The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

At the heart of the "maggid" section of the Haggada, in which we fulfill the mitzva of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" (the telling of the Exodus story), we read Chazal's commentary (in the Midrash) on the brief summary of the Exodus in Sefer Devarim (26:5-8 - "Arami oved avi… "). Specifically, the verses discussed come from the section of "mikra bikkurim," the "declaration over the first fruits." In the times of the Temple, a farmer would bring his first fruits to the Temple and give them to a kohen. He would then recite the declaration dictated in these verses, in which he briefly reviews the story of the Egyptian exile and the redemption. Why do we choose specifically these verses as the focal point of our discussion of the Exodus at the seder?

A beautiful answer is suggested by Rav Mordekhai Elon, as cited in the "Tekhelet Mordekhai" Haggada. The verses in Sefer Devarim are addressed to the children of the generation that left Egypt, those who were born in the wilderness and entered the Land of Israel with Yehoshua. (Recall that the entire generation of the Exodus died in the wilderness, except for Yehoshua and Kalev.) Those who bring bikkurim (first fruits) and recite this declaration did not personally experience the Egyptian bondage; they are, at closest, a generation away from the period of slavery. Yet, the farmer's declaration includes the following text: "The Egyptians dealt harshly with US and oppressed US; they imposed heavy labor upon US. WE cried to the Lord… and the Lord heard OUR plea and saw OUR plight, OUR misery, and OUR oppression. The Lord freed US from Egypt… " (Devarim 6-8). The descendant of the Hebrew slaves speaks of the Exodus as if he himself personally experienced it; he is called upon to transcend the barriers of time and cross the generation gap separating him from his ancestors, and refer to himself as a former slave in Egypt. This account of the Exodus, one articulated many centuries later by a farmer who owns his own land and works for his own pay and brings a sample of his successful produce to the Temple, but who can speak of the Exodus as if it happened to him - this is the account that we choose as the basis for our discussion at the seder.

"In each and every generation, a person must see himself as if he personally left Egypt." On Pesach, the past must become the present; the millennia that have transpired from the time of our ancestors until now must vanish. On Pesach, Kelal Yisrael was born, a nation bound to its past and heritage, that can relive the experiences of foregone years annually, regardless of the drastic changes that have transpired since. We approach the seder with an understanding that what happened to our forefathers and what they did directly impacted us, and this will hopefully remind us that what happens to us and what we do directly impacts future generations.

*****

The opening mishna of Masekhet Pesachim introduces the obligation of "bedikat chametz," the formal search for chametz on the night before Erev Pesach. What purpose does this "bedika" serve? Why do we search our homes for chametz before Pesach, while all year round we need not search our homes for cheese burgers, pork, or any other non-kosher foods? Rashi explains that one must check for chametz in order to avoid violating the prohibition unique to chametz: "bal yeira'eh u-bal yimatzei," having chametz in one's possession on Pesach. We conduct a thorough search before the onset of this prohibition so as to ensure that no chametz is left in our possession.

Tosefot, however, object to Rashi's explanation. As the Gemara clearly states, as far as Torah law is concerned, one can avoid violating this prohibition through "bittul" - the verbal renunciation of his chametz. By declaring that one views his chametz as "afra de-ar'a" - the dust of the ground, an individual in effect relinquishes his ownership over the chametz and thus does not violate this prohibition. Tosefot therefore explain that the search helps ensure that one will not mistakenly eat chametz that he finds in his home over the course of Pesach. As opposed to other forbidden foods, chametz is permissible all year round. The concern exists, then, that if one finds chametz in his possession over the course of Pesach he may mistakenly come to eat it.

