Whose Chometz Is It, Anyway?

(Based on a True Story in Zichronos Harav Maza)

 He was my grandfather’s father. His name was R’ Yeshaye ben R’ Moshe. His father, R’ Moshe, had been the av beis din of Bober, in the province of Mogilev, near Kropki. The son, R’Yeshaye, was a very distinguished man, famous for his wealth, his scholarship, and his yiras Shamayim (fear of heaven).

Yes, this R’ Yeshaye was the famous Jew who hefkered his chometz. Yes, he gave it all away because of the Poritz’s meshugas. Of course, all the Poritzim were crazy. It’s not surprising; remember, each Poritz in the Ukraine was an absolute dictator of all the peasants and Jews (there were no others) who lived on his lands; he literally had the power of life and death over his subjects. But this Poritz was particularly crazy, or eccentric, if you prefer that term. He derived particular pleasure from devising new and original ways of embittering the lives of his Jews.

Not that he hated Jews, you understand. He didn’t. He especially liked R’ Yeshaye, who was his arendar (manager). In R’ Yeshaye’s capable hands, the Poritz’s various business interests prospered. The local Jews still tell the story of the Shabbos morning when the Poritz showed up unannounced in the village shul. Such a thing had never happened before (or since, come to think of it), and the poor Yidden in the shul were scared out of their minds. “Don’t worry,” said the Poritz to the astonished Jews, “I’m just curious. Never actually been inside a Jewish synagogue, you know.”

The old Rav nearly passed out. R’ Yeshaye immediately went up to the Poritz, took him by the hand, and led him to the Mizrach wall, which, he explained to the Poritz, was the place of honor in a synagogue. The Poritz smiled broadly at the kibbud, and sat down next to R’ Yeshaye, who spent the entire Shacharis explaining to the Poritz what was going on. (“That man is called the chazan... No, he doesn’t get paid. He does it for the mitzvah… Mitzvah? It’s a good deed in the eyes of G-d... Yes, it helps you get into heaven... Yes, the Jews go to heaven, too... What? Well, you’ll have to talk to the priest about that... Now we’re going to stand up for Kaddish… Kaddish? It’s a kind of prayer for the dead. You know, like they do in church...” 

After Shacharis, they took out the Torah and started auctioning the aliyos. “How much for Cohen? How much for Levi?” When they got to shlishi, the bidding became a little more brisk, naturally: “Five dollars! Six dollars! Eight! Ten!”

Then, to everyone’s amazement, the Poritz himself rose from his chair and said, “Fifteen dollars! Let no one bid against me or he’ll be sorry!” The Jews stared at the Poritz. You could have cut the silence with a knife, until R’ Yeshaye asked, “But Excellency, what do you want with an aliyah?”

Then the unforgettable reply: “I don’t know what this aliyah business is, but I do know Yeshaye here, and he’s one clever Jew, let me tell you! If he’s bidding 10, it’s worth at least twice as much, and now it’s mine, fair and square!” The Jews did not know whether to laugh or cry. So you see, the Poritz was not exactly an anti-Semite. It’s just that life was pretty boring on those rural estates, and the Poritz needed something to amuse him and keep himself busy. And that’s what this story is about.

*  *  *

Remember, R’ Yeshaye was the arendar, the Poritz’s business manager. He himself also had great wealth: whole warehouses filled with the lumber and produce of the estate, which were sold on the market at great profit. Well, it was erev Pesach, 1790. R’ Yeshaye was a yishuvnik, one of those Jews who lived among the peasants on the estate, some miles from the village where the rest of the Jews lived. What does a Jew do early in the morning of erev Pesach? He sells his chometz, right? For a wealthy Jew like R’ Yeshaye, who owned lots of alcoholic spirits and other chometz products, this was no simple matter from the halachic point of view. So every year, the Rav would be driven the few miles to R’ Yeshaye’s house, and there, the Rav, big talmid chacham that he was, would draw up the appropriate shtar mechira, a halachic document that would enable R’ Yeshaye to dispose of his chometz in the proper manner. Besides, this was R’ Yeshaye’s way of providing the Rav with a side income; the Rav was handsomely paid for his services. Of course, at the Rav’s starvation wages, anything would be considered handsome payment, but that’s another matter.

