Days of Darkness and Redemption: Lessons from the Exodus

 Once again we are privileged to bring you a piece by our member Rabbi Paul Bloom -- an in-depth analysis of faith through darkness, the splitting of the sea, and the significance of אֹז (oz), a tiny word that is packed with meaning.

The Plague of Darkness

In last week’s parsha, we are told about the plague of Darkness. Rashi comments on this plague, explaining, "Why did God bring darkness upon the Egyptians? Because there were wicked Jews in that generation who did not want to leave Egypt. They died during the three days of darkness so that the Egyptians would not see their downfall and say, 'They too are being afflicted, like us.'"

But why did these Jews refuse to leave? The Midrash Tanchuma (Va’era 14) fills in the answer:

"The Holy One, blessed be He, does not show favoritism and probes man's heart. There were wicked Jews who had honor and fortune in Egypt. They did not want to leave. The Holy One, blessed be He, said, 'If I smite them publicly and they die, the Egyptians will say, "Just as we are suffering, so are they." Therefore, He brought darkness upon the Egyptians.'"

Even in the midst of persecution in Egypt, some Jews felt at home in exile and rejected redemption. But what percentage of the Jewish population rejected God's salvation, opting instead to remain in Egypt? The answer is found at the beginning of parashat Beshalach:

"The Children of Israel went up from the land of Egypt chamushim (armed)" (Shemot 13:18).

Chazal interpreted "chamushim" in the sense of "chamesh," meaning five. According to Midrash Tanchuma, only one-fifth, one-fiftieth, one in five hundred, or one in five thousand Jews left Egypt. Regardless of the exact number, the message is clear: there is great danger in becoming too complacent in the lands of exile. Redemption is something we must actively embrace. We must accept the notion that our ultimate destiny is to live as a holy nation in our Holy Land. Then, when the Redeemer arrives, we will eagerly follow him to the Promised Land.

Faith and Action

R. Ya'akov Kamenetzky ztz"l expands on Rashi’s comment, emphasizing that even though the Jews were far from righteous—as evidenced by the angels’ claim at the splitting of the Red Sea that both the Egyptians and Jews were idol worshippers—not all wicked Jews perished during the plague of Darkness. Those who died were the ones who actively opposed leaving Egypt, citing the tradition that the bondage would last 400 years. They doubted Moshe and the Elders’ assurances that God had calculated the end of the bondage in the merit of the Patriarchs. Their refusal to embrace redemption ultimately led to their downfall. The rest of the Jewish people, though flawed, possessed the potential for spiritual growth. God foresaw their readiness to stand at Mount Sinai and declare, "Na’aseh v’nishma" (“We will do and we will hear”).

The Sea of Faith

When the Israelites stood before the Red Sea with nowhere to turn, Moshe prayed to God. Surprisingly, God responded: 

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה מַה־תִּצְעַ֖ק אֵלָ֑י דַּבֵּ֥ר אֶל־בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל וְיִסָּֽעוּ׃

"Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the Children of Israel that they should travel" (Shemot 14:15).

Rabbi Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal explains that this teaches us an essential lesson: faith must be accompanied by action. This reinforced in Pasuk 14:22 and 14:29

The Torah twice describes the Israelites' crossing of the Red Sea:

וַיָּבֹ֧אוּ בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל בְּת֥וֹךְ הַיָּ֖ם בַּיַּבָּשָׁ֑ה וְהַמַּ֤יִם לָהֶם֙ חוֹמָ֔ה מִֽימִינָ֖ם וּמִשְּׂמֹאלָֽם׃

“And the Israelites went into the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left” (Shemot 14:22).

וּבְנֵ֧י יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל הָלְכ֥וּ בַיַּבָּשָׁ֖ה בְּת֣וֹךְ הַיָּ֑ם וְהַמַּ֤יִם לָהֶם֙ חֹמָ֔ה מִֽימִינָ֖ם וּמִשְּׂמֹאלָֽם׃

“But the Israelites had marched through the sea on dry ground, the waters forming a wall for them on their right and on their left” (Shemot 14:29).

A subtle distinction exists between these verses. In the first instance, the word chomah (wall) is spelled with a vav, as well as saying that they went into the sea first and then there was dry land. However, in the second instance it is written without a vav, resembling chamah (anger) as well as saying that they marched through the sea on dry land.

