COVER ART BY MARTZI HIRSCH SHALHEVET CLASS
Welcome to Orot Shalhevet
RABBI DAVID BLOCK
in which we retell the story Yetzias Mitzrayim, is we invite the rest of the Jewish world to our Sedarim: “Anyone who is famished should come and eat!” e logistical challenge of extending this o er so late in the evening aside (a topic for another time), the generosity is unmistakable. And yet, the invitation ends on an oddly
- is year, we’re here; but next year, we’ll be in Israel. is year, we’re slaves; next year, we’ll be free.” At best, these words seem like a non-sequitur. At worst, they undercut the invitation entirely — as if we’re dissuading guests from coming. Join us, sure…but it won’t be that great. Next year will be better. What are we to make of this enigmatic conclusion to
Perhaps, as R’ Soloveitchik suggests, the answer lies in an otherwise unrelated Mishnah in Bava Metziah (7:1). R’ Yochanan ben Masya instructed his son to hire workers; the son went a step further and promised them a meal, too. But this generous o er posed a serious problem. His father objected, fearing that without specifying the type of meal, the workers could always claim they were owed more, no matter how lavishly they were fed. A er all, "שֶׁהֵן they are the children of Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. R’ Yochanan’s assumption is striking: a Jew’s inherent dignity is limitless, and without clear boundaries, nothing could justi ably be withheld.
As we invite guests to our Seder, a night in which we celebrate becoming Hashem’s people, we must remain keenly Mipninei HaRav (p. 108), suggests that, like R’ Yochanan ben Masya, we must be upfront with our guests: ey deserve everything, especially on this majestic night - but we are limited. e meal may be special, yet it will always fall short of what our guests truly deserve. And so, we name our imperfections: is year, we are still constrained. We are still “slaves,” not yet fully free, awaiting the time of Mashiach. But next year, we hope, we will be able to o er our guests the meal—and the
Nowhere is this truth more vivid than in our extraordinary school. Our faculty, students, and alumni are true —Bnei and Bnot Torah who uphold the legacy of Torah, mitzvot, menschlichkeit, and a , radiant lights, and their Torah ignites sparks of holiness. Together, we are privileged to kindle a dazzling Shalhevet ( ame) that not only illuminates our own community
Wherever you are for the chagim, take Orot Shalhevet with you and share the kedusha with others. It is my bracha that the varied voices of our faculty, students, and alumni infuse our holidays with meaning, and the stunning (beauti cation of the Torah within). May the words of Torah stir us, until our hearts our kindled with the sparks of the ame (Shalhevet) of
RABBI GABE FALK
INCOMPLETE REDEMPTION
CLASS OF 2026
LERNER
A COVENANT OF LOVE AND AWE: UNDERSTANDING BRIT MILAH AND KORBAN PESACH
7 RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN
REMEMBERING THE EXODUS – 24/7
CLASS OF 2027
11 ARI EISEN
FREEDOM AND RESPONSIBILITY: THE CHALLENGE OF YETZIAT MITZRAYIM 13
CLASS OF 2026
MARTZI HIRSCH
REMEMBERING YETZIAT MITZRAYIM: MORE THAN JUST A STORY
DR. SHEILA TULLER KEITER
FROGS HERE, FROGS THERE…
thank you
CLASS OF 2028
19 KAITLIN SMITH
VEHI SHE’AMDA: A SONG OF SURVIVAL AND HOPE
CLASS OF 2024
21 GABE FOGEL
THE MEANING OF TRUE FREEDOM
23 RABBI DAVID STEIN
SUKKOT: THE JOURNEY INWARD
CLASS OF 2024
25 KIRA KUPFERMAN
FAMILY AS A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM
CLASS OF 2026
27 SOPHIE KATZ
HALLEL OF THE SEDER: STRUCTURED PRAISE OR SPONTANEOUS SONG?
29 RABBI ELI BRONER
SEUDAT MOSHIACH: LIVING GEULAH EVERY DAY
TO DR. JACKIE AND OMRI DAHAN FOR SPONSORING THIS EDITION OF OROT SHALHEVET IN HONOR OF THE SHALHEVET COMMUNITY AND THANK YOU TO THE FOLLOWING SUPPORTERS WHO HAVE ALSO GENEROUSLY SPONSORED. WE ARE GRATEFUL TO THEM FOR HELPING TO PROMOTE THE SPREAD OF MEANINGFUL TORAH LEARNING AND SPIRITUAL GROWTH IN OUR COMMUNITY. PLEASE ENJOY THE TORAH YOU WILL FIND WITHIN IN THEIR MERIT.
KAREN & AVI ASHKENAZI
NEIL & MAYA COHEN
ELISA & BRADFORD DELSON
HIRSCH FAMILY
BATSHEVA AND SHELDON KASDAN
GAIL KATZ & MAYER BICK
SIMONE & JASON KBOUDI
STACY & RANON KENT
ORTAL & AMITAI KLYMAN
LISA & GARY LAINER
DR. ROBIN SCHAFFRAN & RONNIE EISEN
ROSETTE AND BARRY SCHAPIRA
NAOMI & R. ARI SCHWARZBERG
DR. TAALY & ADAM SILBERSTEIN
LESLEE & ALEX SZTUDEN
SHANNON & JUSTIN WEISSMAN
Director of Torat Shalhevet & Limudei Kodesh Faculty
RABBI GABE FALK
RABBI GABE FALK IS THE DIRECTOR OF TORAT SHALHEVET AND A LIMUDEI KODESH TEACHER. HE LEARNED IN YESHIVAT HAR ETZION AND RECEIVED SEMICHA FROM YESHIVA UNIVERSITY. HE HOLDS A B.A. FROM COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, IS WORKING TOWARDS AN M.A. IN JEWISH HISTORY FROM REVEL, AND WAS A WEXNER GRADUATE FELLOW. BEFORE JOINING SHALHEVET, RABBI FALK SERVED AS THE ASSISTANT RABBI AT GREEN ROADS SYNAGOGUE AND TAUGHT AT FUCHS MIZRAHI SCHOOL IN CLEVELAND, OH.
INCOMPLETE REDEMPTION
One of the most striking aspects of the Halakhic system is how profound meaning o en hides beneath the surface of seemingly technical debates, waiting to be uncovered. In this year’s 9th grade Advanced Gemara shiur, we encountered a Gemara in Masechet Pesachim which, if understood properly, speaks directly to the present moment in Jewish history and to the experience of the Pesach Seder in the year 5785.
e Gemara in the last chapter of the Masechet, Arvei Pesachim (Pesachim 108a), discusses the details of heseiba, the halacha that requires us to lean at critical points in the Seder. e reason for heseiba, explains the Rambam, is to physically express our cheirut (freedom) in a ful llment of the dictum םירצממ
– a person must display himself as if he le Mitzrayim. On the seder night, we are asked to reexperience the euphoria of the moment of liberation that Bnei Yisrael felt during Yetziat Mitzrayim.
Surprisingly, the Gemara then presents a cohort of individuals who might be exempt from heseiba if their personal sense of cheirut is curtailed. is includes a woman in the presence of her husband, a student in the presence of his Rebbe, a son in the presence of his father, or a butler in the presence of his master. While each of these relationships raises questions – especially the assumptions about marriage – the operating principle behind the cohort of these cases raises a more fundamental question. If the Seder is about re-experiencing and/or reenacting the historical geula, why should the current state of the individual a ect one’s obligation of heseiba? And, mimah nafshach (however you look at it), once we are accounting for the individual’s present sense of liberty with regards to heseiba, why not extend the petur (exemption) to all freedom related mitzvot at the Seder, such as the arba kosot and matza? If one doesn’t have personal liberty, can they celebrate Pesach at all?
I believe the tension raised by this Gemara speaks to the heart of the Seder experience. We know, of course, that Pesach celebrates redemption: the physical, national and spiritual journey from avdut (servitude) to cheirut (freedom). e two states at each end of this dialectic are powerful in their extremes. In Mitzrayim, Bnei Yisrael experienced physical bondage in its most raw and visceral form. e nal state of redemption is similarly recognizable: Jewish national and spiritual autonomy in the Promised Land.
However, over the millennia of Jewish exile, Am Yisrael has experienced an entire spectrum of redemptive states between the two extremes of avdut and cheirut. Life in galut has taken on many di erent expressions – from golden periods of great religious freedom to dark moments that threatened our very existence. Each generation has experienced a di erent point on the vector between avdut and cheirut – and, brilliantly, the Haggadah speaks to each of those moments.
