Passover: Holiday of Freedom by Redemption

Passover: Holiday of Freedom by Redemption

Everyone knows the holiday of Passover as the celebration of the Exodus from Egypt, going out from slavery to freedom. In that sense, Passover is something that touches more than a handful of individuals, or even just one nation. The protest song sung by African-American slaves was inspired by the original Passover: “Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land; tell old Pharaoh to let My people go!” The first line of the song became a password on the famed Underground Railroad, which helped slaves escape from the South to the free states in the North.

However, that isn’t exactly what the Holy One commanded Moses to say to Pharoah. The verse really says: “And you shall say to him, ‘The LORD, the GOD of the Hebrews, sent me to you, saying, “Let My people go, so that they may serve Me in the wilderness.’’” (Exod. 7:16) Israel was not being set free to do as they pleased. There was a specific goal, and it wasn’t to found a democracy – a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” They were exchanging a human king and worthless idols for the only true GOD, the King of kings and Maker of heaven and earth. But their King saw them as more than subjects. “Israel is My son, My firstborn. So I said to you [Pharoah], ‘Let My son go so that he may serve Me’…” (Exod. 4:22-23) A son serves his father from love and respect, not obligation. A firstborn son serves with extra diligence, because he is a role model for all the other children. And the firstborn son of a king serves with the knowledge that he is destined to rule the kingdom someday.

If the Eternal has named Israel as His son, then Israel’s existence is assured for all time. The world is a witness to this anomaly of history: nations without number have come and gone, while a people called “Israel” has remained. Many (like the Pharoah of Moses’s childhood) have actively tried to annihilate them, without success. 

The greatest victory was “when the LORD brought back the captives of Zion” from exile to their homeland. “Then they said among the nations, ‘The LORD has done great things for them.’” (Ps. 126:1-2) Not once, but twice! These events are recited and discussed by the Jewish people during the Passover ceremonial meal (the Seder), to remember, and to tell their children, how the twelve tribes became one people – and also why. The Heavenly King was keeping a promise He had made to their forefathers: to give the small land of Canaan, where Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had lived as strangers, to their descendants for an everlasting inheritance. Both their enslavement and their liberation were foretold hundreds of years beforehand, in a personal encounter between the Lord of all the earth and the father of the nation, Abraham (Gen. 15:12-16). “Then in the fourth generation they will return here [to Canaan].” (v. 16)

Pharoah decided to resist the Holy One’s command. “Who is the LORD that I should obey His voice?” (Exod. 5:2) He learned the answer, the hard way. “For I am a great King,” says the LORD of armies, “and My name is feared among the nations.” (Mal. 1:14)

Pharaoh essentially said: “Yeah? Prove it.” The result was the Ten Plagues – in Hebrew, makot (“violent blows”). They were not random punishments either; they were designed to humiliate Egypt’s gods as well as its king (Exod. 12:12). At the halfway point, the Highest King warned the earthly king that worse blows were yet to come: “I am going to send all My plagues on you and your servants and your people, so that you may know that there is no one like Me in all the earth. For had I now put out My hand and struck you and your people with plague, you would then have been eliminated from the earth. But indeed, for this reason I have allowed you to remain, in order to show you My power and in order to proclaim My name throughout the earth.” (Exod. 9:14-16) The Creator also made a supernatural separation: “In order that you may know that I, the LORD, am in the midst of the land, I will put a division between My people and your people.” (Exod. 8:22-23) 

This creates a dilemma for those who try to explain the ten plagues as natural occurrences, since there were no natural obstacles to keep the disasters out of the region of Goshen. Nor were there natural explanations for their timing (beginning and ending on the days announced beforehand by Moses). Thus, the Holy One proved that He not only rules over the heavens where He is seated, but “so that you may know that the earth is the LORD’s” (Exod. 9:29). He moves on the earth among us and does whatever He pleases. 

Pharoah repeatedly denied the reality, believing instead in his own divinity (one of his titles was “Preserver of the God-Given Natural Order”). It wasn’t until he lost his firstborn son, just as the GOD of gods had warned him in the beginning (Exod. 4:23), that he surrendered… temporarily.

To be fair, though, the Israelites also needed convincing. Leaving a life of oppressive slavery sounds like a “no-brainer”… until you look ahead to your new life, and you see – a blank. How would they feed and shelter their families out in the wilderness? At least the taskmasters brought them food every day, and provided beds at night. Could they trust a GOD who could not be seen, who only sent messages through Moses? “Come, make us a god who will go before us; for this Moses, the man who brought us up from the land of Egypt—we do not know what happened to him [literally, “we do not know what he had”].” (Exod. 32:1)

Taking the people out of Egypt was easier than taking Egypt out of the people. 