The Midrash explains that although Hashem protected Bnei Yisrael, He was also angry with Klal Yisrael because their faith was not yet complete. This is a reference to the story of Nachshon ben Aminadav, the Nasi of Shevet Yehudah. According to Chazal, Nachshon jumped into the raging sea before it split, demonstrating absolute faith in Hashem. In contrast, the rest of B’nei Yisrael waited until the waters had already parted. Hashem desired a greater level of faith from them, and their hesitation evoked His displeasure.

In every generation, there are leaders and followers. Some act with unwavering emunah (faith) and vision, willing to take bold and seemingly irrational steps based on their belief in Hashem’s providence. Others follow in their footsteps, but only after the path is clear. Redemption, however, requires initiative: waiting passively is not enough.

אֹז יָשִׂירְ-מֹשֶׂהָ ווְּנֵי יִשְׁרָאֵל אֶת-הַשִׂירָה הַזֹּאֶת

The phrase "אֹז יָשִׂיר" ("Then Moshe and the Children of Israel sang") is one of the most profound verses in the Torah. The word "אֹז" ("oz") has intrigued commentators for generations. Traditionally, it signifies a pivotal moment when the Jewish people experienced an extraordinary miracle and attained a heightened level of emunah. Not only did they witness this divine intervention, but they also achieved a clarity of mind and soul that enabled them to perceive the Yad Hashem (the Hand of God) in an unparalleled manner.

Understanding the Word "Oz"

Rashi, Ramban and many other commentators grapple with the use of "oz" instead of the more conventional "וְיְשִּׂיר" ("and they sang"). On a simple level, "oz" denotes a specific moment in time—a transformative, almost magical instance when everything coalesced into a perfect expression of faith. Even the simplest person present at the splitting of the sea achieved a level of divine clarity beyond imagination.

A Deeper Interpretation of "Oz"

To further explore this, we must examine an interesting chronological question. Rashi outlines a sequence of events, day by day, culminating in the splitting of the sea on the seventh day of Pesach. However, a discrepancy arises in parashat Shelach, where Rashi discusses the mitzvah of Tzitzit. He explains the significance of the eight threads, linking them to the supreme moment of emunah—the splitting of the sea—which he identifies as occurring on the eighth day of Pesach. This presents an apparent contradiction: the Torah explicitly states that Pesach lasts only seven days. What, then, does Rashi mean by the "eighth day of Pesach"?

Reframing the Pesach Timeline

To resolve this, we must consider the broader context of the Pesach narrative. The Exodus began on 15 Nissan, the night of the Korban Pesach and the Seder. However, Pesach is unique among Jewish holidays in that certain elements begin earlier—on the 14th of Nissan. For example, the prohibition of chametz starts at midday on Erev Pesach, signaling that the redemption process was already in motion before nightfall.

In a profound sense, the first "day" of Pesach can be understood as Erev Pesach, when the Korban Pesach was slaughtered, and the Israelites marked their doorposts with its blood. This act symbolized their spiritual liberation: while they were still physically in Egypt, they had already severed ties with Egyptian idolatry and materialism. Thus their redemption began not only on the 15th but already on 14 Nissan. With this perspective, when Rashi refers to the seventh day of Pesach, he is counting from 15 Nissan. However, when he speaks of the "eighth day," he is counting from the 14th—the true spiritual beginning of the redemption.

The Hidden Meaning of "Oz"

The word "oz" (אֹז) is written with an Aleph (א) and a Zayin (ז), numerically representing one and seven. Together, they total eight, subtly alluding to the deeper chronology of the Exodus. This number reflects the dual nature of Pesach—both its physical redemption, culminating on the seventh day, and its spiritual initiation, beginning on Erev Pesach. Moreover, even the way the letter Aleph is written in Torah script contains hidden symbolism: it consists of a Vav (ו) flanked by two Yuds (י), which together have a gematria of 26, the numerical value of Hashem's name (Yud-Heh-Vav-Heh). This indicates that Moshe Rabbeinu understood how the spiritual and physical elements of redemption were intertwined, reaching their climax on the seventh day of Pesach.

In conclusion, the word "oz" encapsulates not just a historical moment but a profound spiritual truth. It signifies the culmination of a process that began with faith and defiance in Egypt and reached its peak at the splitting of the sea. The choice of this word reflects a deeper divine structure within the Pesach story, emphasizing the unity of physical and spiritual redemption in the Jewish journey.