In its description of the journey from avdut to cheirut, the Haggadah invites us to ask: where do I fall? Does my present freedom align with Bnei Yisrael’s post-exodus cheirut? Or is there a dissonance between the darkness of the current moment and the jubilant tone of Hallel? One can easily appreciate the di erence between the 1943 Seder of Jews hiding in the Warsaw Ghetto and the 1968 Seder of Jews in the newly liberated Old City of Jerusalem.
e halachot of heseiba elegantly strike this balance: heseiba re ects the present moment while the arba kosot represent
the historical Exodus. At times, the present and past are aligned, and so we drink the arba kosot while doing heseiba. At other times, they diverge, and we commemorate Hashem’s past redemption while ourselves feeling unredeemed. In those moments, we might drink the four kosot without heseiba and pray for a future redemption.
e text of the bracha on the second cup of wine a er Maggid also captures the multilayered meaning of Leil HaSeder. ree stages of history are presented in this bracha – past, present and future: We rst express hoda’ah (gratitude) for the historical geula from Mitzrayim: “םירצממ
We then turn to the present moment and thank Hashem for the Seder itself: רורמו
. And then the bracha pivots sharply toward the future with a stirring te lla for a future redemption:
םילגרלו
At each moment in history, we acknowledge that our geula is incomplete. And in each of those moments, the Seder captures the complexity of our experience: we give Hallel for our past redemption, we are grateful for the present moment, and we yearn with all our hearts to see the המלש הלואג – a complete redemption.
is year, Am Yisrael has experienced both unbearable moments of דובעש and soaring moments of הלואג. Although our geula is still incomplete, we hope that what we have recently experienced has brought us meaningfully closer to our ultimate goal. B’ezrat Hashem, may we merit to speedily see the tzemicha (sprouting) of a complete and nal הלואג.
ETAN LERNER Class of 2026
ETAN LERNER '26 IS A MEMBER OF SHALHEVET'S BEIT MIDRASH TRACK (BMT). HE IS THE EDITOR OF NITZOTZEI TORAH, SHALHEVET'S STUDENT TORAH PUBLICATION, A MEMBER OF THE ROBOTICS TEAM AND HEAD OF THE PHILOSOPHY CLUB.
A Covenant of Love and Awe: UNDERSTANDING BRIT MILAH AND KORBAN PESACH
While Mitzvot in the Torah are classi ed into both positive (Mitzvot asei) and negative Mitzvot (Mitzvot lo ta’asei), the punishments mentioned in the Torah for not observing particular Mitzvot almost always pertain to Mitzvot lo ta’asei. ere are two main exceptions to this principle: Brit Milah and Korban Pesach, both of which are positive Mitzvot and yet incur a severe punishment if they are not ful lled. Understanding the similarities and di erences between these two Mitzvot will help us understand the nature of each, and possibly also our relationship with Hashem.
e Mitzvah of Brit Milah is rst given to Avraham in Bereshit 17, a er his name is changed from Avram to Avraham. He is told to circumcise himself and ensure that his future o spring are circumcised as well, as a sign of the eternal covenant with God. e Torah adds that members of Avraham’s household were also required to be circumcised, and concludes by describing the punishment for those who do not:
, “that soul will be cut o [nichreta] from its nation, he has broken My covenant.” is punishment, described as Kareit, is understood by the Sages as mita b’yedei shamayim, heavenly death. e Mitzvah of Brit Milah is also repeated later in the Torah, in Parshat Tazria, which discusses a woman’s purity a er giving birth.
e Mitzvah of Korban Pesach appears in Shemot 12, where Bnei Yisrael are instructed to slaughter the Korban Pesach and apply its blood to their doorposts. Here too, the non-Israelite members of the community are included in the mitzvah (12:48). Although the Torah here does not list the punishment for failing to o er the Korban Pesach, it does mention in Bamidbar (9:13) that anyone who fails to properly observe the laws of Korban Pesach is punished with Kareit. ese Mitzvot have signi cant similarities to explore. ey both represent our perpetual covenant with Hashem and are punishable with Kareit. Interestingly, both Mitzvot include speci c clauses obligating non-Hebrews in the orbit of the Mitzvah. Both of these Mitzvot are also explicit recollections of something: in the case of Brit Milah, the circumcision is a symbol of the everlasting covenant between Hashem and Avraham, while the Korban Pesach directly memorializes Hashem’s unshakable dominance over the world and unlimited power in tandem with Makkat Bechorot.
ere are, however, several signi cant di erences as well between the two. e most glaring di erence between the Mitzvot is when and to whom they were given. As mentioned, Brit Milah was given to Avraham at the original covenant of Brit Bein Habetarim, while Korban Pesach was instructed by Hashem to the Israelites just before their departure from Egypt.
Rav Soloveitchik strengthens the connection between the Mitzvot of Brit Milah and Korban Pesach. He explains that the Korban Pesach functions as a restoration of the original covenant established with Avraham, using the same principles. Korban Pesach, like Brit Milah, represents our unshakable faith in Hashem as a required step to be part of Bnei Yisrael. Just like those who would have rejected Milah and the opportunity to perfect themselves could not be included in the covenant with God (see Moreh Nevuchim 3:49), so, too, anyone who did not partake in the Korban Pesach would not be able to become a part of Hashem’s chosen nation.
I’d like to add to Rav Soloveitchik’s point here. ese two Mitzvot may have a similar purpose, and the Korban Pesach may indeed act as a renewal of the Brit with Avraham in many ways. But while Korban Pesach reinforces the covenant of Brit Milah, its signi cance may extend beyond merely renewing that original bond. If that were the sole purpose, why would circumcision remain obligatory? And why would the Halachot of Korban Pesach emphasize that only the circumcised may partake? Furthermore, according to the Midrash Lekach Tov, when Bnei Yisrael learned that they needed to be circumcised to take part in the Korban Pesach, many of them, who had previously neglected the Mitzvah in order to become more Egyptian, circumcised themselves so they could eat from the Korban Pesach and merit God’s protection. Clearly, Korban Pesach does not render Brit Milah obsolete. Instead, these two Mitzvot together shape our Yiddishkeit and connection to Hashem. How does this work?
In Shemot 12:13, Hashem declares that the blood on the doorposts will serve as a sign to pass over the houses. Notably, the word blood is repeated twice here: , “And the blood will be for you for a sign upon the houses where you will be, and I will see the blood and skip over you.” Noting this repetition, the Midrash Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer explains that Bnei Yisrael placed both the blood of the Korban Pesach and the blood of Brit Milah on the doorposts, which aroused Hashem’s compassion for them. According to the Midrash, it was only on account of both signs of our ultimate faith in Hashem that Bnei Yisrael merited salvation.
Perhaps the two Mitzvot represent two distinct, but complementary, aspects of our relationship with Hashem. e Brit that Hashem made with Avraham revolved around him and was a more individual one, with his family dramatically in uenced by the Brit. Indeed, Avraham’s love for Hashem and his willingness to serve Him was so strong that he almost sacri ced his own son to prove his faith. Avraham (and the other Avot) were hand-picked by Hashem to ful ll a particular mission in the world and had near-direct access to Him.
A er the death of Yaakov and his twelve sons, much of this changed. Bnei Yisrael no longer had a Patriarch or central gure to reveal to them the will of Hashem. Instead, each Israelite who wanted to remain true to his tradition secretly observed aspects of the covenant, such as Brit Milah, while subjugated by their Egyptian overlords. Later in the narrative, Hashem began to show his dominance over the Egyptians and prepared to take the Jews out of Egypt. At this point, when Bnei Yisrael were commanded to bring the Korban Pesach, their relationship with Hashem was one based on the recognition of His utter supremacy over the Egyptians and the entire world – in other words, a relationship based on logic and awe of His deed, as opposed to a personal connection of love.
e foundation of our Yiddishkeit is a mixture of both kinds of blood, representing both aspects of our relationship with Hakadosh Baruch Hu. On the one hand, we have Ahava (love) – our personal connection with Hashem, our understanding of His compassion for us, and our role in the world as an eved Hashem. is status is the one maintained by Avraham. But on the other hand, our relationship with Hashem needs to contain Yira – awesome fear of our eeting power and the Ribono Shel Olam’s ultimate and boundless power over all of His creations, as re ected by the Jews when bringing the Korban Pesach as they prepared to leave Egypt. is understanding is what requires and shapes aspects of our Halakhic observance and o en nulli es or disregards our own emotions or reservations. How we blend both components shapes our relationship with Hashem in tremendous ways.
In his book By His Light, in an essay about the Talmudic topic of gadol metzuveh ve’oseh mimi sheeino metzuveh ve’oseh, Rav Aharon Lichtenstein explained that “being commanded entails both an experience of divine encounter as well as speci c mandates that one must ful ll.” As Jews, we have to balance ful lling Hashem’s will with a perpetual sense of Hashem’s presence in the world. To contextualize this ideal, we cannot only daven when we feel like doing so, but need to daven three times a day every day. Yet, at the same time, we cannot simply be saying the words, but should strive to communicate with Hashem. Neither extreme can take over the other – we cannot decide to only daven at certain times, but we also cannot view our davening as a simple recitation of words. e resolution of the tension between our identities as Ovdei Hashem – who are perpetually aware of and connected to Hashem’s presence in the world – and as individuals who guide our lives according to the rigid Halakhic codes of our Sinai Covenant, lies in the proper balance of Ahava and Yira. Brit Milah, symbolized by the blood of Ahava, and Korban Pesach, symbolized by the blood of Yira, when combined, elevate us toward the ultimate level of our relationship with Hashem. is represents the lo y ideal that we all strive to reach.
RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN Limudei Kodesh Faculty
RABBI ABRAHAM LIEBERMAN IS A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH FACULTY AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. HE PREVIOUSLY SERVED AS THE HEAD OF SCHOOL AT YULA GIRLS HIGH SCHOOL. RABBI LIEBERMAN LEARNED AT YESHIVA UNIVERSITY AND RECIEVED SEMIKHA FROM EMEK HALAKHA IN BROOKLYN. HE RECIEVED HIS M.A. IN JEWISH HISTORY FROM THE BERNARD REVEL GRADUATE SCHOOL (YU), WHERE HE IS CURRENTLY WORKING TOWARDS HIS DOCTORATE.
Remembering the Exodus –24/7
e concept of םירצמ תאיצי תריכז, remembering the Exodus of the Jewish people from Egypt, is an overarching theme in Judaism. It is found numerous times across the spectrum of Tanach, mitzvot, Te llot, Chazal, Jewish philosophers, and Halacha. In His only direct introduction to the Jewish People (in the Aseret Ha-dibrot), Hashem identi es Himself as “the G-d who took you out of Egypt.” Let us examine this centrality in greater depth.
e rst explicit mention of remembering the Exodus appears in Shemot 13:3, where Moshe instructs the people: “
םויה תא רוכז – Remember this day on which you le Egypt.” Rashi (1040-1105) comments: “םוי לכב םירצמ תאיצי ןיריכזמש דמיל - is teaches that one must make mention of the Exodus from Egypt every day.” Netziv (Rabbi Na ali Zvi Yehuda Berlin, 1816-1893) echoes this, writing that Hashem commands us here to remember the day of the Exodus eternally (Ha’amek Davar, ibid.).
e Gemara con rms that this mitzvah of remembering the Exodus daily is biblical. It inquires whether, if one is uncertain if he did or did not recite the paragraph of ביציו תמא (recited right before the Shacharit Amidah), he should say it or not. e Gemara answers that he should indeed recite the prayer because אתיירואד ביציו תמא, the prayer is Biblically mandated. Rashi explains: ״םירצמ
– Because it contains the mention of the Exodus from Egypt, which is mandated by the Torah, as it is written (Devarim 16:3), ‘that you may remember the day when you came forth out of the land of Egypt’ (all the days of your life).”
e second verse mentioned by Rashi forms the basis of a dispute between Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah and the Sages (Mishnah, Berachot 12b), which we recite in the Hagadah each year. Should we remember the Exodus daily only during the day or also at night? Rashi explains that this debate concerns whether we should recite the third paragraph of Shema, the Parashah of Tzizit, in Arvit. Although the mitzvah of Tzitzit does not apply at night, perhaps the passage should still be recited, since the paragraph also mentions the Exodus from Egypt. Today, we follow the practice of remembering the Exodus both during the day and at night (Rambam, Hilchot Keriat Shema 1:3).
Remembering the Exodus is not only a Torah commandment but also a recurring theme in Tanach. It appears in almost every book, from Yehoshua to Yechezkel, as well as in many of the minor prophets. It also appears in many Mizmorim of Tehillim (see Tehillim 78, 81, 105, 106, 114-118, 135, and 146) and in Daniel, Nechemyah and Divrey Ha-Yamim. e Torah does not always explain the reasoning behind every mitzvah. Yet, םירצמ תאיצי תריכז is cited as the basis for numerous mitzvot. Of course, this includes all the obvious ones that relate to observing Pesach, including Korban Pesach, Matza, not eating Chometz, Sipur, and the telling of the story of the Exodus. But the Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 21) enumerates sixteen Mitzvot related to םירצמ תאיצי, and in truth, there are least twenty-one:
1. Belief in Hashem ( rst of the 10 Dibrot)
2. Honesty in weights and measures (Vayikra 19:35-36)
3. Not consuming insects (Vayikra 11:43-44)
4. Te llin (Shemot 13:9,16)
5. Redeeming rst born son and rst born animal (Shemot 13:12-14)
6. Not desecrating Hashem’s name (Vayikra 22:32-33)
7. Shabbat (Devarim 5:15)
8. Succot (Vayikra 23:42-43)
9. Not charging interest (Vayikra 25:37-38)
10. Tzitzit (Bamidbar 15:38-41)
11. e imparting of impurity of a Neveilah, a dead animal (Vayikra 11:45)
12. Hebrew slaves going free in Yovel, the 50th year of the Shemitah cycle (Vayikra 24:55)
13. Provisions to be given to a Hebrew Slave as he is freed a er 6 years of labor (Devarim 15:14-15)
14. - 17. Loving (stated twice) the convert, treating him with justice, and not taunting him (Shemot 22:20, 23:9, Vayikra 19:34, Devarim 10:19)
18. Treating a widow, orphan, and convert with justice (Devarim 24:18)
19. Korban Tamid, sancti cation of the Mizbeach and of Kohanim (Shemot 29:46)
20. e respectful way in which a slave must be sold (Vayikra 25:42)
21. Leaving produce in one’s vineyard for the widow and convert (Devarim 24:22)
From just a super cial glance at these mitzvot, one can see that they span the gamut between positive and negative mitzvot and between commandments bein adam lachaveiro (man to man) and bein adam laMakom (man and G-d). In addition, they range from a heightened sense of monetary honesty, morality, and sensitivity for a widow and a convert to the spiritual level of Shabbat and Chagim. In fact, Rabbi Yosef Caro (1488-1575) in the Shulchan Aruch (Choshen Mishpat 231:19) states:
e punishment (for cheating) on weights and measurements is extremely severe, as it is impossible to repent properly on such o enses and such a person denies the Exodus from Egypt” (see Bava Metzia 61b). e mitzvah to remember the Exodus also appears in our Te llot. As we mentioned earlier, it appears in the prayer of ביציו תמא in Shacharit and הנומאו תמא in Arvit, both a er the recital of the third paragraph of Shema and as a lead-in to the Amidah. It is also central to the Friday night Kiddush, where we declare that Shabbat is both תישארב השעמל רכז and םירצמ תאיציל רכז. e Talmud (Pesachim 117b) explains that the source for mentioning the Exodus in Kiddush is a gezeirah shavah, one of the 13 rules of deriving Halachah from verses by comparing similar or identical words in two di erent verses and deriving a law. It explains that the word רכז is mentioned regarding Shabbat in the Ten Commandments, as well as in the mitzvah of םירצמ תאיצי תריכז, indicating that the Exodus should be mentioned in Kiddush as well. Interestingly, when I ask students, “are you familiar with phrase: םירצמ תאיציל רכז,” they all reference the Friday night Kiddush as the source for this phrase.
e Meiri (1249-1315) in his commentary (ibid.) explains the importance of adding this phrase similarly to the Ramban quoted earlier, to remind us of Hashem’s powers and uniqueness. e Chofetz Chaim (Biur Halacha, O.C. 271) rules (against many other Halachic authorities) that if one omitted the phrase םירצמ תאיציל רכז from Kiddush, he must repeat it. Rashbam (Rashi’s grandson, 1085-1158) in his commentary on Pesachim (ibid.), points out that the phrase תאיציל רכז םירצמ should be said not only in Kiddush on Shabbat and Yom Tov, but also in the Shabbat and Yom Tov prayers. Indeed, it is mentioned by some other Rishonim concerning Shabbat (Kol Bo, siman 35; Orchot Chaim of R. Aharon of Lunil, Erev Shabbat 13), in the following section of the Shacharit Amidah: רכזו
תאיציל - “Most precious of days, You called it, as a remembrance of Creation, and as a remembrance for the exodus from Egypt.” Today, for a reason that I am not certain, we only nd it in the Te llot of Yom Tov, but not of Shabbat. e Talmud (Berachot 48a) requires us to thank Hashem for a number of important ideas in the second beracha of Birkat Ha-Mazon, known as Birkat Ha-aretz: 1. e Land of Israel 2. e Torah 3. Our very lives 4. e Mitzvah of Brit Milah 5. Food to sustain ourselves. e Talmud does not mention including the Exodus in this beracha, yet, in all of our versions (except the earliest Siddurim of Rav Amram Gaon (810-875) and Rav Saadia Gaon (882-942)), we also nd an expression of gratitude that Hashem has taken us out of Egypt. I do not have an answer for how, when, and by whom it was added, but I invite the reader to investigate and let me know.
From what we have seen, clearly, the concept of םירצמ תאיצי תריכז is a powerful, multi-functional mitzvah, that is supposed to constantly permeate our minds and direct us constantly. What is the reason why remembering the Exodus is so crucial?
e Ramban (1194-1270) in a number of places (e.g., Shemot 13:16; Sefer Ha-Mitzvot, Negative Mitzvot 1; Derashat
Torat Hashem Temimah, Chavel ed., pp.150-154) writes that םירצמ תאיצי תריכז is a catalyst, designed to remind us constantly in every facet of life of the essential belief of the singularity of Hashem, that He is Omniscient, and that His Providence extends over the world. is idea of Ramban is used and developed by many Rishonim (e.g., Rashba, Perushei HaHagadot, Berachot 12b).