The lesson presented to Israel was simple: “Your GOD reigns. He has redeemed you in the sight of all the nations, and you are His.” Yet the lesson was learned and forgotten, over and over. Hundreds of years later, the prophet Isaiah foresaw a day, still in the future, when this message would again be proclaimed to Zion, and it would be received like “news” (Isa. 52:7-10).

There are many kinds of slavery today, and escape to freedom presents the same challenges. We all want to steer our own life, and be prepared for what will come next. It costs something to give up that control, even to Someone who seems to have control over our prison doors and our slave-masters, over creatures and weather, over kings and gods that we thought were invincible. If our Liberator told us that freedom means leaving our homes “tonight”, taking nothing but whatever assets we have on hand, some valuables ‘borrowed’ from the neighbors, and a bowl of bread dough quickly mixed for tomorrow… would we trust Him enough to do it? “They were driven out of Egypt and could not delay, nor had they prepared any provisions for themselves.” (Exod. 12:39) Whatever faults the Hebrew slaves had, the tiny spark that they possessed on that night was enough faith to produce obedience.

Freedom from slavery doesn’t happen without the slave’s bold participation. “Shake yourself from the dust, rise up, captive Jerusalem! Release yourself from the chains around your neck, captive daughter of Zion!” (Isa. 52:2) 

The world-changing proclamation only opens the door of the prison. The courage to shake off the dust and leave that dreary but familiar place, where we know what to expect, walking out into the unknown where anything might happen, can only come from faith in the One who calls from outside, “saying to those who are bound, ‘Go free!’ and to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves!’” (Isa. 49:9) 

When our desire to be free to serve our Father and King is stronger than our desire to “play it safe” as slaves who answer to others, only then will we see Redemption. What does it mean for a human being to be “redeemed”? The word in Torah refers to slaves being freed for a price (Exod. 21:8, Lev. 19:20, Num. 3:49). It more often refers to the people of Israel together being freed from slavery or captivity (Exod. 15:13, Deut. 7:8, Deut. 9:26, Isa. 51:11, and many more). Some verses explicitly mention the Creator paying a price for Israel’s freedom (Ps. 74:2, Isa. 43:3-4). 

The Jewish sages have long taught that we are waiting for a greater future Redemption, which will come at the Passover season: "In Nissan [Passover month] our forefathers were redeemed from Egypt, and in Nissan we will be redeemed."  (Talmud, Rosh Hashana 11a) They identified the future Redeemer as the Messiah, because of the words of Isaiah: “’A Redeemer will come to Zion, and to those in Jacob who turn from wrongdoing,’ declares the LORD.” (Isa. 59:20) 

From what kind of trouble will the Messiah redeem us? The chapter above describes the situation, speaking to Israel (v. 2): “Your wrongdoings have caused a separation between you and your GOD, and your sins have hidden His face from you so that He does not hear.” 

The people of Israel answer (v. 9-11) with a confession of helplessness: “Therefore justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us. We hope for light, but there is darkness; for brightness, but we walk in gloom. We grope for the wall like people who are blind; we grope like those who have no eyes…. We hope for justice, but there is none; for salvation, but it is far from us.”

So, in compassion for our dilemma, the LORD sends His Redeemer (sometimes called “My Servant”), “to open blind eyes, to bring out prisoners from the dungeon, and those who dwell in darkness from the prison.” (Isa. 42:6-7)

As it was for our fathers in Egypt, it will take courage for us to walk out of the spiritual prison and follow the GOD of our Salvation. But just as those who left Egypt were promised to inherit the Land as their fathers, the Creator offers a greater inheritance to the future redeemed ones: 

“A Redeemer will come to Zion…. ’As for Me, this is My covenant with them,’ says the LORD: ‘My Spirit who is upon you, and My words which I have put in your mouth, shall not depart from your mouth, nor from the mouth of your offspring, nor from the mouth of your offspring’s offspring,’ says the LORD, ‘from now and forever.’” (Isa. 59:20-21) 

The next chapter describes a glorious future when the LORD will “rise upon” Jerusalem, dazzling the nations; “and they will call you the city of the LORD, the Zion of the Holy One of Israel.” (Isa. 60:1, 14) In that day, we as a nation will finally internalize the lesson we first heard in Egypt, never again to be forgotten: “Then you will know that I, the LORD, am your Savior and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.” (v. 16)

May we be worthy to see it in our days.

I’m a slave – Halleluyah! (Ps. 113:1)

I have already said that in Passover we commemorate the Festival of Freedom, a “freedom to serve” another Master. 

During the Passover celebration called the Seder, we read Psalm 113, which calls on a specific group to praise the Eternal One: “Praise the LORD! Praise Him, you servants of the LORD. Praise the name of the LORD.” (v. 1) 

The English versions all have “servants.” but that would be: “meshartei Hashem”. The Hebrew actually says: “ovdei Hashem” – literally, His “slaves”.

