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+Barukh She'amar on Pesach Haggadah
+ברוך שאמר על הגדה של פסח
+Rabbi Mark B Greenspan
+https://www.oceansidejc.com/
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+Barukh She'amar on Pesach Haggadah
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+Kadesh
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+Magid
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+Ha Lachma Anya
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+<b>This is the bread of haste....which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.</b> Not the bread of affliction but the bread of haste. Matzah was the food that the people ate when they were liberated, not while they were enslaved. While most commentators associate Matzah with slavery and oppression, Rabbi Epstein believes that it is more closely connected with Israel’s liberation. The Israelites did not eat Matzah in Egypt. In fact in Numbers, 11:5 the Israelites tell Moses that the food in Egypt was plentiful: “We remember the fish we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic.” (There is no mention of Matzah in this verse.) When the Haggadah says that they ate the “Lechem Oni” in Egypt, it does not mean literally “in Egypt” but rather in the vicinity of Egypt when the people left the land.
+<b>All who are hungry come and eat; all who are needy come and celebrate Passover.</b> While these two statements sound repetitive, they contain two different types of invitations. The first statement is for those suffering from hunger while the second statement is for those who have food but lack the necessary provisions to celebrate Passover. Rabbi Epstein understands the second statement to be an invitation to join in the celebration of the holiday. “Vayifsach” is not a reference to the Passover offering but rather a verb formed from the proper noun “Pesach,” meaning to celebrate Passover. We find a basis for this interpretation in Maimonides’ version of the Haggadah. It says, “Kol detzrikh lifaseach,” “Anyone who needs to celebrate Pesach...” Furthermore, the continuation of this statement in the Haggadah makes it clear that this is a reference to the festival and not the Pesach offering since it says, “This year we are here (in the Diaspora).” The Pesach offering could not be sacrificed in the Diaspora so the opening statement must be an invitation to celebrate Pesach at a time when the Passover sacrifice was no longer being offered. Why are both statements necessary? The invitation reminds us that we have two different types of obligations to the needy. According to Halachah we must provide food to those who are hungry without investigating their needs. If someone asks for food we should not question him. We must give him what he asks for. When it comes to other less essential needs, we have a right to investigate if the person is really as needy as he says. <i>One more note:</i> If this is an invitation why don’t we make the statement, “All who are hungry…” before the Kiddush at the very beginning of the Seder? The Kiddush must be recited at the very onset of the Sabbath or the holiday without any delay, in fulfillment of the statement, “Remember the Sabbath day – remember it as soon as it begins.” (See Peachim 106b.) We find a similar statement in the Torah concerning Passover in Exodus 13:2, “Remember the day on which you went forth from Egypt.” The same principle must applies to both the festival and the Sabbath with regard to the Kiddush - we don’t delay its recitation. What’s more, we can’t be sure if and when there will be needy people at our door step so it would be impractical to delay the Kiddush while we issue an invitation and wait for the needy to arrive. The participants recite the Kiddush as soon as the Seder begins and only afterwards they issue an invitation to those who are hungry or needy to join them.
+<b>All who are hungry...now we are here, next year in the land of Israel; now we are slaves next year may we be free:</b> The opening statement of the Haggadah begins with three passages: “This is the bread of haste…” “All who are hungry” and “Now we are here.” The first statement sets the stage for the telling of the Passover story. Is there a connection between the two invitations (all who are hungry and all who are needy) and the following two statements (now we are here and now we are slaves)? In Talmud, Berachot 34b, we learn that in Messianic times the only thing that will change in the world is that there will no longer be political oppression of one nation by another. There will, however, still be poverty in the world. Some realities never change. These two statements make this clear; even when we are in the land of Israel we will still have to say, “All who are hungry come and eat,” because “the poor will not cease from the earth.” (See Deuteronomy 15:11.) What will be different between the present era and the messianic era? “Now we are slaves,” but in the time to come “we will be free.” These statements are also a road map to redemption. The Talmud in Baba Batra10a, says, “Great is Tzedakah because it will bring redemption to the world.” We begin the story of redemption by bringing redemption to the world through acts of kindness and justice. The Talmud bases this statement on Isaiah 56:1, “Observe justice and perform righteousness (Tzedakah) for my salvation is soon to come.” These statements also explain the connection between the second and the third statements in “Ha Lachma Anya.” By performing acts of charity (“all who are hungry…”) we will gain the merit to live in the land of Israel as free men and women.
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+<b>How is this night different from all other nights:</b> <i>A grammatical note:</i> Rabbi Epstein has a great deal of respect for the Vilna Gaon but is disturbed by a comment in his writings in which he identifies the word “Laila,” “night,” as a feminine noun. There are ample examples in the Bible where we can see that the word “Laila” is masculine even though it also has the feminine plural ending. The “Mah Nishtana” is an example of this. We say “Halaila Hazeh” and the plural is “Laylot.” What’s more there are other words that follow this same pattern. “Avot - fathers,” “Araiyot - lions,” “Levavot - hearts” are all masculine nouns which have feminine plural endings, while we have other words which have a masculine ending but which are in fact feminine such as “Nashim - women,” “Shanim - years,” and “Te’aynim - figs.” While there are general rules for masculine and feminine nouns there are many exceptions. Rabbi Epstein is bothered by the Vilna Gaon’s comments but he holds out the hope that someone will find an explanation for his conclusion. He concludes by saying, “While it is hard for me to imagine that this opinion came from the Vilna Gaon, even so I am prepared to change what I have remarked here if someone can find a basis for his words. I would consider this a comfort to my soul and for his a source of merit and righteousness!”
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+We Were Slaves in Egypt
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+<b>We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt:</b> The opening passage of the Magid seems to depart from the classical style of much of the Haggadah. Normally we have a Rabbinic statement followed by the word “Sh’ne’emar” “as it says” and then a proof text from the Bible to back up the original statement. In this statement the Haggadah begins with a quote from Deuteronomy 6:21 followed with a Rabbinic statement, “And if the Holy One had not taken our fathers out of Egypt....” The Haggadah should have begun, “Our ancestors (not we) were slaves to Pharaoh and the Lord took them out,” followed by the verse from Deuteronomy as a proof text. Then the Maggid would have continued “And if the Holy One had not brought our fathers forth we would still be enslaved in Egypt...” The present order of the statement is problematic for two reasons. First, the opening two statements in the Haggadah are not in agreement with one another. “<i>We</i> were slaves to Pharaoh....if the Holy One had not taken <i>our fathers</i> out of Egypt, then...” The text seems to switch from “We” to “them.” And second, the statement in Deuteronomy only applies to the generation which left the land of Egypt and not to future generation. In its original context, Moses is speaking to the children of Israel who were slaves to Pharaoh and he reminds them of their past so that they will understand that were it not for God’s ‘mighty hand’ they might still be in Egypt. How can we conclude from this that we were slaves or that we would still be slaves in Egypt? A statement in the Talmud already suggests that we should begin telling the story of the Exodus with “We were slaves...” (See Pesachim 116a.) But Rabbi Epstein believes that the Talmud is merely quoting the text of the Haggadah here. While “We were slaves to Pharaoh” is the language of the Torah, Rabbi Epstein suggests that there are other examples where the Haggadah changes the person of the original statement in order to make it more appropriate to the context of the Haggadah. He mentions Rabban Gamliel’s statement which appears later in the Haggadah as an example of this. The Haggadah changes the Mishnaic statement “Pesach, for what reason? Because the Omnipresent passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt,” while the Haggadah says, “The Pesach <i>which our ancestors ate when the Temple was still standing</i> for what reason? Because the Omnipresent passed over...” This would seem to suggest that the editor of the Haggadah would have also been justified in making a similar change in the Biblical verse from “We were slaves..” to “Our fathers were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt..” The change in Rabban Gamliel’s statement, however, was more significant and necessary for the text of our Haggadah since the original statement in the Mishnah applied in the time when the Temple was still in existence and the Pesach offering was still consumed. After the destruction of the Temple the statement no longer made sense. Rabbi Epstein concludes that we have a good question here but no answer. We are left to wonder why the Haggadah begins by quoting Deuteronomy 6:21 and not placing the quote in the context of a Midrash and a supportive verse.
+<b>If the Holy One had not taken our ancestors out of Egypt then we and our children and our children’s children would still be slaves in Egypt:</b> How can the Maggid be so certain that we would never have been redeemed if God had not brought us out of Egypt? After all the people of Israel could have been freed in a whole variety of different ways. There could have been a change of regime or they could have been liberated by another nation invading Egypt. It doesn’t make sense to assume that Israel would have been subjected to eternal slavery in Egypt. Historically, however, Israel left the nations in which they found themselves because they were expelled by their oppressor. In the case of Egypt the circumstances were different. The Egyptians had no desire to free the Israelites. Pharaoh became more and more obstinate about not letting them go. Therefore, there was no hope in Egypt of the people ever leaving without divine assistance.
+<b>If the Holy one had not taken our ancestors out of Egypt, then we and our children and our children’s children would still be subjugated to Pharaoh in Egypt:</b> Later in the Haggadah we make the statement that “In every generation we should see ourselves as we personally went forth from Egypt...” The Haggadah quotes Exodus 13:8 which is interpreted to teach us that “The Holy One not only redeemed our ancestors but us with them...” Why is this D’rash necessary since we have already been told in the opening passage of the Maggid that had God not taken us out of Egypt we would still be enslaved. Since we would still be slaves had God not taken us out of Egypt it seems obvious that we should see ourselves as if we were personally liberated from Egypt. Rabbi Epstein distinguishes these two statements from one another. The first statement, “Had God not taken us out...still be subjugated to Pharaoh,” speaks about recognizing our former status while the second statement, “In every generation...as if we personally went forth from Egypt...,” expresses the recognition of each of us as being a “Yotzei Mitzraim - one who went forth from Egypt.”
