From: "Yeshivat Har Etzion's Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash"
To: yhe-holiday@vbm-torah.org
Subject: SPECIAL PESACH PACKAGE PART 1

YESHIVAT HAR ETZION
ISRAEL KOSCHITZKY VIRTUAL BEIT MIDRASH (VBM)
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YHE-HOLIDAY: SPECIAL PESACH PACKAGE

This package contains:

1. Remembering and Recounting the Exodus: Opposite
Perspectives on a Common Theme, By Rav Yair Kahn

2. The Symbolism of Chametz, By Rav Ezra Bick

3. The Korban Pesach: Defining Israel as God's People,
By Rav Yonatan Grossman

4. Laws of Erev Pesach which Falls on Shabbat, By Rav
Yosef Zvi Rimon

For more articles on Pesach, see our website:
http://www.vbm-torah.org/pesach.htm

We wish all our subscribers a happy and kosher Pesach!

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Remembering and Recounting the Exodus:
Opposite Perspectives on a Common Theme

By Rav Yair Kahn
Translated by David Silverberg

The Almighty designated two mitzvot for recalling
the Exodus: "zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" - REMEMBERING
the Exodus, and "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" - TELLING
about the Exodus. This article will explore the
relationship between these two mitzvot.

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE TWO MITZVOT

"Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya said: I am like a seventy-
year-old man, yet I have not had the privilege of
mentioning the Exodus at night, until the exposition
of Ben Zoma, that it says, 'In order that you
remember the day you left Egypt all the days of your
life' - 'the days of your life' refers to the days;
'ALL the days of your life' refers to the nights.
But the Sages say, 'the days of your life' refers to
this world; 'ALL' comes to add the messianic era."
(Mishna, Berakhot 12b)

According to Rabbi Elazar Ben Azarya, the mitzva to
remember the Exodus - "zekhira" - applies each and every
night throughout the year, a ruling codified by the
Rambam as authoritative halakha (Hilkhot Keri'at Shema
1:3). If so, "How is this night different from all other
nights?" What need is there for a specific mitzva to
retell - "sippur" - the story of the Exodus on the seder
night?

The Minchat Chinukh (mitzva 21) suggests a number of
ways in which one can fulfill the obligation of "zekhira"
without performing the unique mitzva of "sippur." He
cites a distinction raised by the Pri Megadim relating to
the possibility of fulfilling the given obligation
through non-verbal contemplation ("hirhur"): one may,
perhaps, fulfill the requirement of "zekhirat yetzi'at
Mitzrayim" through a silent mental process, while that of
"sippur" demands verbal recounting. The Minchat Chinukh
cites another possibility suggested by the Sha'agat
Aryeh: the mitzva of "sippur" might require the
reminiscence of the specific miracles and wonders that
occurred on this night, while on other nights a mere
general recollection suffices.

Along similar lines, Rav Chayim Brisker ("Chidushei
Ha-Grach al Ha-shas," 40) adds several technical
requirements mandated by the mitzva of "sippur." As
opposed to "zekhira," the "sippur" must take the form of
storytelling, or, more specifically, the process of
question-and-answer. Furthermore, the process of
"sippur" most follow a specific format, that of
"beginning with shame and ending with praise" (meaning,
we must begin the story with our inauspicious, idolatrous
origins, and conclude with our emergence as God's
nation). Another obligation unique to "sippur" is the
need to explain the reasons behind the mitzvot of the
seder. This requirement is expressed in the Haggada, by
Rabban Gamliel:

"Whoever does not mention these things on Pesach has
not fulfilled his obligation; they are: [korban]
pesach, matza and maror." (Pesachim 116a)

SUGGESTION #1: ZEKHIRA AND SIPPUR ARE TWO ASPECTS
OF THE SAME MITZVA

All these distinctions share a common denominator:
the annual "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" at the seder
demands more than does its nightly counterpart, "zekhirat
yetzi'at Mitzrayim." The aforementioned differences do
not, however, express a fundamental difference between
the two mitzvot. One may thus argue that, essentially,
the two mitzvot are one and the same. However, since the
Torah could not demand such an intense level of detail
twice each day, it designated the special night of Pesach
for the recitation of the entire story, from beginning to
end, while a brief mention suffices all year round.