Rabbi Soloveitchik, among others, o ers an additional dimension to the mitzvah:
“My grandfather also said that the entire mitzva of ״םירצמ תאיצי תריכז״ does not constitute an independent ful llment of an obligation. Rather, its basic essence is a ful llment of the acceptance of the ohl malchut shamayim. is constitutes a speci c law regarding the acceptance of the yoke of His Kingship, which must take place also through the recollection of yetzi'at Mitzrayim.” (Shiurim Le-zekher Abba Mari, vol. 1, p.1)
Rabbi Soloveitchik is suggesting based on his grandfather, R. Chaim Soloveitchik, that with each mitzvah we ful ll, we must recollect the initial inception of our relationship with Hashem through the act of yetziat Mitzrayim and acknowledge that we are His servants.
Let us conclude by noting that the reason given in the Shema for the Exodus from Egypt is for Hashem to be our Master: ״םכיקלא
I am the Lord your G-d, who took you out of the land of Egypt, to be your G-d; I am the Lord your G-d” (Bamidbar 15:41). From this vantage point, there is a natural ow from the exodus to Mitzvot and to our Covenant as a People, and remembering this event brings clari cation and commitment. Maharal (1512-1609) writes (Gevurot Hashem, ch.3) that
remembrance that Hashem has taken us out of Egypt is the foundation of our entire faith. Based on all we have seen, I would suggest that we try our best to remember this idea of yetziat Mitzrayim constantly. It will give us clarity and focus in our daily lives, and through our internalization of Hashem’s redemption of the Jews from Egypt, we will hopefully merit the future redemption as well.
ARI EISENClass of 2027
ARI EISEN IS A SOPHOMORE AT SHALHEVET HIGH SCHOOL. SHE IS ON THE FLAG FOOTBALL AND MODEL CONGRESS TEAMS AND VOLUNTEERS AT ISHINE.
Freedom and Responsibility: THE CHALLENGE OF YETZIAT MITZRAYIM
Pesach is the holiday of תוריח (freedom), a time when we celebrate the redemption of Bnei Yisroel from centuries of harsh slavery. Every year, we are reminded: “ ” “And the Egyptians embittered their lives.” Pharaoh subjected Bnei Yisroel to harsh labor while also murdering them and crushing their neshamot (souls). For over two centuries, they su ered oppression and despair, crying out to Hashem to save them. Yet, astonishingly, a er Hashem freed them, they began longing for Egypt. For example, in Sefer Bamidbar, they complained as follows:
e ri ra in their midst felt a gluttonous craving; and then the Israelites also wept and said, “If only we had meat to eat! We remember the sh that we used to eat free in Egypt, the cucumbers, the melons, the onions, and the garlic. Now our gullets are shriveled. ere is nothing at all! Nothing but this manna to look to!”
How could they desire to return to the land of their su ering? Was slavery so easy that they missed it? Or was something deeper happening? Rashi helps answer this question. Rashi questions how the sh they had in Mitzrayim could have been “free” if they were not even given straw to build the bricks with. He explains that " " (for free) does not mean free of charge, but free from mitzvot: " ." Even though Mitzrayim was a place of pain, it required nothing of the Jewish people spiritually. ey had no Torah, no obligations, just survival. Now, in the desert, a er having received the Torah, they were responsible for mitzvot, for trust in Hashem, and for shaping a new identity for themselves. e burden of responsibility felt overwhelming, and they longed for the “freedom” of slavery where, ironically, they were not free at all.
Nechama Leibowitz adds depth to this idea, explaining that human nature makes the past look better than it really is. When people struggle, they don’t always remember the su ering; they remember the comforts. Slavery was oppressive, but it was predictable. Freedom, by contrast, was uncertain and frightening. Bnei Yisroel weren’t really yearning for sh and cucumbers; their complaints about food were just a cover-up, concealing what they actually missed. ey longed for the security of their old lives, even if that meant living as a slave. Freedom for them meant stepping into the unknown, relying completely on Hashem, and taking responsibility for their future. at was a much harder idea than the hardship they actually knew of in Egypt. is is why their complaints were irrational. It wasn’t about food, it was about the discomfort of responsibility. Slavery, as terrible as it was, provided structure. Freedom demanded discipline, faith, and growth – all of which require courage and resilience, and all of which are necessary to live a meaningful life. is struggle between slavery and freedom lies at the heart of the holiday of Pesach. Yetziat Mitzrayim was not just about leaving Egypt; it was about embracing a bigger goal and higher purpose. Hashem did not free us just to escape slavery and wander in the wilderness. Rather, He freed us to receive the Torah and become His chosen people. During Pesach, we eat Matzah, which is known both as “lechem oni” (bread of a iction) and the bread of redemption, since the Jewish
MARTZI HIRSCH Class of 2026
MARTZI HIRSCH '26 IS A MEMBER OF SHALHEVET'S BEIT MIDRASH TRACK (BMT) AND THE CO-FOUNDER OF THE HAWK'S NEST PUBLICATION.
Remembering Yetziat Mitzrayim:
MORE THAN JUST A STORY
e six daily remembrances (תוריכז שש), commonly said a er praying in the morning, are some of the Jewish people’s most signi cant historical events, which the Torah tells us to remember every day. In nearly all of these instances, the verse starts with the word “רוכז,” “remember.” One of the six remembrances is םירצמ תאיצי, the exodus from Egypt.
You shall not eat anything leavened with it; for seven days therea er you shall eat unleavened bread, the bread of poverty—for you departed from the land of Egypt hurriedly—so that you may remember the day of your departure from the land of Egypt all the days of your life.
Every day, we recall םירצמ תאיצי in the third paragraph (רמאיו) of עמש תאירק. Moreover, the words “ ךייח ימי לכ,” all the days of your life, teach us that we recount the exodus both during the day as well at night.
On Pesach, during the Seder, we also recount the story of םירצמ תאיצי at night. In fact, one of the key mitzvot of the Pesach Seder is to tell the story of the exodus in its entirety, “ ,” from sorrow to joy, and from mourning to celebration. Is the Pesach Seder merely a greater and much more glori ed םויק (ful llment) of the mitzva of םירצמ תאיצי תריכז in honor of the occasion, or is it an entirely separate בויח (obligation)?
Although some םישרפמ (commentators) hold that ׳׳׳ךייח ימי לכ׳׳ in fact refers to telling the story every year during Pesach (and does not mean literally that one must remember the story every day), most derive the mitzva of telling the story of םירצמ תאיצי at the Seder from a di erent pasuk “And you shall explain to your child on that day [Pesach], ‘It is because of what Hashem did for me when I went free from Egypt.’”
Having established that the mitzva of םירצמ תאיצי רופיס (telling the story of םירצמ תאיצי) at the Seder is apparently a separate mitzva from םירצמ תאיצי תריכז, we must understand the di erence between them.
Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik o ers the following explanations in the name of his grandfather, Rav Chaim Soloveitchik. He explains that while הריכז only requires a mere mention that Hashem took us out of slavery in Egypt, רופיס, as indicated by its name, relates to telling the story in greater detail, from the very beginning all the way to the end. Furthermore, some poskim (halakhic authorities) hold that one who merely reminds himself of the exodus without verbalizing it has ful lled his obligation of הריכז, while רופיס is about relating the story to others through question and answer, which is ful lled only a er explaining why we are commanded to eat the Passover Sacri ce, Matzah, and Marror.
Although these approaches explain the di erence between the mitzvot, we must still understand the necessity for both. Why do we need this separate mitzva of daily הריכז in the rst place? It would seem logical that telling the story of תאיצי םירצמ during Pesach itself would be su cient.
e Netziv (Rabbi Na ali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) o ers a suggestion of the relationship between הריכז and רופיס and why
both are necessary:
So that you may remember – [ is is] just like how a father tells a long story to his son that is an hour long of something that happened which has a [deeper] lesson behind it. Every day, he reminds [the son] with a brief recollection about the entire story, and every year he tells the story anew so that it is ingrained in his heart [again]. So, too, it is a mitzva to tell a long story [of םירצמ תאיצי] on this night, and each day a mere remembrance is su cient. (Ha’amek Davar, Devarim 16:3)
According to the Netziv, the annual mitzvah of רופיס provides us with the full inspirational experience where we tell the story of our departure from Egypt, while the daily mitzvah of הריכז serves as a brief reminder of the full experience, which ensures that we retain the message at all times.
