BS”D Passover 5786
Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, Rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites
As the festival of Passover begins, we gather around the regal Seder table in an atmosphere filled with meaning and celebration. This is one of the most central nights in the Jewish calendar – a night in which we retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt and experience the feeling of freedom.
The central mitzvah of the night – and the only commandment to eat explicitly written in the Torah – is the eating of matzah. Matzah symbolizes a separation from chametz, the leavened bread that rises and expands, serving as a metaphor for the evil inclination, “the yetzer hara,” and the human tendency toward inflation and pride. Matzah, made from only the most basic ingredients, represents simplicity and purity, and is likened to the good inclination, “the yetzer hatov.” Only when a person frees themselves from external excess and focuses on what is essential can they truly experience freedom.
The reason for eating matzah is explained in the language of the Haggadah:
“This matzah that we eat is because our ancestors’ dough did not have time to rise.”
This raises an obvious question: was the Exodus really so sudden? After all, for twelve months the Egyptians were struck with the Ten Plagues – a gradual and unmistakable process leading toward redemption. Could the Creator not have given the people a few more minutes to prepare properly and bake bread for the long journey?
The Torah itself emphasizes several times that the Exodus took place in haste. Why, after hundreds of years of bondage, were they not able to leave calmly and with dignity? Why was haste an essential part of the story?
Even today, when matzah is baked, that same sense of urgency is preserved. Anyone who visits a matzah bakery immediately feels the unique atmosphere: the work is done rapidly, the clock is ticking, and every moment matters. The dough must not remain longer than the fixed time – eighteen minutes. What lies behind this urgency?
To understand this, we turn to the words of our sages:
“And you shall guard the matzot” (Exodus 12:17) – Rabbi Yoshiyah said: do not read matzot but mitzvot; just as we do not allow the matzah to become leavened, so too we must not delay a mitzvah.
(Mechilta of Rabbi Yishmael)
From this teaching comes the well-known principle: “When a mitzvah comes to your hand, do not let it ‘become leavened’.” In other words, when an opportunity to do good arises, one must act without delay.
Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner (Pachad Yitzchak, Pesach, Essay 1) explains that alacrity in serving God is not merely about acting quickly. It stems from a deeper place in the soul – from the desire to break through the boundaries of material existence and time itself.
Time, as we experience it, stands in tension with spirituality. It is part of the physical world, creating cycles and routine. Spirituality, however, strives for constant renewal and for breaking beyond what is familiar and fixed. Indeed, beyond the physical realm, time does not hold sway. The nature of spiritual action, therefore, is to transcend the limits of time.
This sheds light on the meaning of matzah: just as dough can become leavened if one waits too long, so too a good deed can lose its vitality if delayed, as other forces intervene and weaken the initial impulse. As the sages teach (Pirkei Avot 2:4): “Do not say, ‘When I have time, I will study’ – for perhaps you will never have time.” Acting promptly prevents time from dulling intention.
The haste of the Exodus is not merely a description of speed. It represents something much deeper. The Exodus was the birth of the Jewish people – the bereshit of its historical and spiritual existence. At such a moment, when the concept of the “eternity of Israel” came into being, the process itself had to reflect a breakthrough beyond time.
The idea of Netzach Yisrael – the eternity of Israel – is not only a statement about survival through the generations. It expresses an inner connection between the Jewish people and eternity itself – a reality in which time is no longer a limitation.
This distinction – between living under the rule of time and living beyond it – is connected to another central idea in Jewish thought: the power of renewal. This power reminds a person that even when life feels repetitive, every action can be entirely new. The spiritual world constantly seeks renewal, and the human being, created in the Divine image, can take part in that movement. By contrast, the laws of time tend toward repetition and routine. Here lies the tension between the physical world and the inner world of the human being.
On the Seder night, as we recount the story of the Exodus and eat the matzah, we are invited to experience something of this idea. Within the warmth of a family celebration lies a profound message: to believe in our ability to renew ourselves, to break free from habit, and to rise beyond what seems possible.
On that special night, when the Jewish people were born as a free nation, we are reminded that even today, at any time and in any place, every Jew has the power to begin again and to strive for the highest heights.