The Manna and the Fruits of Eretz Yisrael

The second half of parashat Beshalach discusses the manna that sustained the Israelites in the desert:

וּבְנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל אָֽכְל֤וּ אֶת־הַמָּן֙ אַרְבָּעִ֣ים שָׁנָ֔ה עַד־בֹּאָ֖ם אֶל־אֶ֣רֶץ נוֹשָׁ֑בֶת אֶת־הַמָּן֙ אָֽכְל֔וּ עַד־בֹּאָ֕ם אֶל־קְצֵ֖ה אֶ֥רֶץ כְּנָֽעַן׃

"The Children of Israel ate the manna for forty years, until they arrived in an inhabited land. They ate the manna until they arrived at the border of the Land of Canaan." (Shemot 16:35)

R. Avraham Azulai, in Chesed LeAvraham, asks why the manna ceased when the Israelites entered Eretz Yisrael. If God miraculously provided sustenance in the desert, wouldn’t He do so even more in the Holy Land? The standard answer is that the manna was a temporary provision, whereas the ideal is for the Jewish people to sustain themselves naturally in their homeland. However, R. Azulai offers a deeper explanation: Divine Providence in Eretz Yisrael operates differently. In the desert, God bypassed intermediaries and sustained Bnei Yisrael directly. In Eretz Yisrael, the land’s fruits themselves embody holiness and serve the same purpose as manna.

Thus the manna did not truly cease—it transformed. The produce of Eretz Yisrael is a direct manifestation of God’s care, allowing a more intimate relationship with Him.

The Sanctity of Eretz Yisrael

R. Avraham of Sochatchov, the Avnei Neizer, explains why many Chassidic masters refrained from living in Eretz Yisrael during the 19th and early 20th centuries. Without a means of self-sufficiency, they would have relied on foreign donations, which would undermine the purpose of dwelling in the Holy Land. Today, however, earning a livelihood in Israel is far easier, making the mitzvah of Yishuv Ha’aretz (settling the Land) more attainable.

The fruits of Eretz Yisrael carry kedushah (sanctity), especially during Shemittah (the Sabbatical year). Consuming them connects us to God in a way that mirrors the manna of the desert. Each mitzvah performed with the produce of the land further sanctifies it, creating opportunities for spiritual elevation.

Conclusion

The lessons of the Exodus resonate deeply in our time. Redemption requires both faith and action. Living in Eretz Yisrael allows us to experience God’s providence directly, strengthening our connection to Him. As we celebrate Tu B’Shevat and reflect on the blessings of the land, let us embrace the sanctity and opportunities that Eretz Yisrael offers and take active steps toward our ultimate redemption.

Paying the price: redeeming and exchanging hostages

On Tuesday and Wednesday evening in shul, Rabbi Kenigsberg filled the gap between mincha and maariv with a riveting two-part shiur on the halacha relating to the redemption of hostages. This was not a political presentation. It started with two famous quotes from Rambam (right) about the primacy of the mitzvah of redeeming captives (basically “there is no greater mitzvah”), then reviewed modern approaches to this topic from, among others, Rabbi Ovadyah Yosef, the Chazon Ish and Rabbi Yisraeli.

Among the topics Rabbi Kenigsberg discussed was the relationship between pidyon shevu’im (redemption of hostages) and pikuach nefesh (the imperative need to preserve life), the relevance of probability theory to the calculations involving the exchange of hostages for terrorist prisoners and the applicability of pre-state rulings to modern conditions.

You can follow the first half of this shiur here on the Hanassi YouTube channel; the second half is here.

Under our roof: a monthly lunch and lecture

Beit Knesset Hanassi is a hive of activity. Apart from its regular tefillot and shiurim, the shul is host to various activities that originate outside the shul but involve some of its members.  One of rhese is the men’s Rosh Chodesh Club which, unsurprisingly, meets almost every month, either on Rosh Chodesh itself or as close as possible to it. 

This Club offers two attractions: a generously-filled bagel (plus extras) supplied by Holy Bagel and a presentation by an outside speaker.  The range of speakers is wide: over the years the Club has platformed scholars, diplomats, politicians, journalists, researchers and rabbis.  Once they have finished speaking, they are tested by a barrage of often penetrating questions from the appreciative audience. The event closes with birchat hamazon and minchah.

