The Forge of Maror

Together with the festive expressions of redemption on the Seder night, there is an expression of bitterness, a memorial to the bitter exile and the great troubles which were our lot in Egypt. The redemption is reflected in our partaking of the pesach and the matza, and the commemoration of the awful troubles, on the other hand, is achieved by eating the maror.

We can also understand in this way the korekh sandwich, which is Hillel’s custom of wrapping the pesach, matza, and maror together and eating them. This is because these elements are intertwined: the happiness of redemption together with the painful recollection of our distress.

Now we may understand the words Rabban Gamliel:

Whoever does not mention these three things on Pesach does not fulfill his obligation, and these are they: pesach, matza, and maror.

Rabbeinu Manoach (as mentioned above) explains these elements thusly:

This teaches us that one must state and explain the reason [of each mitzva], for all of the mitzvot have reasons, and knowing the reason of the mitzva is of great significance upon accomplishing it… By recalling this, the fear of God will always be upon him. When one sees the providence of God, which He displayed on Israel’s behalf, one’s heart will remain irrevocably attached to Him, may He be Blessed, forever. If one finds himself in a time of great distress, he must trust in God, the Hope of Israel, its Savior in a time of distress. The distress of the Egyptian exile had a purpose, to benefit them in the end; so too all of the troubles of Israel in exile have a purpose, to save and deliver them eternally.

According to Rabbeinu Manoach, there are a number of complementary ingredients; they are integral and indispensable. The obligation of mentioning pesach, matza, and maror strengthens one’s faith and belief in God. It teaches us how the Jewish people dealt with the difficulties and troubles which they underwent in Egypt. The nation of Israel may draw from this the powers of faith and spiritual strength in order to face later challenges.

The enslavement of Egypt entailed rigorous labor, but the greater difficulty was the emotional difficulty, because this was a time when God hid His face, as it were, from His nation, a phenomenon known as “hester panim”. It appeared, as it were, that there was no providence in the world and that the Egyptians could do to the Jewish people whatever they pleased. This was a nissayon, a trial or test, as Ramchal explains: [1]

The essential nissayon of hester panim is the following. God certainly says, through all of His prophets, that He is the One Who asserts providence over all of His creations, and His eyes are upon all the ways of man, to give to each man according to his ways and the fruits of his actions… Behold, after we have heard all of this, we know that He makes the world go round with deep twisting schemes and distant plans, which appear, God forbid, to suggest the opposite of this, for at one time it may appear as if it all comes by chance… and all other issues which God gave to test by them the hearts of human beings… For this is the test, to see whether people will maintain their faith, and this fundamental will never vanish from their hearts: He is certainly a faithful, incorruptible God, even though we do not understand his ways. And of this it is says (Chavakkuk 2:4), “And the righteous will live by his faith,” as we have already explained above. This is a very great space made by the absence of the Upper Perfection, and a place has been left for evil.

In another place, the Ramchal explains that it is the nissayon specifically which advances a person and raises him up a degree. Trials are not designed to make man stumble, but to make him stronger. (Indeed, we say that “Nissayon makes one wise,” in the modern sense of “experience,” but of course nissayon means “trial” in its original sense, and we may say that this sort of nissayon also makes one wise; however, this is not the occasion to elaborate on this.)  

Nevertheless, we must ask, since our Rabbis have taught us that in a time of hester panim, this is strictly a nissayon for humanity, and there is no absence of Providence, does this not undermine the very trial? We know that this is merely an illusion, that God is still on the scene!

We may respond that the nature of nissayon is not logical, but rather psychological; it is not rational but emotional. In other words, when a man finds himself in great distress, which appears to indicate the opposite of providence, then even if from a theological and logical point of view, he is able to understand that we are talking about a nissayon, from an emotional and psychological point of view, this is a difficult trauma, in an emotional, personal test which challenges one’s faith. Many times, when a person is put in a situation of emotional breakdown and post-traumatic stress, the logical difficulties and the theological questions arise retroactively, not as a factor in precipitating the crisis in the first place.

How can a person be helped to withstand the emotional difficulty of a nissayon? The more one builds his world of faith and fortifies his soul, the easier it will be to deal with any nissayon.