This understanding of the relationship between
sippur and zekhira helps us solve another mystery.

The Rambam explicitly rules in accordance with Rabbi
Elazar Ben Azarya's view, requiring "zekhirat yetzi'at
Mitzrayim" both by day and by night. Yet he does not
include this mitzva in his list of the 613 commandments,
neither in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot nor in the Yad Ha-
chazaka. He mentions it only as an aside in his
discussion of the laws relevant to Keri'at Shema, as a
basis for including the parasha of tzitzit in Shema even
at night, when the obligation of tzitzit does not apply.

"What does one read [to fulfill the mitzva of
Shema]? Three sections, and they are: 'Shema,' 'Ve-
haya im shamoa,' and 'Vayomer' . [One reads] the
parasha of tzitzit, since it too contains the
command to remember all the mitzvot.

Although the mitzva of tzitzit does not apply at
nighttime, we read it at night insofar as it makes
mention of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, and there is a mitzva
to mention yetzi'at Mitzrayim both by day and by
night, as it says, 'In order that you remember the
day you left Egypt all the days of your life.'
Reading these three parshiyot in their proper
sequence is what is called 'Keri'at Shema.'"
(Hilkhot Keri'at Shema 1:2-3)

However, based upon the above, we can suggest that
zekhira is included within the context of the mitzva of
sippur. The Rambam writes:

"It is a positive commandment of the Torah to tell of
the miracles and wonders that were performed for our
fathers in Egypt on the night of the fifteenth of
Nissan, as it says, 'Remember this day that you left
Egypt,' just as it says, 'Remember the Sabbath day.'
And how do we know that it is the fifteenth? The
Rabbis teach: 'And you shall tell your son (Ve-
higadeta le-vinkha) on that days as follows, On
account of THIS [God did for me...]' - namely, at the
time when there is matza and maror is placed before
you." (Hilkhot Chametz U-matza 7:1)

One can interpret the phrase "the night of the
fifteenth of Nissan" as singling out the night when the
mitzva of sippur applies. If so, this halakha refers
exclusively to the mitzva of sippur. Alternatively, this
phrase may be qualifying which miracles one must relate,
namely, the miracles that occurred on the night of the
fifteenth of Nissan. If so, there is no limitation to
when the mitzva applies. Therefore, one may claim that
this halakha begins with zekhira (derived from "Remember
this day that you left Egypt"), and only later focuses
upon sippur, which is specific to the seder night (and
learned from "And you shall tell your son").

Accordingly, zekhira is not counted separately
because it is not an independent mitzva, but rather
merges with the mitzva of sippur.

SUGGESTION #2: ZEKHIRA IS PART OF THE MITZVA OF
ACCEPTING THE YOKE OF HEAVEN

Rav Chaim Brisker offered a different solution to
this problem. His grandson Rav Joseph Soloveitchik
writes:

"My grandfather also said that the entire mitzva of
'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' does not constitute an
indepefulfillment of an obligation. Rather, its
basic essence is a fulfillment of the acceptance of
the yoke of the Kingship of Heaven. This
constitutes a specific law regarding the acceptance
of the yoke of His Kingship, which must take place
also through the recollection of yetzi'at
Mitzrayim." (Shiurim Le-zekher Abba Mari, vol. 1,
p.1)

For good reason, then, the Rambam addresses
"zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" only as an aside in his
presentation of the laws of Shema. This obligation
comprises not an independent mitzva, but rather one
detail within the framework of the mitzva of reading
Shema. Its purpose is not the recollection of yetzi'at
Mitzrayim per se, but rather the acceptance of God's
supreme authority that results therefrom.

This understanding of zekhira led Rav Chaim to posit
another distinction between zekhira and sippur. Rav
Soloveitchik writes:

"I learned from my father, my teacher, in the name
of our great rabbi zt"l [Rav Chaim], that four
halakhot separate and distinguish the mitzva of
'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' from the mitzva of
'sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim".

