Passover, Rice, and the B’nei Menashe: An Interview with Rabbi Shlomo Gangte

(March 23) Some Jews, mostly Sephardim, eat rice on Passover. Others, mostly Ashkenazim, do not. The question, although long debated by the rabbis, cannot be said to have great importance for most Jews. Not so the 10,000-strong B’nei Menashe community of Israel and India, for which, at least as far as its older generation is concerned, rice is such a dietary staple that few meals can be imagined without it.

Rabbi Shlomo Gangte, one of the community’s three Israeli-trained rabbis, agreed to be interviewed on the subject by our Newsletter. Back for the Passover holiday from Paraguay, where he works as a kosher slaughterer and Kashrut inspector, Rabbi Gangte spoke to us from his family’s home in Bet El in Samaria. Here is a digest of our conversation:

Newsletter: Welcome home, Rabbi Gangte! Let’s talk about rice and Passover.

Rabbi Gangte: What would you like to know?

Newsletter: Let’s begin by asking whether the dispute over eating rice on the holiday is a question of Jewish law or of Jewish custom.

Rabbi Gangte: It’s basically one of custom. The law is clear on the matter. Rice on Passover is not forbidden. There’s an explicit ruling to that effect in the Mishnah, in the tractate of Pesachim, where it is written that five types of grain, wheat, barley, emmer, rye, and oats, are forbidden on Passover and two others, rice and millet, are permitted.

Newsletter: Then why should there be a dispute about it?

Rabbi Gangte: There already was one in Talmudic times. In a discussion of the passage from Pesachim in the Gemara [the second and longer part of the Talmud that is a commentary on the Mishnah], one rabbi, Yochanan ben Nuri, states that rice and millet should be forbidden too, because while they do not ferment fully when wetted like the other grains, they do ferment partially. But the Gemara makes it clear that the majority ruled against him.

Rice stalks

wheat stalks

Newsletter: Then why are some opposed to the eating of rice on Passover?

Rabbi Gangte: For two reasons. The first is the rabbinic principle of s’yag la-torah [literally “a fence around the Torah”]. One refrains from doing certain things even though they are permitted because it might lead to doing other things that are forbidden. In the case of rice, Jews who don’t know better might see an observant Jew eating it and think. “If rice is a grain and it’s all right to eat it on Passover, it must be all right to eat all grains.”

Newsletter: And the second reason?

Rabbi Gangte: The second reason has to do with agricultural practice. There are parts of the world, particularly in Asia, where rice, which is grown in the monsoon season, is double-cropped with wheat, which needs less water and is grown in the dry season. When rice is harvested by hand, in the traditional manner, there is less danger of stray wheat stalks getting into it, because the harvesters know the difference. But when it’s done mechanically, as is more and more the case, it’s impossible to keep the stray wheat out. Not only that, but the same machines that mill the rice are also used to mill wheat. They’re full of wheat dust.

Newsletter: And that would contaminate the rice for Passover?

Rabbi Gangte: It’s impossible to be too careful. The Torah says that the punishment for not observing the Passover properly is karet. There are two interpretations of what the word means. One is that the sinner won’t live out his appointed days, while the other is that he will be denied life in the World-to-Come. In either case, it’s the most fearful of all biblical punishments. Why run the risk of courting it?

Newsletter: But Sephardi tradition nevertheless permits rice on Passover. Is this because those following it lived in rice-producing-and-consuming regions such as the Middle East, while rice was never grown and rarely eaten by the Ashkenazim of central and eastern Europe?

Rabbi Gangte: No doubt. Yosef Karo [the author of the Shulhan Arukh, the authoritative compendium of Jewish law written in the 16th century], who confirmed the Mishnah’s ruling in his book Bet Yosef, was a Sephardi. But he lived before the age of mechanized agriculture, and even in his time, not all Jews who observed Sephardi traditions ate rice on Passover. There were Moroccan and Iraqi Jews who didn’t. And there are B’nei Menashe who don’t either, even though most of them do.

Newsletter: Is this because Shavei Israel saw to it, starting with the early years of this century, that the B’nei Menashe community followed Sephardi practices? If rice is so important to it, didn’t Shavei show foresight in insisting it identify as Sephardi?

Rabbi Gangte: The B’nei Menashe’s eating rice on Passover didn’t start with Shavei. Even before then, when Rabbi Eliyahu Avichayil was the community’s mentor, rice was eaten by it on Passover, too. Though he himself was an Ashkenazi, Rabbi Avichayil didn’t object to this. He taught us that the rule of the thumb in Judaism is that one follows the practices of one’s ancestors, and since the B’nei Menashe had no immediate Jewish ancestors, they should feel free to choose the permissible practices best suited to them.

