A Joint Torah Publication of:

Yavneh Academy
Maimonides School
The Frisch School
Denver Academy of Torah
Kohelet Yeshiva High School
Yeshiva University of Los Angeles
Salanter Akiba Riverdale High School
Rae Kushner Yeshiva High School

Fasting Through Feasting

by Yael Blau (Mizrachi 15)

PESACH

"

Maayanot Yeshiva High School

Fuchs Mizrachi High School
DRS Yeshiva High School for Boys
The Weinbaum Yeshiva High School
Cooper Yeshiva High School for Boys
The Marsha Stern Talmudic Academy
Shulamith School for Girls of Brooklyn
Yeshiva University High School for Girls

Matzah, Chametz, and the

Mystery of Moshe
by Eitan Jeselsohn (Maimo '17)

15-22 NISAN, 5775

On the day before Pesach, there is a fast known
APRIL 3-11, 2015
as Taanit Bechorot, which requires all firstborn men
The Korban Todah was half chametz and
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to fast. Unlike other fasts, however, a person is able to
half matzah. On Erev Pesach, in the times of the Beit
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eat if he attends a seudat mitzvah, a meal celebrating the
Hamikdash, people could not be sure that they would have
fulfillment of a mitzvah. Probably the most common form of
enough time to eat all the chametz in the Korban Todah before
seudat mitzvah is a siyum, a meal celebrating a milestone in
the time came when they were not allowed to eat chametz
ones Torah learning. What is the nature of this fast, and what
anymore. Therefore, the Rabbis decided never to offer the Korban
about it allows one to eat during an entire fast day simply because
Todah on Erev Pesach.
he attends a siyum?
Today, we cannot offer the Korban Todah, so we say the
To fully understand the fast, one must look at its first
prayer Mizmor LeTodah every day during Shacharit instead.
appearance in halacha, which occurs in the writings of the Tur. In
Since during the time of the Beit Hamikdash they did not offer the
Masechet Sofrim the Tur states that there is a minhag, a custom, to
Korban Todah on Erev Pesach or during Pesach, we do not say
fast in order to commemorate the miracle of Hashems saving all
Mizmor LeTodah during those times.
the Jewish firstborn males from the tenth plague in Egypt. There
There is also a special meaning in the physical and spiritual
are two ways to understand the fast based on the Tur. The Beit
symbolism of chametz and matzah. The difference between matzah
Yosef compares the fast to Taanit Esther. On the 13th of Adar, we
and chametz is time. Dough made of flour and water that sits for
fast because the Jews fasted so that they would be protected. Taanit
more than eighteen minutes before being fully cooked becomes
Esther commemorates this fast and the fact that Hashem watched
chametz. Matzah, unlike chametz, represents mans ability to control
over us in our struggle. Likewise, since the firstborn men fasted in
his passions, uninfluenced by external forces. In other words,
Mitzrayim so that Hashem would save them, we fast on that day.
chametz represents the physical and the matzah represents the
The Birchei Yosef takes a slightly different approach. He
spiritual. We ask ourselves why on this night we do not have the
explains that, in reality, the fast should be observed on the 15th of
combination of chametz and matzah. After all, if their combination
Nisan, but because we cannot fast on Yom Tov, it is moved back a
day. According to this opinion, the fast is meant to commemorate
the fact that Hashem saved all the firstborn males.
So why is it that a bechor can be exempted from fasting so
Four Sons, One Journey
easily? The Eretz HaTzvi explains that a fast has two components:
by Maya Green Silver (Kushner 15)
the mitzvah of fasting and the prohibition of eating. This is the
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reason that a person who breaks his fast is still not allowed to eat
afterwards, claiming that he has already broken his fast. By
Understanding the Role of Pesach Among the
eating one violates the positive mitzvah, but the prohibition against
Shalosh Regalim by Tani Finkelstein (Cooper 17)
eating remains. Taanit Bechorot is unique, however, in that it only
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includes the mitzvah to fast; there is no separate prohibition against
eating. The Mishna Brurah says that this fast is only a minhag, and
Freedom Via Servitude: The Paradox of Pesach
the Magen Avraham writes (in a different context) that such a
by Ilan Lavian (YULA 15)
minhag is not observed in the place of a seudat mitzvah.
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My grandfather, Rabbi Yosef Blau, gives an alternate
solution. When the Jews fasted on Taanit Esther, they were
Zeicher LeYetziat Mitzrayim - A Yesod of Our
davening to Hashem to save them from external enemies. We fast
Belief System by Sarah Hiller (Maayanot 15)
to remember that Hashem saved our ancestors from the hands of
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those enemies.
Taanit Bechorot reminds us that Hashem saved the Jewish
Significance of the Miracles Throughout our
people because of our internal behavior; Klal Yisrael put blood on
Enslavement by Zehava Seidman (Frisch 16)
their doorposts and gave themselves up to Hashem. This same idea
can be remembered through a siyum. When a person makes a
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siyum, he gives up his time to Hashem. This last idea particularly
Letter from the Editors by Ariel Amsellem (YULA 15) &
resonates with me because it teaches a valuable lesson: We all must
Yisrael Friedenberg (MTA 15)
embrace the opportunity we have to devote ourselves to Hashem in
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all ways in which we are able.

In This Issue

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is something good (spirituality combined with earthly matters),

we should in reality have both. There must be something
missing here.
To answer this question, we must ask another: Why is
Moshes name not in the Haggadah except for the one time
when we mention it in Shirat Hayam (vayaaminu baHashem
uveMoshe avdo)? Why is it that Moshe, the leader of the
Jewish people during their exodus from Egypt and the man who
saw the sufferings of Bnei Yisrael, is only mentioned in the
Haggadah once? Do we not owe Moshe at least a few mentions
in the Haggadah after all he did for the Jewish people?
The answer is that if we were to mention Moshe, the
significance of the Haggadah would disappear. Had his name
been all over the Haggadah, people would say that the exodus
from Egypt did not happen because of Hashem, but because of
the uprising of the Moshe-led nation; when the Egyptians had
enough of Bnei Yisrael, when they realized that keeping them
was causing Egypts destruction (haterem teda ki avedah
Mitzrayim), they simply decided to expel Bnei Yisrael from
Egypt. Therefore, in order to emphasize that everything came
from Hashem not from a political decision of the Egyptians
and that the exodus from Egypt was for the sake of bringing
Bnei Yisrael to Har Sinai, Moshe is not mentioned.
Yetziat Mitzrayim was a spiritual event as its goal was for
the Jews to receive the Torah. Therefore, we do not mention
anything gashmi, and we eat matzah, which represents
spirituality. We do not, however, mention Moshe because he
was only the facilitator of Yetziat Mitzrayim.
The only place in the whole Haggadah where Moshe is
mentioned is in the pasuk of vayaaminu baHashem uveMoshe
avdo because, at that time, Bnei Yisrael already declared their
belief in Hashem and knew that the exodus from Egypt was
because of Him. Only then was the Haggadah able to also
mention Moshe.