4) The mitzva of 'zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim' does
not constitute an independent mitzva, but rather
emanates from the mitzva of reciting the Shema and
the fulfillment of accepting the yoke of the Kingdom
of Heaven. The mitzva of 'sippur,' by contrast, is
a mitzva of its own among the list of 613
[commandments]." (Shiurim Le-zekher Abba Mari z"l,
vol. 1, p.2, note 4)

It would seem to me that we should add a fifth
distinction: the obligation of 'zekhira' does not
cast upon the individual a requirement to recite
praise and thanksgiving. The mitzva of 'sippur,' by
contrast, requires one not only to tell of the
wonders and miracles that He performed for us, but
also to praise and thank - [as we say at the end of
the Maggid section of the Haggada,] 'Therefore we
are obliged to thank and praise.' Herein lies the
basis of the obligation of reciting Hallel on Pesach
eve."

SIPPUR - SENSING REDEMPTION IN THE PRESENT

The obligation to recite Hallel on the seder night
relates to the personal experience of redemption unique
to this evening. Indeed, the mishna teaches:

"In every generation, a person must see himself as if
he had left Egypt, as it says, 'You shall tell your
child on that day, saying, It is because of what God
did for me when I went free from Egypt.' We are
therefore obliged to thank, praise, extol, glorify,
elevate, exalt, bless, honor and magnify the One who
performed all these miracles for our forefathers and
us." (Pesachim 116b)

This mishna supports the position of Rav Hai Gaon,
who distinguished between the recitation of Hallel at the
seder and the Hallel service in general, by omitting the
blessing over Hallel at the seder. The Ran quotes his
position as follows:

"Rabbeinu Hai Gaon z"l wrote in a responsum that we
do not recite the blessing, 'ligmor et ha-Hallel',
over the Hallel of Pesach night, since we do not read
it as a formal recitation, but rather as a song of
praise. Therefore, if one wishes to recite a blessing
- he is silenced." (Pesachim 26b in the Rif)

In other words, the personal experience of redemption,
which each individual is required to sense "as if he had
left Egypt," gives rise to the special requirement of
"shira" - song of praise - at the seder.

This goal, of transplanting the redemption of the
past into the living present, from the pages of history
books into our national consciousness, forms the central
pillar of the mitzva of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim." We
must therefore conduct ourselves in a manner resembling
royalty (the four cups, reclining, etc.), since verbal
expression does not suffice.

For this same reason, we must begin by recalling the
troubled times, allowing us to relive the ultimate
salvation. On a different occasion, I wrote that herein
lies the connection between the mitzva of sippur and the
other requirements of this night: pesach, matza and maror
(http://www.vbm-torah.org/pesach/pes-yk.htm). Speaking
is not enough; we must engage in concrete actions that
symbolize and bring to life the events of yetzi'at
Mitzrayim. We eat bitter herbs in order to actually
taste the suffering of bondage, so that we too cry and
pray to the Almighty. Following all our longings for
even a respite from the bondage, the complete redemption
comes suddenly and instantaneously; even our dough had no
chance to rise, which is illustrated by the matza. The
paschal lamb points out that this redemption came about
not through the intervention of an angel or agent, but
rather at the hands of the Almighty Himself, who passed
over, as it were, our houses and those of all Benei
Yisrael in Egypt, saving His people.

Thus, the uniqueness of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim"
at the seder lies in the attempt to reconstruct, revive
and actually relive the religious-national experience of
the Exodus itself. Granted, when the Temple stood and
the entire nation would ascend there and offer their
pesach sacrifices, the closeness of the Shekhina could be
sensed far more easily. Nevertheless, this obligation
remains in force even today.

At the seder we must thus rejoice and celebrate as
we reconstruct the miraculous emergence of the chosen
people and sense the national and religious redemption.
We sing and give praise over the wonders of the Creator
who personally took us out of the Egyptian bondage, and
we feel ever so close to the Redeemer of Israel, who, in
a single night, erased, as it were, the infinite distance
separating between God and Yisrael. There is a popular
custom to conclude the seder with the recitation of Shir
Ha-shirim. This night is "a night of watching" marked by
intense love, when the Lover leaves His hiding place and
brings His beloved out of bondage to freedom.

