Rav Yitzchok Maltzen zt'l, best known as the author of
Siddur HaGra: Ishei Yisroel, also wrote a very
wonderful commentary on the Haggodoh called Maggid
Tzedek.
In his opening remarks to "Mah nishtanoh" this student
of HaRav Yisroel Salanter notes that whoever is asking the
questions here is disturbed to find that he is faced with
both the presence of new circumstances as well as the absence
of the old: "Usually we eat all kinds of vegetables; tonight
we eat only bitter herbs," and similarly, "Every other night
we eat both leavened and unleavened bread, yet tonight we eat
only matzoh."
So too, there are aspects in the Seder which are meant to
indicate that we are now emancipated and well-to-do: we eat
reclining and dip our salad in "dressing," unlike common folk
who eat it just as it is.
Yet on the other hand it seems that the correct text of the
Haggodoh is "Ho lachmo" -- this is the very
bread which our forefathers ate in oppression in the land of
Egypt. Not that this matzoh is similar in form and taste to
that historically eaten, but rather that this is the selfsame
bread which the Egyptians fed their slaves, either because it
was cheaper or took longer to digest.
As such one is meant to reach the conclusion that something
is afoot here. This is the crux of the situation and for sure
something is going on. We are meant to be caught off balance
as the past and present are jumbled together.
Our Sages said, "Bechol dor vodor chayov odom lir'os es
atsmo ke'ilu hu yotso miMitzraim" -- "In each and every
generation, one must see himself as though he came out of
Egypt." The Rambam added one single word: "'atoh." In
order to fulfill the mitzvah of considering oneself as though
he personally were saved in the Exodus, the Rambam required
an extra degree of intensity. Each of us must feel that it is
happening now.
Not so many years ago, I was privileged to visit HaRav Moshe
Aaron Stern ztvk'l, the late mashgiach of
Yeshivas Kaminetz Yerushalayim for the first time. It was on
chol hamoed Pesach, and a close friend, who wanted me
to become R. Moshe Aaron's talmid as well, took me
along with him to visit his rebbi.
While pouring me a glass of wine, which he insisted I have
for simchah, HaRav Stern turned to my friend and asked
him what he had gotten out of the Seder. The implication was
that this was an experience for which one had to prepare.
As a devoted talmid of HaRav Elya Lopian ztvk'l, this
was R. Moshe Aaron's approach to every holiday, whether
Pesach or Rosh Hashonoh or Simchas Torah. You only get out of
it what you put in, just like every other part of Torah. In
the midst of the bustle and the cleaning -- and the money
counting and shopping and budgeting and finally chasing the
chometz out of the house -- one must create an open
space, a time to reflect. Otherwise the holy Seder nacht,
"halayloh haZeh," is going to rip past us all too
quickly, leaving us wondering what we have missed.
Last Year and Next
Hashto hochoh. Leshonnoh habo'oh beYerushalayim --
"Now we are here; next year in Jerusalem," proclaims the
maggid at every Seder table every year, just as he has
for generations.
One must ask: what does it mean to be "here"? And similarly,
what will it mean next year, to be in Jerusalem?
Clearly the Haggodoh as we have it must have been
written in one of the many exiles that our people have known
since the destruction of the First Temple. As such, the
poignancy of the above statement must be duly felt.
Imagine hearing this in the Warsaw Ghetto, or even in Yavneh
after R. Yochonon ben Zakai had saved the chachomim
from the Roman destruction of Jerusalem. It was also said at
clandestine Sedorim held in Marrano cellars in the shadow of
the Inquisition, as well as during the reign of Stalin in the
Soviet Union.
The wish to be in Jerusalem is not just to be in another
city, the capital of yet another sovereign state. Even though
Jews have been living in Jerusalem continuously for
centuries, we still yearn Leshonnoh habo'oh
beYerushalayim, for at the end of a long evening of
eating, drinking, storytelling, mitzvos and concluding with
an especially long Hallel and Nishmas, we cry
out something quite different. We proclaim the specifically
Jewish dream of Leshonnoh habo'oh beYerushalayim
habenuyoh -- "Next year in the rebuilt Jerusalem." The
restoration of the proper connection between Am
Yisroel and HaKodosh Boruch Hu is what the author
of the Haggodoh seems to have in mind even from the
beginning.
Taking Advantage of a Situation
Rav Yaakov of Lisa, the author of the Nesivos
Hamishpot, in his exceedingly beautiful commentary on the
Haggodoh entitled Maaseh Nissim, has a very
startling approach here. To perhaps even overstate the way
the author put it, we are meant to be making a kind of demand
on HaKodosh Boruch Hu. It is as though we are saying,
"Look Hashem, at all that Klal Yisroel has suffered
for You: those long years of bondage under the Egyptian
taskmasters so that Your great Name could be magnified
throughout the world by delivering us through supernatural
means from our slavery to the most powerful and
technologically-advanced nation then known. And look Hashem,
at our situation now. It isn't much better is it? But having
taken us out of Egypt proves that saving us in the present
situation is entirely possible. We are right to ask this of
You!"