However, to fully appreciate these two mitzvot, we must still understand their deeper signi cance. What is so special about the miracle of the exodus above all other תואלפנו םיסנ (miracles) that Hashem performed for us? Why does Hashem introduce Himself in the Aseret Hadibrot by saying, “I am Hashem your God, who brought you out of Egypt, from the house of slavery,” " " and not something like, רשא ׳ה ינא׳׳ “ץראו םימש תא ארב, “I am Hashem who created the land and sky?”
e Netziv addresses this as well in his commentary (ibid.). He explains that both תריכז and םירצמ תאיצי רופיס are especially relevant for the diaspora and for periods of our history when we do not see Hashem’s presence openly. When the nation dwelled in Eretz Yisrael, Bnei Yisrael’s livelihood was dependent on ץראה תדובע (agriculture), but nowadays, in the diaspora, Jewish life is entirely dependent upon Hashem’s divine intervention (תיטרפ החגשה). e exodus speci cally is a model for daily life in the diaspora, showing that, as ל׳׳זח say, םימש ידיב לכה (everything is in the hands of God). erefore, it is necessary that we merely remind ourselves each day that Hashem took us out of Egypt היוטנ
(with an outstretched hand).
e Netziv also suggests that recalling the exodus is designed to remember the ןוזפח (urgency) with which Bnei Yisrael le Egypt. We are commanded not only to recall the physical haste in which Bnei Yisrael le Egypt, but their state of complete dependence on Hashem’s providence at that time, where they had no natural preparations or security for the journey ahead. is, too, says the Netziv, is especially pertinent to our current state in the diaspora, when we depend entirely upon Hashem for our livelihood and sustenance.
Expanding on this idea, Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch views the exodus not just as an important historical event, but as a recurring reality that sustains Jewish existence and identity: “It is not this event as an isolated phenomenon of the past to whose historical remembrance or spring festival is dedicated every year. Rather, it is the recurring historical reality which sustains our present at every moment and forms the basis of every aspiration in the future.” Rav Hirsch explains further that recalling speci cally םירצמ תאיצי, the very rst redemption, achieves this goal, “because it is just this event which shows is God is our rescuer, God alone as our Redeemer.”
Rav Hirsch, like the Netziv, sees the mitzvot of רופיס and הריכז as a means of renewing our awareness of Hashem’s presence in our lives. However, he goes further by highlighting the philosophical implications: the exodus establishes the Jewish understanding of Hashem as the One who actively shapes history and redeems His people. In this sense, remembering the exodus is not merely about remembering past miracles, but about recognizing that Hashem remains involved in our lives today, guiding us toward our collective destiny.
Ultimately, both the Netziv and Rav Hirsch underscore that the mitzvah to remember the exodus, both in its annual form and in its daily form, is a foundation for Jewish faith and destiny. By internalizing this message, we not only strengthen our connection to our past but rea rm our trust in Hashem’s continued guidance toward the future redemption.
Limudei Kodesh & General Studies Faculty
DR. SHEILA TULLER KEITER
DR. SHEILA KEITER IS A MEMBER OF THE LIMUDEI KODESH AND GENERAL STUDIES FACULTY AT SHALHEVET. SHE HAS A B.A. IN HISTORY FROM UCLA, A JD FROM HARVARD LAW SCHOOL, AND RECEIVED HER PHD IN JEWISH STUDIES FROM UCLA, WHERE SHE TAUGHT IN THE DEPARTMENT OF NEAR EASTERN LANGUAGES AND CULTURES.
Frogs Here, FROGS THERE…
Is it weird to ask someone’s favorite plague? Plagues are supposed to be awful, tortuous experiences. One ought not to have a favorite. Yet, if you ask this question, a disproportionate number of people, especially children, will answer: Frogs! In western society, frogs are cute. ey appear in children’s books and songs. Kids play with plush or plastic frog toys. Frog mascots sell us beer and sugary breakfast cereal. And while it’s not that easy being green, people adore frogs from popular culture. (My personal favorite: Michigan J. Frog of One Froggy Evening, the 1955 cartoon short). So, how bad could a plague of frogs have been? Why frogs?
Many note that the plagues serve as tailored attacks on the gods of Egypt. Hashem makes this clear, on the eve of the nal plague:
“And I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, and I will strike every rst-born in the land of Egypt from human through livestock, and against all the gods of Egypt I will do judgments; I am Hashem” (Ex. 12:12).
is holds true for most of the plagues. Hashem attacks elements of nature to demonstrate His dominance over the gods of Egypt. e Egyptians worshipped the Nile, so Hashem turns it to blood. Ra, the sun god, sat atop the Egyptian pantheon, so Hashem blots out the sun completely. Frogs were no exception. Egyptian mythology associated frogs with fertility. Frogs would emerge from the Nile in large numbers preceding its annual ooding. e Nile, the source of sustenance for Egypt, seemed to birth these frogs. Heqet, the Egyptian goddess of fertility, took the form of a frog or as a woman with a frog’s head. Perhaps the purpose of the plague of frogs was not to terrify, but to serve as a message of Hashem’s mastery over Heqet, the fertility goddess, along with the other Egyptian deities.
While frogs fall into the overall theme of theological warfare, the other plagues seem quite discomforting, if not terrifying. Frogs, not so much. ey seem more hysterical than horrifying. Let us challenge that presumption. A swarm of any creature can be frightening. To get a sense of what this looks like, you can watch video of the annual migration of crabs across Christmas Island in the Indian Ocean. Millions of crabs simultaneously march across the island to spawn, carpeting the local town in red. Residents must install barriers on the doorsteps of buildings to prevent the crabs from overrunning their homes and o ces. Car tra c comes to a halt, and foot tra c can be a crunchy, messy endeavor. Try to watch this footage without cringing. Humans are unnerved by the seemingly unnatural inundation of animals. Witness how many movies use swarming animals to create frightening thrills. ( e original Indiana Jones trilogy used snakes, insects, and rats in that order). Replace Christmas Island’s river of red carapaces with froggy green, and you can envision the plague of frogs.
If anything, the frogs were worse than crabs. Hashem warns:
“And the river will swarm with frogs, and they will go up and come into your house, and into the room where you sleep, and on your bed, and in the house of your servants and your people, and in your
ovens, and in your kneading troughs” (Ex 7:28).
e frogs will swarm everywhere. ere will be no escaping them. ey will infest your homes, your beds, and your food. Hoppy pests that they are, no barrier will keep them out.
Perhaps frogs are still better than crabs. Crabs can pinch. Frogs do not pinch or claw. eir bite is fairly innocuous since they have no teeth. Unlike locusts, they do not harm agriculture. Unlike lice, they do not cause itching. Unlike בורע, usually understood as a mix of African predators, frogs pose no obvious or immediate danger. Unless you’re an insect, frogs are pretty harmless. So, why did Hashem use frogs of all creatures? is question is made all the more di cult by the fact that the word for frog, עדרפצ, appears in Tanakh only in reference to this plague, with eleven mentions here in sefer Shemot and two references to the plagues in Tehillim. Frogs have no other biblical association or context. ey are not a symbol of anything else in Jewish texts. And while frogs, as we discussed, do appear in the Egyptian pantheon of gods, there were over 250 gods in that pantheon. So, what is the signi cance of frogs? Why use them?
Frogs may be cute and fundamentally harmless, but in the Torah’s narrative, they assault all ve senses:
Sight – As we have discussed, humans react to teeming swarms with revulsion.
Touch – Frogs are slimy to the touch. As amphibians, they have porous skin that must remain moist. eir skin produces mucus to trap this essential moisture. Humans, at least the grown kind, nd slime and stickiness unpleasant to the touch. We want to wash away that sensation. But if frogs were everywhere, there would be no relief from that tactile discomfort.
Taste – Since the Torah tells us that frogs made their way into the food, this must have been an assault on the sense of taste too. Not being French, the Egyptians probably failed to appreciate the taste of frogs. Furthermore, very few frog species are actually edible. e rest can cause discomfort or even poisoning. Outside of French-in uenced cooking, frogs are not popular fare in other cultures (Bread shaped like a frog is called frog-bread, but it contains no actual frog. Cf. Monty Python’s Flying Circus’ “Crunchy Frog” sketch.)
Hearing – Frogs are famous for the ribbit noise they make. Frogs croak to attract mates and establish territory. ey will o en croak in unison. It can get quite loud. e male coqui frog of Puerto Rico can croak at 90-100 decibels. Get a choir of coquis together, and you’re in for a rough night. I was once camping near a particularly vocal group of frogs. ey croaked and croaked and croaked. And just as I was nearly lulled by their rhythm, they stopped. e sudden silence jarred me. en, as soon as I was able to settle back asleep, they started their concert up again. I did not think frogs were so cute that night.
Smell – Not that frogs are inherently smelly. Rather, the plague ended with the frogs’ dying (Ex. 8:9). e Egyptians were now able to rid their homes of frogs.
“And they piled them in heaps upon heaps, and the land became disgusting” (Ex. 8:10).
It takes little imagination to consider that piles of frog carcasses would become rather unpleasant in a short time’s span. us, we see a coordinated campaign against all ve senses, perhaps a feat that could be accomplished only by the frog.
It is then ironic that frogs o en take a starring role at our Pesach Seder. While frogs attacked all ve senses, the Seder appeals to all ve senses. No other ritual is so comprehensive in its experiential nature. Seder night has a smell all its own, an enticing mingling of marror, charoset, soup, wine, and food. e smells are matched by the tastes of all these foods. We feel the bumpy texture of the matzah (and the crumbs!), gaze upon the matzah, marror, and shank bone along with the text of the Haggadah. And we take joy in hearing the Pesach songs that we revisit year a er year, including that frog song. …Frogs were jumping everywhere!
