Why say Thank you?
Rabbi Chaim Fink
If God put us in Egypt in the first place, why should we say thank you when He finally set us free?
Unbearable Agony
The group already felt pushed to their limits before the tortures began. Their tormentor forced them to keep moving at the speed of light. He’d shout at them, “Faster, faster! This is not good enough.” As the day turned to night, their suffering did not wane. They were on the brink of collapse, as exhaustion began to set it. The doctor standing by urged the sadistic man to put an end to their abuse. But despite their fatigue, he continued to threaten them and demanded more. They were not sure how much more they could take, some of them could barely remain standing on their feet. Others gasped for air as they felt themselves choking on their own phlegm. Finally, in the wee hours of night, when one couldn’t be sure if it was indeed night, or perhaps crossed over into morning, he allowed them to give rest to their half broken bodies. When their misery finally comes to a close, how would we imagine this group of guys to react! Would they say thank you for finally receiving permission to go to bed? Or more likely, they’d at least be thinking, not having the temerity to articulate, their feelings of anger over having been put through this grueling torture?
The latter response seems more plausible. It is with this introduction that I’d like to pose a question about the celebration and gratitude that we practice over the course of the Passover holiday.
The persecution of the Israelites in Egypt didn’t come as a surprise. It actually had been foretold to Abraham hundreds of years before it happened. God told Abraham that his offspring would one day be strangers in a foreign land, where they’d be enslaved and afflicted. Our stay in Egypt was part of a divine plan that was orchestrated by God. So why is it that when he took us out, after 210 years, we are expected to be grateful and sing songs of thanks at our Passover Seder? Wasn’t it God Who put us there in the first place? When the door is finally opened and we stagger out of that wretched and dark experience, how can we be expected to say thank you?
“Miracle on Ice”
The 1980 Olympic U.S. ice hockey team stunned the dominant Soviet Union 4–3 and went on to win gold.
Please bear with me as I tell a similar story to the one with which I began. We have the same scenario: A group of young men being pushed past the limits of what they thought their bodies could tolerate. Again and again they are forced to ignore the shrill screams that the deep burn in their muscles shout at them. The man in the front shows no mercy, demanding repetitions of their movements. But this time, the man at the front of the rink is the new coach of the USA Olympic ice hockey team. He has a plan for how they are going to beat the seemingly invincible Soviet team in the 1980 Olympics. He’s going to build their strength stronger than any of their opponents, conditioning their muscles to last for the entire game. He is going to push them past the point that they thought possible. The coach is Herb Brooks, and he will eventually lead the USA team to win the gold medal. True, they have to endure a great deal of pain and suffering, but when they realize what they gained from it all, then, eventually, they will feel appreciation not only for the moment when he allows them to rest their weary bodies and go to bed, but also for the challenge of the training itself.
Gaining through Struggle
If through hardship we gain something, we can then appreciate both the struggle and the moment that the struggle has been alleviated. With this in mind, I would like to reframe my question. Rather than asking why we are thankful to God for taking us out from Egypt, when He was the One Who put us there in the first place, I’d like to ask, what was it that we gained in Egypt that necessitated enduring the struggle for all those years. If we can figure out how we grew as a nation, then we’ll understand why we had to be there, and we’ll be able to both thank God for bringing us there, and for eventually taking us out.
