Why should a mitzvah have a taste?

On Chullin 132b, Rav Chisda says that the gifts given to a kohen are eaten roasted and with mustard. The Gemara explains: “למשחה — לגדולה, כדרך שהמלכים אוכלים” — for distinction, in the manner that kings eat. Receiving these gifts involves more than obtaining food. Their dignity should enter the way they are eaten.

In the sicha of the second night of Pesach 5721, the Rebbe brings this language into an explanation of the wise son’s question. A note in section 17 points to our daf when describing the roasted eating of the korban Pesach as a dignified manner of eating. The reference is brief, but it belongs to a substantial argument about what serving Hashem asks of a person.^{Toras Menachem 30 · second night of Pesach 5721 · §§14–17}

The wise son asks about the “testimonies, statutes, and laws” that Hashem commanded. Why does the Haggadah answer him with the rule that nothing is eaten after the korban Pesach? Why choose this particular law, at the very end of the meal?

The Rebbe first deepens the question itself.

A person can appreciate mitzvos differently. Some make immediate sense. Others become understandable once their purpose is explained. Others exceed our understanding, and we fulfill them because Hashem commanded them.

But the wise son, as the Rebbe interprets him here, speaks from profound bittul: devotion in which Hashem’s will, rather than the person’s own preferences, determines the act. From that standpoint, every mitzvah has the same foundation. Whether or not he understands it, this is what Hashem wants.

His question is therefore not a request for elementary information. Why should mitzvos be divided according to their relationship with human understanding at all? If the point is Hashem’s will, why give these distinctions such weight?

The answer begins with the laws of Pesach.

Pesach expresses a leap beyond the ordinary sequence of spiritual levels. Yet the korban Pesach was governed by precise instructions: taking the animal, slaughtering it, offering it, and eating it. The leap did not make the details unnecessary. Hashem’s will was that what exceeds ordinary measure should enter measured acts.

The same is true within a person. The soul’s devotion beyond its individual faculties must enter those faculties, including the mind. Understanding is not allowed to become the condition of our commitment; neither is commitment meant to leave understanding unused.

Now the final law of the meal becomes intelligible.

The korban Pesach is eaten after the other food, al hasova, in a manner of enjoyment and distinction, rather than simply to quiet hunger. Its taste must then remain: no other food follows to displace it. The Rebbe describes a pleasure that reaches beyond satisfying one’s immediate lack. A person can take pleasure in something whose significance exceeds the limits of the self.

Eating makes the point concrete. The offering does not remain outside the person. It enters and becomes “blood and flesh of his flesh.” So, too, the devotion expressed by Pesach must be brought inward. The mind should work to understand; the person should acquire a taste for the mitzvah.

This answers the wise son. Our faculties are not competitors to devotion that must be left behind. Hashem wants that devotion to enter them.

Return now to Rav Chisda’s words: roasted meat, mustard, and “the manner that kings eat.”

Read alone, they might sound like a fixed menu. There is one dignified way to eat, and the kohen must conform to it, whatever he actually enjoys.

Tosafos complicates that reading. Elsewhere, the Gemara allows kohanim to eat sacred meat roasted, stewed, or cooked, and invokes the same principle of lemoshchah — dignified eating. How can one principle support both a specified preparation and freedom to choose?

Tosafos answers that a person may eat the gifts in the way that is best and most enjoyable for him. When roasted and cooked meat are equally enjoyable to him, he should choose roasted meat, which is the more distinguished manner.^{Chullin 132b · dignified eating}

That qualification changes what we hear in the original statement. “Like kings” is not merely an external appearance imposed on the recipient. The eater’s actual enjoyment matters. Yet enjoyment does not erase the standard of dignity: when preference does not distinguish between the preparations, that standard still guides the choice.

The Rebbe’s teaching helps us appreciate why these two elements belong together. Something given in the service of Hashem need not remain an external badge of honor. Its significance can reach the recipient’s own experience. Personal enjoyment can participate in the mitzvah without becoming its sole measure.

This is an editorial reading illuminated by the sicha, not a claim that the Rebbe explicitly explains Tosafos here. Nor does it equate the laws of priestly gifts with those of the korban Pesach. The korban Pesach has its own requirement to be roasted; Tosafos’ flexibility about the gifts does not change it.

The specific gain on our daf is this: Rav Chisda’s standard of dignified eating does not require ignoring the person who eats. Tosafos preserves both the gift’s dignity and the recipient’s enjoyment. The Rebbe gives us language for their coexistence: devotion can enter personal faculties without becoming subordinate to them.

Choose one mitzvah you already keep, including when you do not feel much enthusiasm for it. Do not make its observance wait for a better feeling.

Then bring one more part of yourself into it.

Before davening, learn the meaning of one sentence you ordinarily say quickly. Before giving tzedakah, consider the actual good the gift can accomplish, while protecting the recipient’s dignity. In a regular learning session, stay with one explanation until you can say clearly what you now understand.

These are suggested applications, not additional halachic requirements or quoted instructions from the Rebbe.

Afterward, allow a brief pause before the next distraction. Ask: what did I understand, appreciate, or attend to that I usually pass over?

Some days the answer will be modest. The mitzvah does not lose its worth because the feeling was absent. Keep the commitment, and keep making room for understanding and enjoyment to grow.

You have done what Hashem asks. Now let more of you take part in doing it.