By Reb Nisson Gordon, z’l,
Late on the second night of Pesach, long after midnight, while most Jewish homes are winding down their Seders and the “kings” are tired from the four cups of wine, a crowd is heading to the Seder in Lubavitch.
Elderly Chassidim and young teenagers are rushing to the beis midrash at 770 Eastern Parkway in the wee morning hours where the Rebbe will soon hold a farbrengen to give his explanations on the Haggadah. In 1953, the Lubavitcher Rebbe re-established the practice of his father-in-law, the Frierdiker Rebbe, Reb Yosef Yitzchok, z’l, to elaborate on the Haggadah on the second night, based on the Talmud in tractate Shabbat that referred to the preciousness of teachings heard from one’s teacher: “Fine wool is precious to those who wear it.”
At the dais, the table is covered with a snow-white tablecloth, but there is no Seder plate nor a couch for the Rebbe to recline on. It is a Seder after the Seder, but with a Haggadah whose teachings the Rebbe will elaborate on until dawn breaks.
The regular Seders are performed upstairs in the same room and at the same table that was occupied by the Rebbe’s father-in-law, the Frierdiker Rebbe. At the head of the table, his chair is prepared and the Seder plate and silver Kiddush cup are gleaming with their special yom tov shine. All the participants sit around the table in the same order that they used to when the Rayatz led the Seder. Everyone recites the Haggadah, including the Rebbe, whose voice is quiet, almost a whisper, just like when he used to recite it beside his father-in-law. The serious expression on his face bears witness to the fact that, in his mind, the chair at the head of the table is not empty, and that, in every line of the Haggadah, he hears his father-in-law’s voice together with all the explanations and interpretations he used to say.
On the surface, it appears as if nothing has changed. Everything is the same as in previous years. After the Seder upstairs in his father-in-law’s apartment, the Rebbe comes down to the beis midrash for a farbrengen, and that’s when he begins to translate and elaborate on the Haggadah, always mentioning his father-in-law’s commentaries and explanations. He never adds the words, “Zichrono Livracha” or “Nishmato b’Eden” because, as he stated in 1954 (5714) at the Seder: “I am not a bestower of titles.” But it seems that the real reason why he refrains from using those honorifics is because using them would imply that his father-in-law is no longer here. As far as the Rebbe is concerned: he is very much alive.
During one Seder in 1956 (5716), six years after the petirah of his father-in-law, he asked the Chassid who led the recitation of the Frierdiker Rebbe’s Haggadah at the post-Seder farbrengen, to start singing a tune loudly while “imagining that you are sitting by the Rebbe and reciting the Haggadah.” To everyone present, he said that anyone who had merited a Yechidus (private audience) with the Rebbe, or heard a good word, or studied the Rebbe’s Maamar should imagine that the one we are talking about is standing right here in front of you.”
And then he asked the young man who asked the “fir Kashes” (four questions) when he was a young child to start singing the tune and imagine that he is now asking the Rebbe the “fir Kashes.” In between each song, the Rebbe translates the Haggadah, and after every translation comes the “Uv’Chen.”
It is not a simple translation because it contains a profound thought, but the main purpose of everything we learn is to gain a “Uv’Chen” to enhance our service to Hashem. (Note that the word Uv’Chen means therefore. Every Torah thought has a lofty purpose; you learn something and gain from it. Among older Chabad Chassidim, there’s a folk saying that “a farbrengen on a Uv’Chen is nit kein Farbrengen” A farbrengen without a Uv’Chen is not a real farbrengen.)
Matzah: The Food of Emunah
The Friediker Rebbe used to say that the G-dly revelation that a Jew brings unto himself during yom tov shines for him for a specific period of time, but the revelation of Pesach remains forever, shining every moment of every day. The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained it thusly:
Shavuos is the time of Kabbalas HaTorah (when we received the Torah), and Sukkos is a holiday full of mitzvos, which is also called Chag HaAsif, or the Festival of the Ingathering: gathering the holy sparks of physical items when we fulfill mitzvos with them. In a certain sense, Torah and mitzvos are subject to the constraints of time. We have a specific time for learning Torah and a specific time for doing mitzvos. While we are learning Torah, we cannot be engaged in doing mitzvos, and while we are doing mitzvos, we cannot be engaged in learning Torah. Therefore, the revelations from the Yomim Tovim that accompany a Jew all year long are limited to those times of the year.
However, Pesach is the holiday of emunah, faith. And emunah is something that must accompany a Jew at all times—every moment of his life. As Habakuk said when he encapsulated the entire Torah into one simple concept: “Tzaddik B’Emunoso Yichye.” A tzaddik’s life revolves around emunah. Faith is the foundation for keeping the entire Torah.
This revelation, of saturating a Jew on Pesach with emunah has to last him forever: every minute and every second of his life.
Matzah: The Food Of Healing
It is written in the Zohar that whoever is scrupulous in everything concerning Pesach, when the Yom HaDin of Rosh Hashanah comes, the prosecutor will have nothing against him.
