Isn't it time we rewrote the Haggadah?
How can we honestly say "We'd still be slaves to Pharoah?"
THE FIRST NIGHT of Pesach, the night of the Seder, is the night set
aside by the Torah to retell the story of our forebears' exodus
from back-breaking slavery in Egypt and the genesis of Jewish
nationhood.
The importance of our liberation is stressed numerous times in the
Torah. Indeed, no less than twice daily do we recite the Shma prayer, where
we mention our exodus in accordance with the Mitzvah: "In order that
you shall remember the day of your exodus from the land of Egypt every
day of your life." (Deuteronomy 16:3). Other mitzvos Kiddush for
instance, also hold the recollection of the Exodus at their core.
Now, the Exodus was a seminal event in Jewry's history. And indeed, it's
a prime example of G-d's love for us insofar as He changed the natural
course of the world, performing countless miracles for Jewry, enabling
us to leave. But why lay such stress on this miracle? Wouldn't it make much
more sense to stress the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, which
definitely shows G-d's love for us? For He gave us His greatest
treasure, the Torah, which, in the words of the Psalmist, is: "Better
for me than all the treasures in the world." (Psalms 119:71).
Perhaps this perplexity can be understood in light of the
statement in the Passover Haggadah that: "In every generation it is
one's duty to regard himself as though he personally had been liberated
from Egypt." Why must one feel as if he also took part in the
redemption? Another statement in the Hagaddah provides the answer:
"For if G-d had not redeemed our forefathers from Egypt, we and our
children and our children's children would still be slaves to Pharaoh in
Egypt."
Really? By most accounts, the pharaohs no longer exist. And
if they were to remain in power today, it's unlikely that in our enlightened
era they would be able to keep a people the size of Jewry enslaved. Yet
the sages, in their wisdom, laid down that Jews throughout the ages should
utter these words.
This seeming paradox can best be understood in light of the moral
climate of Egypt in those days. As our sages explain, the Egyptians were
idol worshippers, worshipping not only idols but also the Pharaoh,
sheep, and even the River Nile. Despite the fact that Egypt
was the cultural center of the known world, as a nation Egypt was
steeped in immorality. Think of the old Times Square, then multiply by ten
thousand. The Talmud says, "Ten measures of immorality were
given to the world, and Egypt took nine of them." (Tractate Kiddushin).
The Egyptian environment could not help but have an effect on anyone
living there, and the Jews were no exception.
Our sages teach us that although it is possible for anyone to repent his
sins, there is a minority who are such sinners that it is practically
impossible. Pharaoh, for instance, could not repent for his sins of
denying the existence of G-d (Exodus 5:2) and refusing to grant freedom
to the Jewish nation (Maimonides: Introduction to Tractate Avos).
The Jews in Egypt were so influenced by their environs that
they were perilously close to that point of no return. One more moment
in Egypt would have caused them to relinquish their status as the Chosen
Nation, and we, their descendants, would have remained mired in the
spiritual morass that was Egypt.
True, eventually we would have been physically redeemed, but we would
never would have been fully redeemed from the spiritual bondage. Even
today, well over two millenia after the Persians destroyed Egypt and
defeated the Pharaohs, we would have been spiritually scarred, the
residual effect of our Egyptian bondage still present.
Yes, each Jew must regularly acknowledge his personal exodus from Egypt.
This is the lesson Haggadah is imparting: If not for G-d's merciful
redemption, we would still be slaves to Pharaoh, to Egyptian culture,
and immorality slaves in a spiritual sense.
Ponder and discuss, dear reader, this truth at your seder this year: A
slave with a free spirit can rise above this mundane world. In a sense,
he can release himself from his shackles. But a free man with an
enslaved spirit is doomed to servitude forever.
Binyamin L. Jolkovsky,
Editor-in-Chief