Four Sons; One Journey

by Maya Green Silver (Kushner 15)
The section of the Hagadah that deals with the famous
Four Sons is one of the most awaited parts of the seder night,
for it is relatable on an individual level and can teach many
lessons. One insightful interpretation, given by the Abudraham,
is that each son is representative of one of four diverse outlooks
on life. First, the chacham, the wise son, can be equated with a
child who fully embraces his role both as a Jew and as a
member of society. He asks, What does this all mean? The
chacham knows that he is a Jew and asks how to channel this
aspect of himself along with all of societys expectations. Then,
we have the rasha, the wicked son. He is not as strong in his
Jewish identity and asks, Why is this happening? He is not
compliant with these expectations and struggles with
understanding their purpose. Next, the tam, the simple son, asks
What? He sees the distinctions of the world, but he is not yet
intellectually capable of understanding what is important.
Although this is seemingly an act of defiance, he is simply not
able to comprehend the significance of the events recounted in
the Hagadah. Finally, the she'eino yodea lishol, the son who
does not even know how to ask, is almost like the innocent
newborn, for he does not yet have a self-awareness of who he is.
The Abudraham points out that the order in which the

children are mentioned in the Hagadah (chacham, rasha, tam, and

sheeino yodea lishol) is the opposite of the order in which their
respective questions appear in the Torah. Because the authors of
the Hagadah decided to start with the chacham, the Abudraham
opines that they wanted to emphasize the theory that chachmah is
the highest ideal. Furthermore, since in the Torah they are written
in the opposite order, it illustrates the process that one has to go
through in order to grow into one's Jewish identity. From this one
can see that although these sons all have seemingly different traits,
in reality they can be seen as four stages of an individuals
development.
Specifically in our relationship to the mitzvot and in our
identity as members of a secular society, these are the levels in
which we cycle throughout our lives. We constantly grapple with
understanding what is required of us and how to balance that with
our daily needs. In the beginning of the search for ones
connection to Hashem, we all feel like the tam. Then, as we
become more aware of our relationship with Hashem, many go
through stages that reflect the questions of the other sons. From a
stage of being naive and not knowing what to ask, many will enter
a form of denial and anger. This will hopefully then allow a
person to become fully committed and ready to adapt to both
Jewish and secular identities.
As the Abudraham points out, the questions of the sons are
all from Parashat Bo, specifically from the section mandating the
mitzvah of Tefillin. This emphasizes to us that all the stages of
development on the long and difficult road to chachmah require a
constant reminder like Tefillin, a sign bound to the arm and tied
between the eyes.
The name of this Pesach ritual, seder, in which the episode
of the Four Sons plays a major role, implies that there is an
order to life. If one interprets the Four Sons in the way that the
Abudraham does, he or she can come to realize that we are all
going through these stages of growth. Using this idea, we can
bezrat Hashem integrate ourselves successfully into the
community and manage a fruitful relationship with Hashem and
others. We should aim to be aware that even if we might resemble
something closer to the chacham, others may be feeling the
questioning of the rasha or may even be just starting their journey
as a she'eino yodea lish'ol. Ultimately, this can help us
communicate better with each other as we all strive to make our
way closer to Hashem and a life committed to Torah .

A Jews Real Desires

by Matthew Haller (DRS 15)
The Haggadah states that Lavan was worse than Pharaoh
because while Pharaoh tried to eliminate the Jewish males, Lavan
attempted to wipe out the entirety of the nascent Jewish nation.
Interestingly, the mefarshim have difficulty locating a scriptural
source for this fact. Recently, Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik
attempted to derive this from the implication of the following
pesukim in Parshat Vayetzei.
At the point in the story that is quoted in the Haggadah,
Yaakov has fled from his father-in-law's home upon G-d's
command. Lavan gives chase, purportedly in order to bid farewell
to his departing relatives. Yet, as with all things Lavan does, this
action is rife with ulterior motives. Soon after, Lavan attempts to
goad Yaakov into establishing a covenant between their families.
In his writings, Rav Soloveitchik delineates between the two

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major types of covenants at the time of this story. Some pacts

were designed with intermingling in mind. Essentially, the two
parties involved would sign with full intent to integrate with one
another in every regard. The other type, a pact of mutual
respect, would be made with the intention of keeping relations
between the two sides amicable but distant.
The pasuk states, Vayikach Yaakov aven vayrimehah
matzaivah Yaakov lifted a stone, symbolizing the barrier he
wished to place between his clan and the amoral multitudes that
were attracted to the likes of Lavan. Yaakov, in his wisdom,
then told Lavan, liktu avanim gather many stones,
signifying that Yaakov understood Lavan's motivations full
intermingling of the two factions. In his defense, Lavan replied,
Elokai Avraham vailokai Nachor yishpitu bainainu your
grandfather received a pagan upbringing, and it is in that
fashion that I wish to enact this covenant. However, Yaakov
would not stand in the face of such an offense, and as the pasuk
states, Vayishava Yaakov bifachad aviv Yitzchak Yaakov
swore on the awe of his father Yitzchak, who lived a life
removed from idolatry.
The pasuk then recounts, Vayizbach Yaakov zevach
bahar Yaakov slaughtered the celebratory sacrifice
according to the laws and customs that he and his descendants
intended to adhere to even under the pressure of Lavan. If
Lavan had succeeded in convincing Yaakov to follow in his
own path of immorality and idolatry the results would have
been disastrous. Instead, Yaakov remained steadfast in his
beliefs and merited the begetting of a nation, Am Yisrael, that
would carry on his name for millennia.
Perhaps,
Rav
Soloveitchik suggests, this is the source for the Haggadah's
statement. Had Lavan succeeded, the Jewish nation surely
would have ceased to exist. In this vein, the Baal HaHaggadah
begins with a simple instruction: Tzei ulmad Go out and
study. It is the duty of every Jew to study the true motives of
those attempting to influence him, and by taking them into
account, he safeguards himself from any malice.

practice is uncommon, even nonexistent?

In Mah Nishtanah, the fourth question asks about leaning:
Why on all other nights can we lean or sit up, but tonight we only
lean? One answer given is that leaning represents freedom, so we
lean to fulfill our obligation to act like free people. Historically,
though, the fourth question did not always ask about leaning.
Originally, this question asked about the Korban Pesach. By the
time of the Gemara, though, when we no longer had the Beit
HaMikdash and were no longer able to bring korbanot, that
question was replaced with one about reclining. One might now
ask a logical question: If this fourth question was changed once
before to reflect modern times, why do we not change it again to
be representative of the actions of free men today?
The answer simply comes from the core idea of the seder.
The night of the seder is one when we relive the great miracle of
redemption at the time of Am Yisraels becoming free and leaving
Mitzrayim. In that time period, free people would recline while
they ate; in fact, it was a privilege and sign of royalty to do so.
Even though, today, reclining may not be indicative of freedom
and royalty, it was for our ancestors. At the seder we have to do
our best to relive Yetziat Mitzrayim even if the actions we do
seem to be strange and do not make sense in modern times.
During the seder we want to remember the great miracles
Hashem performed for Bnei Yisrael. We are supposed to act like
aristocracy in order to demonstrate our freedom. So it is true that
we would not lean normally at dinner. And yes, leaning may seem
paradoxical and uncomfortable as we lean to the left while
drinking each cup of wine, worried about spilling on ourselves or
the person next to us, but this may actually a perfect reminder.
Perhaps the fact that we feel uncomfortable can be used to give us
a slight feeling of slavery like our ancestors felt in Mitzrayim.
And then, in the moments after leaning when we are able to sit up
again, we can better relate to what it means to feel free.

To Lean or Not To Lean

by Miriam Schottenstein (DAT 16)

Moshe is not mentioned even once in the summary of the

Exodus story that we read in Avadim Hayinu. Furthermore, he
is barely even mentioned at all in the entire Haggadah, despite the
fact that he was the leader of Bnei Yisrael at the time. He was the
one who argued with Pharaoh and stood up for the honor of his
people, yet we do not stop to thank him for this. Are we not taught
to have gratitude to those who are kind to us? One answer given to
this question is that Moshes absence from the Haggadah teaches
us that G-d is in control and that He orchestrated the entire
Exodus, using Moshe merely as a puppet. There is therefore no
reason to pay much heed to a puppet who was completely
controlled by the Great Puppeteer.
However, the question still remains: Why ignore Moshes
tremendous role in the entire story? Why not give credit to both
Hashem and Moshe? Besides, Moshe certainly had the free will to
decide whether or not to do this mission!
To answer this question, we first must understand the nature
of miracles in general; after comprehending this, we can come to a
fuller understanding and appreciation for Moshes role.
The ideal way that the world should operate is through
Hashems laws of nature alone. Preferably, no miracles should
ever have to take place. The Talmud states, "One should never put
himself in a dangerous situation and say, 'A miracle will save me.'