ZEKHIRA - ACCEPTING GOD'S KINGSHIP AS A RESULT OF
THE REDEMPTION FROM EGYPT

Such is not the case regarding the "zekhirat
yetzi'at Mitzrayim" required of us twice daily. Not only
is it impractical to demand reliving yetzi'at Mitzrayim
anew each day, but we have no interest in doing so.
According to Rav Chaim, as cited earlier, this obligation
constitutes part of the mitzva of Shema, serving the
purpose of "kabbalat ol Malkhut Shamayim" - accepting the
yoke of the Kingship of Heaven.

Acceptance of divine authority results directly from
the Exodus, as stated in the first commandment, "I am the
Lord your God who took you from the land of Egypt, from
bondage." (Shemot 20:2). When we consider and assess the
events of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, we cannot but conclude that
the Exodus not only freed Am Yisrael from their suffering
in Egypt, but also subjugated them to the Almighty.

When we awaken from the inebriation of the senses
which we experience at the seder, the infinite distance
between Benei Yisrael and their Redeemer once again
emerges clearly. As our redemption mandates, we accept
upon ourselves the yoke of God's Kingship together with
the yoke of mitzvot. We reflect this awareness in our
twice-daily recitation at the conclusion of the Shema:

"I am the Lord your God, who has taken you from the
land of Egypt to be for you a God; I am the Lord your
God."

In light of this discussion, then, "zekhirat
yetzi'at Mitzrayim" differs fundamentally from "sippur."
It involves not the reliving of the past and its
transplantation into the present, but rather leaving it
in the past and remembering it therefrom. The purpose of
"zekhirat yetzi'at Mitzrayim" is to extract the lessons
of that historic event, rather than reconstructing it.

SUMMARY

As we have seen, "zekhira" and "sippur" constitute
two entirely different mitzvot, lending opposite
perspectives on yetzi'at Mitzrayim. "Sippur" is meant to
revive the past and infuse it into the present, whereas
"zekhira" serves to recall the past and to leave it
there, while reaching the conclusions relevant to the
present.

Nevertheless, these two mitzvot complement one
another. One may not just tell the story and revive the
powerful spiritual experience of yetzi'at Mitzrayim, only
to ignore the required conclusions and fail to accept
upon himself the yoke of God's Kingship. An entcommunity
cannot maintain a profound sense of spirituality unless
it is grounded in the acceptance of the divine
imperative; it cannot sustain a religious experience
which is divorced from the halakhic norm. Conversely, an
acceptance of God's authority that is not firmly rooted
in the majestic spiritual experience of the Shekhina's
revelation suffers from spiritual aridity and quickly
becomes emotionless rote. Only a blend of "sippur" and
"zekhira" allows one to reach an acceptance of God's
Kingship and His mitzvot which is accompanied with a
profound and living spiritual experience. Only thereby
can one properly combine genuine love and fear of the
Almighty.

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The Symbolism of Chametz

By Rav Ezra Bick

The prohibition against eating chametz (leavened
bread) on Pesach (Passover) is different from all other
prohibitions in the Torah. The most noticeable difference
is the fact that the prohibition lasts only seven days
each year. The simple question is: If chametz is "bad,"
for some reason, it should be prohibited all year; and if
not, why is forbidden on Pesach? (The prohibition to eat
on Yom Kippur is not the same - it clearly is not that
food as such is forbidden, but that eating as an activity
is not appropriate for the Day of Atonement. It is a day
of fasting. But the days of Pesach are days of feasting.)

Chametz is different in other respects as well. All
other food prohibitions fall into two possible
categories: either eating, or all benefit, is forbidden.
Indeed, chametz falls into the latter category. However,
in addition, there is a prohibition called "lo yeira'eh
lekha" - chametz may not be in your possession all the
days of Pesach. There is no prohibition against having
ham in one's home, but chametz must be gotten rid of
before Pesach. That is why Pesach is the cause of massive
spring cleaning in Jewish homes, as we conduct an
obsessive search to root out any crumbs that might be
lurking somewhere. There is no other prohibition like
this.

