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From: "Yeshivat Har Etzion's Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash"
To: yhe-holiday@vbm-torah.org
Subject: SPECIAL PESACH PACKAGE PART 1

YESHIVAT HAR ETZION
ISRAEL KOSCHITZKY VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH (VBM)
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YHE-HOLIDAY: SPECIAL PESACH PACKAGE

This package contains:

1. Remembering and Recounting the Exodus: Opposite Perspectives on a Common Theme, By Rav Yair Kahn

2. The Symbolism of Chametz, By Rav Ezra Bick

3. The Korban Pesach: Defining Israel as God's People, By Rav Yonatan Grossman

4. Laws of Erev Pesach which Falls on Shabbat, By Rav Yosef Zvi Rimon

For more articles on Pesach, see our website: http://www.vbm-torah.org/pesach.htm

We wish all our subscribers a happy and kosher Pesach!

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Remembering and Recounting the Exodus:
Opposite Perspectives on a Common Theme

By Rav Yair Kahn
Translated by David Silverberg

The Almighty designated two mitzvot for recalling the Exodus: "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" - REMEMBERING the Exodus, and "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" - TELLING about the Exodus. This article will explore the relationship between these two mitzvot.

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE TWO MITZVOT

"Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya said: I am like a seventy-year-old man, yet I have not had the privilege of mentioning the Exodus at night, until the exposition of Ben Zoma, that it says, 'In order that you remember the day you left Egypt all the days of your life' - 'the days of your life' refers to the days; 'ALL the days of your life' refers to the nights. But the Sages say, 'the days of your life' refers to this world; 'ALL' comes to add the messianic era." (Mishna, Berakhot 12b)

According to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, the mitzva to remember the Exodus - "zekhira" - applies each and every night throughout the year, a ruling codified by the Rambam as authoritative halakha (Hilkhot Keri'at Shema 1:3). If so, "How is this night different from all other nights?" What need is there for a specific mitzva to retell - "sippur" - the story of the Exodus on the seder
night?

The Minchat Chinukh (mitzva 21) suggests a number of ways in which one can fulfill the obligation of "zekhira" without performing the unique mitzva of "sippur." He cites a distinction raised by the Pri Megadim relating to the possibility of fulfilling the given obligation through non-verbal contemplation ("hirhur"): one may, perhaps, fulfill the requirement of "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" through a silent mental process, while that of "sippur" demands verbal recounting. The Minchat Chinukh cites another possibility suggested by the Sha'agat Aryeh: the mitzva of "sippur" might require the reminiscence of the specific miracles and wonders that occurred on this night, while on other nights a mere general recollection suffices.

Along similar lines, Rav Chayim Brisker ("Chidushei Ha-Grach al Ha-shas," 40) adds several technical requirements mandated by the mitzva of "sippur." As opposed to "zekhira," the "sippur" must take the form of storytelling, or, more specifically, the process of question-and-answer. Furthermore, the process of "sippur" most follow a specific format, that of "beginning with shame and ending with praise" (meaning, we must begin the story with our inauspicious, idolatrous origins, and conclude with our emergence as God's nation). Another obligation unique to "sippur" is the need to explain the reasons behind the mitzvot of the seder. This requirement is expressed in the Haggada, by Rabban Gamliel:

"Whoever does not mention these things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation; they are: [korban] pesach, matza and maror." (Pesachim 116a)

SUGGESTION #1: ZEKHIRA AND SIPPUR ARE TWO ASPECTS OF THE SAME MITZVA

All these distinctions share a common denominator: the annual "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" at the seder demands more than does its nightly counterpart, "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim." The aforementioned differences do not, however, express a fundamental difference between the two mitzvot. One may thus argue that, essentially, the two mitzvot are one and the same. However, since the Torah could not demand such an intense level of detail twice each day, it designated the special night of Pesach for the recitation of the entire story, from beginning to end, while a brief mention suffices all year round.

This understanding of the relationship between sippur and zekhira helps us solve another mystery.

The Rambam explicitly rules in accordance with Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya's view, requiring "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" both by day and by night. Yet he does not include this mitzva in his list of the 613 commandments, neither in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot nor in the Yad Ha-chazaka. He mentions it only as an aside in his discussion of the laws relevant to Keri'at Shema, as a basis for including the parasha of tzitzit in Shema even at night, when the obligation of tzitzit does not apply.

"What does one read [to fulfill the mitzva of Shema]? Three sections, and they are: 'Shema,' 'Ve-haya im shamoa,' and 'Vayomer' . [One reads] the parasha of tzitzit, since it too contains the
command to remember all the mitzvot.