Every year when Pesach comes around, I hear that I have

a mitzvah to perform acts that demonstrate freedom and
aristocracy. In order to display my likeness to royalty, I am told
that I must recline in my chair when I eat and drink. While I do
these acts, I wonder: Why are we leaning? How does doing
something that feels uncomfortable represent freedom? If
leaning represents royalty, but royalty today do not lean, why
am I leaning? More generally, why are we acting completely
different on this night at all?
One of the seven mitzvot we are commanded to perform at
the seder is acting in a way that demonstrates freedom and
royalty. Since long before the times of the Gemara, there was a
custom for the royal and wealthy to recline while they ate.
Wealthy kings and queens would sit back and relax in their
thrones as servants would serve them delicacies. The Rabbis,
based on these norms, instituted that we should act like the
royal and recline while we eat to represent this freedom.
We can now understand why during the times of the
Gemara everyone would lean. The question, however, still
remains why are we still reclining at a time when such a

A Miracle Maiseh
by Yoni Kornblau (MTA 15)

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Perhaps the miracle will not come. And even if a miracle occurs,
one's merits will thereby be reduced (Shabbat 32a). We see
from this that miracles are not necessarily always a good thing.
Often, it is better to be without one, as it uses up some of a
persons merit.
In a slightly different approach, the Ramban (Shemot
13:16) explains that miracles are faithful witnesses to the truth
of the existence of the Creator and the truth of the whole Torah.
Because G-d will not make signs and wonders in every
generation for the eyes of some wicked man or heretic, He
therefore commanded us that we should always make a sign of
that which we have seen with our eyes and transmit that to our
children (translation by Rabbi Yona Gross in Pesach-To-Go
5770). The Ramban is saying that only certain generations have
open miracles and by passing on the story of the miracles to our
children, we are telling them how Hashem connects with us.
Why is it that only certain generations merit to have open
miracles performed for them? Why do we not have such miracles
in the generation in which we are living ?
Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik explains that supernatural
miracles only happen when there is no other way for the goal to
be achieved, as we said above. Therefore, in our generation, it
must be that there is another way to achieve our goals without
having to resort to miracles. Miracles are thus a sort of phone-a
-friend mechanism a last resort, which Hashem tries to shy
away from.
In a similar vein, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Hacohen Kook, in
his work Ein Aya (Shabbat Chelek Aleph, page 168 #193,194),
compares natural occurrences to miracles. As we know, both
happen through the hand of Hashem, so in what respect, he asks,
are they really different? He explains that a miracle occurs when
we are unable to succeed through our own efforts. A miracle is a
sure indicator of humanitys helplessness in certain situations.
When G-d performs miracles, we are the recipient of a benefit.
Natural events, however, though still the work of Hashem, are
achieved through our own skill, effort, and perspiration. They
both accomplish the same goal; however, during a miracle, we
are receivers while when accomplishing things naturally, we are
givers.
Putting all of this together, let us now return to our original
question of why Moshe is omitted from the Haggadah. The
answer now becomes clear: Moshes name is missing in order to
remind us that while the Exodus from Egypt required a leader of
Moshes stature, we should not think that such a redemption can
only happen through a leader like Moshe. Rather, we have the
ability and the tools to achieve our own redemption without the
help of miracles or a Moshe-esque figure. We have a
responsibility to put in the effort to achieve what we can without
the use of external miracles, for it is definitely within our ability.
Hopefully, we can take this message to heart and become givers
as opposed to solely receivers of the goodness of miracles.

Korech: One Spectacular Sandwich

by Daniella Cohen (Weinbaum '15)
When I think about the Pesach seder, I personally look
forward to Korech, the sandwich made of matzah, charoset, and
maror. My familys traditional charoset is a sweet, creamy date
paste, and our version of bitter herbs is romaine lettuce; when
encased in shmurah matzah, this combination is quite tasty. If I

actually pause to think about why we eat this sandwich, however,

I am quite puzzled. We have already fulfilled the basic
requirements of consuming matzah and maror during their
respective steps in the seder. We are about to eat a grand and
festive meal during Shulchan Orech. Why do we need this
snack break?
Rabbi Chaviv Danesh gives a metaphorical yet simple
interpretation of Korech. In order to construct bricks of matzah,
which symbolically represent our drive to create a fortified
relationship with Hashem, we must persevere through the maror,
the bitter times or experiences, and through the charoset, the
sticky situations. We must always focus on the ultimate prize
the perfect sandwich, the holiest bond with G-d and conquer any
obstacles we may face along the way. While this is a very nice
understanding, it does not help us explain why we need to eat
these three foods another time immediately after we have just
eaten all of them.
As we delve deeper, we note that our seder includes Korech
as an allusion to Hillels own practice. Why did Hillel consume
his matzah, maror, and charoset in this manner? He believed that
one could only fulfill the mitzvah of eating the korban pesach,
matzah, and maror by putting them together. The halachah,
nevertheless, does not follow Hillels opinion; we merely use
Korech as a commemoration for the Beit Hamikdash. Now
another question arises: Why would we make Hillels opinion
which is one of the minority an actual element of our seder?
Furthermore, why does Hillel merit having his belief become a
universal remembrance for the Temple?
Taking apart our sandwich, we have two pieces of broken
matzah. This matzah was, at one time, whole. Rabbi Dovid Green
contends that, symbolically, Korech is Bnei Yisrael. At times, we
are splintered, divided, and separated. At other times, we fight
amongst ourselves, sect against sect, brother against brother. It is
imperative that we always remember the common bonds we share:
Torah, mitzvot, and our rich history. No nation can touch us if we
band together as one, if we recognize our unbreakable
connections, if we understand that every Jew is a Jew.
Perhaps the greatest embodiment of tolerance, of loving
your fellow Jew, is in fact Hillel. He understood the powerful
message behind his easily-prepared sandwich: We alone have the
power to glue this matzah, and also our people, back together.
Moreover, by incorporating Hillels minority opinion into our
Pesach seder, we internalize his paradigm of open-mindedness
and agree that every Jew and his or her ideas and values are to
be respected. By creating and consuming the Korech sandwich,
we demonstrate that we want to rebuild our broken bonds.
The Talmud teaches that Bnei Yisrael were saved from
Mitzrayim because of achdut; they were willing to come together
in their acceptance of Hashem as their Master and Redeemer.
Only when we take this to heart and recognize the importance of
our national achdut and emunah can we restore our fragmented
people, repair our broken matzah, and merit our final redemption.

Echad Mi Yodea:
Not Just a Pesach Song
by Miriam Mayor (Shulamith '17) & Cindy Yankovich (Shulamith '17)
Every year on the fifteenth of Nissan, Jews around the world
sit down to beautifully decorated seder tables. Throughout the

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course of this seder, Jews eat matza, drink wine, recite divrei
Torah, and sing. One of the most well-known Pesach songs is
Echad Mi Yodea. This song is comprised of 13 verses, with
each verse listing different important components of Judaism,
which correspond to each number. Why do we specifically sing
this song on Pesach?
One reason this song exists is to strengthen our belief in
the Oral Torah. In the time of Rabbi Yehudah HaNassi, the Oral
Torah was being gradually forgotten. In order to ensure that
future generations would remember the Oral Torah, Rabbi
Yehuda compiled it into the Mishnah. There were also some
pieces of writing composed to help people remember the
importance of the Oral Torah, such as Hatarat Nedarim,
Echad Mi Yodea, and the 13 principles of logic and textual
analysis. All these writings are said throughout the course of the
year.
What is the special connection, however, between Echad
Mi Yodea and Pesach? If Echad Mi Yodea is a song that
speaks about Jewish faith and tradition, then why do we not say
it every day?
One answer to this question can be found via a certain
mashal, a parable: Picture a wealthy nobleman. He is generally
very careful to not reveal all his riches. When this nobleman is
drunk, however, he opens up and brags about all his riches. The
nobleman in this story is us! After we have four cups of wine to
drink, we are unable to hold back, and we start bragging about
all our spiritual wealth our one G-d, two tablets, three fathers,
four mothers, etc.
A second explanation connects Echad Mi Yodea to Am
Yisraels redemption from Egypt. The reason Am Yisrael was
redeemed from Egypt is clear: to receive the Torah, fulfill all of
its mitzvot, and carry on all our important Jewish traditions. We
need to proclaim this before our seder finishes, so we make sure
to acknowledge them during Echad Mi Yodea. While singing
Echad Mi Yodea, we recognize that we need to fear our one
G-d, keep the commandments engraved on our two tablets, and
carry on the traditions of our three fathers and four mothers, and
so on.
We are well aware of the reason that Bnei Yisrael were
taken from Egypt. After leaving, though, did they do everything
they were supposed to do? No. They were constantly
complaining while traveling through the desert and even
committed the Sin of the Golden Calf. Even today there is,
unfortunately, rampant assimilation, and our people do not keep
all the laws that would ensure the promise of our redemption.
So why are we still a thriving nation? Once G-d saw that we
were not keeping the mitzvot, He reasonably could have
destroyed us. So why did He not?
G-d did not destroy us because G-d is a benevolent G-d,
Who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger and
abundant in lovingkindness and truth, preserving
lovingkindness for thousands, forgiving iniquity and rebellion
and sin; yet, He does not completely clear of [of sin]. He visits
the iniquity of parents on children and childrens children, to
the third and fourth generations (Shemot 34:6-7). These 13
attributes are why G-d forgave Bnei Yisrael for the Sin of the
Golden Calf, and this is why G-d forgives us for OUR sins. On
Pesach night we remember this special relationship we have
with G-d and why He has sustained us, which is declared by
these 13 attributes of mercy.