The "war" against chametz on Pesach takes on other
forms as well. Normally, most prohibitions are subject to
a process called "bittul" - a small amount of forbidden
material that is mixed in with a much larger amount of
permitted food is considered to be "nullified" (the ratio
needed is usually 1:60). Chametz, however, is forbidden
in any amount and is not subject to bittul. Given the
nature of modern food technology, the result is that any
processed food must have special Pesach supervision.

The result of this complex of laws is that on
Pesach, we are enjoined to strike out the very existence
of chametz from our lives. Chametz is not to be found
anywhere "in your borders." According to the Ramban, the
aim is that chametz not be found "in your mind;" it
should be like dust in your eyes. What is so bad about
chametz that we are set to destroy it, and why does our
attitude change so completely seven days later?

Pesach is intimately bound up with the festival that
follows it seven weeks later - Shavuot. In fact, in the
Torah, the date of Shavuot is not a calendar one (the
sixth day in the month of Sivan) but a relative one -
seven weeks after the second day of Pesach. The mitzva of
"sefirat ha-omer," counting the days from Pesach for
seven weeks (after which comes Shavuot), clearly
indicates that Pesach starts a process which culminates
in Shavuot. The usual (and quite correct) understanding
is that Pesach, the holiday of freedom, is directed
towards the goal of Shavuot, the day of the giving of the
Torah. Freedom is the necessary prerequisite for
responsibility and obligation, and, conversely, is
meaningless without a goal to which one is committed.

Halakhically, there is another connection between
Pesach and Shavuot, one which unfortunately we have lost
sight of. Pesach is the festival of matza (that is the
official name in the Torah, not my own appellation).
Shavuot, in the Torah, aside from not having a date, is
also distinguished by another anomaly. Every other
holiday is first introduced, on a given day, and then we
are told what to do on that day, what are the special
rituals. Shavuot is an exception. The Torah (Vayikra
23y:15) says to count seven weeks, and on the fiftieth
day to bring a special sacrifice. This offering consists
of two loaves of BREAD, "baked with leaven, the first-
fruits unto God." Only afterwards does the Torah add that
this day, when this offering is brought, shall be a
festival day.

In other words, it is not that we sacrifice a
holiday offering on Shavuot; rather, we celebrate Shavuot
on the day of the special offering, two loaves of bread.
So, the seven weeks between Pesach and Shavuot is a time
when we move from matza to chametz. Chametz is not
something which is basically undesirable, permitted
perhaps only because it would be too difficult to live
without it the whole year. Chametz is specifically
brought to God, as an offering of first-fruits, as the
culmination of a process that began with Pesach. How are
we to understand this?

Without being overly symbolic, I think it is clear
that the process of leavening represents the development
of powers inherent in something. Matza is simply flour
and water, baked. Bread is made of the same ingredients,
but when you leave it around, unwatched and unbothered,
it magically rises and grows, realizing a hidden
potential and expressing it. Is this bad? Not at all!
Indeed, it would not be exaggerated to say that this is
the goal of Torah life in general. But the Torah is
warning us about something on Pesach. This process of
growth and development, when left to unfold of itself,
wildly, can be catastrophic. The raw powers of the human
spirit, unguided and unchannelled, are anarchic precisely
because they are powerful, precisely because they
represent real growth and vitality. The first step, when
granted freedom, is not to run and let all the repressed
inclinations and urges fly out. Even then - ESPECIALLY
THEN - one should eat matza and beware the hidden powers
bursting to be free. Seven weeks must pass, counting each
day, waiting for the giving of the Torah, with its
direction and goal, learning what the infinite
possibility before us consists of in the positive sense,
and then one bakes two loaves and brings them before God.
The first fruits are the first products of man's
creativity. Rather than making them in a burst of
activity on the first day of freedom, we must first find
the direction to "the mountain of the Lord," first learn
the purpose of freedom, and then and only then take
advantage of the wild unchecked powers within.

