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שבת שלום - פרשת אחרי מות - הגדול - פסח
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Video Shiur
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video shiur by Rav Meir Goldvitch
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News and Notes
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On behalf of
All of us at Yeshivat Yesodei Hatorah
Best wishes for a Chag Kasher V'Sameach!
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Parsha Insights
By Rabbi Scott Kahn
The Seder night includes two mitzvot d'oraita - commandments mandated by Torah law: the eating of matzah, and the recital of the story of the Exodus from Egypt. The mitzvah of recounting the Exodus in detail occurs during the part of the Seder known as Magid. Interestingly, Magid opens not with the story, or even the questions which lead to the story; instead, it begins with the statement of Ha lachma anya:
"This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the Land of Egypt. All who are hungry should come and eat; all who are needy should come and partake of the Pesach service. This year, we are here; next year in the Land of Israel. This year, we are slaves; next year, free men."
Why does the central part of the Seder begin with what is essentially an offer of tzedakah and hachnasat orchim - an invitation to guests?
Rav Soloveitchik cites a statement of the Rambam's in explaining this practice. While our text of the Haggadah reads, toward the end of Magid, "In every generation a person is obligated to see himself as if he left Egypt," an alternate version of this statement appears in the Rambam's Mishnah Torah: "In every generation a person is obligated to show himself as if he personally now left the enslavement of Egypt." (Hilchot Chametz U'Matzah 7:6) The Rambam states that part and parcel of the Seder is an active demonstration that we were personally redeemed. Recalling the reality is not enough; it must be coupled with our showing that we are actually free.
The Halacha makes clear that a slave cannot own property. In fact, everything that a slave acquires automatically becomes the possession of his master. Accordingly, the idea of private property - the notion that one can do with his possessions as he pleases - is directly related to the reality that one is free, rather than a slave. Thus, the Rav explains, our invitation to guests in Ha lachma anya is far more than a charitable gesture; it is a fulfillment of the Rambam's requirement that every individual demonstrate his freedom. Only someone who is free can invite guests, for property and possessions are the exclusive province of the free. The opening to Magid, therefore, is the first opportunity to demonstrate that we are not merely telling a story, but demonstrating a reality. The redemption from Egypt may be distant in time, but its effects can be experienced in the here and now.
Nevertheless, this answer begs its own question. While the host can demonstrate his freedom by inviting the poor to join him, the poor have no such opportunity. If the invitation to the poor acts as a demonstration of freedom, the poor themselves will likely still view themselves as slaves, unable to demonstrate their freedom in the same manner. What can we do to ensure that the poor do not feel underprivileged? Is there a method to allow them to join in the demonstration?
The Vilan Gaon resolves this quandary by pointing to the final line of Ha lachma anya: "This year, we are here; next year in the Land of Israel. This year, we are slaves; next year, free men." He explains that this seemingly irrelevant statement is, in fact, meant to comfort the poor who join the Seder. They should not feel any less important than their hosts, for while we experience freedom at the Seder, we remain impoverished by our dislocation from our Homeland. Every Jew is, in a sense, enslaved by our continued unredeemed existence. Some individuals have more money than others, but everyone is equally mired in a state of imperfection. The acknowledgment by the rich that they, too, are not yet fully free serves as an opening for the poor to see themselves as equals; this enables them to emerge from the cloud of self- doubt, and experience the Seder with the same emotional freedom as their hosts.
The dual notion that we must demonstrate our freedom while simultaneously recognizing that we are not yet fully free is not only the opening note of Magid, but its conclusion, as well. The beracha which concludes Magid states.:"You redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt, and brought us to this night to eat matzah and maror on it. Bring us to other Festivals and Pilgrimages; happy in the building of Your city and rejoicing in Your service, and we will eat the sacrifices and Pesach offerings there, whose blood will reach the walls of Your altar in acceptance." The fact that this idea surrounds the central section of Magid makes its importance evident. While we experience the joyous feelings of redemption, we must not forget that our experience is lacking. Our Seder is a beautiful yet imperfect version of what it actually should be, with a Korban Pesach eaten in the Holy City of Yerushalayim. We cannot lose sight of the gratitude we owe G-d for the redemption from Egypt, and we also cannot ignore the pain we must feel upon recognizing that Pesach is not what it truly should be.
My colleague, Rabbi Pesach Wolicki, always mentions at his Seder that the Korech sandwich must be seen for what it is: a sandwich missing the main ingredient. While we have the bread - the matzah - and the condiment - the maror - we lack the essential ingredient of the Korban Pesach. Korech is, in fact, a Korban Pesach sandwich without the Korban Pesach. If we simply see Korech as an interesting custom that Hillel once performed, we miss its central point: Zecher l'Mikdash k'Hillel - it is meant as a memorial for the Beit HaMikdash, to show us that our Seder is fundamentally incomplete. May we experience a Pesach of freedom, filled with the blessings that come from recognizing all that Hashem always does for us. And may we also realize that we are not yet at our pinnacle, for we must continue to look to the future, when we will acknowledge both the greatness of our past redemption while experiencing the magnificence of the future one, as well.
Chag Kasher v'Sameach!
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