There is one thing about Echad Mi Yodea that should

strike us as especially peculiar. There are 13 verses in Echad Mi
Yodea. Throughout history, 13 has been considered an unlucky
number. In contrast, the number 13 is a common number in
Judaism: 13 is the age at which boys become Bar Mitzvah; there
are 13 tribes, and there is an opinion that in the Messianic Era,
Israel will be divided into 13 different parts; there are 13 months
in the full Jewish lunar calendar; there are the 13 principles of
logic and textual analysis, the 13 principles of faith written by the
Rambam, and the 13 attributes of Divine mercy. Why does
Judaism have such an obsession with the number 13?
The answer can be gleaned from the prayer of Shema.
The Shema teaches us of Hashems oneness: Hear, O Israel,
Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One! (Devarim 6:4). The
numerical values of the words echad and ahava are both 13.
Chazal teach us that if two words have the same numerical value,
the essential meanings of the two words are one and the same.
This connection between the words echad and ahava alludes
to an interesting truth the awareness of oneness can evoke love.
If a person feels that he or she is one with an individual, he or
she begins to love that individual. Similarly, the awareness that
humans are one with G-d leads them to feel a love for G-d. The
numerical value of the words echad and ahava together is 26,
which is also the numerical value of the shem hameforash, the
Tetragrammaton. The number 13 is among the holiest of numbers
because it is closely associated with Hashem.

This Pesach, as we perform the seder, we should make
sure to sing Echad Mi Yodea with extra kavana. By combining
our most important Jewish principles into a simple song, we make
sure to pass on these ideals to the next generations in a joyous and
memorable fashion. In doing so, we can be certain that, through
echad, our love for Hashem and His mitzvot will be enhanced.

Singing by the Sea:

The Why and How of Half Hallel
by Shalhevet Schwartz (SAR 15)
During the last six days of Pesach, we recite an abridged
version of Hallel. We skip a couple of, and Sephardim do not even
say a bracha. This is atypical on the other regalim, or
pilgrimage festivals, we say a full Hallel for every day of the
holiday.
The Gemaras explanation for the anomaly of Hallel on
Pesach is long and complex (almost an entire amud in Masechet
Archin is devoted to explaining it), so as children we usually
heard a different explanation, one based on a Midrash in Shemot
Rabbah:
Rabbi Yochanan said: The angels requested to sing before
G-d on the night that the Children of Israel crossed the Red Sea,
but G-d would not let them. G-d said to them: My legions are in
dire straits, and you sing before Me?! As it is written, They did
not approach one another all night.
The Midrash stresses the importance of empathy, of not
forgetting that any victory comes with suffering on the part of the
losing side, and that even when those suffering are evil people, we
cannot forget that they are also G-ds creatures (G-d calls the
Egyptian chariots My legions, and in an alternate version of the
Midrash, G-d even refers to them as My handiwork). It is a
wonderful ethical Midrash, which introduces the idea of mercy
into the story of the exodus and pushes us all to be better people.

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Yet, the Gemara does not use this Midrash as an

explanation for our abridged Hallel on Pesach. The Midrash
does, however, appear twice throughout Shas, once in Tractate
Megillah and once in Tractate Sanhedrin. Both times, the
Midrash is quoted along with two other verses (one from Divrei
HaYamim and the other from Devarim), which, together, argue
that G-d does not rejoice in the downfall of the wicked. The
Gemara in Megillah (10b) reads:
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi introduced his discourse on this
section with the following text: And it shall come to pass that as
the Lord rejoiced over you to do you good, so the Lord will
rejoice over you to cause you bad. Now does the Holy One,
blessed be He, rejoice in the downfall of the wicked? Is it not
written, As they went out before the army, and say: Give
thanks unto the Lord, for His mercy endureth for ever, and
Rabbi Yochanan said: Why are the words for He is good
omitted from this thanksgiving? Because the Holy One, blessed
be He, does not rejoice in the downfall of the wicked. And
Rabbi Yochanan further said, What is the meaning of the verse,
And one came not near the other all the night? The ministering
angels wanted to chant their hymns, but the Holy One, blessed be
He, said, The work of my hands is being drowned in the sea,
and shall you chant hymns? Rabbi Elazar replied: He himself
does not rejoice, but He makes others rejoice. This is indicated
also by the text, which writes yasis and not yasos; which
proves [what we said] (rendered with a literal translation).
This passage demonstrates how Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi
would open his sermon whenever he taught about the holiday of
Purim. He may have wanted to warn his students, before opening
up Megillat Esther, to not get too caught up in their own victory
lest they forget about the suffering endured on the other side.
Yet, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi formulates this mini-sermon in an
interesting order: The first pasuk that he brings is not about how
we, as Jews, should relate to the downfall of our enemies; rather,
he picks a pasuk about how G-d feels when exacting
judgement on us after we sin enough to merit near destruction.
And in the next pasuk that he quotes, a verse from Divrei
Hayamim, he seems to assert that it is fine for Bnei Yisrael to
rejoice in their enemies downfall, for they can sing G-ds
praises as a result. They must merely abridge their praise slightly
out of respect for G-ds disappointment over the destruction of
His creations.
Rabbi Elazars reinterpretation of the first pasuk is even
more fascinating. He argues that the transitive form of the word
yasis means that G-d, rather than rejoicing in the pain of
sinners, will cause others to rejoice. Not only does G-d not
oppose the rejoicing of others, but G-d intends for them to
rejoice. G-d, on the other hand, cannot be happy about
exacting justice, no matter how well-deserved the destruction is.
The discussion in the Gemara is not exactly using our
Midrash as a tale of morality. Rabbi Yehoshua is not simply
reminding us to have empathy. Rather, he is making a bold
declaration about the nature of G-d, who is not a purely rational
administrator of justice, so to speak, but is in love with the
world. He brings the Midrash not for the image of a stern G-d
rebuking angels for their childish lack of good manners but for
the image of an anguished G-d, in so much pain at the
destruction of His creations that He is unwilling to accept the
sound of praise. We are commanded to not sing, but not because

we should not be happy we are commanded not to rejoice

because our songs are frowned upon by G-d at a time when His
creatures are destroyed.
Attributing emotional distress to G-d is complicated.
Asserting that human actions can have an impact on G-ds
feelings is equally complicated. Yet, that is exactly what Rabbi
Yehoshua ben Levi seems to be doing. Before teaching about
Megillat Esther, he takes stock for a moment, not to rebuke us, but
to reflect on an almost human side of G-d.
But while it is theologically complex, this explanation is also
emotionally compelling. Perhaps that is behind Rabbi Yehoshua
ben Levis choice to reframe this Midrash he is making a
statement about what it means to give moral guidance. Being told
how to feel is rarely effective. On the other hand, a model of total
empathy, even on the part of the worlds Supreme Judge, is a
powerful picture. And for humanity, charged with living btzelem
Elokim, in G-ds image, G-d serves as an example for all of us.

