The Zohar tells us that there are fifty verses in the Torah where we are asked to remember Egypt, and our going out of Egyptian slavery.(Tikunei Zohar, Tikun 32)

REMEMBERING

What does it mean to ‘remember going out of Egypt’? The Mishnah in Pesachim says, “In every generation a person must regard himself as if he himself had gone out of Egypt.” In other words, we must envision our own redemption, as if the Exodus was happening in our generation. This doesn’t just mean “every generation” of course; it means that every day and every moment we have to remember that we are going out of Egypt.

Egypt represents a lack of spiritual clarity. In the state of consciousness called ‘Egypt’, we forget who we are. In order to go out of Egypt, we need the clarity that comes from ‘remembering’ or ‘understanding’, referring to the attribute of Bina. Redemption can occur when we ‘remember’ and become a channel for a flow of deeper understanding of reality. This flow of understanding is described as the mei Bina, the waters of Bina. R. Meir Ben Gabbai in Taalos Yakov points out that the numerical value of the word mei, is fifty: Mem (40) plus Yud (10). The number fifty hints to the power of Bina to bring Redemption.

ABSOLUTE FREEDOM AND RELATIVE FREEDOM

Kabbalah teaches that there are fifty ‘gates’ or levels on our spiritual path, and the fiftieth gate is Bina, absolute clarity and freedom. This teaching follows the pattern of the Torah law of Yovel, the Jubilee year, which occurs on the fiftieth year of a fifty-year cycle. During the Jubilee, slaves went free, debts were cancelled, and land returned to its original owner. In other words, all things clearly ‘remembered’ their own inner truth and were redeemed, returning to their original state.

The Zohar (3:108a) says that the complete freedom of Yovel corresponds to the “upper” or first letter ‘Hei’ in Hashem’s name, Yud - Hei - Vav - Hei. The numerical value of the letter ‘Hei’ is five. The upper Hei, however, is called the ‘full Hei’--the full or expanded five, which is fifty. Fifty is seven times seven, plus one. A lower type of redemption occurred on each of the seven seven-year cycles preceding the Yovel year. This year is called Shemitta, the year when the land is to rest as we refrain from planting crops. The relative freedom of Shemitta corresponds to the lower, or final Hei of Hashem’s name.

The lower Hei represents rest, since when it appears at the end of a word, it is silent. The lower Hei also represents the attribute of Malchus, which corresponds to the earth or land. When, on the Shemitta year the land is allowed to rest, the lower Hei of the Divine name experiences a degree of redemption. This is a lower freedom--the land is free from being planted and worked.

In our own lives, this lower, relative type of freedom manifests as freedom from reaction. If someone insults you, and you choose not to react but remain silent, you are refraining from planting new seeds of conflict. Although you didn’t act in retribution, your mind and heart might still be upset. This is only a ‘one-dimensional’ form of freedom, since you have merely silenced your reaction, and you have not yet transformed your reactivity at its root.

Shemitta thus brings freedom for the land--freedom in terms of outer action and reaction. Yovel, however, brings freedom for human beings, meaning freedom in ‘thought’ or consciousness, as well as in action. This is the complete freedom that comes from Bina, the higher Hei. Bina contains seven permutations or dimensions of each emotional attribute. This ‘multi-dimensionality’ has a balancing effect in our lives, freeing us from reactivity. In a state of clear understanding, our emotions are contained and balanced by a higher perspective sometimes called ‘intellect’. For example, if you are experiencing the expansive emotion of Chesed from a higher perspective, you can be simultaneously in touch with the contractive emotion of Gevurah. You are ‘thinking out of the box’, free to respond with awareness, rather than merely reacting or stuffing your reaction.
This is the deeper self-understanding, and the deeper freedom we must ellicit as we recite the Haggadah on Pesach night. We will now explore a few contemplative methods which will help us do so.

HAGGADAH

The Midrash says that in Egypt the Jews were like a fetus within their mother’s womb. They were confined to being merely an extension of someone else, with no name or self-understanding. Going out of Egypt was like a birth. Bina is sometimes called Eim haBanim Semeicha, ‘the Mother that gives birth to joy’, (Psalms, 113:9) referring to the joy of Redemption. How can the Pesach Seder help us achieve this birth?