The Ran attempts to defend Rashi's position. He explains that although, indeed, one's verbal renunciation can theoretically avoid the violation of "bal yeira'eh," under some circumstances this may not be the case. This verbal declaration, the Ran claims, requires a genuine, whole-hearted resolve in one's heart to render the chametz meaningless as far as he is concerned. The concern arises that one may not wholeheartedly renounce his ownership over the tasty doughnuts, for example, in his freezer. Any ambivalence on the individual's part immediately disqualifies (so-to-speak) his "bittul." Therefore, to avoid all concern, we thoroughly search our homes before the prohibition of "bal yeira'eh" takes effect, to help ensure that no chametz is left in our homes. Then, even should our bittul be somewhat halfhearted, we will not be in violation of the Torah prohibition.

Tomorrow, we will iy"H discuss this analysis of the Ran further.

*****

Yesterday, we discussed Rashi's approach - as explained by the Ran - towards the obligation of "bedikat chametz," the formal search for chametz the night before Erev Pesach. As the Torah forbids not only the consumption of chametz on Pesach, but even the possession of chametz, one must search for chametz ahead of time to remove it from his possession. Although one can avoid violating this prohibition through "bittul," a verbal renunciation of the chametz, this declaration must be wholehearted. To avoid a situation whereby one does not fully resign himself to renounce his ownership over the chametz, we search for and destroy all chametz in our possession.

Rabbi Akiva Eiger raises an interesting question on this approach, particularly on the concern of the halfhearted "bittul" declaration. A fundamental halakhic axiom establishes that "devarim she-be-lev einam devarim" - that which one thinks in his heart has no legal effect over that which he does or openly declares. For example, if one betroths a woman following all the legal requirements, including the formal declaration of betrothal ("Harei at mekudeshet li"), the betrothal takes effect even if he claims that he did not mean it seriously. Therefore, once the individual formally declares his "bittul," what difference does it make if he did not wholeheartedly intend to renounce ownership over his box of cookies?

Rav Soloveitchik answers by qualifying the principle of "devarim she-be-lev einam devarim." We ignore one's thoughts and intentions only when dealing with legal actions effected by speech or physical action. For example, giving a ring to a woman in the context of betrothal itself effects the status of "kiddushin" (halakhic betrothal). Therefore, when this action is accompanied by the declaration of "Harei at… ," we do not take the man's thoughts into account. Other legal actions, however, such as "bittul," are effected by one's thought. Verbalization is required merely as a concrete expression of intent; essentially, however, it is the intent that executes the legal action. When a given halakhic status is effectuated by thought and intent, we obviously cannot overlook what the individual has in mind. Therefore, ambivalence does, in fact, impede the effectiveness of one's "bittul." As "bittul" entails - and not merely requires - an absolute rejection of one's ownership over his chametz, any hesitation on his part renders this declaration meaningless.

*****

Towards the end of the "maggid" section of the Haggadah, we read Rabban Gamliel's explanation of the three mitzvot of "pesach," "matza," and "marror." He explains that weat matza to commemorate the haste in which Benei Yisraewere driven out of Egypt, to the point where they had no time to allow their doughto rise: "They baked unlcakes of the dough that they had taken out of Egypt, for it was not leavened, since they had been driven out of Egypt" (Shemot 12:39; see the Ramban there who appears to have interpreted this verse differently than Rabban Gamliel).

If, however, the consumption of matza commemorates Benei Yisrael's hasty departure from Egypt, we must explain why it was required even before their departure. In the instructions concerning the korban pesach (paschal offering) earlier in Shemot 12, God explicitly commands Benei Yisrael to include matza in their sacrificial feast (12:8). Why would Benei Yisrael eat matza at that point, if the event it commemorates had yet to occur?

The Abarbanel, in his commentary to Shemot 12, explains that Benei Yisrael ate matza on the night prior to their departure in anticipation of that event. Although the haste commemorated through the consumption of matza occurred only the next morning, God nevertheless ordered Benei Yisrael to eat matza to mark the haste in which they will leave. God feared that while experiencing the Exodus, Benei Yisrael may not fully appreciate the miraculous haste in which their departure occurred. He therefore sensitized them to this particular element by requiring the consumption of matza with the korban pesach. Understanding in advance that they must commemorate the supernatural suddenness of the Exodus, Benei Yisrael would more fully appreciate this miracle as it occurred.

