As the festival of Pesach approaches, we find ourselves engaged in many preparations to greet it, particularly destroying chametz and baking matzos. The mitzvah of sipur yetzi’as Mitzrayim, recounting the Exodus from Egypt, requires just as much preparation, as it is a mitzvah whose goal is heartfelt feeling. It often happens, however, that we do not pay it enough attention. Even many who see to it that they delve into the Haggadah and its commentaries do not do so in the proper way. They principally prepare pilpulim and diyukim, keen inferences, on the text of the Haggadah—for example, whether the correct reading is “הא לחמא עניא” or “כהא לחמא עניא,” and the like.
Similarly, when they prepare expositions of the content of the Haggadah, it is very common to go on at length about the passages at the beginning of the Haggadah, which are only an introduction to the sipur itself. These are there to explain the parameters of the mitzvah, such as, “אפילו כלנו חכמים, even if we were all chachamim, wise ... it would be a mitzvah for us to recount ... and whoever increases the recounting ... and they recounted ... all that night;” and the manner of the obligation of recounting—to the four sons; and its proper time—“one might think from Rosh Chodesh.” But when they reach the the essential story with the passage of “Arami oved avi, a wandering Aramean,” they speed through so that they will have enough time to complete the night’s mitzvos before chatzos—and it is here that we find the mitzvah to prolong, and not regarding the opening sections. As the Rambam writes: “... one should expound from ‘Arami oved avi’ until he completes the entire section, and whoever adds in and draws out the explanations of this passage is praiseworthy”
(Chametz and Matzah 7:4).
The cause of this incorrect approach and slackening in the fulfillment of the mitzvah of sipur is the fact that they do not know the defining characteristics of the mitzvah. In order to rectify this, we will need to get to know these characteristics: the essence of the mitzvah, and its shiur (required quantity). We see that the author of the Haggadah alludes to the character of the mitzvah in his opening remarks: “Even if we were all wise ... it would be a mitzvah for us to recount the Exodus from Egypt, and whoever increases the recounting of the Exodus is praiseworthy.” We learn its quantity from the end of the Haggadah: “Chayav adam li-re’os, one is obligated to see himself as if he went out from Egypt.”
One wonders, what brought the author of the Haggadah to emphasize, “Even if we were all chachamim, it would be a mitzvah;” why would we think that chachamim should be exempt from the mitzvah of sipur on Pesach night—after all, a chacham is not exempt from the daily mitzvah of zechiras Mitzrayim! How is the mitzvah of Seder night different from the daily one?
The mitzvah of Pesach night is recounting, whereas the mitzvah of the rest of the year is recalling or mentioning the Exodus. The Emek Brachah explains in the name of the Brisker Rav, that there are three distinctions between recounting and recalling; namely, that recounting involves a question-and-answer format, the entire chain of events—“begin with disgrace and conclude with praise,” and mentioning “Pesach, Matzah and Maror—on what account.”
In addition, when the mitzvah is to recount, it involves drawing out and enumerating each and every detail, whereas every day, where the mitzvah is to recall, a nominal mention is enough. With every detail that we add to the story, we fulfill the mitzvah of sipur, since those listening to the story and its details gain a broader understanding of the miracles of the Exodus and of Hashem’s kindnesses, to whatever extent that the speaker extends his description of the events.
Based on this, one might think that the mitzvah of recounting only falls on those whose knowledge of the events of the Exodus is lacking; whereas a chacham, who already knows all the details of the story, should be exempt. To dispel this notion, the author of the Haggadah informs us that the wise are also obligated to recount, and even a chacham celebrating alone on Seder night must retell the story for himself and draw it out, as Chazal, our Sages, say, “One is obligated to recount the Exodus the whole night long ... even to oneself,” with no distinction between one who does not know the details of the story, and the chacham who does. It is evident that the goal of the mitzvah of recounting is not solely to teach the details of the incidents to those who do not know. So, then, what is the goal?
This goal is to reach the level of “seeing oneself as if he went out from Egypt!” Sipur is a means to see oneself in that light. When one retells a past event, he paints it in his mind’s eye to the point where he senses and feels the experience at he tells it, just as he did at the time it occurred. For example, take those who come to advanced age and retire; many feel emptiness in their daily lives, and love to speak about the glories of their past. Through this retelling they relive the past in the present, [for they feel that they no longer have a true present].
Furthermore, a person who speaks about an emotional event that he experienced in the past, sheds tears and weeps as he recounts it—he is reliving the incident just as it was at the time it occurred. The more he goes on speaking about its fine points, the deeper and broader the depiction of the event becomes in his mind. The mitzvah for us to draw out our retelling of the Exodus from Egypt, then, is in order to draw the sensations of leaving Egypt into our emotions to the utmost degree. In this there is no difference between one who does not know what happened, and the chacham who knows everything; “even if we were all wise—it would be a mitzvah for us to recount.”