Last Thursday's Rosh Chodesh Club meeting featured a talk by Yaakov Lappin, a military and strategic analyst and research fellow at the Begin Sadat Centre for Strategic Studies at Bar Ilan University.  Our member Chaim Sharman, who was there, summarized the talk neatly, recalling that the speaker had two fundamental messages to convey. The first was that Israel should look to the long term rather than focusing on short-term solutions; the second was that our leaders should never underestimate the capabilities of our enemies.

As an aside, the prudent policy of looking to the long term is in accordance with the advice of Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel (Avot 2:13) that one should try to look ahead and identify the consequences of one’s actions. Never underestimating others is part and parcel of another mishnah in Avot (4:3) in which Ben Azzai cautions us to do just that since “there is no man who does not have his hour”.

As Tu b'Shevat draws near ...

 As Tu b'Shevat draws near, it's time to contemplate the wonders of the natural world -- not least of which is the tree. Over a century ago, the American poet Joyce Kilmer summarized his feelings in lines which many Hanassi members will know from their schooldays:

Trees

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Two of our more creative members, Heshy Engelsberg and Max Stern, have developed other ways of expressing their relationship to the natural world, as epitomised by the plant kingdom. 

Heshy has produced a splendid video, Tu b'Shevat Jerusalem 2025, with nearly six minutes of brilliantly coloured foliage plus trees in close-up and at a distance. You can enjoy it by clicking here.

Max's forte is music, and here you can listen to his unforgettably rhythmic arrangement of the folksong Atzei Shittim Omdim. for a four-part choir and wooden sticks. The lyrics? "And thou shalt make the boards for the tabernacle of acacia wood, standing up" (Exodus 26:15). Max adds:

When the shittim (acacia trees) were selected for the construction of the Tabernacle in the desert they intoned a song of praise to God. It was their expression of appreciation and thus they sang.

Midrash informs us that the shittim-wood for the Tabernacle came from paradise, whence Adam took it with him when he was driven out. Subsequently, it came into the possession of Abraham, who bequeathed it to Isaac, who bequeathed it to Jacob. When he reached Egypt, Jacob planted a grove of acacia trees and admonished his sons to do the same: 

“Plant shittim trees, then when God will bid you build Him a sanctuary, you shall have in your possession the wood required for its construction.” 

The boards that were made for the Tabernacle out of shittim wood never decayed but endure to all eternity.

Have you registered yet for this year's Tu b'Shevat Seder? Time is running out, so be sure to do so very soon!  For details, click here. To register, call Jeremy on 053 455 8367.

Was Charles Dickens antisemitic?

The Encore! Educational Theatre Company is currently presenting the popular musical Oliver! here in Jerusalem. Several members of Beit Knesset Hanassi have already been to see the production, more have already bought their tickets for this week -- and some are even involved in the production, which very much captures the joyous spirit of Lionel Bart's translation of Oliver Twist from book to stage. 

One of Charles Dickens' best-known works, Oliver Twist has raised much discussion over the years as to whether the author was antisemitic. At the heart of the debate is Dickens' portrayal of one of the antagonists in the tale, Fagin, as a Jew. Fagin, who deals in stolen property, is a plainly unsavoury character who trains young boys as thieves and pickpockets. He is amoral, selfish -- and is very pointedly referred to on countless occasions as a Jew. 

The musical is quite different. Lionel Bart, who created it, was himself Jewish and the stage version of Fagin is a much more nuanced character than the book version: he does display some feelings towards his fellow humans and even contemplates the prospect of teshuvah. Indeed, in the Encore! production, only the musical accompaniment to Fagin's songs yields any suggestion at all that Fagin is Jewish. 

So was Dickens an antisemite? On account of Fagin's notoriety, he has his own quite detailed entry in Wikipedia (here), which chronicles both Dickens' initially unfavourable attitude towards Jews with his subsequent conduct on learning that Jews found his portrayal offensive. Those who visit Beit Shmuel this week will doubtless reach their own conclusions.

Bo: The devil is in the details

This week’s parsha introduces the halachic process of observing the commandments of the Torah. Every commandment contains numerous layers of meaning and importance: there is the social and moral value that it conveys. There are also the technical minutiae—complex details that comprise its very fabric. This week we encounter the laws that govern the observance of Pesach and of the structuring of the Jewish calendar, the general values of which are apparent to all. Pesach represents for us the concept of freedom from bondage, teaching us the beginning of our people’s history, while the calendar has always been vital for social and commercial life and keeps us in tune with the changing seasons of the year.