The word haggadah means ‘telling’. Through telling the story of the Exodus, we ‘remember’ that we are going out of Egypt’. The deeper meaning of the word haggadah, however, is ‘drawing the heart’, as it says in the Talmud (Chagiga), “Words of haggadah are something that draws the heart.” Simply reciting the Hagadah on Pesach night helps us draw the clarity of Bina, the supernal heart, into our lives. Turning the Hagada inward, by seeing ourselves in the story and contemplating our own slavery, can deepen this clarity.

REDEEMING OUR NAME

The Hebrew title of the book of Exodus is Shemos, ‘Names’. This book begins when the Jews are still free people, and it lists the names of each family. However, as they descend into the Egyptian Exile, the Torah begins to refer to them not with names, but with pronouns: “They multiplied; they increased; the land was full of them…” (Exodus, 1:7)
When the Torah seems to give names to the two midwives, Shifra and Puah,[7] these words are not really names, but descriptions of their work--beautifying, and cooing to the children (Talmud, Sotah). When the Torah mentions the parents of Moshe, it only says, “A man from the house of Levi married a daughter from Levi.” (Ibid 2:1)When Moshe is born, the Torah does not say that his parents gave him a name.

Only free people have names. A slave is a nameless statistic, with no independent personal identity or existence. Likewise, when we are slaves to our emotions and reactions, we have no independence from the stimuli or influences in our lives.

Look inward and ask yourself: ‘Where in my life do I lack an independent identity? Where do I react automatically to sensations, events or other people?’

The transition from namelessness to being a people with names occurs when Moshe begins to feel concerned and truly care for them. Now they have a leader who is one of them, who sees them as individuals, real people, not just statistics.

REDEEMING OUR VOICE

A slave has no voice. The Torah’s account suggests that the Jews in Egypt were silent until quite late in the period of exile. Perhaps they were too overwhelmed to feel anything, or perhaps they had become so accustomed to their harsh subservience, that they no longer noticed it. In any case, they were completely stuck, and not even a cry or groan could escape their lips.

Ask yourself: ‘Where in my life have I silenced myself? Where in myself do I accept my sense of exile? Where am I unable to even conceive of being free?’

The Chezkuni writes, that when the first King of Egypt finally died, the Jews realized that they might get an opportunity to rest briefly from their labors. Only when this thought crossed their minds, did they become aware of their exhaustion and trauma. With this glimmer of self-understanding, grief arose, and the yearning to be free. The Torah says, “and they groaned…and Hashem heard their groan….” (Ibid 2:23-24)

The Ohr HaChaim on this verse notes that a “groan” is not really an utterance or prayer, but simply a sound, a wordless cry of pain. Yet, he says, because they were able to soften and open themselves, Hashem heard their groan as a prayer. As they softened, so in a manner of speaking did Hashem: in response, Hashem began to open the way for their Redemption. Put in another way, this groan was enough to relax the inner hardness that had accumulated within the slaves during their years of abuse. The sound raised their vibration, so to speak, and opened them up to sense their relationship with something greater--something outside their condition of slavery.

Notice the pain you have caused yourself through any reactive tendencies. You might want to imagine how it would sound and feel to groan from this pain. Now, soften any tension you’re holding in your body. What is it like to let go of your complacency or stuckness? Freedom is possible, even if it still seems far off.

REDEEMING OUR SPEECH

The Zohar (2: 25b) says that speech itself was exiled in Egypt. That is, even when the yearning for freedom awakened, the Jews could not articulate their thoughts. A slave cannot express or reveal who he really is, for his reality is imposed upon him. Speech implies choice; through language we define our reality. Neither can a slave listen to another person, or to hear the possibility that life can be different.

Even Moshe could not easily speak, although he was essentially above slavery, born into the un-enslaved tribe of Levi, and raised as an Egyptian prince. At the Burning Bush, Moshe says of himself, “I am not a man of words, and I have a heavy (or hard) mouth,” (Ibid 4:10) and “…The people will not listen to my voice.” (4:1) These statements are related: Moshe could not speak because the people were not yet open to listening. At the same time, the people were unable to listen because there was no one to speak for them. There was no opening.

Where in your life has an opportunity for freedom or choice come to you, but you were so stuck in your story that you couldn’t listen? Where can you begin now to define your own reality, and articulate who you are and what you need?