We may perhaps associate this explanation of the Abarbanel with another passage in his writings, in his commentary on the Haggada. As we know, the four questions of the "Ma Nishtana" point to four peculiarities of the seder: the consumption of matza (rather than bread), the consumption of marror, the repeated dipping ritual, and reclining. The Abarbanel contends that we should view the "Ma Nishtana" not as four separate questions, but rather as noting a single anomaly: the fusion of conflicting signals at the seder. The youngster notes that at the seder we eat matza - the "bread of affliction" - and marror, signals of oppression and slavery, but we also go out of our way to show luxury and royalty - dipping and reclining.

The answer to this single question, the Abarbanel writes, is the suddenness of the Exodus. We include both these elements in our seder because this night in Egypt Benei Yisrael experienced both elements: they began the night as slaves and by morning were transformed into a proud, free nation. Here, too, the Abarbanel points to the sudden transformation as a critical component of the miracle we commemorate on Pesach. The Exodus shows that God can reverse any situation or trend in an instant, in ways we could never predict ahead of time. We hope and pray that nowadays, too, God will redeem us suddenly and rapidly, that we will instantly transform from a people accustomed to bitterness and affliction into a proud, free, safe and secure nation.

*****

Yesterday we addressed the question concerning Benei Yisrael's consumption of matza with the korban pesach (paschal offering) on the night prior to the Exodus. As the matza commemorates the haste of the departure from Egypt (as we know from Rabban Gamliel in the Haggada), why did God instruct the people to include matza in their meal even before the Exodus? Yesterday we saw the Abarbanel's approach; today we will explore a different option.

One may argue that the relevance of matza even before the actual Exodus testifies to an additional, parallel theme of matza. (Indeed, the Abarbanel himself raises this possibility, as well, in his commentary to the Haggada.) Beyond its function as commemorating the suddenness of the Exodus (the significance of which we assessed yesterday), matza bears an additional level of symbolism, as well. Indeed, the Torah itself alludes to the two-tiered symbolism of matza in Parashat Re'ei (Devarim 16:3): "You shall not eat leaven with it [the korban pesach]; for seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, bread of affliction - for you departed from the land of Egypt hurriedly." As the Ramban there explains, this verse points to two concomitant themes of matza: it is "lechem oni," the bread of affliction, commemorative of the abuse and oppression suffered by Benei Yisrael in Egypt, and it is also the bread resulting from the unexpected rush of the Exodus. Matza thus at once symbolizes both exile and redemption. The matza eaten by Benei Yisrael together with the korban pesach commemorated not their imminent freedom, but rather the previous two centuries of oppression.

This dual theme of matza may find expression right at the outset of the "maggid" section of the Haggada. In his text of the Pesach Haggada, the Rambam prefaces the introductory "Ha Lachma Anya" paragraph with three words: "bi-vehilu yatzanu mi-Mitzrayim," an Aramaic clause that means, "we left Egypt hurriedly" (see Targum Onkelos on the aforementioned verse in Devarim). Rav Soloveitchik (as cited by his grandson, Rav Yitzchak Lichtenstein, in the Si'ach ha-Grid Haggada) suggested that the Rambam's text wishes to underscore the two themes of the matza. As we speak of "ha lachma anya," matza as the "bread of affliction," we make reference as well to the additional element of the suddenness of redemption.

We may add that the two aspects of matza, which, according to Rav Soloveitchik, are highlighted in the opening words of "Ha Lachma Anya," may explain the rest of this introductory paragraph, as well. From the matza, "Ha Lachma Anya" moves on to two other themes: an invitation to the poor and needy to eat, and our hopes for our eventual redemption. In light of what we have seen regarding the matza, a common thread runs through all three otherwise unrelated components of this paragraph: drastic transformation. The emergence of this poor man's bread as a symbol of sudden salvation brings hope to those in distress, on both the individual and national levels. Individually, the matza brings encouragement to the downtrodden and ensures them that their reversal of fortune can occur any moment. Nationally, matza conveys the message of hope that has accompanied our nation through centuries of exile and oppression. Our redemption can unfold at any moment, without warning and when we least expect it. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow, our "bread of affliction" can transform to "the bread of redemption."