An additional means of attaining the sensation that we went out from Egypt is the embodiment of the bitterness and harshness of slavery, and of the freedom of redemption. The mitzvos of this night are experiential means of reaching this consciousness, both in their essence and in the method of their performance. Let us examine their details.
Hashem commanded us to eat maror, bitter vegetables, in order that, as we eat it, we feel the bitterness of the Egyptian servitude; as the Mishnah (Pesachim 116b) and Haggadah explain, “Maror on account of the Egyptians’ embittering our ancestors’ lives in Egypt.” Chazal added further details to concretize this: they obligated us to say these words during the recitation of the Haggadah, and to raise the maror as we say them, showing it to those assembled (Gemara ad loc.).
We have an additional mitzvah that embodies both the harshness of slavery, and Hashem’s kindnesses beneath the veil (הסתר פנים) of the enslavement: the mitzvah of eating the charoses. Chazal said, “R. Elazar ben Tzadok says, charoses is a mitzvah ... in recollection of the apple tree—that they gave birth to their sons without labor pains and without the Egyptians’ taking notice, as it is written, ‘Under the apple tree I roused you’ ... [and] in recollection of the mortar” (Pesachim 116b and Rambam).
It is not just the core of the mitzvah of charoses which stirs in us this experience of slavery; Chazal commanded us to make the charoses in a way that would graphically illustrate for us the apple trees and the mortar, as recalling them is the reason for eating the charoses. They even instructed us in practical terms how to prepare it: “Abayei said, therefore one must ... give it an acid taste in recollection of the apple tree, and one must make it thick in recollection of the mortar” (ibid), and Rashi explains, “make it thick: to toss and crush it much in order that it should be thick; and one must give it an acid taste: include apples and wine, and something with an acid taste.”
In contrast, the mitzvah to eat matzah is meant to help us actively feel the process of redemption through the stages of the Exodus. In this, too, Chazal were not satisfied with the experience of the mitzvah itself, but further obligated us to consummate our experience by verbalizing, “this matzah that we are eating is on what account? On account of our ancestors’ dough not having had time to rise before ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy One, Blessed be He, King of Kings, revealed Himself to them and redeemed them.” As we say this, we are obliged to lift the matzah and show it to those assembled.
In order that we experience the feeling of people liberated from the house of bondage, Chazal instituted for us two more special mitzvos. The first is the mitzvah of הסבה, reclining, as Rashi and the Rambam explain, “And even the poorest Jew must not eat on the nights of Pesach until he reclines in the way of free men, on a couch, at a table, in rememberance of the liberation” (Pesachim 99b). The second is the mitzvah of drinking the Four Cups, about which Chazal said, “The Rabbis instituted the Four Cups [in keeping with] דרך חירות, the mode of liberation” (Pesachim 109b).
From all this, we see the extent to which Chazal considered this experience to be a central means for attaining the feeling of ourselves having gone out of Egypt.
This fundamental principle which we have developed in connection with the mitzvos of reclining and the Four Cups is also addressed by the Rambam. Let us analyze his words carefully, and we shall see how he has added words to illuminate and clarify the obligations inherent in the Seder mitzvos, to help us achieve the sensation of ourselves having gone out from Egypt.
“In each and every generation one is obligated to show himself as if he has just now left the enslavement of Egypt, as it is said, ‘and you brought us from there.’ And regarding this, ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu commanded us in the Torah, ‘And you shall remember that you were a slave;’ i.e. as if you yourself were a slave, and you went out to freedom and were redeemed” (Chametz and Matzah 7:6-7).
“In each and every generation one is obligated to show himself;” the Rambam does not follow the reading that we have (as in the Mishnah Pesachim 116b and the Haggadah itself), “to see himself,” but rather to show himself. One must do outward actions demonstrating the liberation, and through these, his heart will be roused, and he will feel in his innards as if he went out from Egypt, in accordance with the principle that “תנועה חיצונה מעוררת הפנימית, the outward motion stimulates the inward one” (Mesilas Yesharim 7). This is clear from the Rambam’s own words at the end of this halachah: “and you will remember that you were a slave, i.e. as if you yourself were a slave, and you were liberated and redeemed.”
Here he does not mention that the obligation is “to show himself,” but rather that he feel that he himself was a slave, etc. After one exemplifies being liberated in his outward actions, he will indeed come to feel this inwardly.
It is incumbent on us to attain such a consummate level where each of us feels as one who “himself has now left the slavery of Egypt,” i.e. to have the sensation of being a slave in Egypt on this Seder night, and of Hashem liberating him from there at that moment.
