The Pesach Seder: Journey from Time into Freedom
This is a series of ten short divrei Torah, based on Rav Moshe Shapiro’s Reflections and Introspection, Exile and Exodus. Each concludes with a short prompt for further thought or discussion. Please feel free to print out these pages. My hope is that these thoughts will be useful as a guide for experiencing the seder as a spiritual journey.
*Thank you for understanding that typos and mistakes are a result of publishing this while simulateously preparing for Pesach.
1. Kadesh
How Time Moves Us Towards a Destination
As we make the bracha of Kiddush, “Blessed are you, Hashem, Who sanctifies Israel, who sanctify the time,” we can reflect on how Pesach is the holiday of time. It began, as the Midrash Rabbah (Shir HaShirim 2:8) tells us, with Hashem leaping over time and taking us out of Mitzrayim almost 200 years early. The first night of Pesach ends with us eating the Korban Pesach in haste, shoes on and staff in hand, ready to travel. We were given our first mitzvah as a nation in Mitzrayim, the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, which is centered on time. And nothing compares with the time pressure of having to count every second as we bake our 18-minute matzah.
What’s behind this focus on time? The process of the ten plagues was the process of peeling away the layers of concealment that form our world and revealing what lies behind the system of nature. Time was the first creation. It was brought into being by the first ma’amar, “Bereisheit, in the beginning.” Like everything that was created, it was created for a purpose, and its purpose is revealed by its Hebrew name.
The Hebrew word for time, “zman,” relates to the Hebrew word for preparation, “hazmanah.” Instead of viewing time as an endlessly onrushing flow without direction, the Torah tells us that time is steadily advancing towards its designated purpose.
The Seder is a journey. We do not speak about leaving Mitzrayim on Seder night, we actually leave Mitzrayim on Seder night. We do this by challenging our perceptions and changing our perspective. In this way we can walk out of a constrained perception and into a new reality.
Take a moment to consider: The time we are about to spend at the Seder is moving steadily toward a purpose: the end of the Seder. Where would we like to be when we get there? All of our life is also steadily advancing toward a goal. Do we know what we are advancing to? Do we know where we hope to go?
2. Avadim Hayinu
Mitzrayim Is The Natural World Detached From The Supernatural
The days of the Pharaohs have long since disappeared from history. Clearly, when the Haggadah makes the statement, “If Hashem hadn’t taken us out of Mitzrayim, we and our children and our grandchildren would still be enslaved to Pharaoh in Mitzrayim,” the reference is to something significantly more lasting, that still has the power to enslave us today.
The Torah describes Mitzrayim as a beautiful land, like Gan Eden. But it is entirely self-sufficient. Its source of water is the Nile, which means there is no need to look up to the heavens to see when it will rain. Rav Shapiro explains that this is a physical representation of the spiritual nature of Mitzrayim. The Hebrew word for Egypt, “Mitzrayim,” can be broken up into two Hebrew words, “meitzar, straights” and “yam, sea.” Mitzrayim is therefore meitzar yam—the straights of the sea. The sea is an expression of expansion and eternality in the world. Bava Batra 73a describes how each wave declares that it will flood the entire world. Yevamot 115a talks about “water without end.” Mitzrayim is the place where the infinite and expansive nature of the world is put into straights, into a place that is too narrow to contain it.
Egypt gets its nourishment from the Nile, with no connecting point to anything transcendent, and certainly no connection to Hashem. Instead, the divinity of Egypt is the human Pharoah. The Shelah points out that the gematria of Pharoah is the same as the gematria of shana, the solar year. The sun is the driving force behind the natural world, and unlike the moon it creates a system of time that repeats endlessly without change. It is connected to the Hebrew word for repetition. Egypt is the land for those who live under the sun, where the world predictably follows the rules of nature, and where there is nothing new.
Rav Shapiro writes, “Egypt separates us from the infinite aspect of existence (p. 242).” If we had not been taken out of Egypt we would have been enslaved to the worldview of continuation. When we left Egypt, we left those straits. We departed from our natural perception of the world and we entered a supernatural realm. For forty years in the desert we lived a supernatural existence. The exodus from Egypt was a journey from one form of existence to another form which is connected to spirituality,
Take a moment to consider: Are we aware of our own spiritual side? Do we live in connection to our own soul? Are we connected to a spiritual conception of the world?
3. Yachol Mi Rosh Chodesh
Time Hides The Reality That Our World Is Like a Flame
The prerequisite for gaining true freedom is changing our perception of time. This is the assumption that underlies the Haggadah’s astonishing statement that perhaps the obligation of telling the story of our redemption from Egypt should begin at Rosh Chodesh, not on Pesach night. Through the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh, Hashem gave us the tools we need to move out of the system of nature, exemplified by the solar year.