*****

Yesterday, we discussed the dual significance of matza, that it commemorates our sudden freedom on the one hand, and the poverty and suffering of slavery on the other. Rav Elazar Ashkenazi, a student of the Beit Yoseif, advances an interesting theory relevant to this topic, in his work "Ma'aseh Hashem." He suggests that these two themes are reflected by the two distinct mitzvot of matza on Pesach, the obligatory and the optional. The Mekhilta (on Shemot 12:15) comments that the obligation to eat matza applies specifically on the first night (or, in the Diaspora, first two nights) of Pesach. Throughout the rest of the festival, the consumption of matza is defined as "reshut" - optional. The Ma'aseh Hashem explains that the mandatory consumption of matza on the first night commemorates the speedy redemption. The matza that we eat - on an optional basis - throughout Pesach, and that Benei Yisrael ate in Egypt before the redemption, signifies "lechem oni" - poverty and oppression. We eat this "bread of affliction" throughout Pesach to commemorate the incompleteness of the redemption in the week following the departure from Egypt. As Benei Yisrael's future and freedom were still uncertain, they were, in one sense, not entirely free. We therefore commemorate the lingering sense of slavery through the consumption of matza. However, as Pesach primarily celebrates freedom, this consumption of matza is only optional.

At first glance, this theory undermines somewhat the jubilance and glory of the night of the Exodus. It claims that we eat the "bread of affliction" duriPesach because during that week Benei Yisrael were in fact st"afflicted"! In truth, howeve, this can only enhancethe powerful message of Pesach. Once Pharaoh's army drowned at sea and Benei Yisrael's freedom was irreversibly confirmed, we can retrospectively look back upon the night of the Exodus itself with a profound sense of appreciation. We can now acknowledge the significance of even the initial stages of redemption, when a cloud of uncertainty still hovered over the future. This is why we celebrate the full week of Pesach: Benei Yisrael's freedom was finalized only on the seventh day with the splitting of the sea. Once this occurred, we can turn around and celebrate the entire process, which began with the nation's departure from Egypt one week earlier. The entire chain of events now comes into perspective and warrants our praise and thanksgiving to the Almighty.

In conclusion, we should note that although the consumption of matza is optional after the first night(s) of Pesach, some sources indicate that one nevertheless fulfills a mitzva by eating matza throughout the rest of the festival, as well. This claim is most famously attributed to the Vilna Gaon, as recorded in Ma'aseh Rav, 181. Thorough documentation of the relevant sources is provided by Rav Menachem Kasher, in his appendices to Torah Sheleima vol. 11, appendix 27.

*****

Over the last two days, we discussed the meaning and significance of the "lechem oni" quality of matza. Aside from its commemoration of the hurried departure from Egypt, we saw, matza also represents "lechem oni," or "bread of affliction," the suffering and abuse of exile.

So we assumed, and this, indeed, is the conventional understanding. The Netziv, however, advances a radically different approach towards the term "lechem oni," with which the Torah describes matza (in Devarim 16:3). He notes that Chazal derive from this verse of "lechem oni" that the obligation of matza applies even in the absence of a korban pesach. As generally the mitzva of matza involves its consumption together with the korban pesach (as we know from "koreikh"), one may have restricted its application to the Temple period, when a korban pesach was eaten. This verse, however, introduces an obligation to eat matza on Pesach night even in the post-Temple era. This, the Netziv writes, is the meaning of "lechem oni." Matza is "poor" in that after the destruction of the Temple, it is eaten plain, alone, without the accompanying meat of the paschal lamb.

