The Song of Pesach
Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
I
am writing this on Rosh Chodesh Nissan, grateful to have arrived at the
month of geulah—both for the past and, hopefully, for the present as
well.
Just
as the month was about to begin, Klal Yisroel suffered a devastating
tragedy, losing a mother and her two precious children on Shabbos
afternoon. At their levayah on Sunday, there was an overwhelming
outpouring of grief.
Also
on Shabbos, a beloved mechanech and builder of Torah in Monsey
passed away. Rav Moshe Schwab blazed a trail of Torah, establishing a yeshiva
where each talmid was treated like a diamond, polished to sparkle and
shine. He was one of the good people of Monsey, whose efforts helped make the
town the special place it is today.
These
tragedies, along with so many others that befall us—the wars in Eretz Yisroel
between Jews and Arabs, as well as between Jews themselves; the strife, the
poverty, and the many challenges we refer to as “crises”—are all symptoms of golus.
We
yearn for the geulah because we long for the return of the Shechinah
to the Bais Hamikdosh and for the return of all Jews to Eretz Yisroel.
We pray to be in Yerushalayim this Yom Tov, partaking in the Korban
Pesach. We hope for the healing of the sick, the repair of our divisions,
and the return of our departed loved ones, together with all the great souls of
generations past.
The
Vilna Gaon writes (Even Sheleimah 11:1) that the geulah will
begin on Pesach and will unfold in four stages. May it begin this Pesach.
But
what can we do to help bring it about?
The
Jewish people have been in golus since the destruction of the second Bais
Hamikdosh and our dispersion among the nations. That Bais Hamikdosh
was destroyed due to the sins of lashon hara and sinas chinom. It
was because of our addiction to these sins that we were exiled, and it follows
that to merit the geulah, we must eliminate these aveiros from
our lives and our world. Despite the efforts of many generations, we still
haven’t succeeded. It’s easier said than done.
To
understand why these two aveiros are so difficult to overcome, we need
to examine their roots. We’ve made significant progress in eradicating many
other sins, but these two remain deeply entrenched, despite intense efforts,
especially since the time of the Chofetz Chaim.
Our
tradition teaches that the roots of lashon hara and sinas chinom
trace back to the negative influence of the Eirev Rav, who joined our
nation as we left Mitzrayim and have caused great harm ever since. Their impact
still lingers in the form of what our holy sages call klipos.
To
rid ourselves of these impure forces, we must eliminate the klipas Eirev Rav
that fuels them, enabling them to penetrate hearts and stir up conflict,
division, and hatred.
But
how?
Rav
Yitzchok Eizik Chover writes (Ohr Torah 27) that the sins of lashon
hara and sinas chinom stem from bittul Torah. The solution,
as the posuk in Mishlei (15:4) teaches, is “marpeh lashon eitz
chaim.” The cure for harmful speech is Torah, the Tree of Life. Torah
purifies the soul and removes the negative inclinations rooted in flawed middos,
which in turn are influenced by the klipah of the Eirev Rav.
People
speak ill of others and harbor resentment against good people for seemingly no
reason. This pattern has persisted since the time of the second Bais
Hamikdosh and we have yet to break it. In fact, it seems that in our era,
the final phase of exile known as ikvesa d’Meshicha, these elements have
grown even more intense. Lashon hara and baseless hatred have become
particularly severe.
They
are fed by the Eirev Rav. They are fed by bittul Torah. As
helpful as programs and educational efforts about lashon hara and sinas
chinom may be, if we don’t address the root cause, the problem will
continue.
As
spring nears, gardening services start promoting the need to destroy weeds at
their roots to prevent regrowth. Simply mowing the lawn makes everything appear
neat and green for a short time, but unless the weeds are pulled out from the
roots, they will quickly return. And worse, they will rob the lawn of vital
nutrients and weaken its vitality. No amount of fertilizer or watering will
help unless the weeds are uprooted.
Lashon
hara and sinas
chinom are the weeds that choke our people and obstruct our path to geulah.
When
we speak about geulah during Nissan, the chodesh hageulah,
it implies that something in this month catalyzes limud haTorah, which
in turn weakens the grip of the klipah of the Eirev Rav. But what
is that force?
Rav
Tzadok Hakohein (Pri Tzaddik, Rosh Chodesh Nissan) explains that
Moshe Rabbeinu expressed hesitation in confronting Paroh, saying, “V’aich
yishmo’eini Pharoh,” because “va’ani aral sefosoyim.” He doubted his
ability to be heard due to his speech impediment.
Hashem,
the One who grants speech, assured Moshe that He would repair his speech and
that Paroh would listen. However, Moshe’s real concern, “va’ani aral
sefosoyim,” alluded to the klipah of impurity in the hearts of the
Jewish people, which created a disconnect from Torah and made them unable to
heed his words.
This
is what he meant when he said, “Hein Bnei Yisroel lo shomu eilay, ve’aich
yishmo’eini Pharoh, va’ani aral sefosoyim.” The term orlah refers to
the yeitzer hara. Moshe was saying that the yeitzer hara was
blocking the people from hearing his message.
When
Hashem told Moshe, “Hachodesh hazeh lochem,” He gave the Jewish people
the power to infuse this month with extra kedusha. With this added
holiness, the Jews were able to overcome their areilus, their yeitzer
hara. They returned to Torah study, and the impediment in Moshe’s speech,
which had been tied to their spiritual weakness, was lifted. He could now speak
to Paroh. The areilus that had blocked his words was gone. Geulah
was now within reach.