Rav Shapiro compares the mitzvah of Rosh Chodesh to the first command given to Avraham, lech lecha. Avraham was commanded to begin his journey by traveling through space with purpose. We as a nation were commanded to begin our journey by traveling through time with purpose. The command of Rosh Chodesh was a command to move from our natural perception of time to a supernatural, spiritual perception of time.
We are all born into a world that exists, and we naturally experience time the way Hillel described it in Avot 2:6, as if it were an endlessly floating river. Our living experience of time is that it is eternal. This hides the true nature of the world, that time was created along with the rest of the world. Time is the first layer of creation, created with the word Bereisheit, and its subconscious effect on us gives us the space to exist and to have free will. However, it also leads us very easily to denying the existence of Hashem. Our physical experience of the world leads us to the subconscious feeling that everything in the world is solid, that it exists naturally and will continue to exist unless something else acts on it.
The purpose of Yetziat Mitzrayim was to challenge our fundamental understanding of the world, and to make us aware of the true nature of our existence in this world. The world exists the way a flame exists. If a child looks at a flame, it appears to exist continuously. In fact, at each moment it only continues to exist because it is burning its energy source. The flame of a moment ago is the expression of the fuel of a moment ago, and flame of this moment is an expression of the fuel of this moment. If for one second the fuel source would stop, the flame would go out.
Our world, as well, is constantly being recreated at each moment. It appears to sit, solidly at peace, but is actually made up of constantly moving energy. All of creation is a revelation of energy, and the energy source for the world is the word of Hashem.
We are commanded to experience Pesach in the season of spring, at the time when nature is bringing forth all the new life that was hidden over the winter. In the month of Spring, the new buds appear in the ground. Things emerge from nonbeing to being, from nothing to something. Spring is the time in which the hidden is revealed. And the redemption from Egypt in the spring is the redemption from a world where we thought we understood everything to a world where the things which are hidden become revealed.
Consider for a moment: How does the knowledge that Hashem recreates the world at every moment change the way you experience this moment, created for you in all its particulars? Consider that if you take a breath in, and then take a breath out, and you still exist in the world, you can be sure that Hashem wants you to be here. He has recreated you into this moment, with a purpose and with love.
4. Vehi She'amdah
When We Sanctify Time We Can Taste The End In The Process
Hashem guards his promise to us, that there is a purpose and an end to history. We are marching toward something. The Hagaddah tells us that this is what has stood for our fathers and for us throughout the generations. Rav Shapiro brings a fascinating insight to this idea.
At the time of creation, Hashem commanded the world to produce fruit trees yielding fruit. The idea behind this command was the creation of an ideal world in which the process, the tree, would have the same sweet taste as the end result, the fruit. This is not the world which was able to come into being, and the reason for this is that if we could easily taste the sweetness of the end in the process we would not have free will. What came into being were trees which bear fruit, which is a world in which the process is often long and complicated and hard, and we don’t get to taste the joy and the sweetness until the end.
However, the original command invested our world with a spiritual reality. We have the ability, through our relationship with time, to tap into the ideal state of the world. As we mentioned, the Torah concept of zeman, time, is connected to hazmanah, preparation or designation. There is a halachic reality that occurs when we designate something for a specific purpose. Even if we have not yet reached that purpose, the item attains kedusha as if we were already there. For example if I say, “This satchel that I hold in my hand is going to be set aside as a tefillin bag,” then even if the tefillin is not yet in the bag or anywhere near the bag, the bag immediately acquires the kedusha of a tefillin bag. The same is true about the time we live in. Time is a creation that we can sanctify. When we live in time in a state of preparing for a purpose, we consecrate the time for that purpose. When we do that, we begin to experience that purpose even before we have reached our goal. We change the reality of our time, and we can taste some part of the end in the process. The process of living in the world takes on a new flavor.
This is what stood for our forefathers for centuries. We live through the galut with the knowledge that the geulah is the end goal. This is what gives sweetness to our days.
Take a moment to consider: Have you ever experienced this, perhaps while training or preparing for something big, when all your energy was focused on the goal? Maybe even just in the preparations for a party or a big event? How can we use this spiritual reality to enhance the joy in our lives?