The Netziv adds that although the mitzva of matza applies both when and after the Temple stood, it assumes drastically different roles in these contexts. When it is eaten together with the korban pesach, it serves a subsidiary function, merely to accompany the korban pesach. In the absence of the paschal offering, by contrast, the matza takes center stage. In fact, the Netziv claims, the mitzva of "sippur yetzi'at Mitzrayim" (telling over the story of the Exodus) takes on entirely different forms before and after the Temple's destruction. When a paschal lamb is offered, the mitzva to tell of the Exodus focuses on the event represented by the korban pesach - God's having passed over Benei Yisrael's homes during the plague of the firstborn. In the times of the Temple, it is this miracle that must receive primary attention as we speak of the Exodus at the seder. When, however, matza takes over as the central symbol of the seder in the korban pesach's absence, our focus shifts onto the event it commemorates: the frantic haste of the Exodus.

Why?

The Netziv explains that the miracle of the pesach and the miracle of the matza represent two different general methods of God's providence over His people. In Egypt, the Almighty operated, so-to-speak, in a clear, predictable, systematic method: those who performed the ritual were saved and redeemed; those who did not, were killed. This is how God oversees Benei Yisrael in the ideal setting, when they live in the Land of Israel with a Temple. Two farmers with adjacent fields will experience very different levels of success depending on their level of observance. Those who obey the commandments will be blessed; those who do not will encounter hardship. Therefore, when Benei Yisrael live in their land with God in their midst, they focus on the korban pesach, the "clear-cut" method by which God protects His nation.

The morning of the Exodus, however, signifies a much different approach. The rush of the Exodus did not allow Benei Yisrael the time to prepare provisions for travel (see Shemot 12:39). They left frantically, their future unclear and their direction unknown. They obediently followed the pillars of cloud and fire that led their way, trusting in God's protection, but the predictability of the previous night had vanished; they had no idea what lay in store for them ahead.

This frantic departure into the wilderness represents Benei Yisrael's existence in exile. We follow God's orders even though we have no idea where He leads us. The matza symbolizes our inadequate provisions for the long road ahead, the need to follow the pillars of cloud and fire wherever they take us. This, explains the Netziv, is the focus of the Pesach seder during our years of exile.

*****

Over the last few days we have discussed the underlying meaning of the mitzva of matza. Today we turn our attention to a far less obvious mitzva - the prohibition against eating or possessing chametz. Why does the Torah forbid chametz on Pesach? Moreover, why does the Torah introduce such stringency with regard to this prohibition, to the point where it may not even be owned, and one who eats it is punishable by "karet"?

The Sefer ha-Chinukh (mitzva 15) explains the prohibition of chametz as an extension, or corollary, of the mitzva of matza. Like the obligation to eat matza, the prohibition against chametz, too, commemorates the hasty redemption from Egypt. Given the critical importance of the Exodus and its significance for Am Yisrael and its relationship to the Almighty, He commanded us to eat only unleavened products over the course of this festival to commemorate the rapidity of the Exodus that did not allow our ancestors' dough to rise. The centrality of this event also accounts for the particular stringency associated with this prohibition.

Many others, however, explain this prohibition as based on the association between chametz and the yetzer ha-ra (evil inclination). In one of his responsa, the Radbaz (teshuvot, 3:546) explains that Chazal treated this prohibition with such stringency because chametz on Pesach symbolizes the yetzer ha-ra, which one must completely destroy and eradicate - just as one must destroy the chametz. Several bases for this association may be suggested. Most probably, yeast and the leavening process add flavor, substance and texture to the bread beyond the bare essential ingredients of flour and water. In this sense, leaven represents luxury and physical indulgence beyond basic sustenance. Furthermore, the rising that results from the fermentation of dough is often viewed as a symbol of arrogance. The pursuit of one's selfish interests, a natural result of an inflated self image and sense of self worth, lies at the heart of all forms of the yetzer ha-ra. The more a person concerns himself with his own, personal needs and gratification, the stronger his tendency to sin will become.

This association between chametz and the evil inclination does not, however, explain why specifically on Pesach we must refrain from chametz. Why does this symbolism of chametz come into play particularly in our commemoration of the Exodus?