Mepoh, a traditional B’nei Menashe meat and rice stew

Newsletter: Yet you yourself abstain from rice like an Ashkenazi!

Rabbi Gangte: Yes, as a matter of s’yag la-torah. The more distance one puts between oneself and possible wrongdoing, the better.

Newsletter: What would you say to someone from the B’nei Menashe community who came to consult you about the matter?

Rabbi Gangte: I would say, “It’s better to abstain from rice, but if you find it truly difficult to get along without it for the days of the holiday, go ahead and eat it. Just be sure to sift it before cooking at least three times to make sure no wheat has gotten into it.”

I would also add, though, that getting along without foods we’re used to, such as bread, is an intrinsic part of Passover. It’s a holiday of renewal, of casting off old habits and starting anew. There are enough other things to eat on it besides bread and rice. Passover is a holiday of liberation, of habits we can liberate ourselves from, too. And it’s also a holiday of redemption. Now that we are on the verge of being redeemed from the plague of Corona, as Israel was redeemed from Egypt and its ten plagues, we still must await the greater Redemption that lies ahead.

Brass Wine Jug Tells of Olden Days

(March 17) “It was given me by my father, who said it belonged to his grandfather,” Demsat Haokip, 52, told our Newsletter. Haokip, a former vice-chairman of the Beith Shalom synagogue in Churachandpur who is still awaiting his Aliyah, was commenting on a photograph he had sent us of a brass wine jug that has come down to him from his ancestors. Since Demsat’s grandfather inherited it from his own father, the jug is at least four generations old and must date to no later than the early 20th or late 19th century.

“According to what I was told,” says Demsat, “the jug was used as a ritual wine container for animal sacrifices. Since I never saw such a sacrifice myself, I can’t tell you exactly how it was used. This was in the old days when our old religion was still practiced, before the British came and brought Christianity. In those days, every village had a chief, a priest, and a blacksmith. The priest conducted religious rituals, but the blacksmith was just as important and no village could get along without one. Smiths made pots, pans, knives, swords, agricultural tools, and whatever else was needed by the villagers, and I assume that ritual objects like this jug were made by them, too.”

Demsat with the jug

Elitsur Haokip, 85, who came to Israel in 2014 and lives in the Lower Galilee town of Migdal ha-Emek, is a generation older than Demsat. Having seen many sacrifices before they vanished as a result of Christianization, he knew exactly how the jug was used. “It’s a zuphit khon,” he said after studying the photograph, using a Kuki terms that means “wine-spraying vessel.” When sacrificing a goat or other animal on an altar, he explained, the priest sipped rice wine from the jug and sprayed it from his mouth onto the ground as a libation to Pathen, the supreme God of the old, pre-Christian religion. Perhaps this was a way of saying, “This wine is for God, and so rather than drink it myself I will give it to Him.” This particular zuphit khon, Elitsur said, was “a real treasure. Its owner must have been wealthy by the standards of those times. Not everyone could afford such an object. Most wine containers were shaped like this one but were made by a potter from clay. Smaller ones were of bamboo.”

Elitsur Haokip

Elitsur agreed that the jug was most likely made by a village smith. The brass, he said, would have been heated to its melting point and poured into a clay mold that was broken after the metal cooled. Its filigree crosshatching would have been made separately and soldered to it. Besides being an indispensable part of religious rituals,” Elitsur told us, “rice wine was widely drunk on social occasions, especially on holidays and festivals. For social drinking, there were special gobletsmade of hollowed and dried gourds.”

Elitsur did not think that possession of a ritual wine jug necessarily meant that its original owner was a village priest. “In the old pre-Christian religion,” he says, “there were public sacrifices that the priest performed, but there were also private ones that were conducted within the family and presided over by the head of each household. The zuphit khon in the photograph could have belonged to such a family.”

Demsat Haokip wishes he knew more. “If only I could go back in time and ask my father about these things while he was still alive!” he exclaimed. “There have been many people who wanted to buy this wine jug from me, but I’ve turned down every offer. Such an object is priceless. I’ll never part with it. I plan to bring it with me to Israel, and find a worthy place for it, perhaps in a museum or heritage center.”