5. Rabbi Yossi Haglili (and the Makkot)
Learning the Torah of the Miracles
This section of the Haggadah contains the only mention of Moshe. His name is mentioned almost by accident, at the end of a pasuk which is quoted for its beginning. Although Moshe is almost not mentioned at all in the Haggadah, Rambam (Hilchot Chametz U’Matzah 7:1) places him front and center. He writes, “if the son is mature and wise, he (the father) should tell him what happened to us in Mitzarayim and the miracles that were done for us through Moshe Rabbeinu.” Why this emphasis that it was Moshe who performed the miracles, when the Haggadah chooses not to mention Moshe at all? Rav Shapiro explains that the miracles were given to us through Moshe just like the Torah was given to us through Moshe. Rambam is emphasizing that they are meant to be studied in the same way the Torah is studied.
A miracle is a temporary suspension of the natural world that gives us a peek into the true reality of our world. Ramban tells us that the notable “big” miracles we experience come to teach us about the “small” miracles, which are the everyday moments of our life. They are a Torah from which we can learn all the elements of hashgacha.
In particular, the makkot were a year-long boot camp through which we learned as a nation everything we needed to know about how Hashem runs the world. It is for this reason that we have so many aspects of Judaism that are “zecher l’yetziat Mitzrayim.” The miracles of Egypt taught us all our fundamentals.
Although there were miracles that occurred before the time of Yetziat Mitzrayim, there was a unique aspect to the miracles that occurred in Mitzrayim. The nature of the miracles in the time of the Avot was to reveal Hashem’s control over nature. The miracles of Mitzrayim went a step further. They were miracles of paradox.
The blood of the first plague was both water and blood at the same time, depending on who was drinking it. The hail was both fire and water. The darkness was both darkness and light. Like Hashem Himself, there is no way to understand this. The lesson we were meant to learn is that we are not bound by anything in this world: not the Egyptians, not the land, not nature itself, and not even time. Leaving Egypt meant moving into a reality beyond nature, a reality of miracles and wonders.
Take a moment to consider: What do you feel bound by, and what are you able to free yourself from? What do you wish to be free of?
6. Dayenu
Saying Thank You Is All In The Details
One of our family customs is that each year when we reach dayenu we remind ourselves of the same Dvar Torah from Rav Dessler, which we love. Dayenu breaks down the entire process of yetziat mitzrayim, from the leaving of Egypt through to its final conclusion of building the Beit HaMikdash in Eretz Yisrael, into small sections. Each section it labels as “enough.” Rav Dessler explains that what the Haggadah means by “enough” is that each section is enough to say ‘Thank You’ for. He points out that when we want to be appreciative for something big, it’s not enough to just say thank you for the whole thing at once. It’s only once we break it down into all its various aspects that we can really appreciate what we are saying thank you for.
For example, we can say thank you if a friend picks up something for us at the store, and we can mean it. But our thank you will be much more profound if we first think about how that friend took the time to call us before they went out, to see if we needed anything, and then searched in the store for exactly what we needed, and made sure to get the brand we most wanted, and then stood in line to get it, and then brought it to our house. Our appreciation of anything is much more profound when we consider it in smaller pieces.
When I think about this dvar Torah in the context of what we have been discussing about time, I think about how our lives, lived within the creation of time, give us the opportunity to experience our relationship with Hashem as it develops over many small moments of time. Living in time allows us to appreciate all the stages of our relationship.
Take a moment to consider how our relationship with Hashem has developed over time. How does this idea help us better appreciate both the people in our lives and Hashem’s presence in our life?
7. The Pesach Offering
The Reason For The Rush At The End
As we mentioned earlier, we ate the Pesach offering on the original night in Egypt ready for travel with our shoes on our feet, and our staffs in hand. On that first night of Pesach we were ready to leave in an instant, and Hashem was rushing us out. But what was the point of all this rushing? The Ari Hakodesh famously says that if we would have stayed in Egypt for one more moment, it would have been too long, and we wouldn’t have been able to have been redeemed.However, the Leshem asks a question on this that seems obvious in retrospect. Certainly, there may have been a rush to end the slavery, and to get out from under the influence of Egyptian culture when we were still slaves. But after a year of makkot, and on the night when Hashem Himself was revealed in Egypt, does this logic really still make sense? Didn’t we want a few more moments of that revelation?
The Maharal explains that the risk of leaving Egypt slowly would have been a problem, not because of the influence of the Egyptians, but because it would have involved more time. The night when we left Egypt was the night of the conception of our nation. The moment of conception is the moment of definition. At that moment of conception, if we would have taken any more time, we would have been conceived as a nation in time, a nation that exists under the system of time and nature. That is not meant to be our definition. What defines us as a people is that we transcend time and space.