Two general directions have been taken. Some, including the Abarbanel, point to the preparation for Matan Torah as warranting this prohibition. The nation's preparation to receive the Torah and take upon itself the yoke of mitzvot necessitates the internalization of this critical message of matza and chametz. Only those willing to forego, to one extent or another, on physical comfort and luxury, who do not approach life as an endless pursof self gratification, seriously arrive at MoSinai and receive the Torah.

The Alshich and others adopt a slightly different approach - the spiritual transformation required of Benei Yisrael before theyearned redemption. The ultimate victory over the yezter ha-ra was realized when Benei Yisrael risked their lives by publicly conducting the paschal ritual. This "destruction" of the yezter ha-ra was necessary before God would liberate them from slavery. We commemorate this victory by refraining from chametz throughout the festival of Pesach, in the hope that we, too, will always earn God's favor by "destroying" our inclination to sin.

*****

Yesterday, we saw that some commentators view chametz as a symbol of the yetzer ha-ra, the evil inclination. Surprisingly, this theory appears in halakhic contexts, as well, with possible practical ramifications.

The Rashba, in one of his teshuvot (1:379), cites the view of Rabbenu Peretz that one should not recite the berakha of "she-hecheyanu" over the mitzva of bedikat chametz (the search for chametz). Rabbenu Peretz explained that it is inappropriate to recite this blessing of joy and praise over a mitzva which involves destruction. (The search for chametz is halakhically associated with its ultimate purpose - "bi'ur chametz"; for this reason, the berakha recited on the bedika reads, "al bi'ur chametz.") What exactly does he mean? If we generally recite "she-hecheyanu" over rare mitzvot, why not recite this berakha when searching for chametz, as well?

Rav Azriel Hildesheimer (Teshuvot, vol. 1, Y.D. 198) explained Rabbenu Peretz's position based on this association between chametz and the evil inclination. Rather than reflecting our strive for excellence, the destruction of chametz symbolizes the preliminary step, the need to cleanse ourselves of our spiritual impurities before we advance further to the level of kedusha (sanctity). This elimination of a negative, as opposed to the attainment of something positive, does not warrant the joyous recitation of "she-hecheyanu."

The widespread practice certainly follows this ruling of Rabbenu Peretz, and people do not recite "she-hecheyanu" over this mitzva of bedikat chametz. Some authorities maintain, however, that the "she-hecheyanu" recited the following night (the first night of Pesach), either at candle lighting or during kiddush, covers all mitzvot associated with Pesach, including the search for chametz. If so, then when reciting this blessing on Pesach night one should perhaps have this in mind. Furthermore, the minority view among the authorities requires the recitation of "she-hecheyanu" over bedikat chametz. Some authorities, including Rav Ovadya Yosef, recommend satisfying this view by taking a new fruit before the search. One should place the fruit before him, recite the berakha over the bedika ("al bi'ur chametz"), begin searching, and then recite "she-hecheyanu" over the fruit and have in mind to satisfy the minority view regarding the bedika, as well. One then completes the bedika, and immediately when he finishes, he should then recite the regular berakha over the fruit and eat it.

This is not, however, the widespread practice, as we generally adopt the view that "she-hecheyanu" is not recited over bedikat chametz.

*****

Over the last two days we considered two general approaches to the reason behind the prohibition against chametz on Pesach. Today we will look at another possibility, one developed by Rav Menachem Kasher, in his appendices to his Torah Sheleima, vol. 19 (appendix 20). Rav Kasher notes that in six ways, the prohibition of chametz resembles the laws associated with avoda zara, objects of idolatry. First, chametz and avoda zara share the unique prohibition against possession. Not only may one not eat or benefit from chametz on Pesach and an idol, he may not even own it. Secondly, both require destruction. We must destroy all chametz in our possession on Erev Pesach, and Benei Yisrael were to destroy all idols found in the Land of Israel after the conquest. Thirdly, both feature an "issur hana'a," a prohibition against benefit, beyond mere consumption. (Granted, this feature is not unique to these two prohibitions.) Additionally, neither chametz nor an idol can be rendered nullified when mixed with other items. Food mixed with even the smallest quantity of chametz may not be eaten on Pesach; the same applies to food used for idolatrous worship. Another point of similarity involves the possibility of verbal renunciation of which we spoke last week. Both chametz and avoda zara can become permissible through verbal renunciation. We renounce our ownership over any chametz left in our possession and thus avoid violating the prohibition, and, at least according to one view (of the Ravya), if an idolater verbally renounces his loyalty to a given idol, it may be owned and used (not as an idol, of course) by a Jew. Finally, both require a "bedika," or search. We must search for chametz before Pesach, and Benei Yisrael were to search for idols in Eretz Yisrael upon their arrival in the land.

