Breaking Bread

The Yom Tov of Shavuos is of course marked and celebrated as ZMon Matan Torosenu, it is the anniversary of Mattan Torah, and our activities on this day certainly reflect this fact. We devote extra time to Limud HaTorah, and Seforim tell us that Shavuos is an auspicious time to Daven for success in our pursuit of Chachmas HaTorah. We would expect then that the Mitzvos HaYom, as prescribed in the Torah, would reflect this aspect of the day, but that does not seem to be the case.

Throughout the Torah, whenever the Yom Tov of Shavuos is mentioned, the only Mitzvah that is associated with it is Hava’as Bikurim. Even this Mitzvah, however, is not tied exclusively to Shavuos—while the Yom Tov is the first day that Bikurim could be brought, and because of Aliyah L’Regel the time that most people were Mekayem this Mitzvah, one could bring Bikurim after Shavuos as well, until the following Chanukah. The only Mitzvas HaYom that remains exclusive to Shavuos, in which we can perhaps find a message related to ZMon Mattan Toraseinu, is the Avodah of the Shtei Halechem that was done in the Mikdash on this day.

The Passuk in Parshas Emor tells us that we are to count forty-nine days from the bringing of the Korban Omer on Pesach, and on the fiftieth day bring a “Mincha Chadasha L’Hashem.” The Pessukim go on to describe this Mincha Chadasha as two loaves made from wheat. Because the loaves were Chametz, they were not burnt on the Mizbeach, but there was a Mitzvah of Tenufah after which the Kohanim ate the Shtei Halechem. The Torah also instructs that other Karbonos of animals be brought at the same time as the Shtei Halechem, but these are described as being brought “Al HaLechem”. Rashi explains that this means that the Korbanos were brought because of the Shtei Halechem—the Mincha Chadasha was thus the Ikkur and the other Karbonos the Taffel. This appears to be a departure from most Avodos in which the Korbanos play the primary role and any Minachos that accompany them are secondary—quite a notable point.

In fact, it is only after speaking about this Korban that the Yom Tov of Shavuos itself is mentioned: “U’Karasem B’Etzem Hayom Hazeh Mikrah Kodesh Yihiyeh Lachem.” This too seems to imply that the entire Yom Tov is really a result of bringing the Shtei Halechem, and it is because this Korban is brought that the Yom Tov exists. Certainly then we should explore the meaning of this Korban as it relates to the part of Shavuos we are familiar with, in the hopes of discovering what the Torah intended us to understand about this Yom Tov.

While the actual Korban of the Shtei Halechem seems pretty straightforward—they are after all two loaves of bread—there are two simple questions that can be raised. First, why does the Torah require us to bring two loaves of bread specifically? On Pesach we bring the Omer, which was made of barley, and there is no Mitzvah of loaves at all, and certainly not two. Why in this case does the Torah want us to bring the Mincha consisting of two loaves of bread?

There is another aspect of this Mincha that is notable as well. In describing the wheat that was used to make the Shtei Halechem, the Torah tells us “MiMoshvosechem Taviu”, that the wheat should be brought from our settlements. Chazal tell us that the word “Moshvosechem” teaches us that the wheat is to be brought from within Eretz Yisroel and not from Chutz L’Aretz, but there are other words that could be used to teach us the same Halacha, why did the Torah choose this word specifically to be used here?

Perhaps if we answer the first question, gaining a new insight into the Shtei Halechem themselves, we will also be able to understand the language used in the Passuk.

Although we do not find a discussion of the two loaves of the Shtei Halechem in the Medrash, there is an idea brought in the name of the Zohar that does address this point. The Zohar explains that the two loaves represent the two types of bread the Bnei Yisroel ate in the Midbar: the Matzah, known as “Lechem Oni”, and the Mon, which is called “Lechem Min HaShamayim.” The upshot of the Zohar is that each year, on Shavuos, we commemorate these two forms of bread that were eaten in the Midbar. The next logical question is, of course, why? We speak about the Matzah at length on Pesach, why are we bringing it up on Shavuos as well? Similarly, on Sukkos we remember the Ananei Hakavod as we sit in the Sukkah, perhaps this would be an opportune time to reflect upon the Mon as well—why is this reserved for Shavuos?

Let us examine each of these types of bread, in historical order, in an effort to understand how they are in fact related to Shavuos.

The Matzah that the Zohar refers to is not that which was eaten in Mitzrayim as part of the Mitzvah the Korban Pesach, but that which Bnei Yisroel ate after they left Mitzrayim, as they began their journey in the Midbar. We speak about this Matzah in the Haggadah, noting that we ate Matzah in the Midbar because we left Mitzrayim so quickly that our bread did not have time to rise. One would assume then that once we were in the Midbar and had a chance to bake real bread we would have done so, but that does not seem to be the case. Rather, the Ohr Gedalyahu brings from the Chassam Sofer, the Matzah was eaten until the fifteenth day of Iyar, a full month after Yetzias Mitzrayim. Why was this the case? If the Matzah was a result of the haste with which we left Mitzrayim, why was it still eaten even once we had time to bake in the Midbar?

There is a thought in the Hagadah Ma’aseh Nissim, from R’ Yaakov M’Lisa also known as the Nesivos, that may help us understand this point.