Understanding the Role of Pesach

Among the Shalosh Regalim
by Tani Finkelstein (Cooper 17)
We all know that Pesach is about remembering Yetziat
Mitzrayim, Shavuot is about remembering Matan Torah, and
Sukkot is about remembering the sukkot and ananei hakavod of
the desert, but do these Shalosh Regalim perhaps have a more
profound meaning than that which is on the surface? I would like
to explore various ideas of what the Shalosh Regalim represent,
which will hopefully give some insight into the unique chag of
Pesach and the role it plays within the Shalosh Regalim.
One famous idea given by the Tur (OC 417) is that the
Shalosh Regalim represent the Avot. He explains that Pesach
corresponds to Avraham, as the pasuk says in Vayeira: Knead
and make rolls (Bereshit 18:6). Additionally, the Midrash states
that the malachim came to visit Avraham during Pesach. Shavuot
corresponds to Yitzchak, explains the Tur, because the shofar
blast at Har Sinai emanated from the horn of a ram, the animal
which supplanted Yitzchak during the Akeidah. Lastly, Sukkot
corresponds to Yaakov, as the pasuk in Vayishlach states, And
for his cattle he made little huts (sukkot); therefore they called the
name of the place Sukkot (Bereshit 33:17).
Another idea relating to the Avot is presented by the Shem
MiShmuel, the Sochatchover Rebbe. He explains that the three
Avot and the Shalosh Regalim counter the three negative middot
which the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot (4:21) says remove a person
from the world: kinah, taavah, and kavod jealousy, desire, and
glory. These three negative emotions lead to the three cardinal
sins of murder, adultery, and idolatry. Being jealous can lead to
murder, having lustful desires can lead to adultery, and wanting
glory and being arrogant can result in idolatry. But how exactly
are they countered by the Avot and the Shalosh Regalim?
The Shem MiShmuel answers this question, citing the
Maharal. He says that kavod is countered by Avraham and the
regel of Pesach. Just like Avraham fought against the idolatry of
his father Terach and brought monotheism to the world, the Jews
in the story of Pesach were drawn away from the idolatrous land
of Egypt and were brought under the banner of Hashem. Their
consumption of matzot, poor man's bread, was a humbling
experience that countered idolatry, a sin rooted in arrogance.

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The middah of taavah, explains the Shem MiShmuel, is

countered by Yitzchak and the regel of Shavuot. Just like
Yitzchak controlled his desires and sacrificed multiple pleasures,
the Jews at Matan Torah fully gave themselves over to the Torah.
Yitzchak allowed himself to be brought as an offering, did not
take Kenaani wives or other secondary wives, and stayed in
Israel at all times all in order to fulfill Hashems instructions;
even though such behavior meant he had to abstain from certain
pleasures, Yitzchak still obeyed Hashems command. The Jews
at Matan Torah, in the story of Shavuot, similarly said Naaseh
venishma We will do and we will listen, exhibiting the same
mesirat nefesh and sacrifice of personal pleasure by committing
to the Torah as Yitzchak did by committing to Hashems
instructions. This is closely related to what the Rambam says,
that only a heart empty of wisdom gives in to its desires. The
Torah fills a heart with wisdom and allows one to control his
desires and urges.
Lastly, the middah of kinah is quelled by Yaakov and the
regel of Sukkot. Just as Yaakov witnessed the terrible effects of
Esavs jealousy when it broke apart his family, Sukkot is a time
when we bind together the four species, representing the bond
that can be created between Jews when middot like kinah are
removed. We see that each of these negative middot was
countered by the Avot and are still continuing to be countered
during the Shalosh Regalim.
Another idea, offered by the Sefat Emet, is that the Shalosh
Regalim represent the three realms of machshavah, dibur, and
maaseh thought, speech, and action. Pesach represents the
realm of dibur, speech. The famous vort is that Pesach means
Peh-sach mouth-speaks. On Pesach we read Shir HaShirim,
commemorate the shirah of Moshe, and recite magid at the seder
all forms of speech. Shavuot represents the realm of
machshavah, thought. The Torah gave and continues to give the
Jewish people boundless thought and knowledge. Finally, Sukkot
represents the realm of maaseh, action. On Sukkot our normally
physical actions of eating and sleeping are made holy and
spiritual since they are done in the sukkah.
One might suggest one more idea, which is that the Shalosh
Regalim represent the three steps of the Jews in becoming a
nation. First, they were chosen, which happens in the story of
Pesach with the blood on the doorpost and Yetziat Mitzrayim.
Next, they were given an identity, which was done through
Matan Torah on Shavuot. Finally, they were given the land of
Israel, which is represented by Sukkot, since the mitzvah of the
arba minim requires the produce of the land.
To summarize, we have suggested four ideas of what the
Shalosh Regalim represent, and I will now single out the regel
that is currently upon us. We suggested that Pesach, in the
historical realm, represents Avraham Avinu. In the realm of
middot, we said that it represents the counter of the middah of
kavod and its analogous cardinal sin, idolatry. In the realm of
human expression, Pesach represents dibur. Finally, in the realm
of national progression, we suggested that it represents the step
of the nation being chosen.
Ultimately we see from here that Pesach is not so much an
end in itself; it is not its own stand-alone holiday. Rather, it is
connected in many ways to the other regalim. It is part of a
process, not just of our becoming a nation, but the process of us
becoming better Jews today. Pesach is the first step.

Freedom Via Servitude: The

Paradox of Pesach
by Ilan Lavian (YULA 15)
Three times a year - Sukkot, Pesach, and Shavuot - our
ancestors in ancient Israel traveled to the Temple in Jerusalem to
offer sacrifices. Although we no longer have the Temple, Pesach
remains a major holiday celebrated by Jews all across the
religious spectrum, for it is the celebration of the birth of a
people and the creation of a national identity.
Yet, a closer look at the holiday reveals its perplexing and
even contradictory nature. Pesach commemorates our becoming
bnei chorin, children of freedom, but at the same time affirms
our servitude to G-d. What does it mean to be free if we are
bound by an eternal covenant of servitude? Is there something
about being servants unto G-d that gives us a true freedom?
To answer this paradox of Pesach, and thereby deepen our
understanding of the holiday, we will take a closer look at the
concept of freedom, considering it on two separate levels: the
ontological and the psychological. Put in simpler terms, we will
explore free will and the will to be free.
Much ink has been spilled over the concept of free will in
the writings of Judaisms greatest thinkers. Rabbi Yitzhak
Hutner understands free will as the very basis of our Jewish
distinctiveness. In Rabbi Hutners opinion, bona fide free will
was granted to the Jewish people at the Revelation of Sinai. Prior
to the Revelation, a person chose solely based on what he or she
deemed necessary and desirable. Only with G-ds moral and
theological code, which opens ones eyes to a life of right and
wrong, is one given the opportunity to truly exercise ones free
will.
A similar emphasis on free will is found in the thoughts of
Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk. Rabbi Meir Simcha identifies
ones free will with the concept of tzelem Elokim, mans
Divine image. By means of ones free will, one can choose to
embrace and manifest the Divine spark within him or herself,
thereby attaining the highest levels of spirituality and greatness.
Through our servitude to G-d, we are thus given a true
ontological freedom, one by which we can aspire for the utmost
virtue.
Having explained the ontological freedom that comes as a
result of our servitude to G-d, we may now analyze our
analogous psychological freedom. The Gemara in Gitin (12b)
recounts a Tannaitic debate on whether a Jewish slaves
emancipation is the slaves privilege or obligation. Rabbi
Yechiel Weinberg questions the sage who considers
emancipation an obligation of the servant. The Tanna, answers
Rabbi Weinberg, must be referring to the servants state of mind;
in other words, a Jew must consider himself as a complete free
man and neither inferior nor subjugated by anyone or anything.
According to Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, it is this exact
state of mind with which we are bestowed per our servitude of
God. A person without faith is constantly tormented by societal
norms, psychological distress, and dangers to his or her health. A
person of faith, however, is often freed from these horrors
through his or her acceptance of an ultimate sense of good and
meaning in this world. As Rabbi Soloveitchik puts it so
beautifully, a person is bolstered by his faith in the
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compassion. Thus, servitude of G-d is not an attitudinal

subjugation imposed upon mans psyche; rather, it is a decree of
mans will to be free from an existence of constant anguish.
Servitude of the Divine, therefore, cannot be understood in
the light of mans enslavement to his fellow. To do so would be
indicative of a misunderstanding of the unique relationship
between G-d and the Jewish people. In one sense, our subjection
to G-d frees us from a world of determinism in that we are given
a code of right and wrong and are consequently granted the free
will to choose between them. In another sense, mandated upon us
is the will to be free by which we are spared of lifes often
distressing realities. Pesach, then, is not simply the remembrance
of our redemption from slavery; it is the recognition of both our
free will and our will to be free. May we merit to take proper
advantage of our profound and multifaceted freedom, thereby
living up to our role as G-ds am segulah.