+<b>Therefore, even if we are all endowed with wisdom...it would nevertheless be our duty to speak of the Exodus from Egypt. To dwell at length on Exodus from Egypt is praiseworthy:</b> Despite this statement, the Torah places limits on how much time we must spend recalling the Exodus from Egypt. Rabbi Gamliel, in his statement in the Mishnah (and in the Haggadah), tells us that if one explains the reason for the three main Mitzvot in the Seder, the Pesach offering, Matzah, and Maror, one has fulfilled one’s obligation to tell the story of the Exodus. Similarly the four verses in the Bible, which are the basis for the four sons, contain questions and answers that also are concise and simple explanation of the Exodus. Apparently the answers given in the Torah are sufficient as a means of fulfilling this Mitzvah. So why does the Haggadah tell that even Torah scholars must dwell on the story at great length and anyone who dwells on the Exodus is praiseworthy? In contrast to the Mitzvah of recalling the Exodus, our tradition places no limits on the study of Torah. In Joshua, Chapter 1 we are told to dwell on the Torah day and night. Elsewhere we are told that the study of Torah even takes precedence over many other mitzvot including the donning of Tefillin. In Mishnah Shekalim we learn that Torah study “is equal to all the other commandments.” Torah study is far more important than recalling the story of the Exodus. One might conclude that only those who are not knowledgeable should dwell on the Exodus at length, while Torah scholars should devote their attention to the study of Torah and only do as much as is necessary with regard to telling the story of the Exodus. The Haggadah, therefore, begins by telling us that this is not so. Even those who have wisdom and knowledge should still dwell at length on the Exodus from Egypt! No one is exempt from giving this Mitzvah the maximum effort. Remembering the story of the Exodus even takes precedence over the general study of Torah. Why does our tradition place such emphasis on recalling the Exodus? Why does the Mitzvah of telling the story of the Exodus take precedence over other commandments, especially the study of Torah? Rabbi Epstein offers two answers to this question, one based on a statement in the Babylonian Talmud and the other based on the Palestinian Talmud. According to the Babylonian Talmud (Yevamot, 5b) Mitzvot which were given before the revelation at Mount Sinai take precedence over those that were given on the occasion of revelation. For instance, circumcision takes precedence over Shabbat since circumcision was already given to the Patriarchs. Rabbi Epstein says that we must show greater reverence to those commandments that are older, just as we show greater respect to people who are aged. According to the Jerusalem Talmud, those Mitzvot that were given at the time of the Sinai revelation take precedence over those that were given prior to Sinai. The reason for this is that the commandments at Sinai were given in the presence of the entire people and, therefore, must be accorded extra respect. The Mitzvah of telling the story of the Exodus is the exception. Even though the people were commanded to tell the story of the Exodus before the events at Mount Sinai, this Mitzvah is of special importance because it is the basis for all the others. The Exodus is the fundamental concept behind the practice of Judaism, and the basis for many other commandments, so we accord it precedence over the other Mitzvot and devote ourselves to it with extra passion and effort.
+<b>One who dwells at length on the story of the Exodus is praiseworthy:</b> Rabbi Epstein is troubled by the idea that we are allowed to go on at length in telling the story of the Exodus and praising God for redeeming us from Egypt. At some point such praise becomes excessive and begins to sound false and insincere. Even though the Talmud (Brachot 33b) suggests that it is improper to go on at length in praise of God in the context of the Minyan, it is permissible to add additional prayers in this context. The Shulchan Arukh distinguishes between the “Nusach,” or the basic order of the daily service and additional praises and homage to God (“Shirot v’tishbachot”)
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+Story of the Five Rabbis
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+<b>It once happened that Rabbi Elazar...etc.:</b> The remainder of the Haggadah is made up of biblical citations and Midrashic interpretations of these verses. Why does the Haggadah include the story of Rabbi Elazar here? This story helps to illustrate two insights we gained from the previous passage: <b>1.</b> That even those people who are blessed with great wisdom and insight are still obligated to tell the story of the Exodus. <b>2.</b> That it is not enough simply to tell the story of the Exodus - one must expand on the story of the Exodus and learn new insights and ideas from it. This story illustrates both of these insights. Rabbi Elazar and his colleagues, despite their great knowledge of the Exodus, still gathered together on the night of Passover to tell the story of the Exodus and spent the entire night exploring its significance until their students finally interrupted them and reminded them that it was time to recite the Sh’ma!
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+<b><i>I was never privileged</i> that the story of the Exodus <i>should be mentioned</i> at night until Ben Zoma interpreted the verse:</b> The Hebrew words “Lo zachiti sh’tayamer” do not seem to make sense. Why is explaining this verse a privilege and who stopped Rabbi Elazar from mentioning the Exodus at night? To understand this passage we must add some missing words into this elusive passage, “<i>I was not privileged to find the source in the Torah for this matter until Ben Zoma was privileged to find the source for this</i>.” It is meritorious to find hidden meanings in words of the Torah. Rabbi Elazar said with great feeling, “Even though I learned a great amount of Torah in my lifetime, I still was unable to find this interpretation until a younger man came along and did so. I don’t even know his whole name. He is known by his father’s name (Ben Zoma).
+<b>Until Ben Zoma interpreted the verse, “In order that you may remember the day of your going out of the land of Egypt all the days of your life.” The days of your life - the day time; all the days of your life — to include the nights:</b> Why does Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah accept Ben Zoma’s explanation so readily? To begin with, the sages reject Ben Zoma’s interpretation of this verse and second, even ben Zoma seems to acknowledge that the sage’s interpretation has some merit. The sages understand that the additional word “All” in “All the days of your life,” teaches us that the Exodus will be remembered even in Messianic times. When Ben Zoma protests (based on a verse in Jeremiah 23:7) that in time to come people will praise God who brought forth Israel from “the lands of the North” instead of from “the land of Egypt,” the sages explain that this simply means that Israel will now remember to place the future redemption first and the Egyptian redemption will become secondary. The sages compare this to the verse in Genesis in which God says that Jacob’s name will no longer be Jacob but Israel. This statement is not exclusive. The Torah continues to use the name Jacob even after God rewards the Patriarch with a new name. Similarly, in the Messianic era, the Jewish people will speak about the future redemption but will not do so exclusively. They will still make mention of the Exodus from Egypt. Ben Zoma is silent in response to this retort, suggesting that he acknowledges that their interpretation is correct. The Exodus will be remembered in the Messianic era (albeit in a secondary and less important way). Yet he interpreted the verse from Exodus to mean that we should mention the Exodus at night and not in Messianic times. Rabbi Epstein argues that the verse in Jeremiah uses the expression “Ki im, but” in “Behold the lord says, they shall ‘no more say as the Lord lives that brought up the children out of the land of Egypt’ <b>but</b> ‘as the Lord lives who brought up and led the house of Israel out of the lands of the North...” This expression is used as an exclusive expression throughout the Bible as a way of expressing “only this and not the other.” The Jacob text is not a proof text. The fact that God chooses to refer to Jacob by this name even after it has been changed is an exception. Since it is God who does this we can not use this as a proof text since we cannot discern God’s choice of names or His actions. Generally speaking, however, when the Bible uses the expression “ki im” it means “only A and not B.” Since his interpretation of this verse is unequivocal, Ben Zoma felt no need to explain himself to the sages. Therefore, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah was comfortable adopting Ben Zoma’s explanation.
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+<b>The Torah speaks of Four Children:</b> The Midrash of the four children is based on four passages in the Torah which each explain the reason for Passover. In each of these passages a child asks a question and the parent offers an answer. In the final passage of the four we are simply told that the parent should tell his child about the Exodus from Egypt. In Exodus, Chapter 12 (which contains the passage associated with the wicked child) the passage concludes, “...the people bowed and worshipped.” Rashi explains that the people paid homage to God at this time by giving thanks to the Holy One upon learning that “they would be blessed with children.” Rabbi Epstein asks two questions. What is the point of this news and what is its connection to the rest of the passage which deals with the Passover sacrifice? Why should the people bow in homage to God at this particular point in time considering that this passage is the one addressed to the wicked child? We associate Passover with the ability of parents to pass on the lessons of our history to their children. The worry here, as Rashi explains it, is natural. Only one of the four children turns out to be wise. Nonetheless, Moses comforted the people and told them that even if they were not blessed with wise children, future generations might be blessed with such children. They should, therefore, make the effort to teach their children the message of the Exodus even if they are wicked, simple or silent. According to Rashi, Moses wanted to comfort the people with his tidings of future generations and it was for this reason that the people bowed in gratitude. Rabbi Epstein concludes by acknowledging that, as lovely as this Drash may be, it is not the P’shat, or the literal meaning of this verse. The simple meaning of the verse is that the people bowed in homage to God for the redemption that He was about to give them.
+<b>One is wise and one is wicked...</b> Why does the Haggadah contrast the wise child with the wicked children? The opposite of a wicked person should be a righteous person, not a wise person. Rabbi Epstein points out that there are places in the Bible where wisdom is associated with righteousness, such as Psalms 119: 98, “Your commandments make me wiser than my enemies.” In other words one’s wisdom allows us to fulfill God’s commandments and thereby overcome our enemies. The editor of the Haggadah chose the word “Chacham, wise” rather than Tzaddik, righteous,” because generally righteous people tend to follow the will of God without asking questions or expressing doubts. There are two type of righteous people. There are those who blindly follow God’s will (and say, “we will do and we will obey”) and there are those who obey God’s will but ask questions and probe into the deeper meaning of what it is they are doing. The Haggadah focuses on the second type of righteous person who obeys God’s will but is not afraid to probe and ask questions. Such a person is the opposite of the wicked child.