Rav Kasher adds that the Zohar (2:182) equates one who eats chametz on Pesach with one who worships idols.

What are we to make of this (somewhat) obvious parallel between chametz and idolatry?

Rav Kasher cites two sources indicating that the pagans would offer leaven products to their gods as an offering. The Yerushalmi in Masekhet Avoda Zara (1:1) derives this fact from a verse in Sefer Amos (4:5). Similarly, the Rambam, in his Moreh Nevukhim (3:46), explains on this basis the Torah's prohibition against offering leavened products on the altar in the Mishkan. Since pagans would often offer yeast as a sacrifice, the Torah forbade leaven offerings on the altar. Rav Kasher thus suggests that our abstaining from chametz on Pesach symbolizes Benei Yisrael's rejection of idol worship when they were freed from Egyptian bondage.

*****

In his commentary to Shemot 10:22, Rashi cites the well-known Midrash about those among Benei Yisrael who did not want to leave Egypt. These "resha'im" (wicked people) as the Midrash calls them, were thus killed by God as the plague of darkness descended upon the Egyptians. Who were these "wicked" people, and why, after so many years of bondage, did they refuse to leave Egypt?

We may perhaps gain a clearer understanding of this Midrash by first putting our chronology in order. Rashi writes (in his commentary to Shemot 11:4) that Moshe prophesied the impending plague of the firstborn before he left Pharaoh's palace, where he had been summoned in response to the plague of darkness. In other words, this prophecy was issued immediately following the six-day period of darkness. Now in Masekhet Berakhot (4a), the Gemara establishes that this prophecy took place twenty-four hours before its fulfillment, meaning, the night before the plague of the firstborn. It turns out, then, that the plague of darkness ran from the ninth through the fourteenth of Nissan. Recall that on the tenth of Nissan Benei Yisrael were to begin their preparation of the korban pesach, which was slaughtered on the afternoon of the fourteenth (see Shemot 12:3,6). Thus, the plague of darkness took place during the period of the korban pesach's preparation.

It stands to reason, then, that those who refused to leave Egypt were those who chose not to comply with the mitzva of the paschal sacrifice. As several Midrashim indicate, the korban pesach ritual involved a process of spiritual cleansing, Benei Yisrael's extrication from Egyptian paganism. They were to take the symbol of Egyptian idolatry - the lamb, slaughter it and make a public demonstration of its blood, confidently trusting that not only will no harm be incurred as a result, but that specifically this rejection of idolatry would bring redemption. The paschal ritual marked a theological about-face on Benei Yisrael's part. Whereas Egyptian culture - in which they had been submerged - taught that the sheep has limitless power to proits worshippers, now God's destroyer would spare specifically those whumiliated the sheep and partook of its meat.

This prwas too difficult for some among Benei Yisrael. These elements did not want to leave Egypt because their freedom required a clean break from Egyptian culture and beliefs. For Benei Yisrael to become a free, independent nation, they had to first etheir independent faith and ideology, a belief in God untarnished by Egyptian mores and free of any pagan influence.

Pesach thus celebrates not only the physical emancipation of our enslaved ancestors, but also, and perhaps primarily, the cultural and religious independence that came with the Exodus. We left not only the land of Egypt, but the pagan lifestyle it promoted and embodied. As we reenact the Exodus each year, we must also commit ourselves to our religious independence, as well. The period of sefirat ha-omer underscores the integral relationship between the freedom of Pesach and the covenant of Shavuot. We were freed from Egypt so that we could reach Sinai, where we willingly accepted the Torah and established our unique ideals, laws, and way of life.