 Though the general idea of our commandments is easy to grasp, the devil always lies in the detail. Theories are wonderful—but they rarely survive the tests of time and ever-changing circumstances. So what mechanism can enable the story of our departure from Egyptian slavery to freedom to remain fresh after thousands of years? Values only come to life if they are translated into human action and normative behavior.

 Scientific theories can be tested by experiment and validation. Values are different. Freedom is a great theory but it must be tested by the realities of everyday existence. Pesach is a symbol of freedom but only its practical implementation through matzah, chametz, the haggadah and so forth can preserve the value and validate the theory and guarantee its meaningfulness for generations to come. The uniqueness of the Jewish calendar lies also in its technical details. The permanent calendar that we now follow, established in the fifth century CE, is a lunar calendar with adjustments to make it fit into a solar year. How the last Sanhedrin squared this circle is too large a topic for Hanassi Highlights.  However, if it were not for their calculations, our calendar would long ago have disappeared—just as did the ancient calendars of Egypt, Babylonia, Greece and Rome.

Many people look at the calendar not as a commandment but as a convenience, a neat way to mark our passage through time. But, for Jews, the details are of equal if not even greater importance than the convenience that they represent. In our time, those Jews who for various reasons only concentrated on the values, who were good Jews at heart but observed no commandments or details, were rarely privileged to have Jewish descendants. We must be careful, though. Concentrating only on the details is also a distortion of the divine word. To see the general value of a commandment and to observe its necessary technical details in practice is our guarantee that the Torah will survive amongst the people of Israel for all time.   

 Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein

Reflections on Parshat Bo and the Journey of Personal Redemption

This week's parsha features some of the most heavily-discussed features in the landscape of Jewish religious observance. In the piece that follows, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom takes a deeper view, contrasting the perspectives of the Rambam and the Baal HaTanya on the Exodus and examining the symbolism of three iconic mitzvah items.

Parshat Bo introduces numerous mitzvot, ranging from Rosh Chodesh to tefillin. As Pesach approaches, just two short months away, we are reminded of a profound and timeless message: the potential to transform our lives. The mitzvot of Pesach, Matza, Maror, and the recounting of Yetziat Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) hold within them the power to inspire change.

Experiencing Yetziat Mitzrayim in Every Generation

רַבָּן גַּמְלִיאֵל הָיָה אוֹמֵר, כָּל שֶׁלֹּא אָמַר שְׁלֹשָׁה דְבָרִים אֵלּוּ בְּפֶסַח, לֹא יָצָא יְדֵי חוֹבָתוֹ, וְאֵלּוּ הֵן, פֶּסַח, מַצָּה, וּמָרוֹר. פֶּסַח, עַל שׁוּם שֶׁפָּסַח הַמָּקוֹם עַל בָּתֵּי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ בְמִצְרַיִם. מַצָּה, עַל שׁוּם שֶׁנִּגְאֲלוּ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ בְמִצְרַיִם. מָרוֹר, עַל שׁוּם שֶׁמֵּרְרוּ הַמִּצְרִים אֶת חַיֵּי אֲבוֹתֵינוּ בְמִצְרָיִם. בְּכָל דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ כְאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרַיִם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (שמות יג), וְהִגַּדְתָּ לְבִנְךָ בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא לֵאמֹר, בַּעֲבוּר זֶה עָשָׂה ה' לִי בְּצֵאתִי מִמִּצְרָיִם

Rabban Gamliel would say: Anyone who does not say these three things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation, and these are they: PESACH, MATZA, AND BITTER HERBS.

In each and every generation a person must view himself as though he personally left Egypt, as it is stated: “And you shall tell your son on that day, saying: It is because of this which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt” (Exodus 13:8).

The concept of “Ma’aseh Avot Siman L’Banim” (“what happened to our forefathers is a sign for future generations”) teaches us that the experiences of the Jewish people in Egypt—their suffering, redemption, and spiritual growth—will echo throughout history and guide future redemptions. Pesach is not merely a historical commemoration. It is a living, personal event meant to be re-lived. As our Sages teach: “In every generation, a person is obligated to regard himself as if he personally left Egypt” (Exodus 13:8).