The rush on Pesach night is not really a rush. It is the skill of using only as much time as necessary, so that we can exist beyond the world of time, and not be defined by it.
Take a moment to consider: In what ways do we use our time for a purpose, in what ways do we sink into our time and allow it to define us?
8. Matzah
The Flavor of Time
The Holiday of Matzot is the time of our freedom. But what is the connection between freedom and matzah? We can understand it by looking at the only difference between matzah and chametz, which is time. Flour and water, when mixed and baked, immediately form matza. But if you add the element of time, then instead of matza, you make bread. Time adds flavor to the matzah. But it also changes its essential nature. The flavor that is added by time is not the true taste of the flour and water.
The existence of time also gives a “flavor” to the world which obscures its true nature. The flavor that time adds to the world is the flavor of eternal existence. This is the great lie of creation, that we exist eternally and that we can exist on our own without God.
We become free by returning to who we really are. Yetziat Mitzrayim gave us the awareness of true existence. We reflect this by distancing ourselves from anything leavened, anything that keeps us from experiencing the true nature of ourselves and the world around us. Instead, we eat the matza, and savor the flavor of returning to who we really are.
Take a moment to consider: Which pieces of ourselves do we carry with us which are external to our true selves, and do not express who we really are.
9. Maror
The Avodah of Chomer
The Haggadah tells us that in Mitzrayim our lives were made bitter by the hard work of chomer, unformed matter. Our world consists of matter, chomer, and form, which is the meaning behind that matter. Everyone can see the chomer. But our ability to grasp the form of an object depends on the person who is looking at it. A young child who is given a chess set can see that it is meaningful and beautiful, but he can not begin to understand the true meaning of the pieces, let alone the deeper meaning behind the strategy of the game.
The true form of everything in this world is that it reveals the Will of Hashem. For this reason the Hebrew word for thing is “davar,” which also means speech. Every object is an expression of the word of Hashem which brings that object into existence. As Rav Shapiro explains, “Each creation realizes a part of His Will, and all creations together realize His entire Will that He wished to reveal to us (p.46).” Avraham could read creation and understand the Torah behind it.
Real meaning is found when we can attach ourselves to the word of Hashem that brings our world into existence. However Chazal tell us that in Mitzrayim “dibbur,” true speech, was in exile with us. We were disconnected from being able to see the word of Hashem behind nature. The world was an empty place of constantly shifting, meaningless matter and moments, unformed, and without direction. We might try to find meaning first in one thing and then another, but none of it was lasting. The experience of trying to find meaning without connection to spiritual reality is similar to the work we were forced to do in Mitzrayim, building structures on top of shifting sand. It is the most bitter of experiences, the Maror of our lives.
Take a moment to consider: what are the things in our life that give us the most lasting sense of purpose and meaning? Which parts of our personality are the most constant? Are there any areas in our lives where we find ourselves having to recreate ourselves over and over again?
10. Hallel
Crossing the Sea
The first Pesach night in Mitzrayim culminated at chatzot, with the direct revelation of Hashem’s presence. That same revelation echoes through history each Pesach night. At chatzot we directly experienced our relationship with Hashem, and we end our Seder in the same way, by turning directly to Hashem and singing Hallel.
We began the Seder as slaves to Pharaoh in Mitzrayim, slaves to a world view which is meitzar-yam, which constrains the expansive spiritual nature of our world. It was only seven days later, when we stood at the edge of the Yam Suf, that we were fully able to break free.
Rav Shapiro (p.259) describes the moment. We stood with the Egyptians surrounding us on three sides. The situation was dismal, and Moshe was crying out to Hashem for salvation. But the prayer we prayed was focused on the three sides where the Egyptians were surrounding us. It was a prayer for deliverance, but we could not see, even in our prayers, past the Egyptians. We were not even considering the side of the sea. It was beyond our purview. We didn’t take it into account at all.
Hashem’s response was, essentially, why are you praying to me to deliver you from the Egyptians? You are not surrounded. There is a path before you. Continue onward.
The path toward freedom was into the sea. The journey began with the commandment of the new month, which gave us the direction to step out of the world of nature and into the world of the eternal, the world of newness. It ends with a solution that is entirely new and comes from the most unexpected of places, a comprehensive solution that saved us completely. The solution was to move out of the world of the Egyptians and into the world of connection that is created by the Torah. At Yam Suf we stepped out of the world of nature and into Hashem’s hands. The proper end to such a journey can only be to burst forth in joyful song.
Take a moment to consider: Are there any areas in our life where we can open ourselves up more fully to living in a deeper reality? What causes us to sing in joy? How can we bring more of that into our lives?