Even
though everything Moshe said was Torah, commanded directly by Hashem, his words
could not be accepted by the Jewish people, without the added kedusha
brought by the month of Nissan.
It
seems, then, that what transformed Nissan into a month of redemption was
this infusion of extra kedusha, which neutralized the areilus
that had caused a lapse in Torah study.
Nissan, the month of geulah,
includes the mitzvah of biur chometz, the removal of chometz
from our homes. We search for it in every crack and crevice, ensuring that not
a trace remains.
Chometz is allegorically compared to the yeitzer
hara, which blocks us from teshuvah and from proper behavior. Chometz
is dough that has risen. Matzah is dough that has not. Chometz
represents arrogance. Matzah represents humility. A humble person
doesn’t engage in lashon hara or sinas chinom. He doesn’t harbor
hate. He learns sifrei mussar, such as Mesilas Yeshorim, is
content with what he has, learns Torah, and works on his middos.
During
this month of geulah, removing chometz from our homes mirrors the
need to remove chometz from our souls. To merit geulah, we must
search within and cleanse ourselves of the se’or shebe’isah—the yeitzer
hara that holds us back from self-improvement and spiritual growth.
Since,
as Rav Yitzchok Eizik Chover taught, geulah is dependent on Torah, we
are strengthened by the knowledge that this month brings added kedusha.
It gives us the spiritual energy to overcome the yeitzer hara and forces
of tumah. We are empowered to search for the remnants of tumah
within ourselves, knowing that we can uproot them and return to lives free of chet,
lashon hara, and bittul Torah.
When
we rid our homes and hearts of chometz, we don’t just prepare for the
heightened kedusha Nissan offers. We prepare ourselves to help
usher in the geulah that this month is destined to bring.
The
Arizal taught that the name of the Yom Tov, Pesach, hints
at the power of speech, as it can be read as “peh soch—the mouth
speaks.”
With
the added kedusha of this time and the preparations for geulah,
our mouths are cleansed of lashon hara and sinas chinom. We
become capable of speaking with love—about our fellow Jew and about Hashem. We
learn to use the gift of speech for good.
That’s
why, at the Seder, we say, “Vechol hamarbeh lesaper b’Yetzias
Mitzrayim harei zeh meshubach”—the more we speak about the Exodus, the more
praiseworthy we are. Through this, we demonstrate our ability to use the peh
soch—our speech—the way it was intended: to elevate, to inspire, and to
bring kedusha into the world through words and Torah.
Imagine
a young musician blessed with the ability to bring music to life at the piano,
but due to poverty, he becomes a plumber. Even if he becomes the most
successful plumber in town, part of him remains dormant. The song inside him
goes unsung. As he fixes pipes and clears drains, he dreams of music. No one
may notice this about him, but that’s only because they don’t truly know him.
So
too, when Klal Yisroel was enslaved in Mitzrayim, we were a nation with
a song trapped inside us. We couldn’t express it. We were weighed down, unable
to soar, bound by slavery and tumah.
But
when we were redeemed, the gift of speech returned. Holiness burst forth from
our mouths, along with deep wells of spiritual expression.
“Vechol
hamarbeh lesaper b’Yetzias Mitzrayim harei zeh meshubach.” The more we
speak of our redemption, the greater we become. The Seder is an
experience of expression: Torah, Hallel, and mitzvos, all flowing
from mouths that have been spiritually redeemed and elevated.
The
night of peh soch.
On
Pesach, we became who we were meant to be. Our song—the essence of our
soul—was finally released.
We
now have the power to achieve greatness through our words. And we’ve been
encouraged by the Master of the World Himself, who says, “Harchev picha—Open
your mouth wide!”
The
Jews weren’t just physically enslaved in Miztrayim. Their thoughts, souls, and
speech were shackled too. They were heirs to greatness, but they were caked in
mud, buried under the weight of servitude. Holy children of Hashem, they had
become defiled and unrecognizable. That’s what golus can do.
But
at the destined hour, Hashem lifted them out of the swamp, allowing them to
rise again.
In
our times, Hashem leaves the task to us. He gives us the tools to rise above
the spiritual darkness. He enables us to rid our lives of chometz, to
return, to pursue holiness and goodness.
He
tells us: “If you want to be redeemed, you must do teshuvah. You must
correct your sins—the very sins that delay the coming of Moshiach and
the rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdosh.”
Through
the Moshe Rabbeinus of every generation, Hashem sends us reminders year after
year:
“Rachtzu,
hizaku, hosiru ro’ah ma’alileichem mineged einai, chidlu harei’a.” They
call out to us, as the novi Yeshayahu did, quoting pesukim,
invoking Chazal, drawing from seforim, and speaking in their own
words, telling us that to merit the geulah, we must separate from the
misguided, abandon sin, and return to our true selves. Then the darkness will
lift, the golus will end, and the geulah will usher in a new era.
We
are living in the final stages of the final golus. We stand at the
threshold of the moment we’ve awaited for thousands of years. It is up to us to
make it a reality.
We
can do it.
All
it takes is a little more love, a little more compassion. Positive thoughts.
Positive speech. A thorough internal cleaning and spiritual polishing that
restores our brilliance and clarity.
May
we all merit to be as pure and radiant as our Pesach homes. And may our
actions, words, and deeds help bring the geulah soon.