(This devar Torah is based in part on an analysis of the Maharil Diskin, as quoted in the Maharil Diskin Haggada.)

*****

The Gemara in Masekhet Pesachim (6b) cites the following statement of Rav Elazar: "Two things are not in one's possession, but the Torah made it as if they are in his possession: a pit in a public domain and chametz on Pesach." The halakha with regard to the pit in the public domain is fairly straightforward. In Parashat Mishpatim (Shemot 21:33-34) we read that one who digs a pit in a public domain bears responsibility for any damages incurred as a result of his failure to cover the pit. Although the pit is public property, and an individual cannot, strictly speaking, be held accountable for damages resulting from something belonging to the public, the Torah deems the digger the legal owner over the pit with respect to damages.

But what does Rabbi Elazar mean in the context of chametz on Pesach? Why is one's chametz "not in his possession," necessitating the special provision of the Torah considering him the owner?

The simple reading of the Gemara is that items from which one is halakhically forbidden to derive benefit de facto cannot come under his ownership. A person cannot be considered the owner of items from which he may not derive any benefit. Therefore, the prohibition against owning chametz on Pesach poses a paradox of sorts (not dissimilar to the situation of the pit): on the one hand, no benefit may be derived from chametz on Pesach, and yet the Torah forbids owning it on Pesach. How can one own it if he cannot derive benefit from it? Rabbi Elazar therefore informs us that the Torah "placed it" in the individual's possession nonetheless in order to render him in violation of the prohibition should he continue his possession of chametz on Pesach.

This explanation, of course, operates on a critical assumption: that indeed one cannot have legal ownership over an item from which benefit is forbidden. This is indeed the position of the Rashba (Teshuvot, 747) and the Ra'avad (cited by the Ritva in Sukka 35a). Some authorities, however, contend that one can be considered the legal owner over property from which he is not halakhically entitled to derive benefit. These authorities include the Ritva (ibid.) and the Rivash (401). (The Avnei Milu'im claims that the Rambam adopts this view, as well.) How will they explain this Gemara? If chametz is already in one's possession - the prohibition against benefit notwithstanding - why must the Torah "place the chametz" in one's possession? Indeed, Rabbi Akiva Eiger (Gilyon ha-Shas, Pesachim 33a) cites this passage of Rabbi Elazar as a proof to the first view.

This question perhaps forces us to qualify this second position, the view that allows for ownership over halakhically forbidden property. Indeed, such qualifications are mentioned in the writings of the Acharonim. Perhaps the most drastic is that suggested by the Ketzot ha-Choshen (406:1). He distinguishes between two halakhic concepts: "she-lo" - legal ownership, and "bi-reshuto" - practical possession. He claims that according to the view of the Ritva, we can view forbidden items as technically under one's ownership, but not in his actual possession. One who steals the item has certainly committed theft, as the item still belongs to the alleged owner. But given the prohibition against benefit, the owner cannot be said to enjoy practical possession over the item. Thus, the chametz paradox applies even within this view. As the Ramban writes (in his commentary to Shemot 12:19), to violate the prohibition of chametz the bread must be within one's possession; if an individual had entrusted it to a gentile before Pesach, he does not violate the prohibition. This shows that the prohibition requires not merely technical ownership, but practical possession, as well. Thus, according to all views the Torah must "place the chametz" in the violator's property for him to indeed transgress this prohibition. (Although the Rambam argues with the Ramban concerning chametz entrusted to a gentile, this explanation may work according to his view, too, in light of the comments of the Noda Bi-Yehuda - Mahadura Kama, O.C. 20.)

(Based on an article by Rav Chaim Shlomo Shlomovitz of Brooklyn)

This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

Make Jewish learning part of your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

Yeshivat Har Etzion
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il