The translators were catering to modern societies, which have a problem with this word. Today, the consensus is that any kind of slave mentality is self-damaging. “Happiness only comes in being free.” It’s true that most slaves are not happy with their situation, even if they submit to their masters. But there’s no guarantee that freedom from slavery makes one happy… or free. 

We live in an age that equates freedom with autonomy (self-government). The French concept of Liberté, symbolized by the statue standing in New York’s harbor, carries the message that we are (or we ought to be) the only ones who decide our destiny. To be free, we must resist submission to any higher power – human or divine, take control of our life, and be accountable only to ourselves. A famous saying is that we should be “the master of our fate and the captain of our souls.”

The idea sounds lofty and inviting, but it doesn’t work very well. 

It’s more like a little boy who is given a helium balloon. Older people smile at his happiness. But they know from experience that he will not keep the balloon, or the happiness it brought, for long. What he thinks of as his possession is not really under his control. For the moment, he enjoys making the balloon bob on its string and follow him. But the wind can interfere without his permission, pulling the balloon in a different direction, knocking it against a rough surface, causing it to burst. It can suddenly pop, or slowly deflate, for no visible reason at all. In fact, it’s the balloon that is really in control. The owner cannot relax and expect the toy to obediently follow him. If he loosens his grip on the string for even one second, it will escape into the sky and leave him behind, crying with helpless anger or misery. 

Our control of life’s circumstances is just as fragile, unpredictable and deceptive. Yet autonomy means that I must at all costs keep control of my “balloon” – or pretend to – because I have declared myself “master” of my unknowable fate, and “captain” of my unmanageable soul. 

The declaration seems justified as long as life is going as planned. I gladly take all the credit for my “self-made” success. But what happens when (not if) I lose control of my circumstances? When things go horribly wrong, do I take all the blame for my “self-made” failure? More often than not, I will blame GOD for “doing this to me” or “for allowing bad things to happen” in general.

Let’s be reasonable. If we declare “freedom” from the Creator as our “right to be autonomous”, we cannot complain when disaster strikes and we find ourselves alone. If we expect the Creator to take the responsibility to care for us as He promises to do, we must regard ourselves as His possession. 

As strange as it may seem, by becoming the slaves of the Creator, we are the freest people in the world. At Passover especially, I recognize this and rejoice. Just think… I could have been a slave to Pharoah in Egypt – or to some other spiritual bully, who would use me as a cog in his matrix, and then throw me away when I had no more to give. Instead, I belong to One whose goal is to care for me, protect me, and use life’s circumstances to make me into the person I was meant to be. He who has “declared the end from the beginning” (Isa. 46:10), and who “made the depths of the sea a pathway for the redeemed to cross over” (Isa. 51:10), is certainly qualified to be Master of my fate. Since He knows what I am about to say before I know it myself (Ps. 139:4), He is a far better Captain of my soul than I could ever be.

At Passover, all the symbols on the table were chosen to make us remember where we came from, and where we are going. We were brought out of the darkness of Egyptian bondage into the light of the Creator’s liberating ownership, a message to be transferred to all generations. “And you shall tell your son on that day, saying, ‘It is because of what the LORD did for me when I came out of Egypt.’” (Exod. 13:8) For that reason, we have four cups of wine, one for each of the Holy One’s promises (Exod. 6:6-7). We lean to the side while drinking them, a custom in ancient times that was permitted to free people but forbidden to slaves. The Passover Haggadah (the ceremonial “telling” of our liberation) has the youngest person present asking four traditional questions, which is the same question in different words: Why is this night different from all other nights?

The answer takes up many pages, beginning with, “We were slaves to Pharoah in Egypt…” and recounts all the Creator’s great acts in freeing us. The story includes the ten miraculous plagues, and the parting of the sea on the seventh day – the greatest miracle of them all. Just when it seemed that Pharoah had trapped his runaway slaves with no way out, the Holy One opened the sea, took them safely through on dry ground, and then sprang His own trap – drowning their pursuers by closing the sea on them. Some see this crossing as a final shedding of the slave mentality, for Moses told them: “Stand by and see the salvation of the LORD, which He will perform for you today; for the way you saw the Egyptians today, you will never see them again, forever.” (Exod. 14:13, the literal Hebrew). 

The parting of the Jordan River to allow the people into the Promised Land was considered a parallel crossing (Josh. 4:20-24), this time shedding the homeless mentality. At the first camp in their homeland, Israel celebrated the Passover as one “nation” (Josh. 5:8-10). It was quite a contrast with the first Passover, which was eaten quickly as separate families, with shoes on and walking staff in hand (Exod. 12:4-11), waiting for the command to leave. And since that first Passover in the Land, the generations of this nation living elsewhere have recognized that Passover could not be fully joyful away from our Home. The Haggadah ends the ceremony with: “Next year in Jerusalem!”