Although the mitzva of tzitzit does not apply at nighttime, we read it at night insofar as it makes mention of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, and there is a mitzva to mention yetzi'at Mitzrayim both by day and by night, as it says, 'In order that you remember the day you left Egypt all the days of your life.' Reading these three parshiyot in their proper sequence is what is called 'Keri'at Shema.'" (Hilkhot Keri'at Shema 1:2-3)

However, based upon the above, we can suggest that zekhira is included within the context of the mitzva of sippur. The Rambam writes:

"It is a positive commandment of the Torah to tell of the miracles and wonders that were performed for our fathers in Egypt on the night of the fifteenth of Nissan, as it says, 'Remember this day that you left Egypt,' just as it says, 'Remember the Sabbath day.' And how do we know that it is the fifteenth? The Rabbis teach: 'And you shall tell your son (Ve-higadeta le-vinkha) on that days as follows, On account of THIS [God did for me...]' - namely, at the time when there is matza and maror is placed before you." (Hilkhot Chametz U-matza 7:1)

One can interpret the phrase "the night of the fifteenth of Nissan" as singling out the night when the mitzva of sippur applies. If so, this halakha refers exclusively to the mitzva of sippur. Alternatively, this phrase may be qualifying which miracles one must relate, namely, the miracles that occurred on the night of the fifteenth of Nissan. If so, there is no limitation to when the mitzva applies. Therefore, one may claim that this halakha begins with zekhira (derived from "Remember this day that you left Egypt"), and only later focuses upon sippur, which is specific to the seder night (and learned from "And you shall tell your son").

Accordingly, zekhira is not counted separately because it is not an independent mitzva, but rather merges with the mitzva of sippur.

SUGGESTION #2: ZEKHIRA IS PART OF THE MITZVA OF ACCEPTING THE YOKE OF HEAVEN

Rav Chaim Brisker offered a different solution to this problem. His grandson Rav Joseph Soloveitchik writes:

"My grandfather also said that the entire mitzva of 'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' does not constitute an indepefulfillment of an obligation. Rather, its basic essence is a fulfillment of the acceptance of the yoke of the Kingship of Heaven. This constitutes a specific law regarding the acceptance of the yoke of His Kingship, which must take place also through the recollection of yetzi'at
Mitzrayim." (Shiurim Le-zekher Abba Mari, vol. 1, p.1)

For good reason, then, the Rambam addresses "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" only as an aside in his presentation of the laws of Shema. This obligation comprises not an independent mitzva, but rather one detail within the framework of the mitzva of reading Shema. Its purpose is not the recollection of yetzi'at Mitzrayim per se, but rather the acceptance of God's supreme authority that results therefrom.

This understanding of zekhira led Rav Chaim to posit another distinction between zekhira and sippur. Rav Soloveitchik writes:

"I learned from my father, my teacher, in the name of our great rabbi zt"l [Rav Chaim], that four halakhot separate and distinguish the mitzva of 'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' from the mitzva of
'sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim".

4) The mitzva of 'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' does not constitute an independent mitzva, but rather emanates from the mitzva of reciting the Shema and the fulfillment of accepting the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven. The mitzva of 'sippur,' by contrast, is a mitzva of its own among the list of 613 [commandments]." (Shiurim Le-zekher Abba Mari z"l, vol. 1, p.2, note 4)

It would seem to me that we should add a fifth distinction: the obligation of 'zekhira' does not cast upon the individual a requirement to recite praise and thanksgiving. The mitzva of 'sippur,' by
contrast, requires one not only to tell of the wonders and miracles that He performed for us, but also to praise and thank - [as we say at the end of the Maggid section of the Haggada,] 'Therefore we are obliged to thank and praise.' Herein lies the basis of the obligation of reciting Hallel on Pesach eve."

SIPPUR - SENSING REDEMPTION IN THE PRESENT

The obligation to recite Hallel on the seder night relates to the personal experience of redemption unique to this evening. Indeed, the mishna teaches:

"In every generation, a person must see himself as if he had left Egypt, as it says, 'You shall tell your child on that day, saying, It is because of what God did for me when I went free from Egypt.' We are therefore obliged to thank, praise, extol, glorify, elevate, exalt, bless, honor and magnify the One who performed all these miracles for our forefathers and us." (Pesachim 116b)

This mishna supports the position of Rav Hai Gaon, who distinguished between the recitation of Hallel at the seder and the Hallel service in general, by omitting the blessing over Hallel at the seder. The Ran quotes his position as follows:

"Rabbeinu Hai Gaon z"l wrote in a responsum that we do not recite the blessing, 'ligmor et ha-Hallel', over the Hallel of Pesach night, since we do not read it as a formal recitation, but rather as a song of praise. Therefore, if one wishes to recite a blessing - he is silenced." (Pesachim 26b in the Rif)

In other words, the personal experience of redemption, which each individual is required to sense "as if he had left Egypt," gives rise to the special requirement of "shira" - song of praise - at the seder.