What is the connection then between Pesach, freedom,
and chametz? Freedom is the cornerstone of Judaism.
Freedom is a HALAKHIC concept. Without it, one cannot
serve God. Paradoxical as it sounds, only free men can
obey God. Pesach is the first holiday, the beginning of
the cycle of the year. But the experience of freedom
alone, by itself, is also an empty one. Freedom in its
first stage is a negative concept - no domination by
others, no laws, no restrictions. It does not have
positive content. Many thinkers for this reason have
tried to grant freedom only to those who have the
"proper" perspective, who have first been "educated" what
to do with their freedom. But the Torah knows that you
cannot educate slaves. There is no alternative but to
build positive meaning on the basis of negative freedom.
Hence Pesach celebrates freedom itself, without the
Torah. But on the other hand, the Torah dictates the food
appropriate for "pure" freedom - matza, unleavened bread,
unrisen, flat, unproductive. Matza is called "lechem
oni," poor bread. It is true that matza is the food of
slaves. But it is also the food of free men if they have
not worked to impart meaning to their freedom.

And so, when the Jews left Egypt, their freedom
granted to them hurriedly by the frightened Egyptians,
they had no time to leaven their bread. Running out of
Egypt, technically free, unrestricted in fact, they were
still slaves at heart. Their only goal was to be free, to
leave Egypt. But freedom is not the goal of freedom. The
food of fmen who have not yet learnt, who have not chosen
to serve God, to SERVE higher ideals, to use their
freedom to rise above servitude and not merely escape it,
is matza. It would be dangerous, catastrophic, for them
to taste the intoxicating flavor of leavened bread, the
fruits of a process that multiplies itself in the dark,
growing wildly, unchecked, raw power and potential.
Indeed, chametz on Pesach is not merely a prohibited
food. You have to put it out of your mind completely. It
does not even exist. For these seven days, any sign of
unsupervised growth must be burnt, before the wild weeds
take over the fallow earth.

The cycle of Jewish living during the year is not an
evenly-balanced picture of quiet moderation. On the
contrary, it offers experiences of extremes, so that we
may inculcate their meanings into our lives. Today is
Pesach, and the experience is pure freedom. To make that
a positive experience, we must conduct an obsessive
search to eliminate any weeds in the garden. Pesach, the
holiday of our freedom, is the day after the plowing of
the earth (symbolically; this is not agriculturally
accurate). The earth is bare, but that is a beautiful
sight to one who knows what he can plant there. Tomorrow,
starting on the second day of Pesach, we begin to count,
each day, seven weeks, moving towards the days of
planting. On the fiftieth day, when we have learned to
control the powers and harness them to infinite goals of
value, we will be able to bring a sacrifice of chametz,
of development and growth.

(Jewish moral literature has used chametz as a
symbol of pride. The rising dough symbolizes the
overweening spirit of man. This complements what I have
written. Pride is not a false thing in and of itself - it
is the expression of the inner value of a productive man,
a feeling for the infinite potential lurking in one's
soul. But pure potential is at once infinite and at the
same time empty, unrealized. Pride expressed on an empty
stomach is shallow, overblown, air-filled. That is
chametz on Pesach, before one has done anything other
than flee the oppressor.)

Is there a need to return to Pesach each year again?
Of course, for two inseparable reasons. First, we must
return to the roots of freedom because we have managed to
enslave ourselves anew every year. There is some truth to
those who claim, or perhaps feel without giving it
expression, that commitment enslaves, that responsibility
limits, that service is servitude. There is a tension
between Pesach and Shavuot, between freedom and Torah,
even as one cannot succeed without the other. One must
affirm the two and join them, after experiencing each
separately. Every year, we return to pure freedom; we
actually leave Egypt again. For the same reason, we
return to the prohibition of chametz each year. In order
genuinely to renew our experience of freedom, we must
place aside the fruits of freedom, the powers of growth,
the content of production. That will come, in time.
Pesach, as we all know, is poor in gastronomic delights,
despite the best efforts of cookbooks and matza
factories. Freedom is a poor dish, and that is the way it
should be savored, for the taste is in what is not yet
there.

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