This week we focus on the theme of freedom in the context of Passover. The long winter is over as spring begins to arrive. michael (michaelstrassfeld.com; mjstrassfeld@gmail.com)
A word of Torah:
For me, the most remarkable teaching of the Sefat Emet, the 19th century Hasidic master, is that the Torah is all about freedom. It is why the Exodus from Egypt had to precede the giving of the Torah at Sinai. For him, the 613 mitzvot are means of achieving freedom. He describes them as advice/eitzot for achieving that freedom. What does that freedom mean? It means not to be caught up in the mundane aspects and concerns of life.
Freedom is not a one-time achievement. It needs to be constantly achieved. As we see from the story of the Exodus, as soon as the Israelites leave Egypt, they yearn to return.
There is a difference between the process of teshuva/repentance and the process of seeking freedom. Teshuva involves a recognition that you have done something wrong. It requires a healing or mending of the past as a way to move on to a better tomorrow. Freedom involves breaking out of long-established patterns of our lives. You may not have done anything wrong. You might simply be afraid of being seen as foolish or taking on something you have never done before. You may be haunted by a difficult moment in your past.
An event in the life of Moses illustrates this point. While the first time he hits a rock in order to draw out water, when God instructs him in the second instance to speak to the rock, he once again hits it. What was once the correct response is now wrong, but he is locked into an automatic response. Moses resorts to the past—not understanding this is a different situation.
How often do past challenging experiences trigger a response that is more about that past than about the present? How often do we hear in the voice of the person we are talking with now the long-ago voice of a parent, lover, or family member? As long as we are not responding to the actual moment, we are not free from past patterns. We are chained to an automatic and often unwise response.
Why are we not supposed to eat bread on Passover? Fifty-one weeks a year it is perfectly okay to eat bread, but for one week it is strictly forbidden. Is there something wrong about bread? Is it, as some commentators suggest, that leavened bread is a metaphor about being puffed up about ourselves? I think there is nothing wrong with bread, but the prohibition on Passover invites us to re-think a major aspect of our patterned life---food. What are the patterns of our eating that have become routine and with what patterns do we struggle?
What are the other patterns in our behavior that keep us from responding freely to what is happening? On Passover (and indeed every day), we remember that once upon a time we were strangers feeling vulnerable and insecure in Egypt and that truth still lingers with us. Passover offers the opportunity to leave the constrictions of Egypt behind, carrying with us only the matzah of freedom.
Intention/kavana for the week
The holiday of Passover requires a lot of preparation. For some it is preparing a meal for a large number of people. For others it is removing bread products or changing dishes and silverware.
Spend some time preparing for Passover by reflecting on what are the patterns in your life that hold you back. What could be changed? What new responses could you incorporate in your life? How could you be freer than you are now?
Song:
For spring from the Song of Songs 2:14
Hashmi'ini et kolekh
ki kolekh areiv
u'mareikh naveh
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet
And your face is comely.