+<b>One is simple....</b> In the Jerusalem Talmud, there is a varient version of the Midrash of the four sons (Pesachim 10:4) which uses the word “Tipesh, fool” instead of the word “Tam, simple” to describe the third child. Rabbi Epstein prefers the text of this Midrash found in the Jerusalem Talmud to the one used in the standard version of the Haggadah we now use. The word “Tam” does not fit here since it often has a positive connotation in the Biblical and in Rabbinic literature. It can mean pure or whole. The word is often used in association with the word “Yosher, upright,” and sometimes with the word, “Tsedek, righteous.” The Patriarch, Jacob, is referred to as an “Eesh tam, a pure man.” The word “Tipesh,” on the other hand, has a connotation of someone who has difficulty understanding and who asks questions but has limitations in understanding the answers he is offered as in Psalms 119:70 and Isaiah 6:10.
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+<b>You should explain to him the laws of Pesach, (until) “nothing should be eaten after the Pesach Afikomen.”</b> Why does the Maggid choose to answer the wise child in this way? This statement, “nothing should be eaten after the Pesach Afikomen,” is taken from the end of the final chapter of Pesachim which includes the laws for the Seder. The Maggid instructs the father to teach his son all the passages in the Mishnah Pesachim relating to the Seder from the very beginning of the chapter until “nothing should be eaten after the afikomen.” This statement represents the fulfillment of Deuteronomy 6:24, “Then the Lord commanded us to observe all these statutes,” since the law of the afikomen is a statute. Commentators are troubled by the meaning of the expression, “Nothing should be eaten after the Afikomen.” This statement has two meanings, both of which are implied in the wording of the Mishnah - one relating to the time of the Temple and the other based on how we observe Passover today. Originally, one was not supposed to eat or drink anything after consuming the Pesach offering. Today we apply this same principle to the Afikomen, the final piece of Matzah which we eat at the end of the Seder. The expression in the Mishnah should be read, “Nothing should be consumed after the Pesach (in the time of the Temple) or after the Afikomen (nowadays when there is no temple.)” If we are not supposed to consume anything after the final piece of Matzah, why are we supposed to drink two cups of wine at the end of the Seder following the Afikomen? The Afikomen is a symbolic substitute for the Pesach. We try to make the laws of the Afikomen similar to the original Pesach offering but they are not really exactly the same. Wine is not considered to be an impediment to the Afikomen and we are allowed to drink it since they are part of the ceremonial aspect of the evening.
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+<b>The wicked child, what does he say? “What does this service mean to you?”</b> Like many commentators before him, Rabbi Epstein points out that the questions attributed to the wise and wicked children in the Torah appear to be the same. In Deuteronomy 6:20 we say, “What mean these testimonies, statutes, ordinances that the lord our God commanded you - Etchem?” (This is the wise child’s question.) and in Exodus 12:26 we read, “What does this service mean to you - Lachem?” (This is the wicked child’s question.) In both questions the child appears to be excluding himself from the community by using the word “you” in his question. So why does the Haggadah criticize only the so-called wicked child for speaking this way? Rabbi Epstein distinguishes the wise child’s question in Deuteronomy which uses the word “Etchem, you” from the wicked child’s question in Exodus which uses the word “Lachem, to you.” The wise child’s question is inclusive because he says “the Lord our God.” He also acknowledges that it was his elders who were commanded directly to observe the Passover and not he. That is why he says “which the Lord our God commanded <i>you.”</i> Not only does the wicked child not mention the name of God in his question as his wise brother does, but he is not talking about the command but the actual service of God which applies as much to him as it does to his elders. Therefore, when he says “What does this service mean to you,” he is truly excluding himself from the service of God. The Jerusalem Talmud emends the wise son’s question in the Torah in order to make it more fitting to this context. It has him say, “What do these testimonies, ordinances... which the Lord our God commanded <i>us (Otanu),</i>” even though this is not what the verse in Deuteronomy actually says. It makes the Wise child’s question more fitting for his temperament. Certainly he would include himself in the commandment. This emendation also makes the contrast between wise and wicked more obvious.
+<b>Set his teeth on edge...</b> The Hebrew expression “Hakey” has the connotation of destroy or break elsewhere in the Bible as the proverb in Ezekiel 18:2, “The fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” This is not meant to be taken literally but is to be understood as a proverb which states that sometimes children suffer for their parents’ sins. But what does this expression mean in this context? Rabbi Epsteins portrays the wicked child as an intellectual who is annoyed by the ritualistic aspect of the Jewish tradition. The implications of his question are that it should be enough to simply read the story of the Exodus to commemorate this event without bothering with all the rituals and ceremonies. The commandment of telling the story should be a purely intellectual exercise. The retort to the wicked child is that he should break his teeth since it’s enough to think about food without actually eating and chewing it! That’s not quite the same, is it? Similarly the story of the Exodus must be concretized to make it more powerful and meaningful. It’s not enough just to tell the story. We must become part of the story and feel its meaning in our lives. What’s more, we answer him caustically using expressions similar to his. There is a sarcastic tone to the wicked child so we should offer him a sarcastic answer in return.
+<b>If he had been there, he would not have been redeemed:</b> How is it possible that the wicked child would not have been redeemed? Even the “Eruv Rav, the mixed multitude” who followed the Israelites out of Egypt (see Exodus 12:38) were allowed to leave Egypt. This group of people, however, was not wicked; they were simply a mixed group of people from other nations who embraced the Israelites’ faith when the Israelites left Egypt. Those Israelites who were wicked, according to the Midrash, were stricken dead during the plague of darkness. (See Exodus 12:21.) Looking back at the passage in the Torah (Exodus 12:26), which is the basis for the wicked child’s question, there are several issues that are raised. First, why is the opening part of the verse is plural (“When your children ask you...”) unlike the passages for other three sons? This suggests that there are more wicked children than there are wise, simple or silent children. Second, why did the Maggid choose to reformulate the answer to the wicked child in the singular when the question was addressed by a group? (“‘What does this service mean to you’ - To you and not to him.”) And third, why did the Maggid choose to ignore the answer offered by the Torah (Exodus 12:27 - “It is a Passover sacrifice to the Lord because He passed over the house of the Israelites in Egypt when He smote the Egyptians but He saved our houses”) to the wicked child’s question. Rabbi Epstein comes to the defense of the so-called wicked child in Exodus 12:26 by suggesting that there may not be a wicked and rebellious child in this verse. The fact that the statement is introduced in the plural suggests that this may simply be a case of rash language and not an attempt by the speakers to reject the community through their question. The Torah appears to give this child a legitimate and respectful answer quite different from the caustic response of the Maggid in the Haggadah. The Maggid, on the other hand, chose to part from the literal meaning of the verse in order to paint a portrait of a rebellious child who chooses to separate himself from the community. This is implied in his mind in the last word of the questions, “What does this service mean to you? (The word “you” here is plural - this allows the Maggid to say that he is implying you “the Jewish community” and not him “the individual.”) He then took one more step in painting this portrait by choosing Exodus 13:28 as the answer to the wicked child even though this verse is interpreted as referring to the one who does know how to ask, “Because of that which the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.” The “me” here is seen as contrasting to the questioner, “God did this for me - not for you!” This verse is an appropriate answer to the original question.
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+<b>As for the one who does not know to ask, you begin for him:</b> There are a number of places in the Bible where the feminine form of “you - aht” is used in place of the masculine “you - ahtah.” See numbers 11:15, Deuteronomy 5:24, Ecclesiastes 7:22 and Ezekiel 28:14. In each case the sages see this as an opportunity for a Drash. Rabbi Epstein understands this as a hint that for this child even the words of the verse are not enough to teach him the full significance of the Seder. Begin with “Aht” - everything from “Aleph” though “Tauf,” the first and last letters of the “Aleph-Bet.”
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+<b>Because of that which the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt:</b> The problem with this verse is the Hebrew word “Zeh, this.” What is it referring to? The verse seems to be circular in its reasoning. Why did God take me out of Egypt? Because of “this.” If “this” refers to the Seder, then the verse is saying that God commanded us to commemorate the Exodus because he took us out of Egypt so we could commemorate the Exodus! The commentary offers two different explanations: 1. This is one of many examples in the Bible and later literature of transposed words. It should read, “This (ceremony) was given because of the miracle which the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.” 2. Another explanation is that the word “Zeh” should be read as it is read elsewhere in the Bible as “that which.” “It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.” There are ample examples of the word being used in this way such as Psalms 104, Proverbs 27:22, and Isaiah 43:21.
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+<b>You might suppose that we ought to begin retelling the story of the Exodus from Rosh Hodesh.....the words “Ba’avur zeh” teach that we only have an obligation to tell the story when the Matzah and Maror are before us:</b> Rabbi Epstein wonders why anyone would have thought that one should begin telling the story of Pesach from the beginning of the month of Nissan? He explains that since one might assume the redemption began with “This month (Nissan) shall be the beginning of months to you,” (Exodus 12:1) one might also assume that the first of Nissan is when the obligation of telling the story of Passover begins. Exodus 13:8 teaches us that the mitzvah of telling the story of Exodus begins when the symbols of Passover are on the table before us as well. The Rabbi is still disturbed by this concept. What loss, after all, is there in telling the story of the Exodus at other times as well? Why did the Torah have to specify a set time for telling the story of the Exodus? Rabbi Epstein explains that attitudes are best reflected in concrete actions. He points to a discussion in the Talmud in which a person lost in the wilderness who does not know when the Sabbath falls should still set aside one day a week for Shabbat. But what makes such a day distinct as the Sabbath? Not the passive act of rest or the assumption that this particular day is the Sabbath but rather the recitation of the Kiddush and Havdalah. By welcoming and concluding the day with these rituals the Sabbath becomes more concrete. Similarly, the story of Passover becomes more real not simply because we recall but because we do so with concrete symbols that represent the day. “When the Matzah and Maror are before him on the table.”
+<b>At a time when there is Matzah and Maror placed before you:</b> The choice of words here emphasizes this point. The word “Sh’yesh, there is” is unnecessary here. The text could have said “At a time when Matzah and Maror are before you.” The apparently extra word emphasizes the idea that the story of the Exodus must be made more real with concrete symbols that add power and meaning to the story of the Exodus.