Celebrating Passover in the Land, with no time pressure and no enemy chasing us, we obey the Master’s command to leave our work and declare a holiday, so that we can ponder the gap between being slaves of Pharoah, and being slaves of the Creator. Whereas our ancestors cried from the cruelty of their bondage, for us who are free it takes a mouthful of bitter herbs (usually horseradish) to bring the tears. Whereas our forefathers ate the Passover standing up, ready to go out the door, we lean on the shoulder of the person next to us and sing, “How good and pleasant for brothers to dwell together!” (Ps. 133:1)

The Haggadah story continues by mentioning highlights from forty years under our Master’s protection: meeting the GOD of all the earth at Mount Sinai, receiving the Torah, eating bread from heaven called manna, enjoying Shabbat rest as an inheritance. The telling reaches a climax by reciting Psalm 113: “Halleluyah – Praise the Eternal. Praise Him, Slaves of the Eternal!” 

One of the most interesting symbols in the Haggadah is an ancient custom involving a group of three matzahs in the center of the table. These are covered in a special sack that keeps them together, but with each matzah in a separate pocket. The middle one is taken out and broken in half; one half is returned to the sack, and the other is wrapped in a napkin and set aside. Every child fastens his or her eyes on that napkin – because during the coming meal the head of the house will sneak away and hide it somewhere, and the child who finds it will win a prize. Oddly, the Haggadah, which explains the meaning of every other symbol in great detail, is silent about this procedure, only naming the action: Tzafun (“hidden”); and the hidden object: Afikoman (not even a Hebrew word, which is the focus of much debate). Also odd is the rabbinic requirement that the Afikoman be hidden and recovered, even if no children are present… which defeats the explanation that this is only a game to keep the kids interested. The riddle of the Afikoman is a favorite topic at many Israeli Passover tables.

The ceremony of the Passover Seder is designed to link past and present generations in a living chain. We are all supposed to see ourselves coming out of Egypt, a place of forced servitude, into the kingdom of the Creator, a place of freedom to serve Him. The people of Israel need this reminder. Sadly, our history is filled with shameful memory lapses concerning who we are. 

Isaiah called out (Isa. 2:5), “Come, house of Jacob, and let’s walk in the light of the LORD.” The next verse is often translated: “For You [i.e., the LORD] have abandoned Your people, the house of Jacob.” But the more logical reading is: “For you have abandoned your people, house of Jacob.” Indeed, it was the people who had cut themselves off from “the nation whose GOD is the LORD” (Ps. 33:12). Isaiah then tells how it happened: “Because they are filled with influences from the east… Their land has also been filled with idols. They worship the work of their hands, that which their fingers have made.” (Isa. 2:6-8) 

How different from the Exodus days! Through Jeremiah, the Creator laments: “I remember regarding you the devotion of your youth, your love when you were a bride, following after Me in the wilderness through a land not shown…. (Jer. 2:2) In remembering, the Creator graciously skips over His bride’s unfaithfulness in the wilderness: the complaints, rebellious actions, even idolatry. His lament focuses on the people’s return to the empty life of an Egyptian slave by refusing to serve Him: 

“What injustice did your fathers find in Me, that they went far from Me, and walked after emptiness and became empty? They did not say, ‘Where is the LORD, who brought us up out of the land of Egypt?’ …Have you not done this to yourself by your abandoning the LORD your GOD when He led you in the way? But now what are you doing on the road to Egypt, except to drink the waters of the Nile?... For long ago I broke your yoke and tore off your restraints; but you said, ‘I will not serve!’” (v. 5-6, 18-20)

What kind of slave master would plead with his rebellious slaves? Only One who has adopted them as family and loves them: “‘Return, you faithless sons,’ declares the LORD, ‘for I am a master to you; and I will take you, one from a city and two from a family, and bring you to Zion.’” (Jer. 3:14) This hints that being rescued from that empty “road to Egypt,” and brought back to the Creator’s service, will be an individual experience based on personal repentance.

As we in Israel celebrate the seven days of the Festival by eating unleavened bread, we have the privilege of going up to Zion, the city of our GOD, where we can meet with the Creator and with one another as His Family. We remember how our ancestors suffered as slaves under men, and were brought out from that “house of bondage” by a loving Master and Father, who is ours also. We gather to lean on one another, physically and spiritually. 

I pray that all of you will experience the encouragement and joy of being together, looking back into the past, looking forward into the future, and looking at one another with love and gratitude that you are not walking alone on this journey of faith. 

Be blessed by the Most High, from Zion and Jerusalem,

Mordechai ben Yakov

(Israel)