The Rosh Hashanah of Tishrei is the Rosh Hashanah of the creation of the world, the day creation began. The Rosh Hashanah of Nissan is the Rosh Hashanah of the Torah: the Rosh Hashanah of the holidays. Since the Torah rules over nature, we can conclude that the Rosh Hashanah of Nissan is more powerful than the Rosh Hashanah of Tishrei.
Mah Nishtanah
The accepted order of the four questions according to the Nusach Ari (as practiced by Chabad) is Matbilim (dipping), matzah, bitter herbs, and then leaning.
The question arises: Why should dipping, which is just a custom, be the first thing that a child notices and questions, and not matzah, which is specifically commanded by the Torah? Or even the bitter herbs, which were ordered by our rabbis, or leaning while we eat, which is a symbol of freedom?
This order is a response to anyone who minimizes the importance of Jewish customs. To keep a mitzvah as specified in the Torah, they go all out; they practice the concept of “Lo sosuru,” do not move away from what they (the rabbis) tell you. But when it comes to customs, if it is not too hard, why not? But if it comes with some hardship, let’s just forget about it. Those who think this way also believe that in order to educate our children, one should forgo the customs in order to emphasize the most important concepts. But the author of the Haggadah comes along and says: “No. The first thing that captures the child’s attention and interest is the custom.”
Jewish customs, even those practiced by women, are considered to be Torah. And because they are a part of the Torah, one cannot determine which one is more important and which one is less so. A major rule in chinuch (Jewish education) is that a child should know he is different than other people: He is a Jew. The child derives this knowledge for the most part from Jewish customs, which give him a feeling of chosenness: “Ata Bechartanu” (You chose us to be your nation). And this sentiment comes precisely through the customs we keep, which give him a feeling of “Ata Bechartanu.”
Without the minhagim that give the child the feeling of “Ata Bechartanu,” (difference), he would miss in his learning and in his mitzvos the holiness of Torah, and the foundation of Torah and mitzvos. And if the foundation is missing, the essence of Torah and mitzvos could also be missing. Therefore, it is not the mitzvah to eat matzah or the rabbinical law to eat maror, nor the reclining that symbolizes freedom that impresses the child the most, it is the custom of dipping that leaves a mark on his young soul.
The Four Sons
The Haggadah lists all sorts of Jews, ranging from the Chacham, the wise one, to the Rasha, the wicked one, and to all of them Dibra Torah, the Torah speaks of.
Each of these types requires a different approach. Sometimes you have to bring him closer, and sometimes you have to “hakhei et shinav,” knock out his teeth, but you must include everyone. Nobody should be left out of the Seder. It is a Dibra Torah, a message from the Torah that you must involve all kinds of Jews.
But what if he is a Rasha, a nonbeliever?
The chachamim have an answer for that: “Yisrael af al pi shechita, Yisrael hu.” A Jew, even if he sins, is still considered a Jew. They used the word Yisrael and not Yehudi (another word for Jew) because in Hebrew the word Yisrael stands for an abbreviation of “yesh shisho ribbo osiyos laTorah,” The Torah has six hundred thousand letters. One letter that is pasul makes the entire sefer Torah unusable. The same rule applies to the Jewish people. We all need and depend on each other. That’s the purpose of including even the Rasha at the Seder.
Compulsory by the Will of Hashem
Instead of falling into despair thinking how to achieve redemption, one should rather ponder the question of how such a thing as exile could even exist.
Jews are one unit with Hashem. Banim Atem L’Hashem Elokeichem (You are sons of Hashem, your G-d) as it is written at length in Tanya with the parable of a son being an extension of his father’s brain. The explanation of that parable is even more applicable. The son, when he grows up, changes to a separate entity, whereas by Hashem you can’t say that he changed in any way after he created the world.
Therefore, there are two questions:
Firstly, can the Jews be in exile if Hashem is part of them?
Secondly, how can you place an infinite concept, namely Hashem himself together with the Jewish people, into a finite thing called galus (exile)? The reality of galus, which is finite, ought to be nullified if it contains the infinite being of Hashem together with the Jewish people. Like the camp of Sancherev, which was destroyed by a group of angels. And angels are not on so high a plain as the Jewish people.
The explanation is “Onus Al Pi HaDibur” it was forced because it was the will of Hashem to put himself into an exile which, according to logical thinking, has no right to exist because galus is finite and too limited to contain such infiniteness.
Neither does galus have a place in a person’s intellect. It is like putting an elephant through the eye of a needle. Galus is only possible because that is what Hashem wanted. Vayered Mitzrayma, they went down to Egypt, onus al pi hadibur.
In conclusion, one can understand that when the onus al pi hadibur will be removed, the purpose of galus will reach its conclusion and the galus itself will be abolished. n
This article first appeared in the Nissan 1958 (5718) issue of Dos Yiddishe Vort and was translated from the original Yiddish by P Samuels.
The following footnote appeared at the bottom of the article with an asterisk: The words and translations of the Lubavitcher Rebbe were written down by a group called “Chozrim” (reviewers) but they were not edited, reviewed, or approved by the Rebbe himself.