The Rambam continues, “Therefore, when one holds his feast on this night, he must eat and drink reclining, in the mode of freedom, and each person, man and woman, is obligated to drink four cups of wine on this night” (ibid 7). This “therefore” clause is a continuation and clarification of the foregoing halachah, “one is obligated to show himself:” how does one show himself as having gone out from Egypt in outward action? Through reclining in the way of freedom. Indeed, the Rambam introduces the law of the Four Cups together with the law of reclining, then (ibid 8) continues with the particulars of reclining, and afterward (ibid 9-10) the details of the Four Cups. This, instead of first writing all the dinim of reclining together, and only then detailing the mitzvah of the Four Cups. It is implicit in the Rambam’s sequence that the mitzvah of the Four Cups is also בדרך חירות, in the mode of freedom, as the Gemara Pesachim 109b explains. We do these mitzvos to demonstrate that we have been liberated; thus we will feel in our innards as if we ourselves went out from Egypt.
Similarly, Chazal enacted that we begin recounting the Exodus with the disgrace that initially our ancestors were idol-worshippers, and the disgrace of the slavery and bondage of Egypt; and that we conclude with the praise that Hashem brought us close, to believe in His Oneness and to serve him, and the praise of the miracles that He did for us, and that He liberated us (Pesachim 116a, Rambam ibid 4). Their goal was to engrave in our hearts these feelings of bitterness and disgrace, and the ecstasy of liberation. We thus perceive Hashem clearly, and lovingly and willingly accept the yoke of His Kingship.
The more we describe the particulars of the shame and the praise, the deeper they will be implanted in us, and the closer we will come to Hashem. So said Chazal, that whoever increases the recounting is praiseworthy, as the Rambam wrote, “meaning that one should expound from ‘Arami oved avi’ until he completes the entire passage” that deals with the details of the bondage and the redemption, “and whoever adds and draws out the exposition of this passage is praiseworthy” (ibid).
In this matter of “beginning with disgrace and concluding with praise,” Chazal also invoked an incident of Rav Nachman to help us feel the praise of redemption, and recognize this good and praise the Redeemer. “Rav Nachman asked his slave Daro, ‘A slave whose master frees him, and gives him silver and gold—what should the slave tell him?’ His slave responded, ‘He should thank and praise him’” (Pesachim ibid). Rav Nachman’s intent was to bring himself to relate to the joy of redemption which obligates one to give thanks and praise, thus he asked Daro the slave.
To appreciate this, we must be aware of Chazal’s depiction elsewhere of the favorable station of Daro as Rav Nachman’s slave, and how he did not have a harsh yoke: “Rav Nachman said, ‘A slave who is not worth the bread his master feeds him, inasmuch as he does not serve’—such as Dare, Rav Nachman’s slave, who did not serve Rav Nachman, but was a jokester who danced around in wine shops so that people would give him to drink.” If Daro, who himself did not act the slave in his own service of Rav Nachman, still felt that a freed slave should thank and praise his master, all the more so that we, whom Hashem liberated from crushing slavery and harsh bondage, have a great obligation to thank and praise Him.
After the response of Daro the slave, Rav Nachman began, saying “We were slaves” (Pesachim ibid); i.e. he began the recounting of the Exodus that is in the Haggadah; because the recounting of the Exodus is itself praise and thanks to Hashem. This is how the Abarbanel explains the meaning of the word “Haggadah:” “There are those who explain Haggadah to be a term of thanks and praise to ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu for having taken us out from the land of Egypt, as in the Targum Yerushalmi to Devarim 26:3: higadti ha-yom—shavchis yoma dein.”
Before beginning the Haggadah, Rav Nachman sought clarity in the obligation to praise Hashem, through the sensory proof of his slave’s reaction; for complete praise is possible only through sight and perception of the senses. This is implied in the Rambam’s explanation of the Gemara of Rav Nachman: “He began, saying ‘We were slaves,’ and concluded the Haggadah with thanks and praise, i.e., ‘thus did ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu for us, inasmuch as we were slaves, and He delivered us from there’” (Pesachim ibid, ד"ה פתח). [Rav Nachman proceeded to thank and praise Hashem, just as Daro responded to his own question regarding a slave’s proper response in such a situation.]
Also, the Rambam writes, “If he is young or foolish, one says to him, ‘My son, we were all slaves like maid-servant X or like slave Y, in Egypt, and on this night ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu redeemed and liberated us” (Chametz and Matzah 7:2). That is, we must experience the servitude and the liberation through the living example of a slave or maid-servant in front of us. The Rambam’s source was certainly this incident of Rav Nachman and his slave, though the Rambam paskened that one must invoke such an example only for a small or foolish child. It emerges that drawing out the story in its details, and the means of experience—the mitzvos of the Seder—bring us to feel as if we went out from Egypt. Now we shall turn to thanks and praise.