A Compassionate People
One of the most often repeated commandments in the Torah instructs us to never taunt the stranger. We should never use our words to hurt one who feels like an outsider, an immigrant, or a convert. Why asks the Torah should we, the Jewish people, be extra sensitive to the plight of one who feels like an outsider? Answers the Torah, “Because you were strangers in the land of Egypt, and you know the spirit of the outsider”. Through our own national experience as immigrants in a foreign land, never feeling like we belong, we gained a deep understanding of what it feels like to be oppressed and discriminated against. The long enduring years of servitude in Egypt impressed upon the Jewish psyche a keen awareness of the pain one feels when he or she is rejected by the surrounding society. We grew into a more empathetic people, better able to feel compassion and imagine what the pain of others may feel like. Our earliest Sages teach that one of the defining character traits of the Jewish nation is that we are rachamanim, a compassionate people. Sometimes even to our own detriment, we display a unique benevolence and innocence, and we can’t understand why others don’t feel or reciprocate in kind. The Jewish people are often the first on site when a catastrophe hits part of the world. Whether helping victims of earthquakes in Haiti, Syria and Turkey, or supporting underdeveloped countries in Africa, Israel has been there to help. It is who we are; a kindhearted and giving people. But this lesson did not come easily to us. It was ingrained into our spiritual DNA over many harsh years when we endured the cruelty of Egyptian persecution. A very much needed process for us to be capable of fulfilling our role as a light unto the nations, but certainly not a very easy pill to swallow. We gained one of our most defining traits, that of compassion and empathy from our Egypt experience.
Unshakable Faith
I believe there’s another dimension to the benefit we gained in Egypt. In the very first conversation that Moshe had with God at the burning bush, he asks God what His name is. God responds that His name is, “I will be that which I will be”. The Talmud explains this name to mean that just as God is here with the Jewish people in Egypt, He will also always be with them throughout all of their future struggles. In Egypt a faith was built within us, that even when things seem grim and hopeless, we never despair of achieving a brighter future. God has been with us in Egypt and He will always be there with us. Even as Hitler’s armies swept through Europe, toppling one country after the other, even as Jews were rounded up, deported and murdered by the tens of thousands daily, even then, we knew that our suffering was temporary. There had been inculcated deep within our souls a belief that there was a God with us who would extricate us from our plight. That faith, to always maintain hope and never despair, is something that took root within us during our Egyptian exile.
Life’s Journey
The journey of life is never a smooth one. There are times when we get lost without a map. There are times when our car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, or we get a flat tire with no spare in our trunk. There are challenges and struggles littered across the road, obstacles that we must avoid. Sometimes we endure such strong pain that we question the purpose of our lives. But, we as Jews, have the ability to look past the surface and see the situation with a broader lense. We ask ourselves why. Why would God, who is kind and merciful, put us in that predicament? We can sometimes see, usually in retrospect, that there was something we gained from all the suffering. Perhaps a very difficult first marriage so that we can truly appreciate our spouse in the second one. Perhaps many years single and alone, so that when Mr. or Mrs. Right comes along, we can really appreciate their special qualities. Whatever challenge life throws our way, we ask not, “why God did You hurt me, but rather, what God can l learn from this, or in which way can I grow?”. We have the ability to take all of the obstacles in our lives and turn them into experiences where we can gain something and become bigger people.
Chametz
What is Chametz? By Sara Aliza Scheinberg
Chametz refers to the leavening of the dough anytime during the bread making process. “Se’or” in Hebrew – or the English version “sour” – refers to the sourdough starters that bread was traditionally made from throughout history (and is trending again today!). It also includes more modern versions such as yeast, both dry and fresh. So according to Jewish law, any bread or sourdough starter, yeast, or food that has any grain + a liquid combined would be considered chametz. Matzah – the food it is a MITZVAH to eat on Passover – is water and flour that must take, from start to finish, under 18 minutes from combination to fully baked. This is in order to prevent the leavening process which would render it chametz. This needs to be certified as Kosher for Passover.
Almost all processed foods such as granola bars and cereals and of course bread of any kind are considered chametz and should be avoided all of Passover. Although many foods need a kosher symbol to be eaten throughout the year, during Passover the symbol requires an extra “P” to symbolize that it is also kosher specifically on Passover. Many foods that are kosher year round are indeed not kosher for Passover, due to the process in which they are made or their ingredients.
What is Forbidden on Passover?
It is forbidden to eat chametz on any of the days of Passover. Because of this law, we traditionally have separate utensils and cooking ware special for Passover.
It is forbidden to own chametz on any of the days of Passover. Because of this law, we “sell” the chametz which we do not want to destroy or dispose of (like most Scotches, liquors, etc). The sale can be handled by your local Orthodox Rabbi.
