoy every minute of the beautiful holiday. But when we take leave
of the succah, we recite a customary prayer, “May it be Your Will, that next
year we merit to sit in the succah made out of the skin of the leviathan.” Wait
a minute – a huge succah made out of fish? I hope it doesn’t smell like fish in
there. Is there an option to sit inside a succah made out of wood? Better yet,
doesn’t Gan Eden have access to a Leiter fibreglass succah? I’m sure they could
get a good deal.
Our
sages relate[2]
that at the beginning of creation, G-d created a male and female leviathan. He
then killed the female leviathan so that the leviathan wouldn’t procreate,
because the world couldn’t handle the propagation of such a mammoth species.
G-d then salted the female leviathan and preserved it for the righteous to
enjoy in the future.
What was the point of G-d creating something, only to
destroy it immediately after?
Rav
Matisyahu Salomon explains[3] that G-d did so to teach the
world a vital lesson about how He runs the world. At the time that G-d killed
the female leviathan it must have seemed like a terrible tragedy. It was a
short time after creation, and this species was not only endangered, but it was
also guaranteed to eventually become extinct. But, in truth, its death was the
greatest kindness for the entire world. Had it lived the rest of creation would
have been endangered.
When we
begin Bereishis anew and study the Torah’s narrative of creation, one of the
first lessons we encounter is that of the leviathan. It serves to remind us
that there is a plan and direction to everything that occurs in life, even
though it often doesn’t seem that way to us. Just as G-d created the world with
precision and perfection, so does He continue to maintain it with that same
exactitude and perfection.
That is
also the lesson of Succos. Throughout the year we place our confidence in our
assets, governments, business acumen and capabilities. But on Succos we sit
beneath the shade of the divine, acknowledging that it’s all Him. We also shake
the Four Species in all directions, to further emphasize that all the winds and
storms of life are from Him.
The world and our lives are on a path guided by the
infallible. Our task is to do the best we can within the circumstances we are
dealt.
I may
not like fish. But I’m confident that the experience of sitting in a succah and
partaking in the feast of the leviathan will be a blissful experience, even for
those who don’t like the taste of fish.
I hope
that indeed I’ll merit to see you there in that magnificent succah next year.
Until then we should all remember the timeless lesson it teaches us about the
divine path of life and that everything is ultimately for the good.
Shabbat
Shalom & Good Shabbos
R’ Dani and Chani Staum