COHEN
ESTHER SHAMOULIAN SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘27
KAITLIN SMITH Class of 2028 Vehi She’amda: A SONG OF
KAITLIN SMITH '28 IS IN OUR ADVANCED GEMARA SHIUR. SHE IS ON THE ROBOTICS TEAM, MODEL CONGRESS, MOCK TRIAL, FAIRNESS COMMITTEE, AND BOILING POINT LAYOUT. SHE IS ALSO A MEMBER OF THE OBKLA HIGH SCHOOL LEADERSHIP PROGRAM.
SURVIVAL AND HOPE
And this is what has stood up for our fathers and for us. For not only one arose and tried to destroy us; rather, in every generation they rise up against us to destroy us, and Hashem saves us from their hands. Every Pesach, we recite this paragraph of Vehi She’amda during the Seder. In truth, Vehi She’amda is so much more than a paragraph recited once a year. It has become Judaism’s equivalent of a “battle cry,” a song that we sing when we need encouragement while ghting against our enemies. In fact, it may be one of the most important paragraphs in our literature, one that emphasizes perseverance and hope. is past year, it has been more meaningful than ever.
However, for such an important passage, a lot of vagueness surrounds it. Even the rst word alone, vehi, “and this,” referring to something that has enabled us to survive as a people throughout history, has multiple meanings. e Ra’avan (quoted in the Torat Chaim Hagadah) says that it refers to Hashem’s promise to Avraham that He will punish the Egyptians for enslaving us, mentioned in the Hagadah in the paragraph immediately preceding Vehi She’amda. e Divrei Negidim, a commentary on the Hagadah attributed to the Maharal of Prague, explains further that Hashem’s promise to Avraham also applies to saving us from our enemies in every generation to ensure we are not destroyed: “ is statement explains the previous statement [in the Hagadah], that the promise which God made to Abraham was that our enemies would not destroy us. e promise applied both to our father and also to us.”
e Kimcha D’avishuna, a commentary on the Hagadah written by Rabbi Yochanan Travis in the 1500s, also understands vehi as a reference to Hashem’s promise to Avraham, but he interprets it as focusing speci cally on the promise of geula (redemption): “Vehi refers to the redemption which the Holy One promised to our forefather Abraham at the Covenant of the Pieces, when God revealed to him the subjugation and the redemption.” Rabbi Travis continues to explain that just as Hashem told Avraham about the redemption that the Jews would leave Egypt with great wealth, so too, Hashem promises us redemption from all of our exiles, including that of Babylonia, Assyria, Greece, and Edom.
e Ephod Bad, a commentary on the Hagadah written by Rabbi Binyamin Rabinowitz in the 1800s, explains vehi di erently as the story of yetziat mitzrayim: “Vehi is a reference to the story of the Exodus. is story has strengthened our faith in God throughout the ages. [In the phrase] ‘ ey have risen to destroy us,’ the word destroy has the connotation to make us forget our faith in God. By recalling the miracles in Egypt and the greatness of God, it is as if God has performed these miracles anew each time and has saved us from the hands of our enemies.” In his opinion, the story of yetziat mitzrayim is the source for our con dence that Hashem will always save our nation from the hands of our enemies.
e commentary Marbeh Lesaper has a further interpretation that vehi refers to the Shechinah, the Divine presence, which has supported us and protected us from our enemies throughout history.
e second sentence,
, “not only one arose to destroy us,” also has several interpretations.
e Shibolei HaLeket explains that the “one” refers to the Egyptians, and the Hagadah is saying that they didn’t only try to harm us in the story of the Hagadah. Rather, there are those who try to harm us in every generation. e Zevach Pesach explains the “one” as a reference to one group, meaning that it is not just one particular group or nation that continuously rises up against us. Rather, there are groups in every generation that wish to harm us.
DAVID GHANOUNI SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘26
GABE FOGEL Class of 2024
The Meaning of TRUE FREEDOM
We are o en told that on Pesach, we are celebrating and embracing freedom. But what does freedom mean? How is freedom described in our literature?
ere are two primary words in our tradition to describe freedom. One, chofshi, appears in the Torah in Mishpatim, while the other, cheirut, is not mentioned in Tanach. One might expect that Chazal would use the biblical word to capture the essence of Pesach. But in fact, they instead coined the term cheirut, which is used in the Haggadah a few times (at the beginning and towards the end of Maggid), and in the liturgical prayers of Pesach (z’man cheiruteinu) Meanwhile, the word chofshi is nowhere to be found. Why is this the case?
To understand this choice, let us examine the context in which the word chofshi is used in the Torah, the completion of the period of slavery for an Eved Ivri (Hebrew servant). e Torah states: “Six years he shall work and on the seventh year he shall depart free (lachofshi) without charge.” It seems that chofshi (freedom) is de ned by absence: an individual is simply no longer a slave, with no further vision of what lies ahead. Modern Hebrew uses the word chofesh as vacation, a place of escape from routine and normal life. us, chofshi can be seen as a “futureless” freedom – one that is de ned by departure from the past rather than a depiction of a future vision.
is type of freedom di ers greatly from Chazal’s freedom of “cheirut,” which carries a more purposeful vision. To appreciate this deeper understanding, let us note that although the Torah does not use the word cheirut ( connection to freedom, the Torah does use a word spelled similarly — charut (תורח) , meaning “engraved,” in connection with God's writing engraved on the tablets (Shemot 32:16). At rst glance, this concept seems the opposite of classical freedom: being charut (engraved) suggests being bound and constrained. However, Chazal o er a profound reinterpretation in Pirkei Avot (6:2), where Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi teaches, “Do not read it as charut (engraved), but as cheirut (freedom)... For there is no free man but one that occupies himself with the study of the Torah.” Even in the freest societies, people are o en tempted into inappropriate actions from which they cannot withhold themselves. True freedom from personal and societal constraints and temptations comes through devotion to God and His Torah.
With this understanding of cheirut as purposeful freedom, we can now see why Chazal understood that the ideal type of freedom for which we should strive is not the unfocused, visionless freedom of the Eved Ivri. Rather, it is the structured, committed type of freedom that comes from cheirut, being committed to worshiping God and observing the Torah. is understanding of cheirut helps to explain why a large portion of the Maggid section of the Haggadah (telling the story) is spent on how to tell the story rather than the story itself. We discuss who should tell the story, how much of it to discuss, when to remember Egypt, how to engage each child, and more. Much of the seder is thus spent discussing its laws. Why is this the case?
e answer is that celebrating our freedom through a Seder that is entirely structured emphasizes precisely the idea that true freedom is achieved only through proper, focused structure. When God tells Pharaoh, “Let My people go so they may serve Me,” He teaches that real freedom is the opportunity to serve. us, it makes perfect sense that halacha occupies such a central place in the Exodus story, since God redeemed us to serve Him—and we must know what that entails.
GABE FOGEL '24 IS CURRENTLY LEARNING AT YESHIVAT TORAH V'AVODAH AND WILL BE ATTENDING TULANE UNIVERSITY NEXT YEAR.
BELLA GRABER
SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘27
RABBI DAVID STEIN Dean of Academic Affairs
RABBI DAVID STEIN IS THE DEAN OF ACADEMIC AFFAIRS. R' STEIN ATTENDED YESHIVA COLLEGE AND RIETS FOR HIS UNDERGRADUATE AND SEMIKHA STUDIES, AND ALSO RECEIVED HIS MASTER’S DEGREE IN MECHANICAL ENGINEERING FROM COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY. RABBI STEIN IS A VETERAN FACULTY MEMBER AT SHALHEVET AND THE CO-CREATOR OF THE LAHAV CURRICULUM.
The
Complexity of REDEMPTION
I have recently found myself trying to imagine the moment of redemption of the Jewish people from Egypt. What was it like? How did it feel? e Jewish people had been waiting for 430 long years of slavery and hardship - and suddenly they were free. We celebrate and commemorate this experience through the Pesach seder, but for all of the ritual and ceremony, I’ve been trying to understand the emotional state of Am Yisrael as they le Mitzrayim: what did it feel like to leave Egypt? Were the Jewish people excited or fearful? Exuberant or anxious? In particular, I have been trying to understand this emotional state because of the complex emotional experience that we have been going through ourselves as our hostages have been redeemed in Phase 1 of the Gaza cease- re.
In our case, of course, this moment of freedom is fraught with both pain and celebration. Based on a ruling given by Rav Yosef Zvi Rimon1, we recited the beracha of shehechiyanu to express our overwhelming joy and relief for the return of our hostages. At the exact same time, though, we also recited “baruch dayan ha-emet” - a blessing made when experiencing pain or sorrow - over the unbearable cost of releasing dangerous murderers from prison, the anguish and fear we feel for the remaining hostages and our terrible pain for hostages who have been killed in captivity. Our experience of redemption has been impossibly complex.