This goal, of transplanting the redemption of the past into the living present, from the pages of history books into our national consciousness, forms the central pillar of the mitzva of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim." We must therefore conduct ourselves in a manner resembling royalty (the four cups, reclining, etc.), since verbal expression does not suffice.

For this same reason, we must begin by recalling the troubled times, allowing us to relive the ultimate salvation. On a different occasion, I wrote that herein lies the connection between the mitzva of sippur and the other requirements of this night: pesach, matza and maror (http://www.vbm-torah.org/pesach/pes-yk.htm). Speaking is not enough; we must engage in concrete actions that symbolize and bring to life the events of yetzi'at Mitzrayim. We eat bitter herbs in order to actually taste the suffering of bondage, so that we too cry and pray to the Almighty. Following all our longings for even a respite from the bondage, the complete redemption comes suddenly and instantaneously; even our dough had no chance to rise, which is illustrated by the matza. The
paschal lamb points out that this redemption came about not through the intervention of an angel or agent, but rather at the hands of the Almighty Himself, who passed over, as it were, our houses and those of all Benei Yisrael in Egypt, saving His people.

Thus, the uniqueness of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" at the seder lies in the attempt to reconstruct, revive and actually relive the religious-national experience of the Exodus itself. Granted, when the Temple stood and the entire nation would ascend there and offer their pesach sacrifices, the closeness of the Shekhina could be sensed far more easily. Nevertheless, this obligation remains in force even today.

At the seder we must thus rejoice and celebrate as we reconstruct the miraculous emergence of the chosen people and sense the national and religious redemption. We sing and give praise over the wonders of the Creator who personally took us out of the Egyptian bondage, and we feel ever so close to the Redeemer of Israel, who, in a single night, erased, as it were, the infinite distance separating between God and Yisrael. There is a popular custom to conclude the seder with the recitation of Shir Ha-shirim. This night is "a night of watching" marked by intense love, when the Lover leaves His hiding place and brings His beloved out of bondage to freedom.

ZEKHIRA - ACCEPTING GOD'S KINGSHIP AS A RESULT OF THE REDEMPTION FROM EGYPT

Such is not the case regarding the "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" required of us twice daily. Not only is it impractical to demand reliving yetzi'at Mitzrayim anew each day, but we have no interest in doing so. According to Rav Chaim, as cited earlier, this obligation constitutes part of the mitzva of Shema, serving the purpose of "kabbalat ol Malkhut Shamayim" - accepting the yoke of the Kingship of Heaven.

Acceptance of divine authority results directly from the Exodus, as stated in the first commandment, "I am the Lord your God who took you from the land of Egypt, from bondage." (Shemot 20:2). When we consider and assess the events of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, we cannot but conclude that the Exodus not only freed Am Yisrael from their suffering in Egypt, but also subjugated them to the Almighty.

When we awaken from the inebriation of the senses which we experience at the seder, the infinite distance between Benei Yisrael and their Redeemer once again emerges clearly. As our redemption mandates, we accept upon ourselves the yoke of God's Kingship together with the yoke of mitzvot. We reflect this awareness in our twice-daily recitation at the conclusion of the Shema:

"I am the Lord your God, who has taken you from the land of Egypt to be for you a God; I am the Lord your God."

In light of this discussion, then, "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" differs fundamentally from "sippur." It involves not the reliving of the past and its transplantation into the present, but rather leaving it
in the past and remembering it therefrom. The purpose of "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" is to extract the lessons of that historic event, rather than reconstructing it.

SUMMARY 

As we have seen, "zekhira" and "sippur" constitute two entirely different mitzvot, lending opposite perspectives on yetzi'at Mitzrayim. "Sippur" is meant to revive the past and infuse it into the present, whereas "zekhira" serves to recall the past and to leave it there, while reaching the conclusions relevant to the present.

