ChaiLights

INSPIRATIONAL THOUGHTS FOR YOUR PESACH SEDER

Introduction

Rabbi Meir Berlin, who would go on to move to Israel and change his name to Meir Bar Ilan (that’s right… Bar Ilan University was named after him!), writes that his father, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin, also known as the Netziv – the great 19th century dean of the Volozhin Yeshiva – would always begin his Seder in the same way. He would walk into the room dressed in his white kittel (a ceremonial robe) and wait for people to question why he was wearing it. This would give him the opportunity to explain that the kittel sets a tone for the Seder as an evening of importance and royalty.

The Netziv suggests that the kittel is worn because the Pesach sacrifice was eaten while wearing important clothing, as if one was eating at a king’s table. The most important clothing during temple times was made of white linen. Ironically, of all places, it was linen from Egypt!

The Taz (17th century, Poland), one of the great halachic commentators, suggests a very different reason for the custom of wearing a kittel. He explains that the kittel reminds us of burial shrouds. This evening, on which we will drink four cups of wine, we must be reminded not to get too carried away with the celebration. The kittel keeps us in check, as we think about our mortality.

So which one is right? Is it royalty or mortality?

Like so much at the Seder, the answer is, of course, both. Human beings teeter on the precipice of greatness, and at the same time on the doorstep of death. Life is just that fragile. We are reminded of this as we begin the Seder every year, but especially this year.

We sit down to this Seder, the first Pesach since October 7, with the lived experience of an exceedingly difficult past year, likely the most painful year for the Jewish people since the years of the Holocaust. It was a year of deep ache, death, and darkness, and also a year in which we witnessed great acts of heroism, selfless sacrifice, and miracles.

It is my hope that this collection of divrei torah, one uplifting thought for each step of the seder, can bring light and inspiration to your seder.

With blessings for good news,

Chai Posner

Rabbi, Beth Tfiloh

Congregation

שדק Kadesh

Who has chosen us from all nations… and has made us holy with His commandments

The Seder begins with the words of Kiddush, blessing God “Who has chosen us from all the nations.” It was Tevye, in Fiddler on the Roof who exclaimed (with proper Tevye intonation!), “I know, I know. We are Your chosen people. But, once in a while, can’t You choose someone else?” As we read the headlines, scroll through social media, watch congressional hearings and more, it seems daily that we are inundated with the exponential growth of the oldest hatred known to humanity – antisemitism. We may be tempted to ask Tevye’s question ourselves. Why us?

A few words later in kiddush, we find the response, “And has made us holy with His commandments.” We understand that belonging to this special nation is about more than being “chosen” for suffering, (Tevye was wrong about that), God also chose us to be “holy”. God has granted us the gift of the Torah and the Mitzvot. We’ve been given the opportunity to rise above evil, to bring light where there is darkness, to bring sanctity to the profane. Indeed, this has been the response of the nation of Israel in the face of unspeakable evil. We have been privileged to witness holy and life affirming acts of courage, empathy, and kindness from the people chosen by God.

ץחרו Urchatz

When we “wash our hands of something”, we usually mean that we are no longer responsible. Many believe that this phrase comes from the New Testament, Mathew 27:24: “ When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood,’ he said. ‘It is your responsibility!’”

However, those familiar with the Torah know that there is an earlier instance of “washing one’s hands”, and it means just the opposite. One of the most enigmatic rituals in the Torah is the case of the eglah arufah, the decapitated calf. Devraim (21:1-9) speaks of a dead body found in the field. If the murderer cannot be identified, a public ceremony is held with the elders of the nearest city, in which they decapitate a young calf, wash their hands over it, and declare: “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done.” This public ceremony elicits a sense of culpability on behalf of all. Even as the elders “wash their hands” of this murder and declare that they don’t know who did it, they also take responsibility, left to ponder what they could have done differently.

Perhaps as we wash our hands at the beginning of the seder we can consider how the Pesach experience can stir our hearts to take responsibility to relieve the suffering of others around us.

For further reflection:

This approach also makes sense as a prelude to Karpas. See the commentary on Yachatz regarding the connection between Yosef and Karpas and consider the following midrash (Bereishit Rabba 94:3) which also connects the eglah arufah to Yosef:

Yosef said to his brothers: “If my father believes you, that I am alive then all is good. If he fails to believe you, then tell him that at the moment when I departed from him, I was discussing the passage of eglah arufah.” Hence it says: 'He saw the wagons (agalot – similar word as eglah) that Yosef had sent… and Yaakov’s spirit was revived.’