Rabban Gamliel emphasized the centrality of three elements in the Pesach Seder: Pesach (the Paschal lamb), Matza, and Maror. These symbols form the foundation of our obligation to recount the story of the Exodus, serving as tools for both reflection and personal growth. They remind us that just as Hashem liberated our forefathers from Egypt, so too can we be freed from our own personal “Mitzrayim”—the limitations, challenges, and blockages that prevent us from achieving our spiritual potential.

Two Approaches to Experiencing the Exodus

The Rambam and the Baal HaTanya offer complementary perspectives on how to internalize the Exodus.

1, The Rambam’s Approach: Imagination and Gratitude The Rambam encourages us to use our imagination to relive the Exodus. He acknowledges the difficulty of feeling gratitude for an event that occurred thousands of years ago. To overcome this, he suggests we mentally place ourselves in the shoes of those enslaved in Egypt: imagine the beatings, the humiliation, and the oppression. Then, contrast that with the freedom and dignity Hashem has granted us. This “method acting” approach helps us cultivate a profound sense of gratitude. Even in recent history, we’ve witnessed similar brutality and oppression. Yet, our nation has endured, and this resilience demands recognition and appreciation.

2. The Baal HaTanya’s Approach: Overcoming Personal Limitations The Baal HaTanya expands the concept of “Mitzrayim” to mean “metzarim”—limitations and constraints. Each of us faces personal struggles that confine us, whether it’s arrogance, laziness, materialism, or self-doubt. These are attributes that are blocking us, they're paralyzing us, they're stopping us from moving forward and achieving our spiritual goals in life. Our goals can be learning more Torah, doing more Chesid or moving to Israel. Every single person has a mitzrayim and every single person needs see it within themselves Just like Hashem took our forefathers out of Egypt , we look for Hashem to help us out of our personal mitzrayim

The verse in Tehillim (118:5) encapsulates this idea:

מִן־הַמֵּצַר קָרָאתִי יָּהּ, עָנָנִי בַמֶּרְחַב יָה

 David Hamelech said: In my distress I called on the LORD.

The LORD answered me and set me free

Just as Hashem freed our ancestors, He empowers us to break free from our personal constraints and grow spiritually.

The Symbolism of Pesach, Matza, and Maror

1. Maror: Acknowledging Bitterness Maror symbolizes the bitterness of slavery. It teaches that the first step to freedom is recognizing one’s enslavement. Whether it’s anger, selfishness,materialism or bad habits, we must honestly confront our shortcomings. Without this self-awareness, there’s no motivation for change. As Albert Einstein famously said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Maror reminds us to confront our challenges head-on.

2. Matza: Taking Action Matza represents humility and decisive action. Unlike chametz, which rises and ferments naturally, matza requires vigilance and effort to prepare. The Maharal explains that chametz symbolizes inertia—the tendency to let things happen passively. Matza, on the other hand, signifies seizing the moment and taking proactive steps toward growth. Insight alone is insufficient; it must lead to concrete action.

3. Pesach: Unity and Commitment The Korban Pesach emphasizes community. It could not be brought alone; individuals were required to join a group. This underscores the importance of connection and mutual support. As Shlomo Hamelech writes in Kohelet: “Two are better than one, for if one falls, the other can lift him up.” True growth often requires the help of others—friends who inspire and challenge us, and whom we can support in return.

The Journey of Redemption

The sequence of Maror and Matza offers a profound lesson. While logically, one must first identify their limitations (Maror) before taking action (Matza), the Seder reverses this order. Why? Because focusing solely on one’s flaws can lead to despair and paralysis. By first recognizing our capacity for growth and positive change (Matza), we build the strength to confront our challenges (Maror) and ultimately integrate the two (eating them together) to create the personal change for real growth..

A Collective and Personal Exodus

Although every individual’s “Mitzrayim” is unique, we do not journey alone. The Pesach Seder reminds us of the dual nature of redemption: it is both personal and communal. Each of us faces our own struggles, yet we support and uplift one another along the way. Just as Hashem orchestrated the redemption from Egypt, He continues to guide us in overcoming our personal limitations.

As we prepare for Pesach, may Hashem grant us the clarity to identify our “Mitzrayim,” the courage to take action, and the support of a loving community to accompany us on our journey. Together, we can experience our own Yetziat Mitzrayim and grow closer to our ultimate spiritual goals.