The Torah comMonds us to eat Matzah each year on Pesach in order to commemorate the “Chipazon” or haste, with which we left Mitzrayim. It would seem then, that this is a virtue, or a positive aspect of the Geulah which we want to celebrate. This does not seem to be the case when it comes to Geulah, however. The Passuk in Yeshaya, in describing the Geulah HaAsida, tells us “Ki Lo B’Chipazon Teitzeu”, that we will not leave in haste, but calmly and with dignity. The implication of this Passuk is that Chipazon is not desirable when it comes to Geulah—rather than leaving quickly, almost sneaking out under the cover of darkness, it is more desirable to be able to experience Geulah with pride and purpose. If so, asks the Nesivos, why do we eat Matzah each year to remember the Chipazon of Mitzrayim?

He answers that although Chipazon is perhaps not as desirable a form of Geulah, in the case of Geulas Mitzrayim it was nessecary. Hakadosh Baruch Hu very much wanted to begin our relationship as a nation—the time had come for Geulah, and He could not wait to take us under His wing. Thus, although we were not fully prepared, we were taken out of Mitzrayim in haste because Hashem wished to reveal himself to us as soon as possible. The Matzah, then is a symbol of this desire—the only reason we had unleavened bread is because Hashem rushed us out of Mitzrayim because He wished to have a relationship with us.

Perhaps this is why the Matzah was eaten even as we began our travels in the Midbar. One could imagine that Bnei Yisroel began their trek to Har Sinai with much trepidation—as much as we were physically ill equipped to leave Mitzrayim, we were certainly spiritually unprepared. Thus, in those initial days, as we approached Matan Torah, we continued to eat the Matzah, reminding ourselves with each bite that we were there because Hashem wished to be close to us, to reveal himself to us. These thoughts would clearly have been an important way to prepare ourselves to become the Am Hanivchar.

But, as we mentioned, the Matzah ran out on the fifteenth of Iyar and was replaced three days later, on Lag B’Omer in fact, by the second type of Lechem mentioned by the Zohar: the Mon. This too would seem to be a nessecary precursor to Mamad Har Sinai, as the Medrash Tanchuma tells us “Lo Nitna Torah Ela L’Ochlei HaMon,” that the Torah could only have been given to those who ate the Mon. This of course explains why the Mon began to fall prior to Mattan Torah, but we still have to understand why this was true—why was the Mon a prerequisite for Kabalas HaTorah?

The Passuk in Parshas Ekev speaks about the Mon in a most interesting way: “HaMachilcha Mon Bamidbar…L’Man Anoscha U’Lman Nasoscha L’Hetivach B’Acharisecha”. Hashem tells us that we were given the Mon in the Midbar to test us with hardships, in a way that would be to our benefit in the long term. The Mon was “Lechem Min HaShamayim”, food that fell every day in a way that each was provided for according to his exact needs. What Inuy, or hardships, could be associated with this type of food, how did it test us, and what indeed was the long term gain?

The Bnei Yisaschar, in Agra D’Kallah, explains that the Mon tested us because it forced us to realize that our efforts and endeavors on behalf of our own Parnassah are totally fruitless. It is human nature to think that we are in control—that we can affect our own success through choices or actions. The Mon forced us to cede control to He who is truly in control, to rely only on what we were sent from Shamayim, ending each day with nothing, forced to believe that we would once again receive our required share come morning.

The aspect of “L’Hetivach B’Acharisecha”, explains the Bnei Yisaschar is that this was the only way to ensure that we would be able to keep the Torah and Mitzvos once we reached Eretz Yisroel. If we thought that our own efforts would affect our Parnassah, we would be tempted to devote more time to our fields and vineyards, and less to the Torah, which would have a detrimental effect on our ability to stay in Eretz Yisroel. Therefore, we received the Torah only once we already had the Mon, to show us for time immemorial that a recognition of our lack of control was a prerequisite to being Mikablei HaTorah.

With these two ideas in mind, the connection between the Shtei HaLechem and Mattan Torah become clear.

Each year, on Shavuos, we renew our personal Kabalas HaTorah, accepting the Ol HaTorah V’Hamitzvos anew. To do so successfully, even as we exist in a world full of confusion, we must keep in mind the lesson of the two types of bread. On one hand, we can be uplifted by the message of the Matzah—Hashem took us out of Mitzrayim in a state of Chipazon because he wished to be close to us and could not wait any longer, Kaviyachol. This gives us the Chizuk necessary to look beyond our own shortcomings, secure in the knowledge that He wishes to have a relationship with us despite our personal failings. At the same time, we must also take the lesson of the Mon, knoing that in order for this relationship to be successful we must be willing to rely fully on Hakadosh Baruch Hu, relegating our own Hishtadlus to its true role. It is with these two ideas in mind that we can stand up as the Aseres Hadibros are read and count ourselves among the Mikabeli HaTorah.

This can also help us understand why the Torah uses the word “Moshvosechem” in relation to the Shtei HaLechem. It is easy to think that the messages of the Korban, as it relates to the Torah itself, are reserved for Yichidei Segulah, for those on some lofty level. The Torah therefore tells us that the wheat is to be brought from Moshvosechem, which has the connotation of a very local area—our neighborhoods or communities. By using this word, the Torah tells us that each of us, on our own level, can access the essence of the Shtei Halechem, establishing our own personal relationship with the Nosen HaTorah.

As the Rambam writes, a share in the Torah is available to “Kol Ish Asher Nadva Rucho,” anyone who wishes to devote himself to this most lofty pursuit. As we consider the message of the Shtei Halechem, brought from the Moshavos of Klal Yisroel, let us renew our own Nidivus Ruach, so that we may be Zoche to the Rambam’s promise—the bliss of a connection to Hashem in the vein of “Hashem Manas Chelki V’Kosi Attah Tomech Gorali