Pesach is almost here, and if you haven’t yet heard, rejoice: the Law Committee of the Rabbinical Assembly (Conservative movement, North America) has issued a ruling that permits Jews of Ashkenazic descent to eat kitniyot (rice, corn, and legumes) during the festival. It’s been a long time coming, considering that the movement’s Israeli branch handed down a similar decision (here, translated from the Hebrew ) in 1989. The Conservatives now join the Responsa Committee of the Central Conference of American Rabbis [Reform movement, North America], which issued its own t’shuvah on the subject in 1996 (available online for CCAR members and in the printed collection Reform Responsa for the Twenty-First Century, CCAR Press). To be sure, not all members of the Law Committee go along with this new position. Still, given the strong halakhic arguments contained in these permissive rulings, it is now more obvious than ever before that observant Ashkenazic Jews can with a perfectly good conscience set aside the prohibition of kitniyot and (barukh hashem) eat like Sefardim on Pesach!
Just to review: on Pesach, one is forbidden to eat or possess ḥametz in any form. Ḥametz is defined as any one of the “five species” ( חמשת (המינים of grain – wheat, barley, rye, oats, and spelt. Rice and beans are not now and never have been members of that category; they were prohibited by medieval Ashkenazic custom, which originated, says one early halakhic authority, out of the fear that because cooked legumes resemble dishes that contain ḥametz, people might confuse the two foodstuffs and mistakenly consume ḥametz during Pesach.[1] This reasoning did not impress Sefardic authorities, who called it a “foolish custom” (minhag sh’tut)[2] and a “needless stringency” (חומרא יתירה). [3] For that matter, some Ashkenazic scholars also opposed the custom; R. Yaakov Emden, an outstanding 18th-century German posek, called it a “mistaken practice” (minhag ta`ut).[4]
None of this, of course, means that all clear-thinking Ashkenazim must alter their practice. Like all other long-standing minhagim, this custom can exert a powerful emotional pull upon us, and there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that reality. Even the CCAR responsum recognizes that individuals, honoring their family tradition, can make a perfectly legitimate choice to abstain from kitniyot during the holiday. The point, though, is that it is a choice: as these responsa demonstrate, Jewish law does not obligate Ashkenazim to observe this custom.
Many Orthodox authorities will argue otherwise. They will tell you that a prohibition, even one based in custom rather than in Toraitic or Rabbinic decree, can never be annulled once it has been adopted. They will tell you that Jewish communities are obligated to maintain those prohibitions even when they no longer serve their original purpose or, for that matter, any intelligent purpose.[5] We disagree with that reasoning, and in a subsequent post we’ll explain why. Let it suffice here to say that the prohibition of kitniyot should no longer consign Ashkenazic Jews to the dietary wilderness during what ought to be a week of joy and celebration.
Ḥag sameaḥ. V’kasher!
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[1] Sefer Mitzvot Katan (13th-century France), ch. 222. Other explanations, which are no more persuasive than this one, also exist.
[2] R. Yeruham b. Meshulam (14th-century Provence and Spain), Sefer Toldot Adam v’Hava, n’tiv 4, part 3.
[3] Tur, Oraḥ Ḥayyim 453.
[4] Sefer Mor Uketzi`a, ch. 453.
[5] And you can tell that this line was written by someone who sees no redeeming social value in the prohibition of kitniyot.
I’m waiting for the ghost of Grandmom Freda to come to me and scream, “You’re putting rice in my Passover pot??!!!” The pull of long-established minhag is powerful, especially for those of us who have inherited not just minhagim but the physical things as well, from roasting pans to recipes.
No question that minhag plays a powerful role in the determination of Jewish religious practice. That’s as it should be; the sanctification of practice may be a core element of any sort of religious experience. And on the level of folk religion (to use Charles Liebman’s famous “elite religion vs. folk religion” classification scheme), it probably doesn’t matter much that rabbis and scholars proclaim this or that custom to be a “minhag ta`ut” or even a “minhag sh’tut.” A long-standing minhag enjoys a presumption of propriety even in the face of halakhic (or theological or philosophical) arguments against it. But the halakhic arguments are just as legitimate as the minhag, and people will have to decide for themselves between the two… which is in a way a core doctrine of progressive halakhah.