+<b>When the Matzah and Maror are before you:</b> Why is Matzah always mentioned before Maror? Since Maror symbolizes slavery, and Matzah symbolizes freedom, the Maror should have have been mentioned first so that the two symbols are in chronological order. The Maror came before the Matzah! The Maror is a reference to the fact that Israel’s exile in Egypt was shorter than it was supposed to be. Originally God promised Abraham that his offspring would be in Egypt four hundred years. Instead God shortened the time of the exile but increased the intensity of the subjugation so that they would be able to leave sooner. The intensity of the Maror, oppression, then, was for the sake of the Matzah, the freedom. Matzah is listed first to teach us that the Maror existed for the sake of the Matzah. The hope for redemption, then, pre-existed the bitterness of the oppression and slavery in Egypt so we mention the Matzah first.
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+In the Beginning Our Fathers Were Idol Worshipers
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+<b>At first our fathers were idolaters:</b> This passage describes the events which preceded the sojourn in Egypt. At first glance, however, it does not appear to be relevant to the Passover story. Why does the Haggadah discuss our idolatrous ancestors when it is about to tell the story of the Exodus? Yet this passage helps understand Israel’s experience in Egypt. The statement “At first...” explains why it was necessary for Israel to be subjected to such a harsh decree while they were in Egypt. The harsh decree of slavery and oppression was necessary in order to cure Israel of the disease of idolatry which was so deeply rooted in its soul. Rabbi Epstein explains that there are two types of physical (and spiritual) illnesses: illnesses that are a product of bodily weaknesses or accidents, and those that are genetic and part of the very make-up of the individual. The first type of illness can be cured with a medical intervention while the second cannot be cured so easily. When the Haggadah tells us that our ancestors were idolaters for generations, it is explaining that we had a more deep seated illness that needed a harsher and more radical cure. Israel did not simply sin; they worshipped false gods. Idolatry was rooted in Israel’s blood and soul. A harsh sojourn in Egypt was necessary to purify Israel of idolatry. This purification continued through the time of the Exodus, the giving of the Torah at Sinai and the journey in the wilderness. Israel was only cured when they reached the border of the land of Israel. This statement, explains why Israel needed to be in Egypt and to be enslaved in the first place.
+<b>At first our ancestors were idolaters</b>: The word “אבותינו,” “our ancestors,” (like the beginning of the Amida, ‘Elohaynu vaylohay avotaynu’) often refers to the Patriarchs. The Talmud in Berachot,16b says, “We only use the word “our fathers” to refer to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” And yet here it says that “our fathers were idolaters” Certainly it can’t be referring to Abraham and his descendants! Rabbi Epstein suggests that the statement in Berachot 16a means that we only use the word “Avotaynu” to refer to the patriarchs when we are speaking of our ancestors who lived from the time of Abraham on. When the word is used in reference to people before the time of Abraham, the word is used in a more generic sense and can mean our ancestors in general. This statement in the book of Judges begins by speaking about those people (such as Terach, the father of Abraham) who lived prior to the age of Abraham. The verse in the Book of Judges acknowledges that in fact our earliest ancestors were idolaters.
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+<b>Blessed is the One who keeps His promise to Israel:</b> Why do we refer to God as “the One who keeps promises?” Similarly, in the prayer “Boruch Sh’amar,” which we recite each day, we say that God is “Gozer umikayem,” that He “decrees and fulfills His promise.” At first glance this does not appear to teach us anything about God that we would not have already assumed. Keeping one’s promise is not only a divine attribute but a human one as well. We expect human beings to live up to the promises that they make and we expect God to do the same. So why is it so impressive to say that “God keeps His promises?” Rabbi Epstein offers two answers to this question. First he suggests that when God promised Abraham that his offspring would inherit the land, he did not yet have children. It was not clear how this promise would be fulfilled or which of his future offspring would be fulfillment of the promise. Who would inherit the land — Isaac or Ishmael? God’s promise might have been for Ishmael’s or Esau’s offspring, for that matter. Therefore, when the Haggadah says that God kept his promise, it means specifically his promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’s descendants: the Jewish people. Rabbi Epstein offers a second answer to this question. He suggests that only God can keep a promise as it was originally uttered. Human promises are dependent on fate and luck. For instance, if a king places a man in prison and promises him that he will be there for three years, he cannot know if he will survive the entire three years. Certainly it wouldn’t make much sense to keep him there after he died just to fulfill his promise of three years of incarceration. Human promises are often fickle and based on circumstances beyond our control. But when God makes a promise, one knows that it will be fulfilled exactly how it was originally promised to the individual.
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+<b>Go out and learn what Laban the Aramean sought to do to Jacob our father:</b> What does the expression “Go out and learn” mean? “Go out and learn” is a way of saying that there is a great deal to say about this particular matter but that this is not the time or the place to dwell on this topic! The expression is similar to the one used in the well known story of Hillel and the gentile (Shabbat 31a) who asks to be taught the whole Torah while standing on one foot. Hillel answers, “What is hateful to you don’t do to others. All the rest is commentary. Now go out and learn.” Hillel tells the gentile questioner, “Listen, there’s a lot to say about this matter. I can teach you the basic idea right now but you’ll have to learn the rest on your own!”
+<b>As it says, “An Aramean tried to destroy my father:”</b> ארמי אובד אבי This verse is taken from Deuteronomy 16:5. It is part of a declaration that was made in ancient times when people brought first fruits to the Temple on the feast of Shavuot. The exact meaning of the opening words of this phrase “Arami oved avi” is problematic. Who is the “Arami” and what does the word “Oved” mean? The Haggadah as well as Rashi understand this verse as a reference to Laban, Jacob’s father-in-law, who pursued Jacob with intent to harm him after he fled with his wives and flocks from Aram. All three words in this phrase need an explanation, “An Aramean (i.e. Laban) tried to destroy ( only one possible meaning for the word “oved”) my father (i.e. Jacob).” But there are other interpretations of this verse as well. Rashbam understood this phrase differently. He suggested that the Aramean was Abraham because the Patriarch lived in Aram before making the journey to the land of Canaan. Oved is understood not as a transitive verb but as an adjective. Abraham becomes an “Arami oved,” “A wandering Aramean.” Soforno and others understood this verse as a reference to Jacob who was a wandering Aramean because he spent so many years in exile in the land of Aram in his father-in-law’s house. Rabbi Epstein points out that we cannot find anyplace else in the Bible where either Abraham or Jacob are referred to as “Arameans.” What’s more, not only Rashi but Onkoles, the Aramaic translation of the Torah, interprets this verse as a reference to Laban. He also argues that the Haggadah’s interpretation also fits with the Torah trop, the musical annotation that Torah readers use to chant the text. The breaks in the trop suggest that we should read the word “Oved” as a verb rather than an adjective. He therefore accepts the standard interpretation of this verse as we find it in the Haggadah.
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+<b>‘And He went down to Egypt’ — compelled by the divine word:</b> What is the connection between the statement in Deuteronomy that Jacob “went down to Egypt” and the Midrashic comment that he was “being compelled to go to Egypt?” This is not at all clear! Usually we use the expression “going down” to express the idea that Israel is at a higher spiritual level than Egypt so a trip to Egypt would be considered a descent. So how do we know that Jacob was also compelled to go there from this phrase in Deuteronomy? This interpretation is based more on the context of the verse rather than its actual wording. When Jacob learned that Joseph was still alive, he went to Egypt with great trepidation because he was afraid of dying and being buried in Egypt. He went because he knew that this was part of God’s promise, “Your offspring will be strangers in a land not their own.” Jacob’s sojourn in Egypt was really due to the fact that God commanding him to go and not merely his desire to see his son once again. Why was Jacob compelled to go down to Egypt and not Abraham or Isaac? Because all of Jacob’s children would be the recipient of God’s promise while Abraham and Isaac each had other children who were not destined to be the recipients of the covenant at Mount Sinai. Only Jacob’s children had to make this journey so that they could participate in the Exodus and journey to Sinai.
+<b>He went down and sojourned there few in number and there he became a great nation:</b> (Deuteronomy 26:5) This verse appears to be transposed. It should have said, “He went down to Egypt few in number and sojourned there and became a great nation.” It is part of the style of the Bible to transpose expressions in this matter. We have already seen this same phenomena in the Haggadah. (See Rabbi Epstein’s comments on the verse, “Because of that which the Lord did for me when I went forth from Egypt.”) For more examples see: Genesis 14:12, Exodus 4:31, Exodus 12:32, Exodus 14:13, Leviticus 1:2, and many more places.
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+<b>And there they became a ‘great’ nation - This teaches us that Israel became distinctive there:</b> Like its English counterpart, the word “Gadol” ‘great,’ has two meanings; it can mean “large” in a physical sense or it can also mean “great” in a qualitative and spiritual sense. In this verse it is not clear in which sense “Gadol’ is being used. Did Israel become physically great by increasing in number or did they become a great nation by vitrue of the character and integrity? The Maggid understands ‘great’ in the second sense of the word but it is not clear how he arrives at this conclusion. Rabbi Epstein explains that the Maggid arrives at this interpretation based on the use of the word “Am” instead of the word “Goy” for nation. Although these two words mean nation they have different connotations. The word “Am” implies a large nation and is often used in a disparaging way in the Bible. (See Rashi, Numbers 11:1.) When Israel is referred to as a “Goy,” it is usually used in a more complimentary way, such as Samuel 11, 7:23, “Israel is a unique nation on earth,” and Genesis 25:23, “There are two nations in your womb,” implying that the two sons to which Rebecca would give birth would each be the father of a great nation. The fact that the verse calls Israel a “Goy Gadol” implies that they are a great nation and not just a large nation....