What we call “thanksgiving” (הודאה) in fact involves acknowledging (מודה) the truth, that ha-Kadosh Baruch Hu performed miracles and wonders for us, and did great good for us; and the resulting thanks that we give Him (תודה). These two senses of “hoda’ah” encompass the concept of hakaras ha-tov—to acknowledge that Hashem did good for us, and to express this in speech and in action (fulfillment of the mitzvos). From this, we will come to praise; that is, to recount and acknowledge Hashem’s myriad kindnesses.
The goal of acknowledging the good of the Exodus is the acceptance of the yoke of Heavenly Kingship, and of the fulfillment of the mitzvos with joy and desire. The Chovos ha-Levavos (Duties of the Heart) describes two levels of הכרת הטוב, acknowledgment of good: the first, that the good rendered by the Creator Who animates and bestows good on every creature, obligates in the performance of His will in the form of rational mitzvos (the Seven Noachide Mitzvos falling into this category). “[T]he second idea, the Creator’s good bestowed on one amongst the peoples ... such as His bestowing good upon the Children of Israel in taking them out from the land of Egypt ... and He thus obligated them in a service over and above the first; i.e. the received instructions”—those dictates of the Torah which are not rationally understood (Gate of Divine Service 6). Based on what we have now said, we can explain the substance and the order of the concluding passages of the Haggadah.
“Whoever has not said these three things on Pesach has not fulfilled his obligation.” This does not mean that he has not fulfilled the mitsvos of Pesach, Matzah and Maror for not having said them; he has fulfilled them through these actions. Rather, it refers to the mitzvah of sipur yetzi’as Mitzrayim. Chazal established that these three factors are essential to the consummation of the recounting, the benefit of recounting being in the expansion of matters in their details; thus one who has not said them has not fulfilled his obligation of retelling.
After we have concluded the story with “Pesach, Matzah and Maror,” the author of the Haggadah set the section, “in every generation one is obligated to see himself as if he went out from Egypt, as is said, ‘And on that day you shall tell your son,” on Pesach night, “saying, ‘On account of this.’” The word “zeh, this” means indication, like pointing a finger: concretizing the concepts and creating the experience for those assembled. The Haggadah explains earlier, “We only say ‘On account of this’ at the time when matzah and maror are sitting in front of us;” i.e. on account of these things sitting before us, “Hashem did for me on my going out from Egypt.” In other words, it is incumbent on us to experience the feeling that Hashem redeemed us from Egypt. Given this, it emerges that, through retelling and experiencing, we reach the point where we are capable of fulfilling the obligation to see ourselves as having gone out from Egypt.
We then say, “therefore we are obligated to give thanks, to praise, etc.,” for once we feel as if we ourselves were redeemed, “therefore we are obligated,” by the feeling in our heart, “to give thanks and to praise.” So writes the Abarbanel: “Given that it is as if we went out from Egypt, we are obliged to praise Hashem just as our ancestors did.”
Since we personally sense an obligation to give thanks and praise to Hashem over His redeeming us, we sing a song before Him. And what is this song? The chapters of Hallel, which we say, not in obligation to recite Hallel on the miracles that Hashem did for our ancestors, as is the case on Chanukah, but as our song on our own redemption. Thus we do not make a brachah on the Haggadah’s recitation of Hallel, as the brachah was instituted on the obligatory Hallel, and not on our own song. Here, Hallel is merely the mode of expression. So writes the Ran in the name of Rav Hai Gaon: “On Pesach night, we do not make a brachah on Hallel ... because we recite it, not as one reading or reciting, but as one singing a song … [and the brachah is ‘לקרוא את ההלל,’ to read Hallel]” (Rif Pesachim 52). In other words, this obligation is an obligation of our song, springing forth from the stirrings of a heart full thankfulness to Hashem on His having redeemed us from Egypt.
Thus we conclude the passage of “Le-fichach, therefore” with, “And we will sing before Him a new song”—not in the future, but now, during our recitation of the Haggadah. As we reach the end, the pinnacle of the feeling of our redemption and of thanksgiving to Hashem, we feel a new sense of obligation to sing! And with this feeling we sing our song, “Halleluy-ah, praise ye, servants of Hashem.”
The defining characteristic of the mitzvah of sipur yetzi’as Mitzrayim is prolonging the story and drawing out its details: the disgrace of the bondage and the praise of the redemption. The goal is that the ideas should enter our hearts, and that we should feel as if we ourselves are the redeemed, not only our ancestors. An additional means to this end is the experience of the harshness of the servitude and the feeling of redemption and freedom, which we create through the mitzvos of the Seder.
The necessary outcome of this perception of redemption is giving thanks and praise to Hashem—acknowledging His goodness towards us.
The goal of this acknowledgment and of all of the activity of the this sacred night is קבלת עול מלכות שמים, the acceptance of the yoke of Heavenly Kingship—fulfillment of all of Hashem’s mitzvos with love, joy and desire.
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