Zeicher LeYetziat Mitzrayim A Yesod of Our Belief System

by Sarah Hiller (Maayanot 15)
Yetziat Mitzrayim marks the redemption of the Jewish
people from servitude as well as an experience that is central to
Jewish belief. Recalling it is thus a major aspect of many mitzvot,
but it is specifically mandated as an independent requirement
both as a daily activity and as a special annual declaration on the
first night of Pesach. Regardless of the importance of
remembering the significant events that occurred in Egypt, the
difficulty arises as to why this particular event is chosen as one
of the core beliefs of Judaism. Countless other significant events
could have been selected to fill this role, so why is Yetziat
Mitzrayim singled out in particular?
The connection which exists between the Exodus and
Shabbat provides an understanding of the establishment of
Yetziat Mitzrayim as a fundamental belief. The first mitzvah that
Am Yisrael receives is, This month shall mark for you the
beginning of months; it shall be the first of the months of the
year for you (Shemot 12:1-2). Ramban on this pasuk views this
mitzvah as a designation of the centrality of the Exodus
experience in the Jewish mindset. In the same way that days of
the week in Judaism are named only in relation to Shabbat yom
rishon, yom sheni, etc. to emphasize Shabbats prominence, the
months are simply a pointer to the month of redemption.
Although Rosh HaShanah is celebrated in Tishrei, this pasuk
marks Nissan, the month of the Exodus, as the moment from
which the counting of the months should begin. The reason,
Ramban explains, can be derived from the word lachem, for
you, in the pasuk. Specifically for Bnei Yisrael, Nissan marks
the start of the year because of Yetziat Mitzrayim. Therefore, it
is evident that the Exodus is intended to be central to the belief
system and everyday life of the Jewish individual. However, the
question still remains: Why?
Delving into seemingly contradictory pesukim in Devarim
and Shemot provides a possible explanation. In Devarim (5:1314), the observance of Shabbat seems to be a function of the
Exodus. In Shemot (20:10), however, the observance of Shabbat
is attributed to G-d's refrain from further creativity on the
seventh day of Creation. Why is there a discrepancy between the
two presentations of the reason for Shabbat?

According to Rambam in Guide for the Perplexed (2:31), the

Exodus does not create an independent reason to observe Shabbat.
Rather, the Exodus reinforces the message of Shabbat that God
created the world and continues to exert His influence on the
world. While enslaved, the Jews were devoid of the liberty to have
a day of rest, and, therefore, the observance of Shabbat
demonstrates the kindness of G-d in taking them out of Egypt.
Reflecting upon the Exodus and redemption of the Jewish people,
therefore, establishes an appreciation for freedom and the ability
to have control over ones time.
The first words that the Jewish people heard from Hashem at
Har Sinai further demonstrate the importance of the Exodus. In
Shemot (20:2), the Torah writes, "I am Hashem, your G-d, who
took you out of Mitzrayim, from the house of slavery." Many of
the Rishonim question the use of the Exodus as G-ds introduction
rather than the creation of the world, a seemingly more
momentous event. In response, Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi in the
Kuzari (1:25) answers that the Exodus was something that Bnei
Yisrael had directly experienced and was a greater "proof" to
them of G-d's existence and power. As a result, in His
introduction to Bnei Yisrael at Har Sinai, Hashem opts to mention
the Exodus. Rashi, following the Mechilta, presents another
perspective: The Exodus is selected since it is more than an
introduction or even a justification for the covenant it is the very
raison d'etre of the unique relationship between Bnei Yisrael and
G-d, which was confirmed at Sinai.
When the world runs smoothly and in accordance with
nature, it is difficult to perceive that there is a G-d who is in
control. When Hashem broke the course of nature in Egypt, it had
an everlasting effect on mankind. From that moment, perceptions
of the world were severely altered as a result of the miracles that
occurred in the cultural center of the world for all to witness. The
Exodus revealed that G-d exists and that He is eternally and
intimately involved in the life of every individual. In various
mitzvot, and each and every Shabbat, there is a responsibility that
comes from remembering the Exodus from Egypt and the
meaning of that moment. Not only are the Jewish people
commanded to remember Yetziat Mitzrayim, but they are also
instructed to accept the imperative which it demands to recall
and internalize both G-ds involvement in the world and mankind,
as well as Bnei Yisraels special, intimate relationship with Him.

Our Unique Calendar

by Talia Edelman (Central 15)

Pesach seems to bring a unique level of excitement each

year; what is it about Pesach that seems so special? Rav Amnon
Bazak explains that the unique nature of Pesach lies in the ideas
that it represents; Pesach symbolizes the close relationship
between Hashem and the Jewish people.
Messechet Rosh Hashana talks about the arbaah rashei
shanim, the four beginnings of the year. In the Torah, we find
two distinct calendar systems. The Torah explicitly establishes
Nisan, the month of the Exodus, as the beginning of the year and
refers to each month in reference to the month that we left
Mitzrayim. The second calendar starts in Tishrei and is essential
in counting the years of Shmitah and Yovel.
These two calendars reflect two perspectives. The Tishrei
calendar serves as the agricultural calendar; the month of Tishrei
is the transition period from one agricultural cycle to the next. The

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year begins with Sukkot when we harvest the produce of the

previous year and prepare the land for the coming year. It serves
as a universal calendar that is applicable to both Jews and nonJews. The Nisan calendar, however, relates uniquely to Jews.
While Nisan does have agricultural significance as chodesh
haaviv, the start of the growing season, the Torah emphasizes
its role in Jewish history as its main significance. Nisan marks
the beginning of the historical year, the year which begins with
Yetziat Mitzrayim, the most important date in our history and
the critical point in the development of the Jewish nation.
The difference between these two calendar systems
becomes apparent in analyzing the chagim that mark the
beginning of the year. The agricultural calendar begins with
Sukkot, which is also called chag haasif, when everyone
gathers his produce. This includes non-Jews. Sefer Zechariah
describes how all the nations in the world will come to the Beit
Hamikdash to celebrate Sukkot in the times of Mashiach.
Sukkot is a universal holiday that allows both Jews and nonJews to connect to Hashem. This is demonstrated by the seventy
offerings brought on Sukkot to represent the worlds seventy
nations.
On the other hand, the Jewish-historical calendar begins
with Pesach, a unique holiday for the Jews. The Torah
emphasizes that no one without a brit milah can participate in
the Korban Pesach. Throughout the Torah, brit milah and the
Korban Pesach are the only mitzvot aseh to be punishable by
karet; this is because the brit milah represents the individuals
covenant with Hashem, and the Korban Pesach signifies the
covenant between Hashem and Am Yisrael. For this reason,
only Jews can participate.
The calendar that begins in Nisan and is marked with
Pesach represents the unique relationship between Hashem and
Am Yisrael. The same parallel can be made with the difference
between the Beit Hamikdash, which was dedicated in Tishrei,
and the Mishkan, which was dedicated in Nisan. The Beit
Hamikdash functions to help all nations of the world recognize
Hashem and serves as a place of tefillah for all of humanity (see
Yeshaya 56:7). Shlomo Hamelech even included foreign
nations in the building of the Beit Hamikdash. On the other
hand, Bnei Yisrael constructed the Mishkan on their own, and it
served as the site where Hashem would directly communicate
with Moshe. The Mishkan traveled with Bnei Yisrael in the
midbar, reflecting the fact that the relationship between Bnei
Yisrael and Hashem continues wherever we go.
Nisan marks the beginning of the cycle that is based off of
our close connection to Hashem as a people. The month
corresponds to Pesach, the ultimate symbol of Hashems love
for Am Yisrael and the beginning of our commitment to serving
Hashem. Nisan also reflects the ideas of the Mishkan, created
uniquely for Bnei Yisrael to communicate with Hashem. No
matter where we go, the Mishkan is a reminder that Hashem is
always with us and is watching out for His special and treasured
nation.
Based off of a Dvar Torah by Rav Amnon Bazak

