A friend of mine, who earned his CPA a few years ago, told me about his recent dilemma. He was looking for an accounting job starting in the fall, so he applied for a job at several firms. His first interview was with PricewaterhouseCoopers. They gave him a firm offer of employment. Having a reputation as a reliable and industrious person, a mid-size firm was interested in him, as well. Though this firm usually conducts its interviews for fall positions later in the year, they made an exception for him and scheduled the interview earlier. They didn’t want to lose out on this good prospect. After the interview, they also tendered an offer. However, their offer could not compete with the salary, signing bonus, or benefits of Pricewaterhouse’s offer. What they did offer was more manageable hours, especially during the prime audit season of January to June. He had heard about other accountants coming home in middle of the night only to have to leave to a client a few hours later.
Though the prestige of working for a “Big Four” firm would look great on a resume and brighten future job prospects, in the end, after consulting with his rebbiim, family, and friends, he decided that it was not worth it to sacrifice his family and Torah life for financial considerations. He took the job at the mid-size firm.
He told me about his situation one morning at the White Shul. I received a call a few hours later from him. “Please don’t publish this story.” The truth was that publishing his story was not even on my mind. However, he reads my column and knows that I use my friends and family as source material, so he got nervous. I guess he was right to be nervous, because here it is—his story in print! (I did finally get permission, though.) I recently went to see my doctor (a resident of the Five Towns who is probably reading this). He expressed the same idea. He said that he has to be careful around me, because a story about him might end up in my column. Now why would I put a story about my doctor in a column about daf yomi? It seems I go off on a tangent too often. Sometimes I wonder what people who don’t learn the daf think of the daf after reading my column.
Years ago, the bachurim in the yeshiva I attended put on a Purim play. In one act, someone answers a pay phone in the lobby. He leaves the phone hanging for 15 minutes, and finally comes back and said, “I can’t find him.” The person on the other line asks, “Did you check the beis midrash yet?” He answers, “No. Let me check it now!” Obviously, in yeshiva the first place to look for someone is supposed to be (hopefully) the beis midrash.
Some time after Purim, I was in a kind mood and answered a yeshiva pay phone. I checked all over but I couldn’t find the person whom the call was for. After my exhaustive search, I told the person on the phone that I couldn’t find him. He asked me, “Did you check the beis midrash yet?” Apparently, he was assuming that the act in the Purim play was real. So I wonder, do people think that the Gemara discusses Keyspan, pampers, and Pricewaterhouse? I think I have to try to stick to the daf a little more. So without further ado, the daf:
Rav Yosef taught that the mitzvah of “mishloach manos ish lirei’eihu” sending portions one to another—is fulfilled by giving two portions of food to one individual (Megillah 7b). One Purim, R’ Yehuda Nesiah sent to R’ Oshaya the thigh of a calf and a bottle of wine. R’ Oshaya sent back the following message: “Our teacher: By giving us (R’ Oshaya and his family) these gifts you have fulfilled the mitzvah of mishloach manos” (Vilna Gaon’s version of the text).
What was the point of R’ Oshaya’s statement? Of course the mitzvah of mishloach manos was fulfilled! The Chida writes in his Sefer Pesach Einayim that one might have thought that the Megillah was specific in the use of the term “rei’eihu.” This term generally refers to a friend or peer. R’ Oshaya did not consider himself to be a peer of R’ Yehuda Nesiah, but rather a student of his. It might have been erroneously assumed that one cannot fulfill the mitzvah of mishloach manos by giving gifts to an individual of a lesser stature than the giver. R’ Oshaya’s message was that even though he considered himself to be of a lesser stature than R’ Yehuda Nesiah, the mitzvah of mishloach manos was still fulfilled; a rebbi can fulfill the mitzvah of mishloach manos by giving two portions of food to his talmid.
In fact, the commentators note that Hashem lovingly refers to us by the term “raiyasi” in Shir HaShirim, even though obviously we are not Hashem’s peers! So the term “rei’eihu” does not exclusively refer to a peer. It is interesting to note that the Sefas Emes appears to differ on this issue. He reasons that although a rebbi can fulfill the mitzvah of mishloach manos by sending gifts of food to his talmid, a talmid cannot fulfill the mitzvah by sending gifts to his rebbi, unless his rebbi sent to him first. If a rebbi sent his talmid gifts, then he is thereby conferring the status of “rei’eihu,” a peer, upon the talmid. The talmid may then reciprocate. However, if the rebbi did not send mishloach manos to his talmid first, then they are not considered peers. Consequently, the talmid cannot fulfill his mitzvah by giving mishloach manos to his rebbi.
This is not the accepted halachah, however. Practically speaking, one may fulfill the mitzvah of mishloach manos by sending food gifts to his rebbi (Piskei Teshuvos 695:11).
I was once studying at an out-of-town yeshiva. On Purim day, during davening, I noticed a rebbi of mine from New York. I reasoned that I would probably not see him for the rest of Purim. I wanted to give mishloach manos to my rebbi, who was by then a zakein. I went to a nearby store, bought two food items, put them in a box, and presented it to my rebbi. My rebbi opened the box and had a good laugh. The box contained Swiss Fudge cookies and a large bag of potato chips. The only store nearby was a pharmacy, and the food selection there was pretty slim. (My only other option was cough syrup and prune juice.)
Some people like the food items in their mishloach manos to form a theme. Here are a few examples:
A “black and white” theme—all the food is black or white (or both). Of course, chocolate counts as black. I’ve seen a “breakfast” theme—the mishloach manos consists of cereal, a small container of milk, orange juice, and a Danish. Then there is the “coffee” theme—a box-drink iced coffee, mocha-flavored candy, and a pastry.
One year, my family asked the local wine store for extra-decorative boxes for Absolut vodka. We then packed the boxes with peanuts, a box-drink of orange juice, pretzels, and a small bottle of vodka. A very common theme is the “Shabbos” theme. The gift contains a challah, a bottle of grape juice, and any side dish. We once received mishloach manos with a “kiddush” theme. It included a small bottle of whiskey, herring, and kichel. A contractor’s wife gave out, for mishloach manos, a clay shoe filled with lace candy and other treats. Her own house being unfinished for months, she explained, “The shoemaker’s children go barefoot.”
So where does this idea of having a theme for mishloach manos come from? My brother suggested that the idea originates from Haman himself. Haman suggested to Achashverosh that he reward his loyal subject by allowing him to wear the royal garb, ride on the royal horse, and don the royal crown. Haman was suggesting the loyal subject be rewarded with things that fit into a “royal” theme. Of course, Mordechai was rewarded with these items. We have our mishloach manos also fit a theme to commemorate that event (or so we can theorize).
Last year, my family distributed salt-and-pepper shakers filled with candy. The theme was “sugar and spice.” I had a quandary as to whether or not I should toivel the glass saltshakers. They had been purchased at Amazing Savings and were rather inexpensive. I called my rav, R’ Binyomin Forst, shlita, and he said that if the people will be keeping the saltshakers, then tevillah is required.
My wife insisted that no one would keep the saltshakers. After all, doesn’t everyone already have saltshakers? To be on the safe side, I toiveled all 100 shakers. Mind you, cylindrical objects are hard to toivel; you must make sure that all the air bubbles exit the object and that there is no separation (not even a bubble of air) between the object’s walls and the mikveh water. However, I was satisfied with my labor because we have often seen our saltshakers in use in the homes of our friends!
I told my wife that from now on we should stick to plastic containers for mishloach manos! (Although, the Minchas Yitzchok does say that possibly even plastic must be toivled; that is not the common custom, however.)
I hope this article gets you excited for Purim! Have a good Shabbos.
Maggid shiur and Rebbe at Yeshiva Ateres Shimon in Far Rockaway. He leads the Daf Yomi chaburah at Eitz Chayim of Dogwood Park in West Hempstead, and writes “Delving into the Daf” each week for The Jewish Home.