It is forbidden to have chametz (that is not locked away and sold) in your house on any of the days of Passover. Because of this law, we clean our homes (this is where Christian spring cleaning likely originated) and empty it of all chametz. We especially clean the kitchen because we want to be careful to avoid eating chametz!
These laws are clearly written in the Torah, in Exodus 12:15-20 and again in Leviticus 23:5-8 and in Deuteronomy 15:1-8. It’s interesting to read these words inside for anyone who has the opportunity!
A Deeper Meaning
Because of the enormity of clearing the house of chametz, we generally begin this process in advance and try to clean any area where we may have bread or chametz. Especially in the kitchen, we are sometimes just looking for crumbs. And while we are looking for those little crumbs, we may ask, does G-d really care if we have these little crumbs or not!? And one of the messages we are driving home to ourselves and hopefully to our families when we search for and clean even the smallest crumb, is that nothing about our lives is too small for G-d to be concerned about.
Hashem cares if we need a new tie or a new pair of shoes. He cares if we need a parking space or a reduced balance on a bill. He cares if we are happy and He cares if we are sad.
Hashem notices everything as well. He notices if we didn’t gossip or if we told the truth. He notices if we held the door or if we smiled. He notices if we lit candles or laid tefillin.
When we clear the crumbs, we should also be mindful that just as Hashem commanded us and cares about these little crumbs so too nothing about our lives is too little for His attention or concern.
Passover, among other things, is the celebration of our relationship with the Creator of the world and it’s a time to remember that in all relationships it’s the little things that count!
Selling the Chametz Before Passover by Rabbi Avi Cohen
During the Passover holiday, we are not permitted to eat any חמץ – chametz – leavened baked goods made from grain, such as bread, pretzels, cakes, and cookies, to name a few. We may eat only matzah, unleavened bread. Not only are we not allowed to eat anything leavened, we are not even allowed to own it during the holiday. This is explicitly stated in Exodus 12:15, “For a seven-day period shall you eat matzot, but on the previous day you shall eradicate the leaven from your homes …”
This is a curious commandment. If by mistake someone bought something non-kosher and brought it home, he can hold onto it until it is convenient to return it to the store. He need not eradicate it. Why must chametz be eradicated?
Our Sages explain: Non-kosher items are always forbidden to a person, so when he comes upon something non-kosher he naturally withdraws from it and won’t eat it. However chametz, such as cake and cookies, is something that we eat with relish all the time. Most often, when we see it, we indulge in it, or at least just take a taste. Eating chametz on Passover is worse than eating pork, so Hashem, in His great wisdom, understood that if chametz was around on Passover, at some point during the seven forbidden days, a person would forget it was Passover and by mistake eat something chametz. Therefore, to be sure this does not happen, we cannot even have it in our possession. We must get rid of it.
A person need not burn or throw away all his chametz before Passover. It is acceptable to sell or give his chametz away to a non-Jew before Passover.
Giving it away could incur a great loss of money, and selling it leaves one with nothing to start with after Passover. To remedy this, people put all the chametz in one place and lock it up so they can’t access it during the holiday, and authorize their rabbi to sell it to a gentile who owns the chametz over the holiday, and sells it back to the rabbi after Passover. The sale is legal and binding, and should the gentile decide to enjoy the chametz from your house, he could legally come and demand it, and you would have no choice but to allow him to take it.
This is the reason that people sell their chometz to the rabbi before Passover. The authorization to the rabbi merely requires filling out a document of sale with your name and address on it. The rabbi takes it from there.
Bedikat Chametz (The Search for Chametz) by Rabbi Leiby Burnham
For thousands of years, Jewish people have gathered as families the night before Passover to perform a ritual known as Bedikat Chametz, searching for chametz. The idea was that before Passover would begin, we wanted to take extra care to ensure that there was no chametz in our homes, as the Torah states (Exodus 12:19), “Seven days shall there be no leaven found in your houses.” (One can put chametz in a designated place and sell it, but more about that in the next section.) Traditionally, the search was carried out using candlelight, and many still have that custom today, although many people use flashlights today. Either is fine! This year, since the night before Passover is a Friday night, and we can’t conduct our search on Shabbos, we do the Bedikat Chametz search on Thursday night.
