Shabbat HaGadol -- a lesson in freedom and responsibility

 In addition to Rabbi Wein's regular devar Torah on the parashah (here), we reproduce a piece by Rabbi Wein on the significance of Shabbat HaGadol. Enjoy!

The Shabbat that precedes the holiday of Passover has been named by Jewish tradition as Shabbat Hagadol—the Great Shabbat. Over the ages there have been many explanations as to why this Shabbat is set apart from all others. Rabbinic literature records that it marks the anniversary of the Jewish people’s preparation of the sacrificial lamb for the Passover offering while they were yet in Egypt, awaiting their imminent deliverance. Other reasons for the name have been advanced, all of which have been treasured in Jewish life over the centuries. 

Allow me to introduce another idea that I feel has relevance and importance. Passover represents freedom from bondage, a release from slavery and the creation of myriad possibilities for self-growth and accomplishment. However, human history testifies to the fact that freedom carries with it many responsibilities and dangers. Indeed, there has never been consensus as to what the true definition of freedom is or should be. 

Humans vacillate between uninhibited hedonism and unbridled licentiousness on one hand and tyranny of thought, action and social conformity on the other. Everyone claims to speak in the name of freedom, but we are aware that all ideas of freedom are subject to interpretation and circumstance. For many people freedom of speech only applies to speech that gains their approval. And this is true for all freedoms to which we pay lip service. We find it hard to stomach ideas that do not match our own. 

We therefore need to educate and train ourselves if we are to see that freedom is properly defined and implemented in society—and the training ground is Shabbat. In its essence, and paradoxically through its restrictions, it frees us from the chains of everyday life that so bind and constrict us. It allows for a freedom of the spirit and the imagination, for thought and for rest, which are almost universally absent from our regular six-day workweek. The Talmud elevated this notion to new heights, adding that freedom was inscribed on the tablets of the law that Moshe brought down from Sinai. Only by understanding the divine law and by appreciating one’s role in the universe that God created can one achieve a proper understanding of the gift of freedom.

It is obvious that misapplication of freedom has led to untold tragedies for millions of people throughout the history of mankind. The responsibilities of freedom are great. They are also demanding, requiring perspective and inner discipline. These items are the gifts of the Shabbat to the Jewish people, for they shape the ideas and goals of freedom for all who partake of the holy nature of that day. Without education and training, freedom itself may become an unbearable burden and a liability instead of an asset. 

Perhaps this Shabbat becomes the Great Shabbat because it teaches us how to be free and protects us from the lethal dangers of misapplied freedom. Freedom is not measured only by outside forces, governments and societal pressures. It is also measured by the internal emotions and mindset of the individual. One can live in the freest of societies and yet feel that one is a captive and a slave. 

A scene in a book by one of the Russian Jewish dissidents describes how he shared a cell with a clergyman of another faith, a monotheistic believer and a person who was moral to his very core. In one of the many discussions that this Jewish dissident had with his cellmate, they both concluded that only in this dungeon did they both feel completely free. And though they both desired to be released from the prison, they agreed that they probably would never again feel themselves to be as free as they did at that moment in the darkness of the jail. 

All the rules and ideas that are expressed in the Torah are meant to imbue in us this concept of freedom. Freedom is the connection of ourselves to our inner soul and to the Creator that has fashioned us all.

The Message of the Haggadah

Following his devar Torah on the meaning and the significance of  Shabbat HaGadol, Rabbi Paul Bloom here shares with us a brief vort on the Haggadah, specifically the Ha Lachma Anya passage in which we read, “Now we are here: next year, may we be in the Land of Israel. Now we are slaves; next year, may we be free men.”

The Ya’avetz asks an insightful question: Why the repetition? If we’re praying to be in Eretz Yisrael, aren’t we already praying for freedom, for redemption? His answer is profound. First, we express our hope to be in the Land of Israel, even if the final redemption hasn’t fully arrived yet. We then pray for the complete redemption—both physical and spiritual—by the next Pesach.

This insight teaches a crucial lesson. Many Jews in the Diaspora justify their refusal to make aliyah, saying, “What’s so special about Israel today? I’ll go when Mashiach comes.” But Rav Ya’akov Emden teaches us that there is intrinsic merit in living in the Holy Land, even if things aren’t perfect yet.

There are three levels of exile: absolute exile, when Jews are far from Israel, and absolute redemption, when Mashiach comes. But there is a middle ground—living in Israel today is already a step closer to redemption, even if we’re not yet in the ultimate ge’ulah.

In Rav Emden’s time, traveling to Israel was incredibly difficult. Today, though, we have the opportunity to move to Eretz Yisrael freely. Let’s embrace that opportunity. If we make the effort to be in Israel, Hashem may just fulfill our prayer: “Next year, may we be free men.”

Sing your "Ha Lachma Anya" this year: some jolly tunes here, here and (especially for Moroccans) here.

The Wicked Son -- not who you think he is!

No, these two illustrations are not authoritative portraits of the Wicked Son who features so powerfully in our Haggadah shel Pesach! They are artificial and imaginative conjectures composed by the current must-use online tool, AI (artificial intelligence). There is nothing artificial however about the concept of the child who has veered "off the derech" and who appears to be at odds with his family, his faith and Jewish society in general.

Rabbi Kenigsberg tackled this sensitive topic over a selection of fresh and tasty bagels in this week's Munch & Learn discussion group. Let him tell you in his own words about how he invited us to rethink our traditional assumptions about the wicked son:

In our pre-Pesach "Munch & Learn" session, we challenged the traditional image of the rasha, the so-called "wicked son" of the Haggadah. Far from being a villain or a scoffer, he represents a deeper struggle—one that’s uniquely tied to life in Eretz Yisrael.

In exile, the rasha engaged with mitzvot as part of a shared Jewish identity. They were his connection to a national story. But in Israel, where national identity is a lived, civic reality, he views mitzvot as outdated folklore, disconnected from the nation-building he values.

Our rasha is neither small-minded nor rebellious. Far from it. He's actually an idealist. His vision for the Jewish people is grand, but he struggles to see how Torah and mitzvot remain the backbone of Jewish nationhood, even in our sovereign state.

The Haggadah responds with a powerful verse: "Ba'avur zeh asah Hashem li"—“It is because of this [i.e. the Torah and mitzvot] that God took me out of Egypt.” This line, which appears four times in the Haggadah, reminds us that freedom without purpose is empty. The avodah, the physical performance of mitzvot, transforms us from slaves of Pharaoh to servants of God—and that, paradoxically, is the truest form of liberation.