Shir Hashirim on Pesach?

by Yoni Spero (Kohelet 15)
At face value, Shir Hashirim chronicles the story of a
shepherd girl who falls in love with a king. At first they are able to
be together, but the situation changes and they lose each other.
After intense searching and yearning the couple is able to reunite.
It is strange that this story is told in Tanach. In Masechet
Yadayim (3:5), when discussing whether Shir Hashirim belongs in
Tanach at all, Rabbi Akiva comes and defends it and even calls it
kodesh hakadashim. That is very high praise for a love story, so
how do we really understand Shir Hashirim to see it as Rabbi
Akiva does?
The Ibn Ezra sees Shir Hashirim as a mashal for the history
from Avraham to Mashiach. According to him, each pasuk has a
specific nimshal that corresponds to a point in our history.
Contrastingly, Rashi sees Shir Hashirim as a story told by Shlomo
Hamelech of the Jewish Exile after his lifetime. Even in exile the
Jews were always connected to Hashem despite their separation,
and they yearned to return to Him. The Zohar (Parshat Teruma,
daf 143) similarly states that all of Jewish history is inside Shir
Hashirim, and the reason we read it is to profoundly understand
more of Jewish history than just the Exodus. The Malbim says
that the story corresponds to an interaction between body and
soul. The Magen Avraham simply states that the reason we read
Shir Hashirim on Pesach is that Yetziyat Mitzraim is alluded to in
a passuk in Shir Hashirim (1:9).
The Gerer Rebbe understands Shir Hashirim as a text that
conveys the idea of seeing the world, at least on one level, with
allegorical lenses through which we see the love between Hashem
and us. The sternness of peoples lives often causes them to forget
how to see the world this way; we must therefore read Shir
Hashirim periodically in order to remind ourselves to look at
things differently. There is no time when it is more important to
see Hashem in this world than on Pesach when we must
understand the impact of Hashems hand throughout the Exodus.
Why does Rabbi Akiva view Shir Hashirim as so holy? The
Gemara at the end of Makkot recounts an aggada in which Rabbi
Akiva and some other tannaim were walking on Har Habayit and
saw a fox where the Mikdash had been. While the others cried at
this desecration, Rabbi Akiva joyfully laughed. When questioned
about his odd emotional response, Rabbi Akiva recalled two
prophecies: the first being the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash
and the second being Zechariahs account of Bnei Yisrael
peacefully living back in Eretz Yisrael. Rabbi Akiva explained to
the other tannaim that since the first prophecy came true, he knew
that it was only a matter of time before the latter would be realized
as well.
Rabbi Akivas inspirational optimism may be the reason he
sees Shir Hashirim as more that just a love story. Rabbi Akiva
could see the intense, meaningful relationship between Am
Yisrael and Hashem that once existed and would return in the
future. Perhaps, we now have difficulty connecting with Hashem,
but one day our connection with Hashem will be as it once was.
Yetziat Mitzrayim was the formation of Am Yisraels connection
to Hashem. This event was the stage when hope for what was to
come began to formulate in the minds of all Jews.
Through Shir Hashirim we are all brought back to
understand the emotions of the Jews as they left Egypt and the
emotions of all Jews throughout Jewish history. When listening to

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Shir Hashirim this year, listen to the words you are hearing and
try to enhance your connection to Hashem. The yearning to
become closer to Hashem is essential in reaching the final stage
of Jewish history, the coming of Mashiach.

Significance of the Miracles

Throughout our Enslavement
by Zehava Seidman (Frisch 16)
With the belief that G-d created the world and gave it a
natural order, one is forced to wonder: Why does G-d perform
open miracles, which disrupt the flow of nature and natural
occurrences? In order to answer this question, we must first
examine some of the most extraordinary examples of miracles
the nissim of the Passover story.
Miracles can be classified into two categories:
confrontational miracles and natural miracles. A confrontational
miracle is one that overpowers and displaces the natural norm,
creating a reality that is completely contrary to the laws of
nature. A natural miracle, however, is one that may be no less
impossible by the standard norms. Such miracles are obvious
displays of the hand of G-d; nevertheless these seem to occur by
natural means, employing natural phenomena and processes to
achieve theirs purposes.
Leading up to the Jewish Exodus from Egypt there were
many miracles, both confrontational and natural, which revealed
G-ds hand. The first example is the miracle of the staff. Hashem
told Moshe to drop his staff, and it miraculously turned into a
snake. What was the purpose of G-ds alteration of the order of
nature in this case?
The Midrash says that Hashems name was on the staff.
Hence, when Moshe released the stick, the act symbolized one
letting go of Hashem. Such behavior results in evil, a trait
represented by the snake. The snake that Moshe saw was not
simply a snake, it was a composition of all the evil in the world,
and, for this reason, he fled from before it (Shemot 4:3). He
thought there was no way to fight so much evil. However, when
Moshe took hold of the staff, the snake returned to the form of
snake. Once again, the staff was firm with no room for evil. This
transformation represents the concept of teshuva, which can
return the snake (the evil created by mans actions) into the staff
(godliness). The reason for this miracle was not necessarily to
scare the Egyptians or to outperform Pharaohs magicians; rather
Hashems goal was to relay that evil cannot take over if one
commits to doing teshuva.
The ten plagues are perhaps the most famous set of
miracles to occur to the Jewish people in Mitzrayim. These can
be classified as confrontational miracles. Yet, what was the
purpose of the plagues, and why were they significant? The
Maharal answers that these ten plagues mirror reversely to the
ten sayings of Creation. For example, the first of the sayings is
"in the beginning" and the last of the plagues is the killing of the
firstborn. The Maharal goes on to explain that the plagues were
meant to fix the ten sayings of creation that the Egyptians had
prevented from taking effect during the time of the Jewish
enslavement.
One of the last major miracles to occur to the Jewish people
during the Exodus was the splitting of the sea. It is important to
point out that the sea did not split until Nachshon ben Aminadav

of the tribe of Judah walked into the sea and it was not until the
water reached his neck that the sea split. This teaches us a very
important lesson: As long as we do what we have to do, i.e. have
emunah and put in effort, then we do not need to worry about the
outcome. We can always know that G-d is there for us in any
situation.
Each one of these miracles is significant in its own way. The
common theme throughout is that G-d is always present, using the
natural as well as the unnatural to convey His essential messages
to His nation. In our times, while miracles seem to be not as
present on such a scale as during the story of Exodus, we must
recognize that we must look for the hidden miracles, which show
us that Hashem and godliness are ever present in our lives.

