The EBB will be sent out tomorrow with a zmanim for the end of the Chag, a reminder about Eruv Tavshilin, and a list of stores for buying after Pesach.
Derasha
Day one: In the run-up to the Chag, we lose all sense of freedom in time. But ultimately the slavery of preparation gives way to the freedom of the chag, a chance to indulge wider interests, bigger thoughts. Now we get a chance to expand our thoughts.
Pesach is a time for talking, but some might think the Seder is enough. Don’t worry, I only want to take on one part of the Seder. But it’s perhaps the most difficult obligation we mention all night. That is when we repeat what the Mishna in Pesachim demands that in every generation one needs to see oneself as though he or she too came out of Egypt. This is perplexing in the extreme.
First, just to get it out of the way, this is not a reference to Pesach cleaning. The Mishna is not alluding to the work one does in preparation for the Seder. For some, it feels like servitude. But even if one had servants taking care of everything, there would still be an obligation.
If the Mishna means literally to feel like they did, then it seems completely out of reach. Even if one had the imagination of a great novelist, how would one imagine oneself into that? The pain of Egypt is not within our grasp. I know that there are those who recount great personal pain at the Seder. R’ Chaim Kreisworth, z’l, who was only saved by miracles, used to say that the six years of the war were worse than Egypt. Those who speak like that are onto something, as I hope to show, but the obligation is on the pampered too. This is why it is so elusive.
But I think that the problem is that we are having trouble doing this literally because we are not reading the Haggada literally enough. The Haggada says that we are obligated in every generation to see ourselves as though we came out of Egypt. If it really meant the literal thing we despair of doing, it would say, “every year -- in every Pesach -- a person must see him or herself as though he or she came out of Egypt.” But it does not say that. It says “in every generation.” And in that choice of words there is a clue as to what the Mishna and the Haggada mean for us to do.
The most direct way to understand this is to match it up with the other “every generation” in the Haggada. We say, “In every generation, someone rises up to destroy us.” How do they link up? When we are talking about our enemies, we know that this means that every generation has to parry a challenge -- often an existential challenge -- from outside. When the Haggada uses the same language about coming out of Egypt, it means the same kind of generational challenge. Egypt is not just a historical challenge which we left behind. Egypt is every challenge, in every generation, to fight off what exile means. Exile is always a dislocation from place but not just that. It is also a scatteredness and a servitude to the wishes of others. Place is an essential part of who a person is. The word “Makom” is related to the word “Makayem,” which refers to what gives one existence. The Maharal points out repeatedly that the reason we are so careful about getting the place names correct in a Gett is because place is part of the identity of a person. To be removed from one’s place -- and everyone in California comes from somewhere else -- is to be removed from one’s self. This dislocation creates a lack of focus which I call scatteredness. And we all know about the alienation of work from one’s true desires.
The Seder gives a chance for people to think through how they are subject to the Egypt in their lives. And in refocusing, in re-centering on what really matters, one can emerge from Egypt. To give an example, what we do in Jewish life is daily. It is the repetition that allows us to improve, to inch closer to Hashem, every day. It is not supposed to be a weekly, or monthly, or quarterly job. It is supposed to be daily. This is why we are called "practicing" Jews, because we are trying to get it right. But we live in a society that is always looking for the new. It says about every repeated experience, “been there, done that.” Shaking that denigration of our routine is part of leaving Egypt for this generation.
So it’s not just existential threats like the Shoah. Certainly, telling stories about the Shoah becomes a very dramatic fulfillment of this theme. but for those of us who are not subject to that kind of threat, we still have challenges, and those challenges lock us into that which leaves us far from ourselves.
Ge’ula is a return to oneself. If we can return to ourselves, and nothing but ourselves, then we have arrived. And that is also called leaving Egypt.
Day Two: A candid talk between friends.
Congregation Emek Beracha 4102 El Camino Real Palo Alto, CA 94306