ספרכ Karpas

At first glance, Karpas is a paradox. We take a vegetable meant to symbolize spring, rebirth, and renewal (this is why some specifically use a green vegetable), and we dip it into salt water, which reminds us of the tears of oppression. This can be seen as part of a general theme within the seder which brings contradictions together. We refer to matzah as poor man’s bread and as the bread of our redemption, we dip the bitter maror into the sweet charoset, we lean as free people as we describe the story of our servitude.

But upon closer examination dipping the Karpas into salt water may not be a contradiction at all. Why do we shed tears? Scientists don’t exactly know. They distinguish between tears that protect the eyes - remove irritants, keep them hydrated – which have a clear role, and emotional tears, which don’t seem to serve a purpose. In fact, Charles Darwin asserted that emotional tears are indeed purposeless. The best science can tell us is something we already know. Emotional tears let others know that we are in pain and elicit sympathy. Understood this way, tears are part of the healing process, calling out to others to help us start to move forward. Tears can be seen as the start of the new beginning. The salt water doesn’t contradict the karpas, it helps it to flourish. Those who sow in tears shall reap in joy -

Why do we break the matzah? The most straightforward reason is found in the Gemara (Pesachim 115b-116a), which tells us that matzah is called poor man’s bread, “just as it is the manner of a poor person to eat a piece of bread (rather than a whole loaf), so too we use a broken piece of matzah.” We break it at this point, since in the next step of the seder, we will use it to tell the story of our exodus from Egypt.

We can suggest an alternative, creative approach, for breaking the matzah that connects Yachatz with the step right before it. Many commentaries associate Karpas with the sale of Yosef. Rashi connects the word pasim, referring to the striped coat that Yaakov gave Yosef. Dipping the Karpas into the salt water reminds us that the brothers dipped that coat into blood to trick Yaakov into thinking that Yosef had been killed.

The midrash (Esther Rabba 7:25) castigates the brothers not only for throwing Yosef into the pit, but for what they did immediately afterwards. "םֶחַל־לָכֱָאֲל וּבְשֵָׁיֵַּו – They sat down to eat bread” (Bereishit 37:25). numb to their brother’s cries, not only ignoring him, but actually enjoying a meal together while he was suffering?!

We do not want to make the same mistake. After partaking of the Karpas, we pause, before continuing with the seder. We take the matzah, the most important food of the night, and we break it. We cannot move forward with our meal without acknowledging the brokenness of our brothers and sisters who are in distress.

דיגמ Maggid

Maggid tells the most remarkable story of mankind, the story of the Jewish people. It is a story which continues until today:

For in each generation, they stand against us to destroy us, but the Holy One, blessed be He, rescues us from their hand.

But when does the story begin? The Mishnah (Pesachim 116a) instructs:

We begin the story with our shame, and we conclude it with our glory.

The Gemara records a dispute as to what is meant by shame and glory. Shmuel’s approach is that we are talking about our physical slavery and freedom:

We were slaves to Pharaoh in the land of Egypt. And the Lord, our God, took us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.

Rav’s approach, on the other hand, suggests we are speaking about our spiritual character:

At the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshipers. And now, the Omnipresent has brought us close to His worship.

If both lines sound familiar, they should, because we include both at our seder. There is room to tell both stories. Shmuel’s focus on the physical wellbeing of our nation, need not conflict with Rav’s focus on the spiritual wellbeing, and vice versa. A strong nation needs both physical strength and spiritual vigor. They go hand in hand. When we make room to tell both stories, we are able to withstand any enemy that comes our way.

הצחר Rachtza

Rachtza can be seen as the turning point of the seder. Whereas until now we have focused on telling the Pesach story through words, from this point onward we will let the foods speak. The next five steps (or six depending on how you count… see the next commentary) are about eating. Washing hands is the perfect way to transition to the next steps. After all, why do we wash our hands before we eat bread? One answer can be found in the following Gemara (Brachot 53b):

The verse states, “And you shall sanctify yourselves” (Leviticus 20:26). This refers to the handwashing before the meal.

The act of cleansing our hands is seen as an act of sanctity and holiness. What is holiness? Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch defines holiness as, “the very height of being absolutely ready for all that is good” (commentary to beginning of Parshat Kedoshim). This may sound simple, but in a world that can be very challenging, it is not always easy to remain open to receiving the good that is around us.

Rather than rush into eating, we pause to bring attention and awareness to what we are doing. These can be holy moments if we are open to such possibilites.