The family gathers after dark, and a blessing is made (see attached), and then the family sets out to search. It is best if the children or a spouse hides a number of pieces of bread (usually ten, carefully wrapped!) so that the searchers don’t come back empty-handed. Pro tip: make sure to write down where you hid the pieces of bread, lest the searcher miss them, and you can’t remember where you left them!
You’re not required to look for crumbs, you are looking for pieces of leaven big enough that someone might want to eat a piece that size (think of a Cheerio or larger), so the search doesn’t need to be too intense. It is easiest if you split up the house between the older children and parents ahead of time; this way after the blessing is made, everyone heads to their designated search area. You tackle the house like a search grid, and hopefully you find all the pieces of leaven you purposely hid and perhaps even a few more! You’ll keep those pieces to be burned the next day (see the section called Biur Chametz).
Our family always likes to have a post-Bedikat Chametz treat, so when the whole family finishes their search, we gather in the kitchen and sip some hot chocolate or nosh on some kosher for Passover brownies!
Burning the Chametz by Sara Aliza Scheinberg
On the morning of the eve of Passover (this year it is Shabbat so we do this tradition on Friday instead) we burn the chametz that we searched for the night before. We need to do this by a certain time – generally by approximately 11:00 am. Safety first is the rule of the Torah, so all precautions to keep the fire contained and people safe must be carefully met. The chametz is burned and a small prayer is said stating that you have done your best to empty your home (and car and office) of all chametz.
The Torah compares chametz to the drive for selfishness and ego that resides inside our hearts. As we clean our homes and search for chametz and then remove it and ultimately burn it, we are meant to be working on ourselves at the same time. We are meant to clear out our hearts of selfishness and ego, search the corners and remove it and ultimately burn it and destroy those inclinations as best as possible. Then we can sit down that night to a Seder with better and cleaner versions of our homes and ourselves!
Since life is a process of constant struggle and upward growth and development, each Passover we need to repeat this process. Both literally, with the chametz, and spiritually, in our hearts.
Next year, in Jerusalem!
Rabbi Chaim Fink
Friends, I would like to share with you a closing thought, a story that I heard when I visited Warsaw, at the place where the ghetto once stood. In April of 1943, many of the malnourished Jewish inhabitants of the ghetto rose up against their Nazi oppressors. They really had no chance of winning that battle, but fight they thought they must. Their struggle lasted longer than the entire Polish army against the Nazi war machine. Eventually, the ghetto was burned to the ground and every last Jew was either shot or rounded up.
Amidst all this chaos, death, and destruction, it was nearly impossible to celebrate the holiday of Passover. There was one family who tried their best to create some semblance of a Seder. When everyone gathered around their small table and it was time for the youngest person present to ask the Four Questions, little Moishele stood up on a chair. He said, “Tatte (Daddy), this year I have a fifth question.” His father asked him what his fifth question could possibly be, as generally there are only four. Moishele said, “Tatte, I want to know if you and I will be alive next year for me to once again ask the Four Questions….” His father responded, “My dearest Moishele, that is a question that I don’t know the answer to. But there is something that I do know with absolute certainty. Next year, somewhere in this world, there will be a Moishele who will ask his Tatte the Four Questions.”
The holiday of Passover is one that will continue among the Jewish people until the end of days. There will be struggles and challenges. There will be questions, many questions. Some questions are so strong that we don’t know the proper answers, but the one certainty is that we, the Jewish people, will always be around to ask those questions. As we take the inspiration of this holiday with us into the year ahead, we remind ourselves that we will always prevail over tyranny. And even though our history has been turbulent and stormy, we hope for the day, and believe firmly that it will come, the day when we will all be sitting together in Jerusalem.