+<b>Great, mighty (Deuteronomy 26:5) as it is said, “And the children of Israel multiplied, were prolific, and increased.” (Exodus 1:7)</b>: If the word “Gadol” refers to quality, the other words in this part of the verse refer to the quantitative increase of the nation. Each term in Exodus 1:7 refers to a different aspect of Israel’s physical increase: <i>“They increased”</i> implies that there were no barren women among the people<i>. “They were prolific”</i> is a reference to the Midrash which claims that the Israelite women each gave birth to sextuplets. <i>“They increased”</i> suggests that they not only gave birth to many children but they were also raised them in a healthy and well adjusted way. <i>“They grew mighty”</i> means that they were not only many but the women also gave birth to strong and healthy children.
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+<b>And the Egyptians did evil to us and they oppressed us:</b> (Deuteronomy 26:6) Generally the Hebrew expression for doing evil to someone is “Haray’ah li...” such as Genesis 43:6: “lama harayotem lee?” “Why have you treated me so ill?” Wherever this verb “hayraya” is used it usually is followed by the prefix “Lamed” except for here. In Deuteronomy we read “Vayarayu otanu,” a word beginning with the prefix “et.” The Maggid understands this to mean not ‘they did evil to us” but rather “they made us appear evil.” The Egyptians were concerned that the other nations would accuse Egypt of treating the Israelites poorly without good reason so they accused Israel of all types of evil actions in order to justify their oppression. In this way they hoped that the other nations would think their behavior toward the Israelites was justified. He would translate this expression “They made us appear evil before the other nations.” Having portrayed the Israelites in this way, then they felt that they were justified in oppressing the Children of Israel.
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+<b>“And they afflicted us” (Deuteronomy 26:6) as it is said, “They appointed taskmasters over them in order to afflict them with burdens.(Exodus 1:11)”</b> As in other cases, this statement contains a passage from the declaration in Deuteronomy, Chapter 26, and a proof text taken from the beginning of the Book of Exodus. But what does the proof text add to our understanding of the passage from Deuteronomy? The two passages appear to be the same. Exodus does not seem to expand our understanding of Deuteronomy. Rabbi Epstein argues that the verse from Exodus adds something to our understanding of Deuteronomy. By saying “in order to afflict them with burdens,” it suggests that the very purpose of the subjugation of Israel was not to benefit from their labor and hard work but simply to afflict Israel. Egypt could have afflicted Israel in order to get them to be more productive. The verse in Exodus suggests that they were afflicted simply for the sadistic pleasure of the Egyptians; to make them suffer. By simply saying that they afflicted them, we do not know the true purpose of the affliction. Exodus 1:11 adds this to our understanding of the text. <b>“We cried out to Adonai, the God of our ancestors, and Adonai heard our voice.” (Deuteronomy 26:7):</b> The Midrash teaches us that there are no unnecessary or redundant words in the Bible. If something is repeated there must be a reason for the repetition. So why does this verse repeat God’s name in the second half of the verse, “And Adonai heard our voice?” It could have said, “We cried out to Adonai, the God of our ancestors, and (He) heard our voice.” Why do we repeat “Adonai” twice in this verse? This teaches us that prayer ought to be based on humility. No one should assume that he is entitled to God’s intervention. The Talmud, Berachot 10b, says: “If a person petitions God in his own name (in other words, as if he were deserving of God’s assistance), then God will make him dependent upon on the assistance of others; but if he petitions God in the name of others, then God will reward him on his own merit.” This cryptic statement teaches us that God is more likely to answer our prayers when we are humble enough to ask for God’s assistance in the name of our ancestors not because we somehow believe that we are deserving or worthy of God’s assistance. That explains why Deuteronomy, 26:7, repeats the name of God. Because our ancestors cried out to the God of their ancestors (and not in their own name), God heard their voice and answered them directly.
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+<b>And He saw our affliction (Deuteronomy 26:7): This refers to the forced separation of the husbands and wives by the Egyptians, as it is written, “And the God saw the children of Israel and God knew. (Exodus 2:25)”</b> How does the verse from Exodus illustrate the idea that the Egyptians forced the Israelite husband and wives to separate? The word “affliction” already implies the “forced separation of the sexes” without an additional verse from Exodus. We see this in other places in the Bible including Genesis 31:50. In this verse, Laban warns Jacob not to take other wives when he returns to the land of Canaan, <i>“</i>If you <i>afflict</i> my daughters by taking other wives beside my daughters...” The implication of the word “afflict” is that by taking other wives, Jacob would be ignoring his obligations to his first wives, Rachel and Leah and thus afflicting them. So the word “affliction” would appear to have a sexual connotation. The word “afflict” “Vayanunu” in the Deuteronomy verse can have two different meanings. It can mean hard pressed and physically suffering, and it can also mean denying one spouse the normal needs for intimacy and physical contact. When we read Deuteronomy, “He saw our affliction,” we do not know which way the Torah wants us to understand this expression. The verse from Exodus implies a sexual connotation! How do we know this? Whenever the Torah says “God saw” and does not tell us what he saw, we can assume that the text is being discreet by not discussing a delicate subject such as intimate relations between husband and wives. Rabbi Epstein offers two other reasons why we should understand the word “Vayanunu,” “and they oppressed us” as a reference to intimate relations between the sexes and not just physical oppression. First, Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, the Spanish commentator, suggested that the expression “ya’anu oto” “they oppressed us,” has this connotation in Exodus 1:12: “But the more they afflicted (“ya’anu oto”) Israel, the more they increased.” This verse associates affliction and population increase. It implies that the Israelites were afflicted to keep them from having children but the plan failed since the Israelites continued to increase in number. And second, in Exodus 2:24, the Torah says, “God heard their moaning and remembered His covenant...” This verse implies affliction in the sense of physical oppression. So the next verse which says, “And God saw....” must imply some thing other than physical affliction.
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+<b>“Our toil” (Deuteronomy 26:7): This refers to the (“Banim”) boys, as it is said, “Let every new born boy be cast into the Nile and let ever girl live” (Exodus 1:22):</b> What is it about the expression “Our toil” that leads the Maggid to assume that it is referring to the Israelite boys who were drown in the Nile River? The word “Amal, toil” or “burden” is often used to refer to labor whose outcome is purposeless and in vain. See Ecclesiastes, 1:3, “What profit has a person of all his <b>toil</b> wherein he toils under the Sun?” or Job 4:8, “They sow wickedness and reap toil.” The Hebrew boys were born and immediately killed by the Egyptians so that the labor of carrying them for nine months and then giving birth to them was in the end in vain. Their mothers toiled and carried these children only to see their sons die. But why, then, does the Maggid also quote the final part of the verse, “and let every girl live?” Since the girls were allowed to live the labor of carrying them was not in vain. Pharaoh’s decree would appear to have been directed at the baby boys and not the girls. They were drowned in the Nile and not the girls. The girls, however, were also “born in vain” since they would remain single and alone all their lives if the Israelite boys were all put to death. They would not be able to establish Jewish homes. Pharaoh’s decrees affected both the boys and the girls. The Israelite boys were killed so that the girls would have no one to marry among their own people. Rabbi Epstein explains the derivation of the words “Ben, son” and “Bat, daughter” in light of this comment. He derives the word “Ben,” from the Hebrew verb “boneh” which means “to build,” because it was the job of the boys to build a future for the Israelite people. He then suggests that the word “Bat” comes from the word “Bayit” or “house.” How could the women establish a “Bayit” if there were no men with whom to help build it?
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+<b>I will pass through the land of Egypt: I and not an angel:</b> Elsewhere in the Torah we are led to believe that the plague of the first born was carried out by an angel. (In Exodus 12:23 we read, “And the Lord will pass over the two door posts and not let the destroyer (Hamash’chit) enter and smite your home.”) This verse would appear to be referring to the angel of death. Yet the Haggadah repeatedly says, “I and not an angel.” Rabbi Epstein distinguishes between deaths caused by the tenth plague and deaths that would naturally occur on the night of the tenth plague. Only God passed through the land of Egypt on the night of the Passover. He did not allow the Angel of Death, who is usually in charge of taking lives of the sick and the elderly, to even take the lives of those who would have died of natural causes on this night. So there were no deaths on the night of the Passover in the homes of the Israelites that were properly marked by the blood of the lamb on their door posts. In other words, this made the tenth plague doubly miraculous!
+<b>I and not another:</b> Hebrew verbs often include the pronoun that goes with them built into the verb. For instance, the word “Avarti,” means “I passed.” The “-ti” suffix at the end of the word signifies the word “I.” It is not necessary to add an additional pronoun (such as “Ani” or “Anochi” which mean “I”) before the verb since this already understood from the form of the verb. This can help us understand the comment on Exodus 12:12, “For that night I will pass through (“Viavarti”) the land of Egypt and I will strike down (“Viheekayti”) every first born in the land of Egypt, both man and beast, and I will mete out (“E’eseh”) punishment to all the gods of Egypt, I (“Ani”) the Lord.” Each of the verbs in this verse implies a pronoun so why was it necessary to add the seemingly superfluous “I, Ani, am the Lord” at the end of the verse? This extra phrase emphasizes that it was God and God alone who carried out the final plague and not some assistant or representative. The word “Ani” strengthens the overall affect of the verse. This is especially true because the “Ani” phrase comes at the end of the verse for emphasis: “I passed through the land, <b><i>“I</i></b> am the Lord!” which means “…<b><i>I</i></b> and not another!”
