Half Time Torah

YU's halftime show, with Charlie Harary and others.  

Hold on a Minute, G-d; I’ve got a Call on the Other Line

It was 7:30pm last Thursday evening, and the weather was cold and rainy.  As I crossed the plaza leading to the Kotel I breathed a sigh of relief.  Although the rain had stopped momentarily, it was still too wet for there to be more than about 10 women davening in the ezrat nashim.  I was pleased, because when I had been there for mincha a week earlier, the weather was beautiful and the Kotel was crowded, and I found it too distracting.  I had been disappointed, because after not having been at the Kotel for a year I had expected to find it more meaningful, but I was unable to focus on my davening because of the noise and the talking around me.  Which was one of the reasons I returned a week later, on a cold, rainy evening; I figured it might be the perfect time to find a quiet moment.

And indeed I was correct.  The Kotel was silent.  Most of the men were in the covered area at the left side of the Kotel, and the only sounds to be heard were the quiet pitter-patter of the raindrops that fell sporadically from the sky, and a gentle rustling as women turned pages in their siddurim nearby.  The darkness added to the feeling of privacy, and I felt very moved, standing there at the Kotel.  I don’t normally daven maariv, but that night I did, and it was a tefilla filled with kavana. 

I was in the middle of shemoneh esrei, aware that this davening was more meaningful than any I had said in a while, when my concentration was interrupted by the shrill ring of the cellphone of a woman a few feet from me.  Whether she didn’t want to interrupt her own davening, or whether it was just that she had difficulty extracting her phone from her pocket, the ringing went on for quite a few seconds before she silenced it.  And then her voice rang out loudly and clearly, “Hallo?  Ma nishma?...”  She stood there, one hand resting on the wet stones of the Kotel and one hand holding her phone to her ear, and had a conversation with the person on the other end.  Not bothering to whisper, seemingly unaware that her conversation was disturbing to everyone else. 

My concentration broken, all I could think was, “Really?  At the Kotel?  The closest place in the world to the Shechina, and she is talking on her cellphone?  Has she no decorum?  No sense of what is appropriate and what isn’t?”  Her conversation was not as brief as I expected for someone who was interrupted while talking to G-d, but then again, I expected that everyone silences their phone before they even enter that holy space, and she apparently did not share that same code of conduct.

Even after she finished talking and resumed her davening I was unable to regain my kavana.  I tried to focus on the words, but I was too disturbed by what I had just witnessed, and I ended up mumbling the rest quickly and just leaving. 

Later, still thinking about the incident I realized that what bothered me was twofold.  First, I was very disturbed by the fact that someone could desecrate the holiness of the place and of the experience of davening by talking on her phone.  But the second thing that bothered me was the disregard that she showed for everyone else.  Just because I am a teacher does not mean that davening comes easily for me.  I struggle with it like many people do.  Some days are easier, some days are harder; some days better, some days worse.  But when I’m trying to concentrate, it is really disturbing when someone nearby doesn’t let me.  Often times we only think of ourselves; if we are finished davening, or aren’t really interested in davening, we think nothing of turning to our friend and starting up a whispered conversation.  After all, we’re done, and we might as well pass the rest of the time in an enjoyable way.  But we don’t stop to think how many other people we might be disturbing.  We don’t stop to wonder whether the person next to us is having a particularly meaningful davening which our talking might disrupt, or whether they are struggling to focus, and will be further distracted by our noise.  That night at the Kotel I was immersed in my davening, and when this woman ruined my kavana by talking on her phone, I felt as if that special moment had been stolen from me.

It made me realize that we all have to be more aware of the people around us.  We are very aware of our own needs and wants, but we have to be more aware of how our actions will affect others.  Even if our davening is not at its best, when we talk to our friends in the middle we are not only interrupting our own conversation with G-d, but we are interrupting the conversations that everyone around us is having with Him as well.  And in cellphone terms, that equals a lot of dropped calls. 