Reflections on Pesach:
Redemption and Reconnection
by Rosie Bernstein (Yavneh 17)
As the sun sets and the stars begin to rise on the 15th of
Nissan, families sit down to retell the story of the Exodus from
Egypt that occurred to Bnei Yisrael over 3,000 years ago. Across
the world, hungry guests arrive only to sit around talking, waiting
for hours before tasting the actual meal! This does not seem to
bother many, however, for more important than their appetites is
the fact that for Jews everywhere, the seder is a time to connect
and grow together.
In my house, things are a little bit different. Although my
immediate family identifies as Modern Orthodox, I would
consider their practices and customs to identify closer with the
sect of Judaism known as Traditional. Beyond the people who live
in my house, my extended family ranges all over the spectrum
from Conservative to Reform to even Unaffiliated. Still, for the
past sixteen years, ever since I was just a few weeks old spitting
up on my dad during Mah Nishtana, my extended familys first
night seder has taken place at my house.
Our seder is not a typical seder. We put out snacks for those
who cannot wait to eat, skip around in the Haggada, and sing
preschool songs in place of telling the story.
Over the years, I have been working on strengthening and
growing more in touch with my Judaism and with Hashem in a
myriad of ways. Thus, each year, I request that we add a little bit
more from the Haggada to our seder experience. We try to give
over as many Divrei Torah to our guests as we can. Through my
own personal growth and the growth of my parents and siblings,
our seder has really changed over the past sixteen years, but,
personally, I would not protest if we still sang Where is Baby
Moshe in place of reading the words out of the Haggada.
Though it is odd that I am at times impartial to skipping the
timeless words of our sages, I think there is a much bigger
message of the seder and of the entire holiday of Pesach than
solely the words and teachings of old.
Around my seder table are representatives of each of the
Four Sons and everyone in between. We also entertain people who
represent the Fifth Son who do not even know it is Pesach and
are at our table just to eat my mothers amazing brisket. Even so,
just minutes into the seder, every single person is participating
and enjoying himself. We make sure that everyone is able to take
part in the festivities and that everyone gets meaningful messages
out of the various things we do that they can apply to their lives. I

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am sure that multitudes of Jews across the world know just

what I am talking about and can say the same about their
sedarim.
For everyone, Pesach is a time to come together and
discuss our ancestors who were freed from their bondage in
Egypt and received the Torah, which we all follow and live by
today. Every person who is sitting around a seder table is telling
the same story about the same group of peoplea group from
whom we are descendants. This creates a powerful connection
unlike any other between the members of Klal Yisrael.
Pesach is different than any other holiday because it forces
us to focus on each other and our entire nations past, present,
and future rather than on ourselves. For example, we all recite
the same passages on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur but with
the primary purpose of introspection and self-growth; the main
focus is on the individual. The holiday of Pesach, however, is
all about telling the story of the redemption of the Jews, the
story of our collective history.
Towards the end of Sefer Devarim (Devarim 30:1-5),
Moshe prophesizes that the Jews will gather from the four
corners of the earth, return to Israel from their dispersion, and
abide by the commandments of Hashem. I think that the seder is
a little taste of that. I have Jews from all walks of life gathering
to celebrate Hashems great power and miracles together.
Moreover, the diverse set of people at my table, and the diverse
sets of Jews at tables everywhere, are discussing the redemption
of Bnei Yisrael from Egypt, bringing us closer to the
redemption that will, G-d-willing, arrive very soon.

Letter from the Editors

by Ariel Amsellem (YULA 15) & Yisrael Friedenberg (MTA 15)
Sacrifice. Something that we prefer not to think about, and
something that most of us do not often have to do. Sacrifice,
though, is an incredibly important concept in Judaism.
Rashbam to the Mishnah on 98b of Pesachim writes that
one is obligated to go so far as to even sell his clothing in order
to obtain funds to finance his arba kosot, the four cups of wine
that one is obligated to drink at the seder. (This is also bought
down as halachically binding in the Beit Yosef, the Shulchan
Aruch, and the Aruch Hashulchan OC 472:13. See also
Rambam Hilchot Pesachim 7:7, as explained by R Manoach.)
He neglects, however, to explain the reason that this is true.
Anomalous, too, is a similar halachah regarding neir
Chanukah. Rambam (Hilchot Chanukah 4:12), the Tur (OC
671:1), and the Shulchan Aruch (ibid.) all say that one is
required to sell his clothes if he does not have the money to buy
oil with which to fulfill the mitzvah. These sources, as well,
leave us empty-handed in our search for a reason why such
sacrifice is required.
The Maggid Mishneh (to the Rambam Hilchot Chanukah
4:12) and the Beit Yosef (to Tur OC 671:1) present a single
point to explain these two halachot. Both of them, they posit,
result from a principle known as pirsumei nisa, the impetus we
bear to publicizing G-ds miracles. The importance of pirsumei
nisa is so great that it warrants such extreme sacrifice.
What remains unknown is a definition for pirsumei nisa.
Without one, we are left to wonder why we would not also

require one to sell his clothing to buy matzah, seemingly

something just as important as the four cups of wine.
A definition can be reached by analyzing the two related yet
different concepts of pirsumei nisa and zeicher laneis. Rabbi
Moshe Soloveitchik (as quoted by Rabbi Herschel Schachter)
explains that pirsumei nisa is a more obvious demonstration of a
miracle while something done zeicher laneis is something merely
symbolic, which bears less direct resemblance to the miracle
itself. The three most iconic appearances of the term pirsumei
nisa thus become understandable. The reading of the Megillah on
Purim is the most blatantly obvious, for it is literally a recitation
of the miracles story. The lighting of neir Chanukah, too,
commemorates rather clearly the miracle of the oil which burned
for eight days.
Lastly, arba kosot demonstrate the fact that we, as a people,
went from horrible enslavement to the worlds mightiest empire to
sitting around a table as nobility, as represented by our reclining
and consumption of wine.
The eating of matzah, therefore, is not within the boundaries
of pirsumei nisa. Despite what matzah retailers may choose to
charge for their product, matzah is far from an aristocratic food.
Rather, matzah is a purely symbolic gesture, as stated in Pesachim
10:5. Matzah serves as a remindernot as a reenactment. This
mitzvah, therefore, does not warrant the same level of sacrifice for
its fulfillment, for it is only zeicher laneis.
The remaining logical question, though, asks us to analyze
the qualitative difference between mitzvot that are for pirsumei
nisa and zeicher laneis, such that they are treated differently in the
Halachic scheme.
Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (as quoted by Rabbi Michel
Sherkin in Harerei Kedem vol. 2 page 317) explains that pirsumei
nisa is a variation of the more monumental mitzvah of kiddush
Hashem. Kiddush Hashem is one of the few mitzvot that a Jew
must be willing to lose his life to fulfill. That said, we can easily
understand our obligation to sacrifice our clothing for mitzvot that
bear the stamp of kiddush Hashem.
Rabbi Soloveitchik takes this idea further, explaining why
only neir Chanukah of the three mitzvot that are for pirsumei nisa
is put on display to the outside world. (Mikra Megillah and arba
kosot are performed with a degree of privacy, generally only in
front of Jews.) The miracle of Chanukah, he says, is unlike those
of Purim and Pesach in that it was salvation from a threat of
specifically religious annihilation (lehashchikam Toratecha
ulehaaviram meichukei retzonecha). For this reason, we show
our pirsumei-nisa-commemoration to the outside world, the world
from whose influence G-d saved us.
We are left to consider the other two mitzvot, ones which are
commemorated only between our families, for arba kosot, and our
communities, for mikra Megillah. Perhaps the message we are
supposed to take from our salvation from death is an enhanced
appreciation for one another, for a focus on those immediately
around us, and a renewed sense of love for the whole of Klal
Yisrael.
As we drink the arba kosot, exhibiting pirsumei nisa within
our own homes, perhaps it behooves us to bear this message in
mind. May this Pesach see us rekindle our feeling of community,
and may this bring us the final Redemption bimheirah biyameinu.

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Editors-in-Chief: Ariel Amsellem (YULA 15), Yisrael Friedenberg (MTA 15)

Coordinators: Ariel Amsellem, Yael Blau, Pammy Brenner, Liat Clark, Rivka Coleman, Yosef Coleman, Yonatan Cooper, Talia Edelman,
Baila Eisen, Liat Fischer, Yisrael Friedenberg, Tali Greenberg, Matthew Haller, Eitan Jeselsohn, Eitan Kaszovitz, Shira Levie, Yael
Marans, Miriam Mayor, Noah Notis, Davey Schoenberg, Avi Siegal, Miriam Weintraub, Cindy Yankovich, Benji Zoller

Questions? Comments? Please contact kolhanearimpub@gmail.com.

This publication contains Torah matter and should be treated accordingly.