Nevertheless, these two mitzvot complement one another. One may not just tell the story and revive the powerful spiritual experience of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, only to ignore the required conclusions and fail to accept upon himself the yoke of God's Kingship. An entcommunity cannot maintain a profound sense of spirituality unless it is grounded in the acceptance of the divine
imperative; it cannot sustain a religious experience which is divorced from the halakhic norm. Conversely, an acceptance of God's authority that is not firmly rooted in the majestic spiritual experience of the Shekhina's revelation suffers from spiritual aridity and quickly becomes emotionless rote. Only a blend of "sippur" and "zekhira" allows one to reach an acceptance of God's Kingship and His mitzvot which is accompanied with a profound and living spiritual experience. Only thereby can one properly combine genuine love and fear of the Almighty.

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The Symbolism of Chametz

By Rav Ezra Bick

The prohibition against eating chametz (leavened bread) on Pesach (Passover) is different from all other prohibitions in the Torah. The most noticeable difference is the fact that the prohibition lasts only seven days each year. The simple question is: If chametz is "bad," for some reason, it should be prohibited all year; and if not, why is forbidden on Pesach? (The prohibition to eat on Yom Kippur is not the same - it clearly is not that food as such is forbidden, but that eating as an activity is not appropriate for the Day of Atonement. It is a day of fasting. But the days of Pesach are days of feasting.)

Chametz is different in other respects as well. All other food prohibitions fall into two possible categories: either eating, or all benefit, is forbidden. Indeed, chametz falls into the latter category. However, in addition, there is a prohibition called "lo yeira'eh lekha" - chametz may not be in your possession all the days of Pesach. There is no prohibition against having ham in one's home, but chametz must be gotten rid of before Pesach. That is why Pesach is the cause of massive spring cleaning in Jewish homes, as we conduct an obsessive search to root out any crumbs that might be lurking somewhere. There is no other prohibition like this.

The "war" against chametz on Pesach takes on other forms as well. Normally, most prohibitions are subject to a process called "bittul" - a small amount of forbidden material that is mixed in with a much larger amount of permitted food is considered to be "nullified" (the ratio needed is usually 1:60). Chametz, however, is forbidden in any amount and is not subject to bittul. Given the nature of modern food technology, the result is that any processed food must have special Pesach supervision.

The result of this complex of laws is that on Pesach, we are enjoined to strike out the very existence of chametz from our lives. Chametz is not to be found anywhere "in your borders." According to the Ramban, the aim is that chametz not be found "in your mind;" it should be like dust in your eyes. What is so bad about chametz that we are set to destroy it, and why does our attitude change so completely seven days later?

Pesach is intimately bound up with the festival that follows it seven weeks later - Shavuot. In fact, in the Torah, the date of Shavuot is not a calendar one (the sixth day in the month of Sivan) but a relative one - seven weeks after the second day of Pesach. The mitzva of "sefirat ha-omer," counting the days from Pesach for seven weeks (after which comes Shavuot), clearly indicates that Pesach starts a process which culminates in Shavuot. The usual (and quite correct) understanding is that Pesach, the holiday of freedom, is directed towards the goal of Shavuot, the day of the giving of the Torah. Freedom is the necessary prerequisite for responsibility and obligation, and, conversely, is meaningless without a goal to which one is committed.

Halakhically, there is another connection between Pesach and Shavuot, one which unfortunately we have lost sight of. Pesach is the festival of matza (that is the official name in the Torah, not my own appellation). Shavuot, in the Torah, aside from not having a date, is also distinguished by another anomaly. Every other holiday is first introduced, on a given day, and then we are told what to do on that day, what are the special rituals. Shavuot is an exception. The Torah (Vayikra 23y:15) says to count seven weeks, and on the fiftieth day to bring a special sacrifice. This offering consists of two loaves of BREAD, "baked with leaven, the first-fruits unto God." Only afterwards does the Torah add that this day, when this offering is brought, shall be a festival day.

In other words, it is not that we sacrifice a holiday offering on Shavuot; rather, we celebrate Shavuot on the day of the special offering, two loaves of bread. So, the seven weeks between Pesach and Shavuot is a time when we move from matza to chametz. Chametz is not something which is basically undesirable, permitted perhaps only because it would be too difficult to live
without it the whole year. Chametz is specifically brought to God, as an offering of first-fruits, as the culmination of a process that began with Pesach. How are we to understand this?