The above may at first appear somewhat shocking, but having
risen to this new level of understanding enables us to
perceive a new order in all of the Seder night. We can see it
not as a commemorative experience, but rather a way of
influencing the future.
Rav Yaakov has an entire Torah, based on the idea of symbolic
action. This idea reappears many times in his commentaries,
and his favorite example is from Melochim II 13:17-19.
Yoash King of Israel comes to visit Elisha in his last
illness and the prophet tells him to open the window and
shoot arrows from it. Yoash shoots merely three arrows and
Elisha gets very angry with him. The prophet tell him that
were he to have shot six arrows, Yoash would have eliminated
his enemy Aram completely. Now that he has shot only three,
there will be only three opportunities to defeat them in
battle.
In his Haggodoh, R. Yaakov uses this story to explain
the significance of the zero'a that is on the Seder
plate.
Unlike matzoh and morror which are mitzvos
de'Oraissah, the zero'a is entirely symbolic. It
is meant to represent korbon Pesach, even though the
entire Seder is a celebration of golus leading to
redemption. Thus there must be more here. Zero'a is
also to remind us of chasof zero'a Kodshecho. We are
saying to HaKodosh Boruch Hu, "Bare Your holy Arm and
deliver us out of our present bondage."
Here in Eretz Yisroel and elsewhere there is little
difference between mental and physical suffering. The
Midrash tells us that in Egypt one of the means that
they employed to make the Jews feel as slaves was to switch
male and female household tasks. Certainly men can do women's
work, but they find it oppressive.
So, too, the fact that today members of the Torah community
are forever considered outsiders even in our own homeland is
a kind of subjugation which finds no relief in material
comfort, however important this may be.
The zero'a on the Seder plate thus serves as a double
reminder: on the one hand it encourages us by teaching how we
have been saved in the past, and on the other hand it urges
us to create a new reality which will engender yet another
Exodus from our own golus.
This may be the reason for the especially long Hallel
and recitation of Nishmas that are part of the Seder.
The Rashbo seems to hold that there are two reasons for
singing in general: either one is rejoicing, or one wants to
bring himself to a state of joy. Both would apply here as we
try to join the past to a new, better future.
You Don't Have to Know What You're Doing
In the back of the Pardes Haggodoh there are a number
of interesting stories. One of these is about a helige
Yid who was known as the Shpaller Zeide.
The rebbes in cheder used to prepare the
children for Seder night by prompting them as to what must be
done even before Mah nishtanoh. There was a
traditional formula that every child was taught for
generations: "Kadeish -- when the Tatte comes
home from shul, he must make Kiddush right away so the
children won't fall asleep." In addition to Mah
nishtanoh, the youngest child was expected to add this as
well.
On Seder night when the time came, the Shpaller Zeide turned
to his young son and the little boy said, "Kadeish --
when the Tatte comes home from shul he must make
Kiddush right away," and fell silent. When asked why he
didn't continue, the boy answered that this was all that his
rebbe had taught him.
The next day the melamed was among the many guests at
the Shpaller Zeide's Yom Tov table. The Zeide asked
him why his son had not been taught to say, ". . . so the
children won't fall asleep." The cheder rebbe replied
that he thought it best not to overload his young charges
with too much learning.
At that, the Shpaller Zeide objected. "Do you realize, young
man," he said, raising his hands on high, "what you have
done? The deep meaning of what the children say is this:
`When the Tatte' -- HaKodosh Boruch Hu --
`comes home from shul' -- gets back to Heaven after hearing
his tired and battered Yidden proclaiming His glory in
every shul in the world -- `He must make Kiddush right
away' -- He must renew the ties between Himself and His
Chosen People -- `so the children won't fall asleep' -- so
that we will not lose heart and cease to believe that a final
Redemption is yet to come.
"You left out the final Redemption!"
*
The entire world hangs on the lips of innocent children. Yet
even though we as adults lack that purity, our active
recognition of the opportunity at hand enables us to achieve
great things.
Seder night occurs only once a year, and it is our special
time to approach Hashem in a unique way. Because we are at a
moment in eternity turning both on our Jewish past and the
ever-present hope for a dazzling new future, we suddenly have
the right to ask for deliverance the likes of which we have
indeed never known before.
This is a valid approach even if we do not fully understand
the magnitude of our actions. But we have to have an inkling
of what we are about, and must intend to make a meaningful
statement by eating our matzoh and morror. We have to
prepare. We have to take a good, long look at what is going
on here.