And so, as we celebrate the festival of freedom this year, I want to explore the possibility, based on a passage in the Gemara in Pesachim (108a), that the exodus from Egypt was similarly tempered with fear and anxiety.
e Gemara there records a dispute about which of the four cups we must lean for at the Pesach seder. Each of the four cups, which constitute one of the centerpieces of our seder experience, represent one of the four promises of redemption that Hashem made to the Jewish people in the 6th chapter of Shemot:
erefore, say to the children of Israel, 'I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians,
and I will save you from their labor,
and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments
And I will take you to me as a people.’
In the Gemara’s discussion, though, one side of the argument claims that only the rst two cups of wine - representing the promises of יתאצוהו and יתלצהו- require leaning, while the other side of the argument claims that we must only lean for the second two cups, which represent the nal ful llment of Hashem’s promise.
What is behind this argument? e Gemara explains that the rst two cups represent the “תוריח תליחת”- the beginning
1 For an English summary of Rav Rimon’s Teshuva, see here: https://www.jewishpress.com/judaism/halacha-hashkafa/the-hostage-deal-dilemma-through-the-prism-of-berachot-rav-yosef-tzvi-rimons-teshuva/2025/02/05
of freedom. ose who claim that only the rst two cups require leaning, then, focus on the beginning of redemption as being the most important aspect of our observance - even though the subsequent promises remain unful lled. According to this side of the dispute, the moment of redemption from Mitzrayim must be celebrated - even if there remain unful lled promises that bnei Yisrael were surely concerned about as they began their journey home. Similarly, we must also recite shehechiyanu upon the freeing of our hostages, even though many more remain in captivity, and even though the price is so high.
At the same time, though, the other opinion in the Gemara claims that it is only the complete ful llment of Hashem’s promises that deserve our celebration; we cannot rest - and we cannot recline - until redemption is complete and everyone is home.
Of course, our practice is to follow both of these opinions – we lean for all four cups of wine, in recognition that both of these perspectives bear truth – in recognition of the joy and celebration that we must feel for the beginning of our salvation, coupled with the hope and anticipation that we hold for the moment of our full redemption.
Yet it is not only the cups of wine at the seder table that capture this complexity. e other centerpiece of our night, of course, is the questions posed by our children. At the seder table, questions are engineered; we execute elaborate ritual plays in order to pique our children’s curiosity. In mitzrayim, however, we are told that our children will come to us with profound questions of their own. Much like the four promises of redemption discussed above, the Torah commands us to teach our children about the Exodus four separate times in response to the questions that they ask us:
And when, in time to come, a child of yours asks you, saying, ‘What does this mean?’
As Rabbi Sacks put it, these questions and answers highlight a fundamental tenet of what it means to be a Jew. We are, he argued, a “faith based on asking questions, sometimes deep and di cult ones that seem to shake the very foundations of faith itself” - an enduring lesson that we learned through the experience of exodus. Yitziat Mitzrayim generated profound questions - and of course, we have been faced with deep questions over the past year and a half as well. How many of us have struggled to explain the horrors of October 7th to our families? How many of us have been le desperately trying to make sense of the world around us lled with hatred of Jews? How many of us have been le searching for answers to the most basic questions posed by our children: “why is this happening?”
Rabbi Sacks reminds us, however, that grappling with these questions has been a part of who we are from the very beginnings of our people in Egypt. “Not every question has an answer we can immediately understand,” he wrote. “ ere are ideas we will only fully comprehend through age and experience, others that take great intellectual preparation, yet others that may be beyond our collective comprehension.”
Yet perhaps this incomprehensibility itself is also part of our story. Rabbi Lamm points out that the entire narrative of Exodus de ed all logic; we are a people whose survival has never made sense. We are a nation of slaves who overthrew an empire, guided by a leader who had been cast o to survive impossible odds. We grew exponentially despite attempts to eradicate our people, and have overcome mighty and more numerous enemies from our very beginnings. Perhaps, then, the stories that we tell and the questions that we ask at the Pesach seder are not just celebrations of our freedom, but reminders of the complexity and contingency of liberation. We are not and have never been the all-powerful and con dent ruler striding to a self-assured victory - in fact, our history is one of standing up to such Pharaonic power. Instead, our story teaches us that no matter what darkness or challenges we have faced, no matter what odds we have had to overcome, םדימ
- Hashem has sustained us through long ups and downs from our very beginnings.
KIRA KUPFERMAN Class of 2024 Family
KIRA KUPFERMAN '24 IS CURRENTLY LEARNING AT MIDRESHET TORAT CHESED AND WILL BE ATTENDING UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND NEXT YEAR.
AS A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM
One of the most fundamental aspects of םירצמ תאיצי is its emphasis on family. When Hashem commanded Bnei Yisrael to bring the Korban Pesach just before their departure from Egypt, it was not a personal mitzvah, but rather a family oriented one, as recorded by the Torah:
“Moses summoned all the elders of Israel and said to them, ‘Go, pick out lambs for your families, and slaughter the passover o ering.’” (Shemot 12:21)
e word םכיתחפשמל, “for your families,” shows us that the korban was not brought by individuals, but by households. It was prepared together, eaten together, and celebrated together.
Even generations later, we gather as families on Leil HaSeder to retell the story of םירצמ תאיצי. Parents pass down the legacy to their children, just as Hashem commanded:
“And you shall tell your child on that day, saying, ‘Because of this, Hashem did for me when I le Egypt.’” (Shemot 13:8)
e Torah doesn’t just tell us to remember the story—it mandates that we tell it to the next generation, ensuring it remains a living memory from parent to child. is is because Pesach is not just about reliving history; it is about transmitting it.
Although the Torah presents the mitzvah monolithically, we must recognize that every child is di erent and learns di erently. e Haggadah re ects this as well through the mention of the Four Sons. e Chacham, Rasha, Tam, and She’eino Yodea Lish’ol are distinct from each other and represent di erent approaches to Judaism. e Haggadah explains that we engage each of these children with a di erent tactic, thereby teaching us that it is the parents’ responsibility to engage each child according to their needs. is idea of educating each child individually is also echoed in Mishlei (22:6):
“Educate the child according to his way, so that even when he grows old, he will not depart from it.”
When engaging each child, it is important to remember that we are not just supposed to tell the story, but to teach it to them in a manner that each child understands and feels as if he is a part of the redemption. As the Hagadah states later in Magid, “a person is obligated to see himself as if he went out of Egypt.” is personalized approach to education ensures that each child not only hears the story but truly internalizes it. As Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks famously said, 'Good teachers teach material, excellent teachers teach students.' is means that the goal of the Seder is not just to convey facts but to engage each child in a way that makes the story come alive for them. In this manner, we can ensure that every Jewish child nds their place in the story of םירצמ תאיצי is emphasis on family is not just symbolic — it has implications in other areas of halacha as well. e following fascinating halachic discussion highlights just how central family is to the concept of freedom and what it truly means to build a future as a people. e Tur (written by Rabbeinu Yakov ben Rabbeinu Asher, 1270-1340) and Shulchan Aruch
(Even Ha’ezer 1:7) discuss a case where a parent with children converts to Judaism. According to the commentary of the Chelkat Mechokek, the parent is considered to have ful lled the mitzvah of “having children”, וברו ורפ, even if the children do not convert with the parent (though others disagree). However, if a Jewish family is freed from slavery but has had children, they have not yet ful lled this mitzvah.
Why is this so? How can it be that a convert that has non-Jewish children ful lls the mitzvah, while a newly freed slave raising a Jewish family does not?
e answer lies in the relationship between freedom and family. Under slavery, a family can be torn apart at any moment. Parents have no control over their children, husbands are separated from their wives, children from their mothers. e family unit is fragile, constantly under threat. But a free family, even when the family members are not Jewish, can still develop the proper relationship and respect among one another needed for strong family ties.
On Pesach, we celebrate not just physical freedom but the ability to build strong, enduring families. In the past year, we have seen the importance of this idea, as tragically, families have once again been ripped apart. e events of October 7 remind us how precious the security of family is, how freedom allows us to keep our families intact.
is is why Pesach and family are deeply connected. When Bnei Yisrael le Mitzrayim, they gained more than just liberation—they gained the ability to create strong Jewish families, to sit together and pass down the story of our people. Pesach teaches us that the Jewish people are a family—beginning with our immediate families and extending to Klal Yisrael as a whole.
e lesson of Pesach is that family is the foundation of our freedom—not just in the past, but in how we live our lives today. And while our immediate families shape us, the communities we are part of can become a kind of family as well. Now that I am no longer within the walls of Shalhevet every day, when I re ect on my time there, I realize that it, too, has also been, and will always be, my family. I feel incredibly fortunate to be a part of this remarkable community. e sense of belonging and connection that Shalhevet has provided me mirrors the importance of family that Pesach teaches us —how our families shape who we are and carry us through life’s challenges. As we celebrate freedom at the Seder with
SARAH EDWARDS SHALHEVET CLASS OF ‘27
SOPHIE KATZ Class of 2026
SOPHIE KATZ '26 IS A MEMBER OF SHALHEVET'S BEIT MIDRASH TRACK (BMT). SHE IS THE EDITOR-IN-CHIEF OF THE BOILING POINT, ON THE AGENDA COMMITTEE, AND WRITES FOR NITZOTZEI TORAH.