Without being overly symbolic, I think it is clear that the process of leavening represents the development of powers inherent in something. Matza is simply flour and water, baked. Bread is made of the same ingredients, but when you leave it around, unwatched and unbothered, it magically rises and grows, realizing a hidden potential and expressing it. Is this bad? Not at all! Indeed, it would not be exaggerated to say that this is the goal of Torah life in general. But the Torah is warning us about something on Pesach. This process of growth and development, when left to unfold of itself, wildly, can be catastrophic. The raw powers of the human spirit, unguided and unchannelled, are anarchic precisely because they are powerful, precisely because they represent real growth and vitality. The first step, when granted freedom, is not to run and let all the repressed inclinations and urges fly out. Even then - ESPECIALLY THEN - one should eat matza and beware the hidden powers bursting to be free. Seven weeks must pass, counting each day, waiting for the giving of the Torah, with its direction and goal, learning what the infinite
possibility before us consists of in the positive sense, and then one bakes two loaves and brings them before God. The first fruits are the first products of man's creativity. Rather than making them in a burst of activity on the first day of freedom, we must first find the direction to "the mountain of the Lord," first learn the purpose of freedom, and then and only then take advantage of the wild unchecked powers within.

What is the connection then between Pesach, freedom, and chametz? Freedom is the cornerstone of Judaism. Freedom is a HALAKHIC concept. Without it, one cannot serve God. Paradoxical as it sounds, only free men can obey God. Pesach is the first holiday, the beginning of the cycle of the year. But the experience of freedom alone, by itself, is also an empty one. Freedom in its first stage is a negative concept - no domination by others, no laws, no restrictions. It does not have positive content. Many thinkers for this reason have tried to grant freedom only to those who have the "proper" perspective, who have first been "educated" what to do with their freedom. But the Torah knows that you cannot educate slaves. There is no alternative but to build positive meaning on the basis of negative freedom. Hence Pesach celebrates freedom itself, without the Torah. But on the other hand, the Torah dictates the food appropriate for "pure" freedom - matza, unleavened bread, unrisen, flat, unproductive. Matza is called "lechem oni," poor bread. It is true that matza is the food of slaves. But it is also the food of free men if they have not worked to impart meaning to their freedom.

And so, when the Jews left Egypt, their freedom granted to them hurriedly by the frightened Egyptians, they had no time to leaven their bread. Running out of Egypt, technically free, unrestricted in fact, they were still slaves at heart. Their only goal was to be free, to leave Egypt. But freedom is not the goal of freedom. The food of fmen who have not yet learnt, who have not chosen to serve God, to SERVE higher ideals, to use their freedom to rise above servitude and not merely escape it, is matza. It would be dangerous, catastrophic, for them to taste the intoxicating flavor of leavened bread, the fruits of a process that multiplies itself in the dark, growing wildly, unchecked, raw power and potential. Indeed, chametz on Pesach is not merely a prohibited food. You have to put it out of your mind completely. It does not even exist. For these seven days, any sign of unsupervised growth must be burnt, before the wild weeds take over the fallow earth.

The cycle of Jewish living during the year is not an evenly-balanced picture of quiet moderation. On the contrary, it offers experiences of extremes, so that we may inculcate their meanings into our lives. Today is Pesach, and the experience is pure freedom. To make that a positive experience, we must conduct an obsessive search to eliminate any weeds in the garden. Pesach, the holiday of our freedom, is the day after the plowing of the earth (symbolically; this is not agriculturally accurate). The earth is bare, but that is a beautiful sight to one who knows what he can plant there. Tomorrow, starting on the second day of Pesach, we begin to count, each day, seven weeks, moving towards the days of planting. On the fiftieth day, when we have learned to control the powers and harness them to infinite goals of value, we will be able to bring a sacrifice of chametz, of development and growth.

(Jewish moral literature has used chametz as a symbol of pride. The rising dough symbolizes the overweening spirit of man. This complements what I have written. Pride is not a false thing in and of itself - it is the expression of the inner value of a productive man, a feeling for the infinite potential lurking in one's soul. But pure potential is at once infinite and at the same time empty, unrealized. Pride expressed on an empty stomach is shallow, overblown, air-filled. That is chametz on Pesach, before one has done anything other than flee the oppressor.)

Is there a need to return to Pesach each year again? Of course, for two inseparable reasons. First, we must return to the roots of freedom because we have managed to enslave ourselves anew every year. There is some truth to those who claim, or perhaps feel without giving it expression, that commitment enslaves, that responsibility limits, that service is servitude. There is a tension between Pesach and Shavuot, between freedom and Torah, even as one cannot succeed without the other. One must affirm the two and join them, after experiencing each separately. Every year, we return to pure freedom; we actually leave Egypt again. For the same reason, we return to the prohibition of chametz each year. In order genuinely to renew our experience of freedom, we must place aside the fruits of freedom, the powers of growth, the content of production. That will come, in time. Pesach, as we all know, is poor in gastronomic delights, despite the best efforts of cookbooks and matza factories. Freedom is a poor dish, and that is the way it should be savored, for the taste is in what is not yet there.

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