At about eight or so in the morning of that erev Pesach, a messenger summoned R’ Yeshaye to the mansion. Upon arriving there, R’ Yeshaye saw the Poritz sitting at a table with...the meshumad (convert). Well, that’s what everyone called him. In those days, if someone converted... (well, you know what I mean)... they considered him dead or, even worse, someone who had never lived. So everyone just called him “the meshumad.” [MB1] Anyway, the Poritz and the meshumad were sitting there, wicked smiles on their lips. Not one for subtlety, the Poritz immediately exclaimed, “Yeshaye, I turned the Rabbi back. He’s not coming. You know, I think you’ve been cheating me lately (here he glanced at the meshumad). Yes, I’ m sure of it! I’ve decided to teach you a lesson. This Pesach you’re not going to sell your chometz. You’ll just have to keep it, in violation of your religion!” At this, the Poritz’s face broke out in a broad smile of self-congratulation. He had contrived to find the most exquisite torture possible for a pious Jew. To have chometz on Pesach! To be over (sin) on baal yeira’eh baal yematzeh!

That accursed meshumad, R’ Yeshaye thought to himself. Who else but a Jew would even know about such things? To the Poritz, it was merely another prank. He expected R’ Yeshaye’s face to contort with horror. He thought he would throw himself on his hands and knees and beg the Poritz not to do it. The Jew’s wailing and howling would make a great story for the Poritz to tell at the next party in the mansion. How they would all laugh, especially the ladies! The Poritz did a very good imitation of a Jew. Everybody said so. This time he would have all his guests bent over in laughter as be imitated “his” Jew writhing in agony over the sin of not “selling” his Jewish food for a week. (What silly customs these people had!) Yes, the guests would talk about it for weeks, and he, the Poritz, would bask in the admiration of his fellow aristocrats. To be a social lion, even for a week, that’s what mattered to these great landowners more than anything else in life!

R’ Yeshaye did not say a word. He turned around, left the mansion, and ran down the hill to his warehouses. Without saying a word, he proceeded to unlock each warehouse (it was getting late!) and throw open the doors. To the peasants who were watching he shouted in Polish, “Take it! Take it all! I renounce all ownership, do you understand? This doesn’t belong to me anymore! Kol chamira vachamiya d‘ika birshusi…” he shouted. Then he repeated it in Polish at the top of his voice.

Well, you can imagine what happened. You can’t? Never been in the Polish countryside? Well, the news traveled like wildfire, and within minutes, peasants were descending on the warehouses like locusts, especially on the warehouses that contained the barrels of whiskey. The Poritz was summoned to his porch and watched, horror-stricken, as peasants streamed in to loot the warehouses. Then the news reached the mansion. Yeshaye the Jew had given away all the warehouses, the warehouses near the mansion and the warehouses in the village. Everybody could take whatever he wished, first come, first served!

The Poritz and the meshumad looked at each other with the strangest expression on their faces. I can’t really describe it; you had to be there. Anyway, the Poritz had to think fast (so he told R’ Yeshaye years later); he hadn’t really intended for R’ Yeshaye to lose everything he had, for then, R’ Yeshaye would not be able to pay his debts to the Poritz. (This was an agricultural economy, remember? Everything ran on credit.) Secondly, he did not want all his peasants to get roaring drunk, unable and unwilling to work for at least two weeks. The Poritz stood to lose a fortune if that were to happen. So the Poritz immediately had R’ Yeshaye brought before him.

“Have you gone out of your mind?” he screamed at the Jew.

Calmly, R’ Yeshaye told the Poritz that such was the din, the Jewish religious law. Chometz that wasn’t sold before erev Pesach in the morning had to be hefkered, that is, the Jew had to give it all away and renounce all ownership. Such was G­d’s law.

“Is G-d crazy?!” exclaimed the Poritz.

“I would sincerely advise Your Excellency not to blaspheme against the Almighty G-d. All who do so come to a horrible end. Take Pharaoh, for example. I say this as Your Excellency’s friend, one who would save you from a bad fate.”

“Get out of here at once, you crazy Jew!” screamed the Poritz. Yeshaye exited quickly. The Poritz cast an angry glance at the meshumad, as if to say, “This is all your fault!” Then he sprang into action. Summoning his overseers, he ordered them to see to it that the warehouses were not looted. If his instructions were not obeyed to the letter, heads would roll! Remember, in those days this was not a figure of speech.

The overseers immediately deployed soldiers (yes, the Poritzim had their own private armies, whole battalions, in fact) to stand guard in front of each and every warehouse. The sight of those fierce soldiers with their loaded rifles and their fixed bayonets sobered the peasants very quickly, and all looting ceased.

So it was a strange Pesach. The Jews were celebrating their Seder and the rest of the holiday in a village full of soldiers guarding the chometz that no longer belonged to R’ Yeshaye. You might say that the whole holiday was one long leil shimurim (night of watching).