B’nei Menashe Voters in Israel Lean Heavily to the Right

(March 17) If next Tuesday’s elections were be to decided by Israel’s B’nei Menashe, the pollsters could confidently predict a landslide for the Right. Indeed, in talking this week to prospective B’nei Menashe voters from all over the country, from Kiryat Arba in the south to Afula and Migdal ha-Emek in the north, our correspondent couldn’t find a single person intending to cast a ballot for a party of the Center or the Left.

Most popular by far was Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu’s Likud. “It’s in our interest to have a right-wing government, and I don’t think there’s a better party to lead it than Likud,” said Ovadia Pachuau, 71, of Afula, in a typical answer to our correspondent’s questions. “True, Likud won’t be able to form a government on its own. It will have to join hands with other, similarly-minded parties. But when I look at potential leaders. I don’t see anyone capable of replacing Bibi at this time. A vast majority of our community feels the same.”

Meir Lotzem, 54, of Kiryat Arba agreed. “As a community,” he told our correspondent, “we have traditionally voted Likud. I myself am no different. I’ve always identified as a Likudnik. It’s in my blood. It’s in all of Kiryat Arba’s B’nei Menashe. And it’s not just them. I’ve talked to friends in the north. The mood there is solidly Likud, too.”

It’s that mood that sways Elitsur Haokip, 83, of Migdal Ha-Emek. “I’m an old man who hasn’t lived in Israel that long and doesn’t know that much about its politics,” he says. “If I were still in India, I’d have more of an opinion. But then, again, my vote counts as much as anyone’s, and from the conversations I hear around me, the Likud is supported by most people. My son and daughter-in-law plan to vote for it and so will I.”

Levana Chongloi

Among younger B’nei Menashe, one finds strong pro-Likud sentiment, too. Levana Chongloi, 28, of Tel Aviv plans to vote for the Netanyahu government because she gives it high marks on the economic and diplomatic fronts. Her one caveat is with its handling of the Corona pandemic. “It was a big letdown,” she states. “The pandemic hit ordinary people badly. A lot of businesses went down, not enough relief came from the government, and health protocols were not enforced uniformly.” Still, she says, “I’ve always voted Likud and I’ll do it this time, too.”

Bat-El Rently, 30, of Bet-El isn’t sure she’ll vote at all. Four elections in two years, she says, is “too much.” But if she does vote – “Well, the last three times it was for Likud and it would probably be the same again. I really can’t think of any other party.”

One of our few interviewees who could was Yitzhak Lhungdim, 25, from Kiryat Arba, for whom the Likud isn’t right-wing enough. Yitzhak plans to vote for Betzalel Smotrich’s Religious Zionism Party. “He’s the politician who is most honest about his opinions,” he says.

David Lhungdim

Another non-Likud voter is David Lhungdim, a religious leader in the B’nei Menashe community of Sderot. “I’m a Haredi, as are many of us in Sderot,” he said. “I and most of my friends will vote for Shas,” the Sephardi religious party. Lhungdim points out that many of Sderot’s B’nei Menashe study in Shas intitutions and share its “ethos of studying Torah and praying for the Jewish nation." He sees a vote for Shas, which can be counted on to join a Netanyahu-led coalition, as a vote for Netanyahu, too. “I feel that the present government with Bibi as prime minister is doing well,” he says. “On the world stage, I don’t see anyone representing Israel as well as he has done. No one who wants to replace him is of the same caliber. I feel that Likud and Shas make a good team.

None of the B’nei Menashe our correspondent spoke to so much as mentioned the corruption charges facing the prime minister, let alone thought they would affect the B’nei Menashe vote. When our correspondent asked Degel Menashe’s executive director Yitzhak Thangjom about this, he said with a laugh that there was an obvious explanation. “Most of us come from Manipur,” he said. “It’s one of the most corrupt states in India, which is not exactly a cleanly run country. We know what real corruption is, and what Netanyahu is being charged with doesn’t strike us as coming close to it.”

Thangjom also thought that the political views of Israel’s B’nei Menashe were unsurprising. “In the first place,” he said, “we are, as a group, nationalistic. We come from a part of the world in which ethnic identity comes first and universalist values count for little, we’ve thrown in our lot with the Jewish people, and we naturally identify with its more militant spokesmen, such as the Likud and other right-wing parties. And secondly, the society that we hail from was traditionally one in which life was dominated by village and regional chiefs. We still have that mentality. The chief is to be respected and obeyed, and no one in Israel is a more powerful chief than Benjamin Netanyahu.”