For those of you hearty enough to come to shul on the seventh day of Pesach, I want to share with you a love story—in fact a Pesach double love story.  But to appreciate this double love story, we need first to talk about halakha, Jewish law.  When was the last time that happened in a sermon? 

The Torah commands us to have no chametz in our possession during the holiday of Pesach.  Chametz is  defined as five species of grain: wheat, barley, spelt, rye, and oats.  It is not just that we can’t eat chametz.  It is also that we cannot have chametz, cannot own chametz.  Our homes have to be chametz-free.

Now we have all had the experience, when cleaning our house for Pesach, of finding in the back of the food pantry a stale box of crackers with the expiration date of February 2020.  We happily dispose of the stale crackers grateful for the impetus Pesach gives us to do a deep cleaning of our kitchen once a year.

But what do we do with all the chametz that is fresh, the fresh boxes of pasta and crackers?  It would be wasteful to throw out perfectly good food.  So our tradition has evolved this legal fiction called mechirat chametz, selling our chametz to a gentile, to a person who is not commanded to have no chametz in their home.  Dan loves this mitzvah.  Starting around Thanksgiving, he will announce that it is time to start selling our chametz for Pesach.   This year Dan sold our chametz to our wonderful receptionist Rhiannon.  Since she is not Jewish, she is allowed to own as much chametz as she wants.  She owns the chametz of the members of Temple Emanuel who empowered Dan to sell to her.  Theoretically Rhiannon is legally allowed to enter your home, go to your basement, eat your crackers and pretzels, drink your beer, imbibe your scotch.  But it is a legal fiction.  It would never happen.  The point of this legal fiction is to gesture towards two competing values.  One, no chametz during Pesach. Two, don’t waste food.  When the holiday is over tomorrow night, Dan will buy back your chametz from Rhiannon.  As a result of this legal maneuver, you did not own any chametz on Pesach, and you did not waste perfectly good food.

What does this dry legalism have to do with a love story?  Last week the Journal had a story about the halachic problems posed by observant dog owners during Pesach.  Dog food is rife with chametz.  It is made of forbidden grains.  It is true of course that we don’t eat dog food.  But the legal prohibition is not just not to eat it, but also not to have it in our possession.  Feeding our beloved dog Rover means having chametz in our homes.  What is an observant dog owner to do?