Finally Pesach was over, and the Poritz summoned R’ Yeshaye. “Okay,” he said, “your holiday is over, and we can put this crazy business behind us. Here are your locks. Take your stores and warehouses back. You’re going to need all your money back because I intend to charge you for the services of my soldiers, who guarded your stuff for over a week.”

“Sorry, your Excellency,” said R’ Yeshaye, “I cannot do that. According to the din, our religious law, chometz that wasn’t sold before Pesach is prohibited to us. In my case, I wasn’t able to sell my chometz before Pesach… but I guess you know about that.”

A smile broke out on the Poritz’s face. What an amusing turn of events! Things hadn’t turned out as he had planned, but they never really do when you deal with Jews. “Well, Yeshaye, I’ll bring the Rabbi here. I don’t trust you. You might flee from my estate, and then from whom would I collect my money? I’ll send my own coach with the meshumad here, who speaks Yiddish. They’ll bring the Rabbi, and I’ll have a little talk with him. If he listens to reason, he will forget all this foolishness and permit you to repossess everything.”

An hour later, the Poritz’s coach pulled up in front of the Rav’s small house in the village. As soon as the Rav saw the meshumad enter his house, he turned white and cried, “Ribono Shel Olam! This surely portends some new catastrophe. First R’ Yeshaye and now me!”

The meshumad brusquely commanded the Rav to come with him at once. The Rav, certain that he was about to embark upon his last earthly journey, summoned his household, blessed them, divided his sefarim among his heirs (he didn’t own anything else, after all), recited the viduy (confession) of Rabbeinu Nissim, and left with the meshumad.

As soon as he was brought before the Poritz, the latter shouted, “Now see here, I command you to permit Yeshaye to repossess his warehouses and stores and everything in them. If you don’t, I’ll have you flogged to death and eaten by my dogs for supper!”

Straightening himself as best as his old bones would allow, the Rav answered back with great dignity, “It all depends on the din. If the din permits R’ Yeshaye to take it all back, fine. But if the din does not allow this, I will not depart from what the din says, neither to the right nor to the left, even if you kill me! Now, you’re going to have to let me discuss the whole matter with R’ Yeshaye here, so that I’ll know all the details of the case and be able to render my verdict.”

All this was spoken with such simple dignity, such confidence and matter-of-factness, that the Poritz was taken aback yet not offended. He gave his assent with a whimsical gesture of his hand, and two minutes later R’ Yeshaye and the Rav were huddled together in the grand ballroom of the Poritz’s mansion. It was quite a sight: the huge empty ballroom, the scene of so many grand affairs – the Poritz owned his own orchestra, you know, and used to entertain the king himself on occasion, along with all the bluebloods and the bishops – now entirely empty, save for  two bearded Jews in the middle of the dance floor, gesticulating and arguing back and forth about the halachic status of the chometz in the warehouses, about the rules of chometz she’avar alav hapesach (chometz that had not been sold before Pesach), and many other matters never before mentioned in that grand ballroom.

R’ Yeshaye was a talmid chocham himself, you know, so he and the Rav had an extended and stimulating discussion. Finally, they both concluded that since the chometz had really been made hefker, ownerless, it did not fall into the category of chometz she’avar alav hapesach, and R’ Yeshaye was allowed to repossess it. But from whom? Who had acquired the title to the ownerless chometz during Pesach? Why, the Poritz, of course. It was he who had positioned his soldiers around the warehouses and had prevented anyone else from touching the merchandise. Halachically, he had taken possession of the ownerless chometz. The halachic solution to the situation, the Rav told R’ Yeshaye, was for the Poritz to give all the chometz to R’ Yeshaye as a matanah, a present. There were halachic ways of bestowing gifts, and the easiest way in this situation was through a document of gift which the Rav would draw up in accordance with the dictates of Jewish law. Then everything would go back to the way it had been before the whole business started, which was precisely what the Poritz wanted.

Five minutes later, the two Jews told the Poritz about the verdict, namely, that in the eyes of the Jewish religious law he, the Poritz, was the owner of the warehouses and their merchandise, and that he must now agree to issue a Jewish deed of gift bestowing it all on R’ Yeshaye, who would then become the owner. Upon hearing this, the Poritz laughed heartily and exclaimed, “I accept your verdict, worthy Rabbi. I like you; you have courage, although I wouldn’t have suspected it.”

“With your permission, Excellency, I would like to get down to business. Now, under Jewish law, I need two Jews to witness the document.”

“Well,” said the Poritz, who, strangely enough, was enjoying the whole episode, “You’re one Jew. That’s one witness. As for the second Jew, let’s take the meshumad here. He’s a kind of Jew, isn’t he?” The meshumad was turning colors and twisting nervously. He certainly hadn’t counted on this humiliation when he had concocted the whole scheme before Pesach! So, in the eyes of the goyim he was still a dirty Jew after all!

The Rav was also hugely enjoying the spectacle of the meshumad’s discomfiture. Twisting the knife (rhetorically speaking), the Rav said, “It’s true, if there’s no kosher Jew available, we can use this treif Jew bedi’eved (if we have to). According to Jewish law, once a Jew, always a Jew.”

At this the meshumad thought he was going to become sick on the spot. The Poritz observed his reaction with malicious glee.

The Rav sat down, was given pen and paper, and drew up the Hebrew document in a minute and a half. He then signed it and gave the pen to the meshumad, who signed with a shaking hand. The Rav gave the document to the Poritz, who was directed to hand it to R’ Yeshaye and to recite the halachic formula, first in Hebrew (what a sight!), then in Polish, whereby possession of all the merchandise was transferred to R’ Yeshaye the Jew.

“There, that’s done!” said the Poritz. “Now, as to the money you owe me for the soldiers, I figure it comes out to no less than 70 rubles (a large sum in those days).”

“Well, your Excellency,” replied R’ Yeshaye. “First, let’s figure out how much you owe the Rav here.”

“Yeshaye, you thieving Jew,” roared the Poritz, an amused smile on his face. “What are you talking about! How do you figure out that I owe the Rabbi anything?”

“It’s like this, Excellency. Because of your ‘action,’ I could not sell my chometz this year, as I ordinarily do. Every year I pay the Rav 50 rubles to sell my chometz. So because of your Excellency, he’s out 50 rubles this year. I think it is only fair that you recompense him for his loss.”

“Fifty rubles!” shouted the meshumad. “Fifty rubles! Excellency, I assure you that the Rabbi here has never seen the sum of 50 rubles even in his dreams! This is a Jewish swindle!”

“Shut up!” barked the Poritz, who, strange to say, was having the time of his life. Turning to R’ Yeshaye, he said, “So, Yeshaye, you figure I owe him 50 rubles. Is that all?”

“No, Excellency. It is customary to recompense a Rabbi for answering a shailah, a question of Jewish religious law. The Rabbi has worked matters out to everyone’s satisfaction, has he not? Don’t you think he should be suitably rewarded?”

“Is that all?”

“No, Excellency. The meshumad scared the Rabbi half to death when he appeared so suddenly and roughly in his house this morning to summon him to the mansion. It wasn’t necessary to treat him in a manner so unbecoming his dignity. I think the Rav is entitled to compensation.”

“Were you really so frightened? You don’t seem to be a cowardly person,” said the Poritz to the Rav.

“Excellency, when the meshumad showed up at my house unannounced this morning, I though he was coming to kill me. I recited vidui, the confession before death, and made out my will.”

“What? Do you think we gentiles are such a bunch of murderers?! Just because a non-Jew enters into your house you think he’s coming to kill you?”

“Excellency, I’m sure you know Polish history better than I do.” 

“So! You are scared of us, eh?

“Very scared.”

“You’re afraid of dogs, too, aren’t you?” This was said in a cynical tone of voice.

“It’s in the Scriptures,” interjected R’ Yeshaye. “Isaiah 56:11: ‘Dogs are vicious creatures.’”

“Shut up, Yeshaye, I’m talking to the Rabbi.”

“Yes, Excellency.”

Hands on his hips, the Poritz intoned, “Now, I’m going to be the Rabbi around here and give you my verdict. Rabbi, I award you the sum of 25 rubles for the fright you were caused this morning, and 10 more rubles for your services here. Also, I’ll throw in a sack of potatoes for your family. Is that satisfactory?”

“Yes!” exclaimed the Rav.

“Now, Yeshaye here claims that I cost you 50 rubles for not selling the chometz. Well, what’s the total I’m no mathematician.”

“An incredible sum!” interjected the meshumad. “Fifty rubles plus 25 plus 10 comes to 85 rubles! That’s more than the Rav makes in a lifetime!”

“Is that true? Are the Jews so cheap that they pay their Rabbi such a paltry salary? Shame on you, Yeshaye! This man was willing to die for his religion, and you people treat him like dirt! Let’s make it an even 100 rubles and call it a day. After all, he’ll need some money to marry off his little daughters. You have daughters, don’t you, Rabbi?”

“Many, Excellency.

“Then it’s settled.”

The Poritz left the room and returned a minute later with a large purse containing the money. Handing it to the Rav, he said, “This is so you’ll remember that when it pleases us, we Poritzim know how to reward as well as how to punish.” The two Jews exited.

And that, believe it or not, is the end of the story.