Hallel of the Seder: STRUCTURED PRAISE OR SPONTANEOUS SONG?
On major chagim of the Jewish calendar, we add Hallel to our te llah. e purpose of this Hallel is to praise Hashem either for a particular miraculous occurrence or for the celebration of the special holiday. During Pesach, Hallel is included both in our daily te llot as well as at the Seder, where it plays a critical role. Logically, it makes sense that we would include Hallel in the Seder. A er completing our retelling – and in many senses reliving – of Yetziat Mitzrayim, we conclude with praise and gratitude to God, a theme perfectly aligned with the Seder experience and themes. However, the Hallel of the Pesach Seder di ers in several core ways from Hallel recited at other times. First and foremost, we do not say a bracha, while on Yom Tov, Chol Hamoed, and Chanukah, we do. Second, Hallel is split into two separate segments: the rst is recited at the end of Magid, and the second as an o cial second-to-last step right before Nirtzah. e Gemara (Berachot 14a) explains that for nonessential purposes, Hallel is not supposed to be interrupted in the middle. But at the Seder, the rst half and second half of Hallel are separated by several steps of the Seder, including an entire meal. e last critical di erence is that Hallel at the Seder is said sitting, while the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 422) clearly requires standing during the regular Hallel to demonstrate that we are םידע (witnesses) to God’s wonders and miracles.
ese distinctions raise an important question: Why does Hallel of the Pesach Seder di er so radically from Hallel in its standard form?
Rav Hai Gaon, cited by the Ramban and the Ran (commentary on Pesachim 117b), addresses this question. He posits that the fact that we split Hallel at the Seder is clearly indicative of the di erence in nature between it and the standard rendition. He then introduces a new characterization of Hallel: one of הריש, song. is category of Hallel stands in contrast to a second category: האירק, a reading. הריש is a reactionary experience, and Rav Hai Gaon explains that this type of Hallel is proclaimed in response to having just been freed by God in the Seder’s retelling.
e Ramban also asserts that the separation between the beginning and end of Hallel does not actually constitute a halachic interruption. e in-between steps are all part of the Yetziat Mitzrayim story, and so is Hallel. It is not di erentiated from our collective Seder experience; rather, it is interwoven throughout our retelling. erefore, it is permissible to include these steps in between the parts of the Hallel.
e Griz, in his commentary on Rambam, Hilchos Chanukah, also uses the הריש/האירק categorization for Hallel. He explains the category of האירק as a הנקת (enactment) of Chazal, who legislated to include Hallel, recited with a bracha, in te llah on Yom Tov and other important days. On the other hand, Hallel of הריש is Hallel recited in response to a miracle, which is a non-structured, emotional outpouring of praise and gratitude towards Hashem.
e underlying ארבס (logic) behind the distinction of the Griz re ects two di erent stages of our relationship with God. One, that of האירק, speaks to a stage where, similar to te llah in general, we develop our relationship by following halacha and Chazal, regardless of how we feel individually about whether we should be davening or expressing gratitude at that particular moment. But the second stage, that of הריש, is the precise opposite. We recite this form of Hallel when our faith in Hashem is so great, our relationship so real, that an expression of utter song naturally emerges from our hearts and souls.
RABBI ELI BRONER
RABBI ELI BRONER SERVES AS THE 9TH GRADE DEAN AND JUDAIC STUDIES TEACHER AT SHALHEVET, AS WELL AS YOUTH DIRECTOR OF BETH JACOB CONGREGATION. RABBI BRONER HAS BEEN A LEADER IN THE FIELD OF JEWISH EDUCATION FOR WELL OVER TWO DECADES, TEACHING ALL SUBJECTS OF JUDAIC STUDIES TO STUDENTS FROM FIRST TO TWELFTH GRADES. RABBI BORNER RECEIVED HIS BACHELORS OF RABBINICAL STUDIES FROM THE RABBINICAL COLLEGE OF AMERICA AND SEMICHA FROM YESHIVA COLLEGE IN SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.
9th Grade Dean & Limudei Kodesh Faculty Seudat Moshiach: LIVING GEULAH EVERY DAY
As Pesach comes to a close, Chassidic communities customarily gather at the end of the eighth day for a unique and deeply symbolic custom: Seudat Moshiach. Instituted by the Baal Shem Tov, this meal is not just an extra opportunity for celebration – it is a practice designed to bring the anticipation of Geulah into our daily lives. While we observe this custom once a year, its message is one we can take with us well beyond Pesach, transforming how we experience the world around us.
e Origins and Meaning of Seudat Moshiach
e eighth day of Pesach is uniquely tied to the coming of Moshiach. While the rst days of the chag focus on yetziat Mitzrayim, the nal days shi our attention to the ultimate Geulah still to come. is connection is re ected in the ha arah read on the eighth day, taken from Sefer Yeshayahu ( ו:בי–בל:י). In this prophecy, Yeshayahu describes the coming of a leader from the lineage of Dovid Hamelech:
"A sta will emerge from the stump of Yishai, and a shoot will sprout from his roots. e spirit of Hashem will rest upon him..." (Yeshayahu 11:1-2)
is is a direct reference to Moshiach, who will usher in an era of divine wisdom, justice, and peace. e ha arah continues with one of the most well-known descriptions of that future time:
" e wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the young goat... for the land will be lled with knowledge of Hashem as water covers the sea." (Yeshayahu 11:6-9)
e choice of this ha arah for the eighth day of Pesach is no accident. Just as Bnei Yisrael experienced one miraculous Geulah, this day reminds us that an even greater Geulah lies ahead. To emphasize this, the Baal Shem Tov introduced the custom of Seudat Moshiach—a meal where we don’t just talk about Geulah but actively internalize it, making it something real in our lives today.
e Smell of Moshiach
Shortly a er Rav Mendel of Horodok arrived in Eretz Yisrael, a man climbed Har Hazeitim (Mount of Olives) and blew a shofar. A rumor quickly spread that the sound signaled the arrival of Moshiach. When Rav Mendel heard this, he threw open his window and sni ed the air. He then sadly closed the window and remarked, “I don’t smell Moshiach.” Chassidim, when retelling this story, o en ask: Why did Rav Mendel need to open the window? Couldn’t he sense Moshiach from inside his own room? e answer they give is profound —within his own space, Moshiach was already a
reality. His home, his life, was already infused with divine awareness. e question was whether that same holiness had reached the outside world.
is story is a powerful reminder that we don’t have to wait for Moshiach to arrive to start living in a world of Geulah. We can create that reality in our own spaces—right now.
Bringing Moshiach into Our Daily Lives
Seudat Moshiach is not just about a meal — it’s about transforming the world around us. e eighth day of Pesach itself teaches this lesson. Originally, Pesach was commanded to be seven days long, but because of calendar uncertainties in galut, Chazal added an eighth day. What was once an ordinary day became infused with kedushah through the power of Torah.
is idea, that something seemingly mundane can be transformed into something holy, is at the heart of Geulah. When Moshiach comes, the physical world itself will no longer conceal Godliness. Instead, it will reveal it. e way we bring that closer is by starting that process in our own lives.
So how do we do that?
Make Your Space a Moshiach Space – Just as Rav Mendel of Horodok had already created a Moshiach environment in his own home, we can do the same. When our homes are lled with Torah, chesed, and the awareness of Hashem, we aren’t just preparing for Geulah—we are living it.
See the World for What It Could Be – e world o en looks messy, imperfect, and fragmented. A Moshiach mindset means looking deeper — seeing the divine purpose behind everything. is applies to how we see challenges, how we view others, and how we approach daily life.
Live with Simcha and Bitachon – Believing in Moshiach isn’t just about hoping for a better future; it’s about living with bitachon—trust in Hashem’s plan—right now. When we face life with optimism and certainty, we aren’t just waiting for Moshiach; we are actively bringing his arrival closer.
Elevate the Mundane – e days of Moshiach will be de ned by the revelation of Godliness in all things. But we don’t have to wait for that day to begin the process. We can elevate the ordinary — whether it’s through mindful speech, making a bracha, or nding purpose in small moments. When we recognize Hashem in the details of our lives, we turn the world itself into a vessel for Geulah.
Finishing Pesach with a Geulah Mindset
Seudat Moshiach reminds us that Geulah is not just a future event — it is something we can begin living today. Rav Mendel’s story teaches us that we have the power to create Moshiach environments, even if the outside world hasn’t caught up yet.
As Pesach comes to an end, let’s take more than just the memory of a meaningful meal. Let’s take the practice of living Geulah — bringing kedushah into our spaces, seeing the Godliness in everything, and cultivating an unshakable simcha and bitachon in Hashem. Because when enough of us create an environment where Moshiach is already present, the world itself will be ready to greet him.
Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson