It is customary to slice the challah on Shabbos before reciting Ha’motzi. The source of this halacha comes from a wicked king. Discussing the origins of this halacha never grows stale.
The first Mishnah in the last perek of Sanhedrin states that three kings have no share in the World to Come: Yeravam, Achav, and Menashe. Rav Ashi, concluding a lecture on this perek, remarked, “Tomorrow, we will start by discussing our friends” (Sanhedrin 102b). The “friends” he referred to were the very same kings just listed. That night, King Menashe appeared to Rav Ashi in a dream and challenged him: “Your Torah knowledge is half-baked, and you’re calling me your doughboy?” (A dramatized version of: “You call us your friends and the friends of your fathers?”)
Menashe then put Rav Ashi to the test: “From where should you start cutting bread when making ha’motzi?” Rav Ashi didn’t know. Menashe scoffed, “You don’t even know where to start cutting the bread, and you’re calling me your friend?” Rav Ashi asked Menashe to teach him the halacha, promising to cite him as the source in the next day’s lecture. Menashe agreed and explained: one should start cutting the bread from where it begins to bake in the oven.
Seizing the moment, Rav Ashi asked, “If you were so wise, why did you loaf around and worship idols?” Menashe replied, “Had you been there, you would have picked up the bottom of your cloak and run after me.” The desire for idol worship in those days was so intense that even the righteous struggled to resist it.
The next day in shiur, Rav Ashi referred to Menashe’s group as “our rabbis.” This wasn’t just a crummy attempt to butter him up – it was a real recognition that King Menashe was a learned Torah scholar, albeit one who sinned grievously.
Why This Particular Halacha?
The Maharsha explains that bread symbolizes Hashem’s acceptance of repentance. After Adam sinned, Hashem cursed the ground that produces wheat for bread. In reality, the growing process should have been so difficult that making bread would be virtually impossible. However, because Adam HaRishon confessed his sin and repented, Hashem relented and allowed the ground to produce wheat – albeit with greater difficulty than before.
Menashe’s message to Rav Ashi was clear: he didn’t belong sandwiched between Achav and Yeravam, who have no Olam Haba, because he repented, as the pesukim in Navi explicitly state. This wasn’t just a flaky argument. Indeed, Rebbe Yehuda concurs that Menashe does, in fact, have a portion in the World to Come and shouldn’t be lumped in with any old John Dough. Rebbe Yochanan accepts this view as authoritative, suggesting that Menashe’s teshuvah serves as an inspiration for all future ba’alei teshuvah. No matter how far one has strayed, there is always room for teshuvah. Menashe’s crimes listed in the Gemara are as heinous as they come, yet he still found his way back.
Fascinatingly, the Zohar states that Menashe stands at the entrance to the fifth heichel in the heavens, ready to pull in any repentant sinner who, by the letter of the law, shouldn’t be allowed in.
Why Start Cutting the Challah There?
The Toras Chaim offers insight into why the place we start cutting matters. At every stage of bread production, a portion is set aside for a mitzvah. We designate the first growth for bikkurim, the first portion of the harvested produce for terumah, and a portion of dough for challah. When we recite ha’motzi, we sanctify the bread by starting from where it first baked, elevating it as an act of gratitude for Hashem’s kindness throughout the process.
This also explains Rav Ashi’s follow-up question: If Menashe was so well-versed in gratitude to Hashem, what led him to forsake Him for idols? No matter how you slice it, the Toras Chaim concludes that even on Shabbos, one should mark where to begin cutting the bread.
The Halachic Balancing Act
A bit of background helps to fully digest this halacha. There’s a mitzvah to make a bracha on a shalem, a complete loaf. Ideally, the bread should remain whole until after ha’motzi. However, halacha also dictates that one should eat immediately after reciting ha’motzi.
To balance these two requirements, we advise Poppy to pre-cut his sesame bread just enough to facilitate a swift bite, while still keeping the loaf technically whole. A loaf with a break is still considered a shalem as long as picking up the smaller part lifts the whole loaf without breaking it off.
This works fine during the week, when using a shalem is preferred but not “kneaded.” However, on Shabbos, there’s an obligation to use two whole loaves (lechem mishneh) to commemorate the double portion of manna that fell on Friday. If the person reciting ha’motzi starts slicing too deeply, he might end up with just one-and-a-half loaves, leaving him in a jam. Instead of actually cutting, where he might need his bread examined, we advise him to make a small incision to mark the starting point, ensuring a smooth transition from bracha to bite.
If finding the incision takes too long, it becomes counterproductive. The incision’s purpose is simply to save time and ensure the bread is cut from the preferred place. Some say that with modern baking methods, there’s no preferred starting point, making the incision unnecessary. The Aruch HaShulchan rules that small rolls or bagels – since they bake evenly – need no incision. This is the widely accepted halacha.
Those who wish to fulfill the p’shat of the Toras Chaim may perform an incision on Shabbos, as he considers it to hold symbolic significance rather than merely practical. Even if one approaches this interpretation with a grain of salt, everyone agrees that during the week, a significant pre-cut should be made before reciting ha’motzi when using a whole loaf (for example, on Hoshanah Rabbah, Purim, or Erev Yom Kippur).
At the end of the day, whether we slice, incise, or simply break bread, the message is clear: like Menashe’s teshuvah, the path back to Hashem is always open. Even the most well-baked sinner can rise again through teshuvah.
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.