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+<b>With a mighty hand - this refers to the pestilence, as it said: “Behold the hand of Adonai strikes your cattle...” (Exodus 9:3):</b> The verse in Exodus helps us understand the connection between pestilence and the hand of God but it does not explain the figurative connection between these two images. Why is this particular plague singled out as being caused by “the hand of God” while some of the others are referred to being caused by “the finger of God?” Since Pestilence is the fifth plague it represents “the hand of the Lord” and not just a finger of the Lord. The plagues were cumulative and by the fifth plague, the Egyptians no longer had any doubts about a pattern of destruction so they looked at this plague as the fulfillment of this pattern. Each plague was a little worse than the one before it so that the Egyptians might have also felt that they were being struck not just by a single finger but by the entire hand of God. The verse in Deuteronomy does not just say “hand” but with “a mighty hand.” How is this plague worst than all the other plagues? Pestilence is the worst of the plagues because there is no way to escape it. When pestilence strikes anyone can become its victim. Rabbi Epstein proves this by quoting a story which appears in the Second Book of Samuel, Chapter 24, in which King David is punished for conducting an unauthorized census of the Jewish people. The prophet comes to David and gives him a choice among three types of punishment: he can endure seven years of famine, spend three months under attack by his enemies, or three suffer from three days of pestilence. David chooses the pestilence. According to the Midrash, David reasoned that if he chose famine people would assume it was because he was wealthy enough to avoid starvation. If he chose attack people would think that it was because he felt safe because his soldiers would protect him. Only pestilence would equally affect everyone including the king. Since this was a punishment for his wrong doing he went out of his way to choose a punishment from which he would not be immune. Pestilence is, therefore, one of the worst plagues because there is no escaping it, whether one is rich or poor, great or humble.
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+<b>With awesome power (Deuteronomy 26:8) - This represents the revelation of the Divine Presence:</b> What is the connection between the phrase “awesome power” and the suggestion that it was a “Divine Revelation?” This interpretation is based on a Midrashic play on words in which the Maggid interprets a word by on switching the order of its letters. The word “Awesome” is “Morah,” <b>מורא</b>. By switching the “Vav” and the “Raysh,” we get “Ma’or,” <b>מאור,</b> which means “light.” The “Morah Gadol,” the awesome power of God is revealed as a great light or a vision! Similarly, in Deuteronomy 4:34 we read, “Has any god ventured to go and take for himself one nation from the midst of another by prodigious acts, by signs...and awesome powers?.” (The Hebrew here is “Moraim Gedolim.”) Onkeles, the Aramaic translation of Bible, interprets this expression to mean “great visions,” from the Aramaic word for “sight.”
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+<b>The plague of the first-born:</b> While the other plagues are referred to by their names (blood, frogs, vermin, etc.), the final plague is referred to with an extra word, “Makat, the plague of...” We say “Makat Bechorot,” “the plague of the first-born.” Why do we add the word “Makat” to this plague and not the others? The names of the first nine plagues are clearly talking about something that is inherently bad and pernicious, such as frogs or lice or blood; however, it is not self-evident that the word “Bechorot,” “first born” is referring to something bad. By adding the word “Makah,” we understand that this is the plague against the first born. Rabbi Epstein offers a second Midrashic explanation of this term. He explains that the word “Makah” has more than one meaning. It can mean a plague and it can also mean “an attack.” The term “Makat Bechorot” is a reference to a Midrash which claims that when the first-born of Egypt discovered that they would be the victims of the tenth plague they begged their parents to acquiesce to Moses’ demands. When Pharaoh and the elders refused to give in to Moses, the first born attacked their parents. This was the true “Makat Bechorot,” the attack of the first-born! In Psalms 136 we read, “…who smote Egypt through their firstborn.” What does “through their first-born” mean? Why does the verse say that “God smote Egypt” instead of “God smote the firstborn?” This verse should be translated “…who smote the Egyptian by their first-born,” The first-born of Egypt rose up in rebellion against their parents and smote them because the elders stubbornly refused to allow the Israelites to leave Egypt.
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+<b>Rabbi Judah made an acrostic of the plagues: “Dzach, Adash, Ba’achav:”</b> What is the point of inventing this acrostic or memory device? Usually an acrostic, or an abbreviation based on the first letters of a series of words, makes some sense as words unto themselves, but that is not the case here. There is nothing about the sounds “Dzach, Adash and Ba’achav” to make them more memorable. These three words are gibberish; they are just a combination of letters. So what is the point of offering this abbreviation in the first place? These abbreviations, according to Rabbi Judah, are a way of including many details in just a few words so that they are easier to remember even if the acrostic is does not actually make literal sense. Elsewhere in the Talmud and the Midrash, Rabbi Yehudah and others use this same device as a way of simplifying a series of facts by reducing the number of words which we must remember even if the words we invent are not really words.
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+<b>Had He split the Sea for us, and not led us through it on dry land, it would have been enough:</b> Isn’t the whole miracle at the Red Sea that God split the sea and allowed us to cross through the sea? One doesn’t make much sense without the other. So how can we say that it would have been enough for God to have split the sea and not brought us through it? In Deuteronomy 28:68 we learn that there were other ways that God could have brought the Israelites through the Red Sea that did not involve dry ground, “And the Lord shall bring you back to Egypt by ships...” Rather than bring Israel through the sea in a natural fashion, God split the sea and allowed them to cross “on dry ground.” For this we give special thanks to God. Another explanation for this verse of “Dayyenu” is that the miracle was not only that God split the sea and allowed them to cross through the middle of the sea, but God did so “on dry ground.” Even though God split the sea, one would have expected the earth beneath the Red Sea to at least be damp and muddy. Yet God made the sea bed completely dry, thus increasing the miracle of the splitting of the Red Sea even more!
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+<b>Had He satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years...:</b> What exactly are “the needs” to which the Haggadah is referring in this statement? One of the blessings in the early morning service is, “Praised are You... who has provided me with all my needs.” We recite this blessing when putting on our shoes based on a statement in Berachot, 60b. Similarly, in Deuteronomy 29:4 we read: “I led you through the wilderness for forty year; the clothes on your back did not wear out, nor did the sandals on your feet ...” This leads Rabbi Epstein to conclude that “providing us with all our needs” must refer to shoes. Shoes are the most important item of clothing we wear because they protect our health and to maintain our self-respect. In Shabbat, 129a, we are told that one should sell everything he has to buy a pair of shoes. The commentator Rashbam explains that it is undignified for a person to have to go bare foot. Rabbi Epstein offers a more practical explanation for this statement. He explains that if one’s feet are cold one’s whole body will be cold as well. Shoes can, therefore, be seen as the most essential piece of clothing that one can have. Having proper protection for one’s feet is extremely important for preserving one’s health. That is why we recite this “Berachah,” “a blessing” in the morning when we put our shoes on; shoes represent “all our needs.” Since the Israelite’s shoes miraculously did not wear out in the wilderness we see that God provided the children of Israel with their most essential needs! Not only that, by the holy One also miraculously preserved this important need.
+<b>But He did not feed us manna</b>: The gifts mentioned in “Dayyenu” are things that God provided as gracious acts of kindness that went beyond the necessities of life. Had God provided any one of them we could have said “Dayyenu,” it would have been enough. At first glance providing manna does not seem to fall into this category. After all, God had no choice but to provide Israel with manna in the wilderness since there was nothing else to eat there. Not providing manna would have been cruel. One can’t take a group of people into the wilderness and just leave them to die without providing them with food to eat. We say “Dayyenu” and thank God for the manna not because He gave us food to eat but because manna was unlike any other food we had ever tasted. According to the Midrash, manna could taste like any type of food one wanted at that moment. This was the miracle of the manna. So God could have provided us with food but it did not have to be as miraculous as the manna was. There was only one exception to manna’s miraculous ability to shape its taste to the person’s desire. It could not taste like meat. That is why the Israelites complained in the wilderness “If only we had meat to eat!” (Numbers 11:4) Why couldn’t the manna taste like meat? According to the Torah, manna tasted like honey and cream (see Numbers 11:8 and Exodus 16:31). The Talmud says that these ingredients ruined the taste of meat. God, therefore, made the manna so that it could not mix its natural taste with those tastes that would have been unpleasant.
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+<b>If He had given us the Torah but not brought us into the land of Israel, it would have been enough for us!</b> In all the other verses of “Dayyenu,” we can easily switch the two statements around and it will still be true. But that is not the case with this statement. Had God brought us into the land of Israel but not given us the Torah, it would not have been enough for us! Without the Torah there is no purpose in being in the land of Israel. Similarly, Israel would not be a holy people without the Torah. Rabbi Epstein writes that he does not believe that the land of Israel is inherently holy! It became a Holyland when Israel entered the land with the Torah prepared to live by its laws there. Rabbi Epstein rejects the premises of secular Zionism. The purpose of returning to the land of Israel is to create a society based on the values and ideals of the Torah. Without the Torah the land has little meaning. Nationalism without a sense of spirituality is empty.
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+<b>Rabban Gamliel used to say: Anyone who has not mentioned these three things on Passover has not fulfilled his obligation.</b> Why does Rabban Gamliel single out these three Mitzvot as needing some type of explanation? In point of fact he was of the opinion that Mitzvot in general need “Kavanah,” “intention,” which means that if we can’t explain why we are doing them then we haven’t really fulfilled them properly (See Berachot 13a.) To act without some sense of purpose was not sufficient to fulfill the obligation. These three Mitzvot, however, are different. While other Mitzvot need “Kavanah,” these three Mitzvot demand both inner intention as well as some form of verbal expression of why we are performing them. That is why Rabban Gamliel says, “Anyone who has <i>not mentioned</i>...”
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+<b>The Passover offering which our ancestors ate when the Holy Temple was still standing:</b> Sacrifices could only be offered in Jerusalem at the time while the Temple was still in existence. By saying, “When the Holy Temple was still standing,” Rabbi Gamliel makes it sound as if the Pesach offering was originally offered in the Temple. Yet the Passover offering preceded the Holy Temple. It was originally offered in Egypt. So why does Rabbi Gamliel focus in his question on the Temple offering in his question instead of focusing on he offering which our ancestors made in Egypt? In fact, his answer to the question seems to focus on the Egyptian offering instead of the Temple offering; so why mention the Temple in the question? Rabbi Epstein explains that Pesach sacrifice in the Temple was different from the original Passover offering in Egypt. The original offering was not a thanksgiving offering but a protective offering made on the night of the Passover. In later generations the sacrifice would become a historical reminiscence of the original Passover and serve as a way of giving thanks to God for having redeemed us from Egypt. The formulation of Rabbi Gamliel’s question in the Haggadah makes it clear that this night serves to remind us of two events. While we are telling the story of the Exodus, we are also recalling the Temple offering which we can no longer make since the Temple was destroyed. But how could make such an offering in Egypt if sacrifices could only be offered in the Temple, in a place established as a holy place? Since it was God, Himself, who passed through the land of Egypt, this land took on the holy status of Jerusalem. On the night of the Passover the Divine Presence dwelled in the land of Egypt. That is the meaning of the earlier statements in the Haggadah, “I and not a messenger.” Also the principle that sacrifices had to be offered in the land of Israel, only applied once the Israelites entered the land and sanctified the land. Prior to the conquest, sacrifices could also be offered in other places as well.