הצמ איצומ Motzi Matzah

How many steps are there at the seder? Go ahead, count! Kadesh, Urchatz, Karpas, Yachatz, etc. You’ll either get 14 or 15, depending on how you count this step. Is it Motzi-Matzah or Motzi and Matzah? Of course, you already know the answer... it’s both. While we do these steps at the same time, they each have their own bracha.

Motzi refers to the bracha, ץֶראָָה ןִמִ םֶחַל אֲיִצְוֹמָּה, who brings forth bread from the ground. Just as we make Hamotzi at every Shabbat or Yom Tov meal over two whole loaves of Challah, we make Hamotzi at our Seder meal over two whole loaves of the type of bread we eat on Pesach, which happens to be matzah.

But there is a second bracha we make before we eat the matzah:

Who has sanctified us with His commandments and has commanded us to eat matzah

This is the matzah of Motzi Matzah. It is a mitzvah unique to Pesach. When we make this bracha we drop the bottom matzah, because we no longer need two whole loaves. This is not Hamotzi. Instead, we focus on the middle, broken matzah, representing the poor man’s bread.

The Gemara (Baba Batra 14b) teaches:

The Tablets and the broken Tablets (the first set that Moshe broke) were kept in the ark.

The whole and the broken were kept in the same space. As we perform these two steps of the Seder together, one focusing on wholeness and one focusing on brokenness, we are reminded to hold space for both.

רורמ Maror

A zisen (sweet) Pesach! Ironically, this greeting is used on the only holiday where there is a specific mitzvah to eat something bitter. Perhaps this is no coincidence. We don’t know when this greeting originated, or why we wish it to people on Pesach. So, it is certainly possible that we are saying that despite the bitterness of the maror, may you have a sweet Pesach. We try to focus on the sweet, in order to counteract the bitter, just as we dip the maror into charoset.

But what if we paused and held the bitter taste for a moment? The bitter is also a part of life. And you know what? It’s ok. We need not ignore the bitterness or pretend it’s not there. In fact, often when we confront it, we find out that it doesn’t taste as bitter as we thought it would. Perhaps that is what Naomi Shemer had in mind when she famously sang:

Over all these over all these God please watch over them for me

Over the honey and the stinger

Over the bitter and the sweet

The world is sweet, and the world is also bitter. We ask God to watch over all of it, and to watch over us. Perhaps as we eat the maror and focus on its bitter taste, we can feel God’s presence with us in the bitter moments as well as in the sweet ones.

ךרוכ Korech

You know what would make this sandwich taste better? Meat! Yes, that is how Korech was originally eaten:

And they shall eat the meat on that night, roasted, and with matzah and maror they shall eat it (Shmot 12:8)

maror represents the bitterness of the exile, the matzah represents the haste in which we left, and the meat of the Pesach sacrifice represents God’s salvation in passing over our homes. The Or Hachaim (commentary on ibid.) points out that Hillel wanted to emphasize that these three elements work together.

Sometimes we are in situations that seem so bitter and so dark that we cannot imagine things ever getting better. Perhaps the most important message of the seder night is the concept of, ןיעָ ףרהכָ 'ה תָעָושי –God’s redemption comes in the blink of an eye. With God’s help, momentarily, we can go from maror to matzah, from bitterness to redemption.

As we eat our Korech sandwiches we have the maror and we have the matzah; all that’s missing is the meat of God’s redemption. May we merit, momentarily, to see God’s salvation, in the blink of an eye!

ךרוע ןחלש Shulchan Orech

How is this meal – the Shulchan Orech – different from all other meals? Other than the practice of not eating roasted meat, it would seem that this meal is not all that different from other meals of the year. However, if we look at what we eat at the end of the meal, we will understand one unique element of the seder meal. The Afikomen, which is the last thing that we eat, takes the place of the Paschal sacrifice. Just as the Paschal sacrifice was to be eaten on a full stomach, so too, the afikomen should be eaten once we have already been satiated. At the same time, if we are so full that we have to force ourselves to eat the afikomen, it is not considered fulfilling the mitzvah of eating. Gluttonous eating is not eating.

This means that when we eat Shulchan Orech, we should eat enough to be mostly full, but also leave room to enjoy the afikomen. This is easier said than done. We are so used to eating until we are full (or overfull!) that it can be hard to stop before that point. Like many elements to the seder, this is also a display of our freedom. Free people have the luxury of choosing to eat when they want. They need not stress about when the next meal is coming, as that’s completely in their control. Let us never take this luxury for granted.

