Hot cross buns may come and go, but doughnuts are forever

One of the three teachings of the Men of the Great Assembly (Avot 1:1) is so short that it just can’t help attracting attention:

עֲשׂוּ סְיָג לַתּוֹרָה

Make a fence around the Torah.

One of the usual explanations runs along the lines of how important it is to buttress Torah observance by what we might call double-wrapping the mitzvot to keep them safe (Rambam, Bartenura, commentary ascribed to Rashi).  If this was necessary at the beginning of the Second Temple period, it might be even more imperative to build halachic fences in order to counter yeridat hadorot, generational decline, and to combat the effects of war and persecution (Rabbi Avraham Azulai, Ahavah beTa’anugim).

There are other explanations too. Rabbenu Yonah writes of how one who respects the rabbinical decrees is more beloved of God than one who merely keeps the Torah. For Rabbi Chaim Palagi (Einei Kol Chai), fences are there to protect the truly humble person who doesn’t trust himself to avoid the Torah’s prohibitions. The Anaf Yosef shows how, by distancing oneself from the risk of transgression, one is actually emulating the example of the Torah itself where it teaches (Vayikra 18:19) that a man should not even draw close to his menstruating wife.

I have always wondered who the Men of the Great Assembly were addressing. At the time they taught this mishnah, were they not the most appropriate people body to identify and issue Torah-friendly decrees that would safely hedge both positive and negative commandments that might need extra protection? And did they have a sense of who would be best equipped to issue tanakot and gezeirot (positive and negative decrees) once the Assembly no longer existed?

A quite different perspective on our mishnah can be found in Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum’s Divrei Yoel al Pirkei Avot, where he looks at fences around the Torah in terms of minhagim, customs, in contrast with laws. He notes the strength of custom within Jewish society and its ability to bind the community together across the generations. Jews, he notes, have a tendency to cling to their old customs while wider society tends to jettison them. 

The interesting thing about customs is that they develop whenever there is a need for them. You don’t need a Sanhedrin, a Beit Din or an influential rabbi to institute them: they just evolve. The lesson of Avot 1:1 is therefore a lesson that speaks to all of us, across the years and wherever Jewish life is found: let us support and develop our customs since it is they that provide the protective stratum of lifestyle that helps keep us attached to Torah even if we may feel we are being pulled away.

Is it true, though, that while Jewish customs and practies tend to persevere, those of wider society do not? Thinking through my own lifetime, I witnessed many changes in English society, and these generally involved the abandonment of formerly cherished customs. One such custom was for children to dress up a dummy and parade it through the streets (or place it strategically outside a tube station), asking passers-by for a “penny for the guy” with which to purchase fireworks for Guy Fawkes Night. Another was Trafalgar Day (21 October), when we celebrated victory over the combined French and Spanish fleets in the Battle of Trafalgar.  Even when food is concerned, what was once ubiquitous has now become quite rare: witness the practice of tossing and eating pancakes on Shrove Tuesday (Pancake Day) and the consumption of hot cross buns on Good Friday. While these activities may have originally had a religious basis, back in the 1950s they were a national pastime.  On contrast, while sufganiyot (doughnuts) and oznei Haman or hamantaschen (“Haman’s ears”) may have undergone changes in recipe, the customs continue.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.