+<b>The Passover offering which our ancestors ate when the Holy Temple was still standing for what purpose? Because the Holy One passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt:</b> Why was it necessary to add “when the Holy Temple was still standing” to this statement? This phrase does not appear in the original source in Mishnah, Pesachim Chapter 10, and the answer does not explain why our ancestors ate the Pascal Lamb in Jerusalem but rather why they ate it in Egypt. Rabbi Epstein explains that the purpose of the original Pascal Lamb was different from the one which was offered in the Temple. Originally the Pascal Lamb was offered without any knowledge of the effect this offering would have. The people might have thought that this act was their rejection of idolatry since they were about to slaughter lamb which was worshipped in Egypt as a sacred animal. It was only later that they learned that God passed over the homes of the Israelites. So this explanation actually makes the lamb offering at the Temple a historic commemoration of the original Passover while the first lamb was simply a response to God’s instruction. That is why we say “which our ancestors ate when the Holy Temple was still standing.” The reason our ancestors offered the sacrifice in the time of the Temple was different from why the original Israelites did so. As explained above we follow the Temple practice and not the original Egyptian Passover rite.
+<b>As it is said: “And you shall say ‘It is a Passover offering to the Lord who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt when he stuck Egypt, but our houses He saved:’”</b> This is the verse which the Haggadah quotes as a explanatory text for the Passover offering. Rabbi Epstein notes the repetition regarding the Israelite homes at the verse. Why does it have to tell us that God passed over the houses of the Israelites and also that he saved our houses? According to the Midrash, some Egyptians hid in the homes of the Israelites during the last plague. Despite their efforts, they were still stricken by the tenth plague. The miraculous thing is that God distinguished between the Israelites and the Egyptians even within the Israelite households. So God not only passed over the Israelite households but also saved the Israelites in homes where Egyptians were hiding!
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+<b>The Matzah which we eat for what purpose? Because the dough of our ancestors did not have time to ferment:</b> The Israelites were commanded to eat Matzah with the Pascal Lamb at the very beginning of the month (of Nissan), long before the night of the Passover. We read, “They shall eat it roasted over fire with unleavened bread with bitter herbs” (Exodus 12:8), and “Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread...you shall remove leaven from your houses” (Exodus 12:15). This means that the original reason for the Matzah had nothing to do with there not being enough time to allow the dough to rise or the leaven to ferment since the Israelites were commanded well in advance of their flight from Egypt! Rabbi Gamliel explains our obligation to eat Matzah on the first night of Passover (“because the dough did not have time to rise”) but not the general prohibition for eating unleavened food for the entire week of Passover. Once again we see the distinction between “Pesach Mitzraim” and “Pesach Dorot.” The reason the people ate Matzah and avoided Chametz in Egypt is different from the reason this custom is practiced today. In point of fact there are two commandments: one is to eat Matzoh on the first night of Passover and the other is to avoid eating Chametz the rest of the week of Passover. On the first night we eat Matzah to commemorate the flight from Egypt. We do not have to eat Matzah after the first night of Passover. One can eat other types of food as long as they do not contain Chametz. The obligation that we have to eat Matzah on the first night has to do with the fact that the dough did not have time to rise in their haste to leave Egypt.
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+<b>What is the purpose of the Maror which we eat? It is because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our ancestors in Egypt.</b> Unlike Matzah and the Pesach offering, the reason we eat the Maror seems negative. Matzah and Maror are symbols of Israel’s redemption while the Maror is a symbol of slavery and subjugation. We remember the other two symbols as a way of giving thanks to God for our redemption but why do we bother making mention of the Maror? Why do we recall the bitter herbs? There is reason to give thanks even for the bitterness of the Maror. Originally the subjugation of Israel was supposed to last four hundred years, but the oppression by the Egyptians was so bitter that the enslavement was shortened to only 210 years. Therefore, had Israel’s subjugation not been so bitter, it would have lasted longer! (The commentator, Rashi, discusses the mathematics of Israel’s sojourn in Egypt in his comments on Exodus 12:41.) This is hinted at in the trop for the words “Vayimariru et hayeahem,” “(the Egyptians) embittered their lives.” The musical trop notes on these words are “Kadma V’azla” which can literally be translated, “they were early and went forth.” Because their lives were so bitter, the Israelites were able to go forth early from Egypt.
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+<b>In every generation it is a person’s duty to regard him/herself as though he/she personally had come out of Egypt, as it is written (Exodus 13:8) : “You shall tell your child on that day: ‘This is on account of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt:”</b> One of the principles of Passover is that we should each see ourselves as if we personally went forth from Egypt. How do we learn this principle from this verse? Since it was originally addressed to the Jews in the generation immediately after they left Egypt, we might assume that this verse was addressed to the generation in the wilderness and not to future generations of the Jewish people as well. The immediate textual context suggests that this passage is addressed to the next generation after the Exodus. We see this in the opening words of the passage: “When the Lord brings you to the land of the Canaanites,” (Exodus 13:5). Since the generation that left Egypt did not enter the land of Israel, this verse has to be talking about the next generation of the Israelites. The passage goes on to say that when you address your child you shall say, “When I went forth from Egypt.” Yet the people being addressed actually did not go forth from Egypt. Future generations, then, should speak of the Exodus as if they personally went forth from Egypt. Rabbi Epstein also deduces this from the wording of the verse, “And you shall tell your child on that day saying...” The additional word “laimor” or “saying” suggests that you shall speak of the Exodus to others who did not experience the Exodus personally. The others here are future generations of the Jewish people.
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+<b>He brought us forth from slavery to freedom, from despair to joy, from mourning to celebration, from darkness to brilliant light, and from subjugation to redemption:</b> There are different versions of the Haggadah text which contain slight variations in the wording of the text. In Maimonides’ version the text reads, “…from slavery to freedom, from subjugation to redemption, from despair to joy, from mourning to celebration, and from darkness to brilliant light.” Why this slight change in the order of the phrases? Maimonides orders the statements thematically; slavery and freedom goes together with subjugation and redemption. One deals with physical oppression and the other with psychological oppression. God took us out not only from the burden of slavery but also from beneath subjugation which might be understood as slavery without hard labor. Our version begins and ends with the key phrases which deal with expressions that describe freedom.
+<b>From slavery to freedom, from despair to joy, from mourning to celebration, from darkness to brilliant light, and from subjugation to redemption:</b> A principle of Midrashic interpretation is that when we can identify similar numbers we should assume that they are connected to one another. For instance, the four cups of wine are connected to the four terms of redemption in Exodus, Chapter 6, and the seven blessings in the Sabbath Amidah are connected with the seven expressions mentioning the voice of God in Psalm 29. The five expressions of redemption in Exodus, suggests Rabbi Epstein, are connected with the five attributes which made Israel worthy of redemption mentioned in the Midrash. Israel was worthy of redemption because they maintained their own (1) Jewish names, (2) they continued to speak their own native language, (3)they dressed in their own distinctive dress, (4)they did not publicly slander one another or inform on one another to the Egyptians and (5) because they would eventually accept the Torah freely.
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+<b>Who redeemed us and redeemed our ancestors:</b> In an earlier passage in the Haggadah (“Lefikakh, therefore...”) we thanked God “who performed miracles for our ancestors and for us,” while here we thank God for redeeming “us and our ancestors.” Why is the order for our ancestors and for us switched between these two passages? When speaking of miracles, the expression “our ancestors” comes first since they the experienced these events first. But redemption is different since it is a gift which each generation of Jews values and experiences. Rabbi Epstein likens redemption to returning lost objects. The Talmud says that we are obligated to return lost objects to the person who most recently lost it and not to previous owners of the object. Since we are presently the beneficiaries of redemption, we are mentioned first in this passage. The importance of our redemption is more significant than the historical recollection of how we first gained redemption so the passage mentions “us” first. Similarly, when we say, “Our God and God of our ancestors” we mention ourselves before we mention our ancestors. As important as it is to learn about the existence of God from our ancestors and our parents, our faith must be self motivated and personal. Otherwise we are simply mimicking the past and not showing true personal conviction. That is why we say “Elohaynu,” “our God” and only then, “Vayloyhay avotaynu,” “and God of our ancestors.”
+<b>We shall be joyful (semachim) in the rebuilding of Zion, Your city, and exultant (sasim) in Your service:</b> There are many different words for joy in the Hebrew language. Some suggest that these words each have a slightly different nuance from one another. In this passage, “semachim, joyful” refers to the feeling one has in anticipating some great or happy event while “Sasim” from the word “Sason, exultant” refers to the experience of joy upon witnessing the fulfillment of the event. Israel is joyful in anticipating the rebuilding of the Temple but they will feel a complete sense of exultation upon participating in the Temple service once the Temple is rebuilt. Similarly, in the Shacharit service on Shabbat morning we say, “Semachim bitzaytam vasasim bovo’am,” in the beautiful poem, “El Adon.” We are told that the heavenly host are joyful in going out (to fulfill God’s will) and exultant when they come back (having fulfilled God’s will.)
