Our Exodus From Egypt

By Rabbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah (www.bircas.org)

The Sages (Pesachim 116b) tell us that on the night of the Pesach Seder, every Jew is “obligated to see himself as if he left Egypt.”

There are numerous times we are commanded to remember important events in history, such as the mitzvah to remember what happened to Miriam (after she spoke against Moshe and was punished with leprosy), and to remember how we angered Hashem in the desert. However, regarding the other mitzvos, we are not commanded to imagine as if they happened to us personally. If so, why is there a need to imagine ourselves as slaves running away from our masters?

Moreover, the command of the Sages indicates not that we must imagine as if we left Egypt, but rather, to see ourselves as if we left Egypt. The wording implies a very personal experience that we should feel. How can we possibly fulfill this obligation? Can a Jew who grew up in the twenty-first century really see himself as if he were a slave in Egypt?

The Alter of Kelm answers that the Exodus teaches us the most critical elements of our faith: that Hashem exists, and that He oversees all of the world’s affairs. He chose us as His people, and He punishes those who defy His will. Therefore, the Alter says, believing that it happened is not enough when it comes to the Exodus. We have to feel that it happened.

As for how we accomplish this, the Alter of Kelm advises performing actions that bring this knowledge closer to our senses. Thus, when the Sages commanded us to see ourselves as if we left Egypt, their intent was that we do actions, such as eating matzah and maror, so that the Exodus comes alive. Indeed, when the Rambam brings the Sages’ ruling (Hilchos Chametz Umatzah 7:6) in halacha, he states that a Jew is obligated to “show himself” as if he left Egypt. By showing ourselves these experiences, we bring the Exodus closer to our senses.

The Haggadah’s detailed description of the Exodus transforms it from mere dry fact into a more vivid experience. Indeed, the Haggadah itself tells us, “The more that one tells it, the more praiseworthy,” as we are bolstering our faith – not just in our heads, but in our hearts.

The Brisker Rav notes that there is an obligation to mention the Exodus every day and every night. However, on the Seder Night, the obligation is to recount it. This is much more than a mere mention. We delve into important background events which led the Jews to descend to Egypt. We talk about how the enslavement began, and we describe each of the Ten Plagues that brought our servitude to an end. Our discussion goes into why we eat matzah and maror, and why we ate the korban Pesach during the times of the Beis Hamikdash. This recounting takes the form of “question and answer,” which brings out a more personal participation from the audience, and naturally, a greater emotional investment.

Rav Yerucham Levovitz would add that emunah, faith, needs to lead to something. One cannot have faith  without the obligation which is attached to that faith. In our case, Hashem did the miracles of the Exodus so that the emunah we gained would make us His servants (see Vayikra 25:55, and Rashi there). Thus, the more emunah of the Exodus we possess, the greater our service to Hashem should be strengthened. Indeed, if we arrive at the feeling that the Exodus happened to us personally, then we will certainly feel a greater obligation to Hashem, and we will strengthen ourselves correspondingly in His service.

The Chovos HaLevavos (Shaar Avodas Elokim 6) echoes this idea. He writes that all nations are obligated to serve Hashem, as He created them and keeps them alive. However, the Jews have a greater obligation, because one who receives more, owes more. Indeed, a Kohen owes more to Hashem than a Yisrael, and any individual who merited exceptional kindness from Hashem owes Him a greater form of service. We should all be feeling this on the Seder Night.

The feelings we gain from doing this properly should grant us the resolve to become more meticulous in His mitzvah observance. Actually, the Pesach Seder is a good place to reaffirm one’s commitment to meticulous observance of halacha. On this night, people are particularly concerned with halacha. They make sure to use shemura matzah and/or hand matzah. They pay close attention to the shiurim (halachically prescribed quantities) of matzah and maror. They try hard to eat them within the halachically prescribed time limit, and to eat while reclining. All of this attention to halacha should propel us to be more meticulous in halacha throughout the year. A Jew should walk away from the Seder with a greater sense of importance for the nuances of halacha, and of course, with a deeper sense of emunah.

When the Torah commands, “And you shall tell your son on this day…” (Shemos 13:8), this is not a command to merely tell children the story of the Exodus. One must tell it over – to whoever is present – in a way that they will feel the emunah, and in turn, will desire to be greater servants of Hashem. One should put his heart and soul into the telling of the Haggadah so that it will make a lasting impression. Indeed, the Ohev Yisrael would note that the Seder Night has a special power to get the message of emunah across. Though one can tell the story of the Exodus at any time of the year, his words will penetrate deeper on this night, taking root not just in the mind, but even in the heart.

R’ Yaakov Yosef Weiss, a Holocaust survivor, would recount every year on the Seder Night: “When my father spoke at the Seder when I was a boy, I could see that he was living through what he was saying. You could feel how real it was to him. I internalized a very deep emunah in Hashem from his words. I believe that it was this emunah that enabled me to survive those horrific years of the Holocaust.

“I spent some of those years together with a friend who had lost his emunah, and I would always tell him: If Hashem wants to, He can redeem us right here, too.

“Once, we were being led to the gas chambers. Everyone knew that this would be the end. I continued to think to myself (Brachos 10a), ‘Even if a sharp sword is on one’s neck, he must never despair of Hashem’s mercy.’ I was the last one to enter the chamber, which was so crowded that the Nazi, may his name and memory be blotted out, could not close the door! I was big, and I was by the door, so the Nazi shouted at me to get out. I did, and I survived.”

May we be zocheh to relive the Exodus and transmit it to others!

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