On one of the mailinglists, the question was raised about permissible activity during Chol HaMoed.
[Chol HaMoed: חול המועד - the intermediate days of an eight day festival such as Peysach or Sukkos.]
What one MUST do is enjoy the holiday. But is one allowed to work?
Well, yes. Within limitations.
The five types of permitted work are as follows:
1. Davar HaAveid: Work which is necessary to prevent loss or damage provided it does not require overmuch effort (tircha yeteira).
2. Tzorchei HaMoed: Work that is necessary for yom tov or chol hamoed needs.
3. Bishvil po-eil she ein lo ma yochal: That which enables another to earn money for food or other yom tov essentials during chol hamoed.
4. Tzorchei Rabim: Work that benefits society.
5. Maasei Hediyot: Simple tasks, including makeshift repairs that are necessary.
Work that involves much effort, or professional competence, is discouraged.
Whether these conditions are d'oraisa or d'rabbanan is a matter of considerable debate - the Tur holds insists on the latter, Rabbi Yosef Karo opines the former. The Rambam waffles considerably on the issue, and the machlokes continues.
I have been at the office everyday during chol hamoed. I am, as you may have guessed, not a shomerish type person. But on the other hand, nothing I do really qualifies as work. Even during the rest of the year I am here to be entertained. This is my living room, my cockpit, my window on the universe.
Especially now.
There's a drawer full of chocolate hidden in the Accounting Department. All kinds of chocolate. A surfeit of seasonal goodness. And I know where it is. Not everybody does, but I do.
I am zipped to the eye-brows, all day, everyday. Life is very good indeed.
But, in honour of the season, and so that at least part of me is Peysachdik, I have placed a kippah on my computer. As a zeicher of the zaman. But also because without the computer I might as well be a half-wit.
This thing does a lot of my thinking for me, and there is much kedoosha within.
Caffeine. Theobromine. Sugar. Wheeeeeeee!!!!!! Chag sameach.
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THE AIR IS CRUNCHY!
Perhaps it's the weather. There were fewer people than normal about in Chinatown. The chachanteng where I went for lunch had four tables...
16 comments:
There is just a little bit of causistry in the statement: "nothing I do really qualifies as work". If it's not work, then why are they paying you? Surely, all that verbal sparring with Tifanny, Amber, Bambi, and other pubescent halfwits, has to qualify as "work"?
It seems to me that BOTH is being very Jesuitical, kippah on his computer notwithstanding.
I understand what you are saying. Even though my work itself is dificult and onerous, my office is also my sanctum, my computer desk, a large part of my human contact etc. When I was laid up awhile back, I actually dragged myself back to my office earlier than the doctors thought reasonable. It turns out that, in a way, I missed it. Its not just a value to not work on Shabbes, its also of value to labor the other six days.
R
Surely, all that verbal sparring with Tifanny, Amber, Bambi, and other pubescent halfwits,What!!?!?!?!??!?!? Atboth gets to spar with pubescents???!?! Why does he get all the luck? This is outrageous! I insist on his job, as I being a layer can undoubtedly do it one hundred times better while sparring with female pubescents. This is most unfair!
---Grant Patel
And this of course explains why the delightfully tempting snarkbitch miss Wong feels the attractions which she does to this blog, and why he lurks upon her pages too. It is somekind of psychic bond. Depraved, I tell you, utterly.
Why, it would not me in the slightest surprise to discover that already they had exchanged panties! Both such perverts it is schocking!
---Grant Patel
And her a happily unmarried small person too? I would so mnuch be a better panty pal of the teenage thing! Oh the horror, the horror!
---Grant Patel
Did I already mention that I am extremely jealous? I should have. This should describe MY daily doses. Pubescents, indeed.
---Grant Prudehumbug
"...as I being a layer..."
What, precisely, is Patel Sahib "a layer" of? Eggs? A layer of prurient matter? Elucidation requested: we are all agog.
My guess would be a layer of slime left by a large banana slug.
And this of course explains why the delightfully tempting snarkbitch miss Wong feels the attractions which she does to this blog, and why he lurks upon her pages too. It is somekind of psychic bond. Depraved, I tell you, utterly.Delightfully tempting snarkbitch? Thanks for the compliment, I think.
And yes, there is a psychic bond - the sane always feel attracted to each other. What are YOU doing here?
Why, it would not me in the slightest surprise to discover that already they had exchanged panties! Both such perverts it is schocking!Nah, not yet. But maybe soon. Especially if you keep getting so ired. We live to piss you off.
Mm, chocolate and theobromine are really the only reasons I drag myself in every day. I keep Reese's P-butter cups in my desk drawer.
I keep Reese's P-butter cups in my desk drawer. Reese's Peanutbutter Cups are purely addictive. You don't want one. Then you have the first...... And before you know it, you've gone across the street to Walgreens to buy an entire bagfull, having cleared out the stash in the filing cabinet. So you also get some Kitkats while you're there. And Milky Way Dark, just one. Might as well make it two, or better yet the large bag of bite-sized. Hey! The also have Cadbury! And I haven't had a Mars bar in so long.........
No, I won't join y'all for lunch, I'm good....
We live to piss you off.Hah, I knew it! I knew it all along, you cannot fool me no matter how much you deny it! No point in claiming otherwise, my inherent brilliance sufficient it is to drive you two into frenzies of paroxismic perversity! It is CLEAR!
What size panty does he give you, little miss Wong? Is it mile to big for your petite patookus? I fondly hope?
---Grant Terpweed
When you say Reese's Peanutbutter Cups, I presume you are talking about the "King Size" variety, which taste so much better than the little squat ones whch come by the bagful.
"They're all like 'Stop spraying me with ink Zoidberg!' 'Put on pants Zoidberg!' 'Don't touch our fancy box Zoidberg'...Bah! Some day they'll watch, from down in the gutter they will, as King Zoidberg caresses their fancy box!"
"Ah, the years. So many memories. So many strange fluids gushing from patients bodies."
Kippah is a great mitsvah!
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