+<b>There may we eat of the sacrifices and of the Pascal Lamb:</b> While we no longer offer sacrifices, the Seder is built on our remembrance of these ancient cultic offerings. There were two offerings on Passover, both of which are symbolically present on our Seder plate. One is the Pascal offering (the shank bone) and the other is the festive sacrifice or the “Chagigah” (the egg.) The Haggadah is referring to these two offerings in this passage. In many Haggadot it is followed by a second phrase in parentheses to be recited on Saturday night. The passage in parentheses is the same as the first, except that the order of the two offerings are switched around. We say, “There may we eat the Pascal lamb and the sacrifices.” Why do we have a different version of the text for Saturday evenings? A common explanation for this switch has to do with the order in which the sacrifices were consumed in the time of the Temple. Usually, the festive sacrifice was consumed prior to the Pascal offering. According to Halachah the Pascal offering had to be eaten only when one was no longer hungry. The Festive offering was, therefore, consumed first. In this way one ate the Pascal offering solely for the purpose of fulfilling the Mitzvah and not to satisfy one’s appetite. On Shabbat, however, the festive sacrifice could not be offered since, unlike the Pascal offering, it did not take precedence of the Sabbath. The Pascal offering alone was consumed on Shabbat. On Saturday night, following the Sabbath, the Festive sacrifice would be offered and consumed. As a result, the order of the two offerings was reversed when Passover fell on a Saturday night. As a reflection of this change we also switch the order in which we recall these sacrifices when we mention them in the Haggadah. This is the usual explanation for this variation in the Haggadah text. Rabbi Epstein rejects this explanation. He points out there is no mention of this switch in the Talmud, the early commentaries, or even the codes. It was not until much later that this suggestion was even made. What’s more, if this was the explanation for why we switch the mention of the Pascal and Festive sacrifices, then logically this switch of phrase should have be made on the Passover before those years in which Passover falls on a Saturday night since the passage says, “enable us to reach also the <i>forthcoming holidays</i> and festivals in peace, rejoicing in the rebuilding of Zion Your city, and joyful at Your service. There we shall eat...” Yet we say this in those years when the Seder actually falls on a Saturday night and not a year earlier. Rabbi Epstein offers another explanation for the Saturday night switch which is simpler and more ingenious. He suggests that this switch in the text is based on an error in reading the Talmud. This entire passage was borrowed from the Mishnah, Pesachim. However, the version of this passage in the Mishnah is different from the one which appears in the Talmud. The separate Mishnaic version of the Mishnah says, “the Pascal Lamb and the sacrifices” while the Talmud says, “the sacrifices and the Pascal Lamb (like our Haggadah.)” Because of these different versions of the same text, the Talmud often differentiates between them by placing the second version of the text from the Mishnah in parentheses and prefacing it with three Hebrew letters “Bet-Mem-Shin,” for “<b>B’M</b>ishnah <b>SH</b>’b’mishnayot” which means “This is version of the Mishnah which appears in the separate version of the Mishnah.” Later commentators misread the abbreviation as <b>“B’M</b>otzi <b>SH</b>abbat, on Saturday nights!” <br><b>מש"ב</b> THE ABBREVIATION<br> משנה שבמשניות MISHNAH SH”B”MISHNAIYOT<br>מוצאי שבת MOTZI SHABBAT<br>Rabbi Epstein concludes that the statement in parentheses is based on a misreading of the text. The original version of the text which now appears in the Talmud is the correct one, “There may we eat of the sacrifices and of the Pascal Lamb.” Under normal circumstances the “Chagigah,” “the Festive offering,” is consumed before the Pascal offering for the reasons already mentioned above. In fact this passage can be interpreted differently. It is not only a prayer for future occasions on which we will celebrate Passover but for all the festivals when the Temple is rebuilt and on which the festive offering is made. That is why we mention festive offerings first. We pray that we may be privileged to celebrate all the festivals in the future each with its Festive offerings as well as Passover with its Pascal offering.
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+<b>Pour out your wrath on the nations (“Asher”) who/<i>because they</i> do not know you:</b> At first glance the anger expressed in this passage against the other nations is hard to understand. Against whom and why do we ask God to, “pour out His wrath?” One might say that this statement applies to anyone who is not Jewish since the other nations do not truly know God nor do they share our faith. The key to understanding this passage lies in the word “asher.” This word can be translated in a variety of different ways with different meanings. It can mean that God should pour out His wrath on those nations <b><i>who</i></b> don’t know him or it can mean God should pour His wrath out on all the nations <b><i>because</i></b> they - all of them - do not know God. Yet how can the other nations of the world be held responsible for not knowing God since they were not blessed with this gift? A similar issue is raised in a Midrash associated with the story of the Israel’s war against the nation of Amalek in the Book of Exodus, Chapter 17. Upon leaving Egypt and crossing the Red Sea, Israel was attacked by the Amalekites in a series of raids aimed at Israel’s weakest members. Moses commanded Joshua to destroy Amalek. Why this severe judgment, the Midrash wonders? In Deuteronomy, Chapter 25:18 we are told that Amalek “Did not fear the Lord.” Moses said to Joshua who was a descendant of Joseph, “Your ancestor Joseph feared God. So you must now destroy the one who did not fear God and attacked Israel.” At first glance, this does not seem to be sufficient reason to utterly destroy Amalek. It does not explain why Joshua was singled out to accomplish this mission. Also to be one who truly fears God is something unique and rare, even among Jews. So how could the Torah condemn Amalek for not fearing God? This would be like condemning someone for not being a saint. Not everyone is expected to be saintly. Yet the Torah assumes that a certain amount of fear of God is expected even of the other nations. While the nations are not expected to follow all of God’s laws they are expected to recognize that the role that they play in the world is a product of God’s will. Even when they persecute the Jews, it is only because God has allowed them to do so. Amalek was guilty therefore, not of oppressing the Jewish People but of arrogantly believing that this was a product of their own strength and self determination and not God’s will. Similarly when the Haggadah condemns, “…the nations who do not know You,” it suggests that a nation’s that believes that their success in persecuting Israel was a product of their own strength is what led to their condemnation. It is the second part of this passage that is the real reason for their punishment, “Because they consumed Jacob and destroyed his dwelling place.” The nations tried to destroy Israel with a vengeance rather than simply obeying God’s will. We learn that the nations can be God fearing from the story of Amalek. God chose to single out Joshua for this mission because he was a descendent of Joseph. While in Egypt, Joseph described himself as a God fearing man even when he was not identified as a descendent of Abraham. By doing this he taught the nations that one can be God fearing without being a participant in God’s covenant or a descendant of Abraham. Moses tells Joshua, “You are a descendent of Joseph who feared God. Therefore go and destroy Amalek who was not God fearing!” The fact that Joseph was God fearing even when he lived among the nations became an example to the other nations that they should emulate his attributes and could not excuse themselves by saying that they did not know God.
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+<b>Awesome is He! May he rebuild His house soon, quickly, quickly, soon in our days, soon:</b> Why are there so many different expressions for the speed with which we hope God will redeem us and rebuild the Temple? This passage appears to be redundant. This is a way of not only emphasizing our hope for a “speedy” redemption, but also our hope that it will occur in human time. God’s time is not our time. The Talmud (Gittin 88b) comments that God’s time, so to speak is not like human time. We ask God to redeem us not only speedily (which might mean something different to God) but also within our days, and within our time and not in His time which is beyond human comprehension.
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+<b>Learned is He:</b> Some are bothered by this term since it suggests that God isn’t All-knowing. It seems to mean that God must learn things just as we must learn things. Isn’t All-knowing? The grammatical form of the verb here, “Lamud,” should be understood not as a passive verb, but as a transitive verb in this case. It is similar to words such as “Chanun, gracious one” and “Rachum, compassion one.” “Thus, “Lamud” should be understood as similar to the verb, “Lomed, One who learns or teaches.” Describing God as “Lamud” is similar to the expression in the Amidah which describes God as “Milamed li’enosh binah,” “One who teaches human beings understanding.”
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+<b>Who knows seven? I know seven! Seven are the days of the week:</b> The numbers that are chosen for the stanzas in “Echad mi yodeah” almost all have to do with their significance for the Jewish people. “Echad Mi Yodeah” becomes a primer for teaching the child about the meaning of the Jewish tradition through numbers. Seven is an exception. Seven days of the week does not appear to have a unique Jewish association. Everyone marks a seven day week. So why does the author of this poem choose to associate the week with the number seven rather than something that has special significance for the Jewish people such as the Torah, the Mishnah, or the Partriarchs? For instance it could have said that seven is the branches of the Menorah, or the seven major festival day. The Jewish people, writes Rabbi Epstein, have a seven day week just like everyone else but we count the week in a way which is unique. Instead of giving each day a unique name, we count the seven days in relation to the Sabbath. Thus, Sunday is the first day of the Shabbat, Monday is the second day of the Shabbat and so on. We count the week in a way which is different from other people because for the Jewish people the week is judged by the Sabbath and each day is not understood as a separate entity. That is the meaning of “Seven are the days of the Shabbat,” the literal translation of the passage here.
+<b>Who knows nine? I know nine! Nine are the months of pregnancy:</b> Like the seven days of the week, the nine months of pregnancy is more universal rather than reflective of a unique Jewish perspective on the world. So why does the author of “Echad Mi Yodeah?” single this particular aspect of the number nine out rather than something else? Rabbi Epstein recalls a story in the Talmud that suggests that we are born with a Jewish soul; we are Jewish even within the womb! A woman became ravenously hungry on Yom Kippur. She was brought before Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi, the editor of the Mishnah, for a decision about whether she should be allowed to eat on this Holy Day. Rabbi Yehudah whispered in her ear, “Little baby: it is Yom Kippur and it is forbidden to eat!” Immediately, she was no longer hungry! Rabbi Yehudah had communicated with the child’s Jewish soul. In other words the fetus had listened to the Rabbi even before it was born. The child was eventually born and he grew up to be the famous Rabbi Yochanan, one of the great sages of the Talmud. Even in the nine months of pregnancy we carry an element of Judaism with us!
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+Chad Gadya
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