Paradoxically, the most extreme embodiment of ‘stuckness’ in the whole story seems to be Pharaoh. He proclaims he is a god, and thus does not need to relieve himself. (Midrash Shemos, 9:8) On the one hand, this represents self-sufficiency. On the other hand, it represents an absence of any intake or output. There is no flow of energy, as if there are no ‘openings’ in his body. This is the epitome of exile.

Moshe, with the help of Aharon, begins to overcome his speech impediment and to convey Hashem’s words to Pharaoh. Moshe also begins to speak to the slaves. When his words begin to affect the inner state, Pharaoh reacts and tells his task masters, “Tichbed Ha'avoda,” ‘Harden upon them the work,’ (Exodus, 5:9) and, ‘Make them work harder, because they are nirpim, lazy!’(5:17). The word nirpim comes from the word rafa, ‘soft’. In other words, Pharaoh senses that the slaves have ‘softened’--something he cannot tolerate. In order to prevent any redemptive ‘opening’, Pharaoh commands them to harden again. However, the Redemption of speech is now inevitable.

Take a few moments to pray quietly about your life. Open up and converse with Hashem, mentally or quietly under your breath, if it’s comfortable. You can ask for whatever you want. You can express your spiritual yearnings, and your complaints, or even just ‘explain’ to Hashem what’s going on for you in your life. The point is to draw Bina into the details of your life as you articulate yourself.

A MOUTH THAT SPEAKS

In Egypt the slaves were forced to do avodah perach, ‘harsh labor’. The word perach can be broken down into the two words, peh rach, meaning ‘weak mouth’. This symbolizes the fact that their faculty of speech was in exile. The word Pharaoh can also be pronounced ‘peh ra’, meaning ‘negative mouth’. This symbolizes the force of negativity and reactivity that sought to keep the Jews stuck and hardened. The Arizal says that one meaning of the word Pesach is ‘peh (a mouth) sach (speaks).’ The main mitzvah of the Seder is l’sapeir, to tell the story and pass it on to our children. As the Haggadah itself says, “Anyone who elaborates in speaking about the Exodus from Egypt, he is certainly praiseworthy.” When we have ‘a mouth that speaks’, we can liberate ourselves from our own ‘weak mouth’ and ‘negative mouth’. As you discuss the Exodus from Egypt, envision your own redemption as well--and the Redemption of the whole world--and describe to another person what you see.

At the Eighth Plague, an unprecedented fluency of speech appears. Eight, like fifty, represents going beyond the natural cycle of sevens, telling us that the attribute of Binah is full, and about to give birth. Moshe announces before Pharaoh, “So says Hashem…if you refuse to send forth My people, behold, tomorrow I shall bring a locust-swarm….” (Ibid, 10:3-4) Looking closely, we see that Hashem never instructed Moshe to announce the Plague of Locusts--Moshe said it on his own, Divine speech now spontaneously flowing through him.

REDEEMING OUR SONG

We have gradually gained a ‘voice’, an independence over our reactivity. We have articulated ourselves, actively creating the story of our lives. Now the Divine speech is resonating through us. As the Haggadah crescendos into the praises of Hallel, we reach a sense of clarity, and our speech is elevated to the level of joyful song. We are the liberated ones singing at the Sea of Reeds, celebrating our birth into Redemption.

REDEEMING SILENCE

At the peak of the Exodus, when the Jews are standing at the Sea of Reeds, Hashem asks Moshe, “Why do you cry out to Me? Speak to the people of Israel and they shall journey forward.” (Ibid, 14:15) The entire process of the Exodus has been a journey from pre-sound, to sound, to language, and yet at the climax they are told to remain silent? The Zohar on this verse says that this event expresses the mystery of Atik, transcendence. Atik corresponds to the ‘silence beyond sound’. It is in a sense of the opposite of the ‘silence before sound’, which muted the slaves, for it is a chosen and luminous silence.

As we arrive at Nirtzah, the completion of the Seder, we have in fact come through the full spectrum of sound. Now, we are suspended in the blissful silence of two people in a deep relationship. There are no more questions. This silence is the answer--it is Redemption itself.

With blessings
Rabbi DovBer Pinson