Mishmover Recap

For those of you who missed all or some of it, here's a brief recap of Thursday nights festivities:

First, in a shiur entitled "Women are What?!?! Dealing with Troubling Texts," I got myself into some trouble by learning a גמרא that got everyone pretty upset, but hopefully in resolving the problem, we learned a general approach to dealing with sources in the Torah that we find troubling.

After a delicious dinner (thank you, EJ's), we had a choice of activity.  Ma'ayanot alumna Rachel Friedman gave a terrific shiur "Is There Such a Thing as a Bad Question: The Mysterious Saga of Rav Yermiah" to almost 30 Ma'aynoters.  Next door, some of the 14 alumnae who attended Mishmover shared their wisdom with the seniors over a round-table discussion about the year in Israel & college.  Finally, most of the students chose the chesed activity of making bead decorations for kids in need (thanks, Mrs. Weiner & Tali).

Rabbi Rosenblatt was, as always, a real treat.  In a talk entitled "Crossroads," he analyzed the mixed emotions that Yaakov felt as he left C'naan to go see Yosef in Mitzrayim.  He discussed how sometimes even when things are going best in our lives, and we stand on the threshold of great new opportunities, we feel our subconscious insecurities creeping back in (Friday morning I heard about a student who fell asleep in class, only to be awakened by a whiny "Yaakov Yaakov").  Elisheva Cohen dealt with a similar theme this week in another fine issue of Talelei Orot.

After that, we heard a shiur from the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion, Harav Moshe Lichtenstein.  He got us all ready for Asarah B'Tevet with a classic chakira about the nature of Asara B'Tevet as either a yom avelut or yom teshuva.  He traced this dispute from the Tana'im to the Rishonim.  He concluded with poignant mussar about our ability to truly feel the pain of human suffering that occurred hundreds of years ago.  Just as we are able to cry with terror victims half way across the world, our emotions must cross the barriers of time as well as distance.

Simultaneously, Rabbi Josh Rossman was entertaining a large portion of the student population with his interactive presentation demonstrating some of the 39 melachot.  To get a feel for this popular and informative program, see Rabbi Rossman's website here.

A highlight of the evening was our teacher panel at which Ms. Gordon, Ms. Kur, Mrs. Kahan, Mrs. Cohen, Ms. Appel & Mrs. Slomnicki shared there thoughts on a wealth of topics including aliya, theodicy, how much of the secular world to let into our lives and their favorite movies (Shawshank, Dead Poets Society, Spiderman II, Awakenings, pass & Gattaca respectively - how did you get that through, Rachel?).  Thanks to Mrs. Block for expert moderation.

After an all-star lineup of Senior Chaburot and with Ms. F's famous midnight shiur about to begin, it was time for me to head home for a few hours (RZP still had some good schmoozing to go).

All in all, over 150 people participated in the biggest (& IMO best) Mishmover ever.  Thanks to the Torah committee (especially Tzippora), Rabbi Prince & Ms. F for their hard work.  Same for the custodial staff who went beyond the call of duty.  Yasher koach to all of the speakers & panelists who participated as well as the alumnae who helped out.  Most of all, thanks again to Michal Novetsky, who as a student came up with the idea for Mishmover several years ago.

MSP Launch - Shoe-less Cops & Rabbis

The title is of course an homage to the socked scholar, RZP.

On Thursday evening, the newly formed Ma'ayanot Scholars Program had its first event.  It was really exciting to have so many students (almost 50!) stepping up, staying after school, committing to taking a leadership role in the school, to taking on a significant Torah Lishma project and infusing a major bolt of energy into our Torah community.  Mrs. Kahan did a great job capturing how heartening this is for those of us who have dreamed of a program like this for a long time.