ןופצ Tzafun

Imagine for a moment that you have never been to a Seder before. What part would be most surprising? I suppose there are a good number of runners up, but I would argue that the Afikomen takes the cake… quite literally! You’ve waited long enough for the meal, and after being promised dessert, they serve you matzah again. Why? The answer is quite simple. The rabbis wanted us to leave the meal with the taste of a mitzvah in our mouths. Back in temple times the Paschal lamb was the last thing that we ate, so that its taste would stay with us. In its stead, today, our “dessert” is the main mitzvah food of the night.

Not only do we want this mitzvah to linger afterwards but it is also highly anticipated before. It is , hidden away. We hide that which is precious. The language may remind us of baby Moshe, born at a time when baby boys were being killed by the Egyptians:

And when she (Moshe’s mother) saw he was good, she hid him for three months (Shmot 2:2)

The Hebrew word וּהֵנְפְְּצְִתְּו, she hid him comes from the same root as Tzafun. Hidden away. The story of our exodus began with a precious baby, hidden away, only to be revealed to the world at the right time. As the taste of the mitzvah remains in our mouths, let it remind us that good things come to those who wait. Or as Jews say:

And even though the Messiah may tarry, nevertheless, I anticipate his coming every single day.

ךרב Barech

Studies have repeatedly shown that expressing gratitude helps us feel better physically and mentally. Gratitude has been linked to stronger immune systems, better sleep, and lower blood pressure, in addition to positive emotions, such as enthusiasm, happiness, and optimism. If there are so many benefits, why are people hesitant to say thank you?

There are two obstacles to expressing our gratitude. First, human nature is such that we tend to focus on what’s wrong rather than what is right. We fixate on our problems, rather than on our blessings. Secondly, saying thank you is an acknowledgment that someone else helped us. We didn’t do it on our own.

Birkat Hamazon (the after-meal blessing, also known as bentching) helps us to overcome both of these obstacles. Every time we eat, we pause to recognize the blessing of having food to nourish ourselves, and to acknowledge that we depend on God for this food.

And in His great goodness, we always have not lacked, and may we not lack nourishment forever and always.

As Jews, we don’t need studies to tell us about the benefits of gratitude. It is in our very name. Yehudah/ Judah was given his name by his mother, Leah, who declared, “this time I thank Hashem” (Bereishit 29:35). We continue to do so each time we eat.

ללה Hallel

“Not for our sake, God, but for Your name’s sake…” With these words we begin the Hallel portion of the seder. These words may jump out at us because they are not usually the opening words of Hallel.

Since we have already recited the first two paragraphs of Hallel as part of Maggid, the Hallel section at the seder begins with this plea to Hashem. The next verse continues, “Why should the nations say, ‘where is their God?’ But our God is in the heavens, all that He wanted, He has done.”

We praise God by pointing out that God’s glory and the glory of Israel are interconnected. When the glory of Am Yisrael is diminished, God’s glory (as it were) is diminished as well. And conversely, when the splendor of Am Yisrael shines through, God’s splendor shines along with us.

When God took us out of Egypt with miraculous wonders, God’s presence was revealed all over the world. May we merit to see great miracles once again in our time. As the sages teach,

, in Nissan we were redeemed and in Nissan we will be redeemed once again (Gemara Rosh Hashanah 11a). May we merit to experience this redemption, not only for our sake, but also for God’s sake.

הצרנ Nirtzah

After an evening of DOING lots of rituals we come to the final step of the seder, and we don’t DO anything! There are no halachic requirements being fulfilled in Nirtzah. There are no blessings, there are no cups of wine. We don’t speak of the matzah or the maror or any of the other mitzvot of the night.

The word Nirtzah literally means to be wanted, accepted, or received. On a basic level we are asking God to graciously accept our service of the seder. It is as if we are saying to God, we’ve done all we can, the rest is up to you.

On a deeper level, the word Nirtzah takes us back to the Shabbat after Tisha B’av, Shabbat Nachamu. In the special haftorah (Isaiah 40), the prophet Isaiah offers these words of comfort:

Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and call out to her that her term of service is over, that her iniquity is Nirtzah.

The word Nirtzah in this verse expresses God’s assurance that exile and suffering is coming to an end. So too, in this stage of Nirtzah, we leave the seder, by leaving things in God’s hands. We pray that the next Seder will be in Jerusalem with a rebuilt Temple.

The Pesach Supplement is generously sponsored by Ben Sagel in memory of his wife

Phyllis Sagel, Chaya Fruma Leah Bat Yitzchok

were married for 44 years and he lovingly dedicates this publication in her memory.