The highlight of the night was a shiur by Rabbi Prince's Rebbi, Rabbi Azarya Berzon who gave a terrific shiur on matters of Chanuka (you can find his shiurim here, here and here).  I was struck by the following story (which I found here)

One night, during the month of Elul, the month reserved for serious introspection and extreme exactitude in all mitzvos as preparation for the High Holy Days, the Alter of Kelm, Horav Simcha Zissel Braude, zl, had a dream. In the dream, he envisioned that Rabbeinu Yonah, the Rishon who authored the Shaarei Teshuvah, the handbook for repentance, was coming to Kelm to give a shmuess, ethical discourse. Imagine, Rabeinu Yonah himself would speak in the city known for its singular devotion to spiritual integrity, meticulous observance of mitzvos, and character refinement during the month of Elul! This was the opportunity of a lifetime. The time was announced, and word was spread throughout the town. At the appointed time, every Jew in Kelm had arrived and waited patiently, excitedly and with great trepidation to enter the bais hamedrash where the sage would hold forth. Understandably, the
paragon of mussar, ethics, was waiting to enter. The guard at the entrance to the beis hamedrash asked the Alter to identify himself, which he did. One can only begin to imagine the surprise and eventual shock and dismay when the guard did not permit the Alter to enter. "How could this be?" the Alter asked. "I must enter." He began to beg, relating the many z'chusim, merits, he had. He called forth the multitudes of students he had directly or indirectly influenced, his meticulous observance of mitzvos, his illustrious lineage; none of this seemed to impress the guard. Nothing moved him. Rav Simchah Zissel was not going to gain entrance to the shmuess. Finally, the teacher exclaimed, "You should know that my son is Rav Nochum Velvel!" When the guard heard whose father he was, he immediately allowed him to enter the bais hamedrash. It was at this point that the Alter woke up. Disturbed, he immediately called for his saintly son and related the dream to him: "What merit did you have that superseded every argument that I presented? What did you do that was so unique that only because of your merit was I permitted to enter?" Clearly, the Alter had taken his dream quite seriously. When Rav Nochum saw that his father was quite agitated, he related the following story.
Apparently, for quite some time, Rav Nochum had been wearing a pair of thread bare, worn out and torn shoes. There was limited money, and whatever money they could scrounge, shoes were simply not a priority. Once, he had occasion to be at the shoemaker's shop and he saw an excellent, sturdy pair of shoes for sale. Realizing that the price of the shoes would put him back a bit, he decided to save for them. Every week, he would put away a few pennies which he was able to hoard. Finally, the day came, and with great excitement, Rav Nochum took his savings, proceeded to the shoe store and purchased the long awaited pair of shoes. He could now walk wearing sturdy shoes that would allow him to have the necessary support with a certain degree of comfort.
Shortly thereafter, on a freezing cold wintry night, he heard a feeble knock at his door. He rose
from his studies to answer the door, to be greeted by a poor man who was going door to door begging for alms. The man was dressed in tattered clothing with not even a coat to protect him from the inclement weather. Rav Nochum motioned him to come into the house and gave him a warm drink. As the man stood up and was about to leave, Rav Nochum noticed that he was not wearing shoes.  Furthermore, his feet were bloodied and blistered, frostbitten from the cold and snow. "Where are your shoes?" Rav Nochum asked. "They are not my first priority. When one does not have what to eat, he first seeks to calm his hunger pains, then he worries about shoes," the man replied. Rav Nochum did not flinch for a moment. He immediately removed his shoes and gave them to the poor man. "Here you surely need them more than I," he said.
Rav Nochum turned to his father and said, "Probably it was that act of chesed that earned me
the merit, so that you could enter the room to listen to Rabbeinu Yonah's shmuess."
When one performs acts of chesed with no ulterior motive other than to help his fellow Jew, it
demonstrates his overwhelming love for Hashem and His children. Such a selfless act of kindness has the capability of catalyzing an incredible spiritual flow of Heavenly mercy for himself and for the world.

Just a day or two later I found this article in the Times about a modern day version of the story:

Officer DePrimo, 25, who joined the department in 2010 and lives with his parents on Long Island, was shocked at the attention. He was not warned before the photo went online; the department had not learned which officer was in the picture until hours later.
The officer, normally assigned to the Sixth Precinct in the West Village, readily recalled the encounter. “It was freezing out and you could see the blisters on the man’s feet,” he said in an interview. “I had two pairs of socks and I was still cold.” They started talking; he found out the man’s shoe size: 12.
As the man walked slowly down Seventh Avenue on his heels, Officer DePrimo went into a Skechers shoe store at about 9:30 p.m. “We were just kind of shocked,” said Jose Cano, 28, a manager working at the store that night. “Most of us are New Yorkers and we just kind of pass by that kind of thing. Especially in this neighborhood.”

HEC Thanksgiving Video

Enjoy it.  Did anyone video Rabbi Glasser's talk?

Inspiration from an Unexpected Source

A while back during Monday Morning Mussar, I quoted a passage from Andrei Agassi's autobiography "Open" about the challenges of maintaining effective teshuva.  Here it is, tell me what you think:

Change.
Time to change, Andre. You can’t go on like this. Change, change, change—I say this word to myself several times a day, every day, while buttering my morning toast, while brushing my teeth, less as a warning than as a soothing chant. Far from depressing me, or shaming me, the idea that I must change completely, from top to bottom, brings me back to center. For once I don’t hear the nagging self-doubt that follows every personal resolution. I won’t fail this time, I can’t, because it’s change now or change never. The idea of stagnating, of remaining this Andre for the rest of my life, that’s what I find truly depressing and shameful. 

And yet. Our best intentions are often thwarted by external forces—forces that we ourselves set in motion long ago. Decisions, especially bad ones, create their own kind of momentum, and momentum can be a [pain] to stop, as every athlete knows. Even when we vow to change, even when we sorrow and atone for our mistakes, the momentum of our past keeps carrying us down the wrong road. Momentum rules the world. Momentum says: Hold on, not so fast, I’m still running things here. As a friend likes to say, quoting an old Greek poem: The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly. 

By the way, the rest of the book was also surprising good and thought-provoking - I highly recommend it, even if you don't care about tennis.

Is Turkey Kosher?

Yasher koach to Rabbi Prince, Rabbi Glasser and HEC for sending us into the long weekend with a Torah perspective on the holiday.  With that in mind, check out some of Why-aanot's greatest Thanksgiving hits, including this article, a link to the New York Times, and a great post from Mrs. Cohen 2 years ago about Thanksgiving in Israel.  This year, check out this article by Rabbi Ari Z. Zivitofsky on whether or not turkey is kosher (you better read fast before dinner starts).  Maybe next year we can talk about whether football is kosher.

While we're appreciating what we have (Modim anachnu lach), it's a good time to remember those who are having a more difficult weekend.  My wife saw an amazing idea on Facebook.  Just a few minutes ago, she called a pizza store in Kiryat Malachi and ordered a pizza & soda for any family that the store owner thought could use a pick-me-up.  It was great.

Finally, I want to remind you all about our annual Black Friday Shiur tomorrow morning with Mrs. Samuels at 10:00 am at Mocha Bleu.  I gave the shiur last year, and we had a really nice mix of students from various grades, alumni and parents.  Kol hakavod to those of you who choose to spend your free time learning.
אנו משכימים והם משכימים...

Hurricane Sandy - the Aftermath by Charlie Harary

Tali Spier sent along this excellent article by Mr. Charlie Harary, who we all remember from his visit last Ta'anit Esther.  Enjoy it.  It offers much to think about both for those of us with power, and those in the dark.

Hope to see you all tomorrow.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night...

A couple of Hurricane related thoughts:

• We got lucky with the timing (I don't mean missing three days of school) that it came after open house Shabbos.  See here for halachik guidelines from Rabbi Kenneth Brander (reflecting the decisions of Rabbi Herschel Schachter) for a Shabbos hurricane.
• Hearing all the warnings about how Atlantic City needed to evacuate in anticipation of being wiped out by the waves, the Parsha immediately came to mind.  Were the evacuees told not to look back?  I hope there are no stray pillars of salt along the New Jersey Turnpike.
• With school being cancelled for the third straight day it reminded me of the Gemara (Bava Kama 82a) that when the Torah says that the Jews went three days without water, on a drash level, it is a reference to Torah.  This is one of the reasons why we read the Torah on Mondays and Thursdays - to ensure that we don't go three days without learning.  While I assume that you all have Torah built in to your Shabbos & Sunday schedules (especially this past week at what I heard was a rocking good time at the Sadeks - thanks to Gali &Yocheved  & YK RZP), these "snow days" are a challenge.  I'm sure that Freshmen & Sophomores have been studying for their halacha tests, but for the rest of you, please make use of the links on the side of this blog (or any other Torah source) to keep things on schedule.
• Towards that end, here is Mrs. Schapiro's post on Vayera from last year, and an interesting debate between Rabbi Eitan Mayer and me against Rabbi Shlomo Riskin and (Ma'aynaot alum) Ayala Carl about the akeida.  For more from Rabbi Mayer (and Mrs. Herzog!) on the akeida, see here.

What Did We Do Now?

Tzipporah Rossman asked the following question: During maariv on motzei Yom Kipur we say "slach lanu avenu ki chatanu." Why do we say this if Hashem just forgave us for everything, and we don't have anything yet to ask for teshuvah?

What a great question! Rav Chaim Feuer provides a great answer in the excerpt below. As Rav Chaim Feuer explains beautifully, each day should bring a new and deeper level of understanding of our old sins and of our relationship to Hashem. Therefore, teshuva is always necessary, even for our old sins for which we have already done teshuva. When we view our old sins from a fresh perspective, we have an opportunity to do a different kind of teshuva for them, one that is directed at another aspect of the sin we may not have noticed before. Therefore, even though we are involved in the teshuva process for the entire duration of Yom Kippur, and are hopefully granted forgiveness for all of our sins, it is still necessary to say "v'hashivenu avinu l'toratecha" and "slach lanu avinu ki chatanu" immediately thereafter, so that we can continue the teshuva process while viewing our old sins from a new perspective.

A Plan

This is the speech that I was referring to today after davening, watch the whole thing (though give it a chance if you think it starts slow).

Happiness

Sorry, that was a little bit of a downer for a welcome back post.  I'll try to make it up to you with this fascinating article in the Times about psychological studies about happiness.  It's not that long, read it.

Also on this subject, here was one of my book recommendations from the blog's opening:

The Geography of Bliss (Eric Weiner) - I read it on Ms. Socken's advice, and though it took me a bit to get in to, I ended up enjoying it a lot. A reporter for NPR travels to the happiest and least happy countries on Earth to see what lessons about happiness he can learn. The chapters that spoke most to me (though I doubt many of you will choose the same ones) were Iceland (which contains what I consider to be the single most important line of the book - I won't give it away) & Thailand.

(Note to those of you who have been through 11th grade Gemara, remember Rav Dessler's approach to love and compare it to this article.)

We're back!

I was talking with a friend who left teaching after many years in the field.  He old me, that even though he worked all summer, he felt bad for me having to go back to school.  I like the first day of school; seeing friends and students I haven't seen all summer; seeing how much so many people have grown and matured while they were away.  Still, I think I know what he means.  No matter how much I worked and prepared over the summer, I always feel like if I just had another day or two, then I could truly be ready.  What wouldn't I give now to have one of those mid-July summer lazy summer days that wasn't quite as productive as it could have been.  Just one more day.

It's a similar feeling to the one I get on Yom Kippur.  The day didn't sneak up on anyone.  If we didn't notice it ourselves, the call of the shofar each morning reminds us that we have work to do.  Still, somehow when standing on the yemei hadin, I'm often wishing for just a little more time for preparation to finally get this teshuva process right - time that was readily available to me just hours before.  You may have once felt this way about a big test or project that you kind of left for the last minute.

Well, it's too late for the first day of school, but Elul is still very much here.  Now are those minutes whose stock is going to skyrocket in a couple of short weeks.  These are the days we will be wishing we had another shot at come Rosh Hashana.  Why do we need to go through this charade.  Maybe this can be the year that we get it right the first time.  This is what chazal mean when they say
 "יפה שעה אחת בתשובה ומעשים טובים בעולם הזה, מכל חיי העולם הבא. ויפה שעה אחת של קורת רוח בעולם הבא, מכל חיי העולם הזה".
"One hour of repentance and good deeds in this world is better than the entire life of the World to Come."

Let's try to avoid that feeling this year.  Yom Hadin is coming soon, but now is the time to do something about it.

Why don't Jews have confessions like with priests and stuff? I think they could be useful. 
-Sophie


What an interesting question! I think the most useful element of "confession" with a priest is that it is done in the presence of a person (even if one can't see who the person is). That adds a sense of shame/embarrassment for having done the sin because there is another *person* that knows about it, and it also adds some accountability because one will feel worse if they do it again, and need to confess to having done it again.


In Judaism, we actually do have "confession." We have the concept of vidoy-articulating our sins (to G-d, not to a person)-as part of the mitzvah of Teshuva. We often forget that Teshuva is a mitzvah temidi-a constant obligation--not one that just exists around the time of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. 


So why do we not say our sins to a person?
 1) To remind ourselves that it is GOD that we are "disappointing" when we sin, and not another human being. The "danger" of confession is that it is easy to make the mistake that it is the priest we are disappointing. But at the end of the day, who cares? We don't need to answer to human beings; we need to answer to God! That is definitely more challenging and scary, but that's the truth! 


 2) To emphasize that Judaism posits that we can each forge a PERSONAL connection with God. We do not need an intermediary. What an opportunity, to have a direct connection to God! 


 So, while confession in the presence of a priest may help one feel worse about sinning and may be more of a deterrent not to sin again, it ultimately misguides one to believe that she is sinning against the priest, and, if she hasn't already forgotten, that she can only connect to God through the priest.

The Pirkei Avot Challenge

A friend of mine showed me this video last night. Kyrie Irving, the NBA rookie of the year, dresses up as an old man and then joins a pick-up game of basketball. What quote from Pirkei Avot can be a message you take from this video? I presented this "Pirkei Avot Challenge" to some of my classes today, but let's see how the rest of you do.  If you get it right, you win a prize (probably candy from my office - sorry, not so exciting). Good luck!

A New Hatikvah?

Recently, my Jewish Philosophy class discussed the Middle East conflict and spent time playing the game Peacemaker, trying to create a peace treaty between the Israelis and Palestinians. Last class, we watched a video where Neshama Carlebach (at the request of the newspaper The Jewish Daily Forward) came up with a new version of Hatikvah, one that is a little more universal and that both Jews and Arabs living in Israel could relate to. In class, we debated our thoughts about this new version of Hatikvah. Is it important that Hatikvah be an anthem that all citizens of Israel feel comfortable singing? Or, is it ok for Hatikvah to be a uniquely Jewish anthem? Should it make a difference that many Jews feel very connected to the emotional words of Hatikvah and the fact that it mentions the connection Jews feel towards Israel and Jerusalem or is this exclusionary to a large amount of Israel's population who also feels connected to the land? Either way, it's an interesting discussion to be had - especially the week before Yom Yerushalayim! You can read more about it here.

Pesach - the Sequel

Today we celebrated Pesach Sheini by not saying tachanun.  Many have a minhag to eat Matzah as well (I got some at the barbecue I attended -- Thanks Rabbi & Mrs. S.).  The reason there is such a holiday is because back in the desert, Jews who were טמא on פסח, and couldn't bring the קרבן פסח asked למה נגרע? Why should we lose out?  One lesson we can take from their story is in their approach to מצות.  They viewed a mitzva as an opportunity, and the loss of that opportunity something to fight against.  There is great irony in that the chief celebration is omitting Tachanun.

At the same time its important to realize that all they did was ask.  They happened to receive the answer they wanted, so we can't know how they would have reacted had Hashem said no.  Also, it would be Hashem Himself turning them down.  Still, the question of למה נגרע can become a dangerous one depending on where the conversation leads.  At a certain point we have to remember that we don't understand everything.

Yom Ha'atzmaut

In the spirit of Yom Ha'atzmaut, I wanted to share an incredible video which I showed my Gemara class this morning. It's called "The Volunteers: Answering the Call of History" and it tells the story of different young men and women who left their homes in the USA, England and South Africa to volunteer to help Israel in 1947-1948. They helped smuggle Ma'apilim (illegal immigrants) past the British, joined the Palmach and helped smuggle guns to the new Israeli State and put their lives on hold in order to help Am Israel and Eretz Israel. One of the people being interviewed talks about why he left Harvard Law School in order to smuggle immigrants into Palestine in 1947. He says that he couldn't continue life as normal in Boston knowing that Jewish History was unfolding in Israel and that he could be a part of it. I found this to be an extremely powerful statement and I think it sets a tremendous example of the personal sacrifices one can make on behalf of Medinat Israel. Chag Ha'atzmaut Sameach!

Yom HaZikaron

As we are about to start commemorating Yom HaZikaron, I wanted to share two stories that I found to be especially powerful: "The Club No One Wants to Belong To" and "Dudu and Moshe: A True Yom HaZikaron Story".

The Big Day

Here is some material posted in advance of שבת הגדול in years past.

We're just a couple of hours from שבת הגדול.  My daughter thought that it was שבת הגדה, which is not that far off, as one of the only minhagim for the day is to say a portion of the Hagada on שבת afternoon.  (It also makes a nice parallel to the commonly misstated שבת תשובה.)  You might also have thought that it got its name from the other minhag - that the Rav (or Gadol) gives a דרשה - a lengthy talk usually divided between lomdus, halacha and hashkafa.  Really it is called שבת הגדול - "the Great Shabbat" - because it is when the great miracles started in Mitzrayim.  That year, the 10th of Nissan, when the Jews took the קרבן פסח into their home while the angry Egyptian could do nothing but watch, was on שבת.
It is curious that we celebrate it on the day of the week (like Thanksgiving or Memorial Day), rather than celebrating the calendar date - like all other significant days in Jewish life.  The באר היטב asks the question, and points us to the חוות יאיר (I assume), which I haven't had a chance to look up yet.  If anyone knows the answer, please let me know.

And a response from Tzipporah Herzfeld:

So I don't know if this is the answer, but I read something that Rabbi Yossi Marcus wrote online that the 10th of Nissan, when we should be celebrating the mitzvah of the korban Pesach, was also the date that Miriam died. So we celebrate the mitzvah of the korban on the Shabbos before Pesach because the 10th of Nissan was established as an unofficial fast day to commemorate Miriam's death, therefore we shouldn't be celebrating anything on that day.

And the post-script:

• On the advice of our lunch guest, I found Tzipporah's answer to Friday's question in the ערוך השולחן.  He also gives another answer:  The splitting of the Yarden, a lesser miracle, also took place on י' ניסן, and we don't want to dilute the celebration of the miracles of מצרים by adding other miracles.  It was apparently quite a day.  It's interesting that we don't find a similar concern for אבילות on Tisha B'av or י"ז תמוז, where we have many reasons for mourning, some more powerful than others.  Even at the ליל הסדר, we associate the night with other historical miracles that occurred through the generations - see ויהי בחצי הלילה.
• An anonymous student also pointed out that the Drasha by the Rabbi (= Gadol) is one of the suggested reasons for the name שבת הגדול.

• Rabbi Zev Rifkin, a local Rosh Kollel spoke about בדיקת חמץ.  He asked, no matter how good a בדיקה we do, it's not fully sufficient - are we re-examining the oven?  So he defended the current "minhag" of doing only a cursory / ceremonial search, and says that once we have spent weeks cleaning and searching for chametz, all of the rooms in our home are בחזקת בדוק, and no longer require בדיקה at all.  If so, how do we justify our ברכה?  Isn't it לבטלה?  Therefore, he said that it is appropriate to leave a small section of your home uncleaned at all  (a cabinet, a knapsack etc.), and do that during בדיקת חמץ, in addition to the charade of finding the 10 pieces of chametz that are set out.  I mean to check with other Rabbanim to see if this is a mainstream view.