The theological issue which we must comprehensively deal with now is the idea that the birth of redemption must be accompanied by birth pangs. As a result of this, we must coordinate our expectations with the processes of redemption. We must make ourselves accustomed ahead of time, to understand that the lights of redemption come with a considerable amount of darkness; our joy is often mixed with despair, and the taste of matza is laced with the taste of maror.

On the Seder night and on the Shabbat of Pesach, we read Shir Hashirim. There is an intimate link between the meaning of this book and the redemption of the Pesach holiday. The Sages[2] expound the verse (Shir Hashirim 2:9) “My beloved is like a gazelle or a young hart” in the following way:

“My beloved is like a gazelle” — just as a gazelle is seen, then hidden, then seen again, so too the first redeemer is seen, then hidden, then seen. How long is he hidden? R. Tanchuma said: “Three months, as it says, ‘And they encountered Moshe and Aharon’ (Shemot 5:20).”

Maharal[3] explains this midrash as follows:

For this very reason, the Holy One did not command them to perform the signs immediately, for the Holy One wanted the redeemer to be hidden from them for a certain amount of time, and afterwards he could return to be revealed. This is all a wondrous matter. According to my view, it parallels the two accountings, for He said (Shemot 3:16), “Taking account, I have taken account” and therefore there were two accountings: once now, and in the future as well, when they will be redeemed… There are to be two occasions of flourishing. All of this is to promote the redemption, for it is impossible for the redemption, which is the highest degree, to come all at once.

Redemption is compared to the movements of the gazelle: sometimes it is seen, but sometimes it disappears. However, even when it disappears from view, it is still moving forward. This relates to the various stages of redemption in which we see the progress of redemption, despite periods of hester panim, during which it appears that the redemption is in retreat. We must know that even at a time of hester panim, the redemption advances: so it was during the redemption from Egypt, and the same applies to the future redemption. Similar things were written by Rav Kook[4] after the massacres of 5689 (1929):

This holy principle, which is the issue of all of this great vision, has in it a certain latent spark of the messianic light: the redeemer who is seen, then hidden, then seen. Indeed, we are witnessing the process of a nation being resuscitated and the settlement of the land of Israel being expanded, in which there are many turns, ascents and descents and ascents. Every descent in the progress of this endeavor is a manifestation of the concealment of the redeemer, and every ascent which comes afterward is a manifestation of his revelation. Anyone who follows the progress of the Yishuv, from its first steps until now, may see clearly with his own eyes that for every descent which we have borne, we have afterwards seen a greater flourishing and development; from every crisis, we leap forward, to our benefit. In the progress of the settlement, there are many examples of this. What can we say about the great descent and the great crisis of the period of the war… that every heart trembles with the thought of our settlement sinking and utterly collapsing. Behold, we have seen with our own eyes that out of the darkness, we have come out to great light, and we have widened the borders of what was a limited settlement, and the land of Israel is now settled to the degree which we witness today. So we have seen, in a small measure, the redeemer who is hidden, then seen once again. From this, we may learn and derive an important lesson: we shall not let our spirits fail even beneath the terrifying shadow of a great downfall, which has befallen our settlement.

Indeed, from the eating of the maror, we may derive a new principle. There is emotional and psychological significance to knowing that the Jewish people have already undergone trials too difficult to consider; the Egyptian exile stands first and foremost among these, but despite the great difficulties, the Jewish people withstood them with pride. On the contrary, “the more they were oppressed, the more they multiplied and the more they spread abroad” (Shemot 1:12) — the trials only strengthened and advanced them. This knowledge is a source of strength and spiritual fortitude, powers to marshal in the face of all future challenges, which allow us to withstand all difficulties and trials. As we are accustomed to say, “We survived Pharaoh, we can survive this.”

On the night of the Seder, we recline at the table and wrap matza and maror together; united with the entire house of Israel, we draw spiritual powers and strengths from the wellsprings of faith and redemption to face the great challenges which stand before us, to merit the taste of liberty in matza and to be willing also to suffer the bitterness of the maror.

[1] Daat Tevunot, ch. 124.

[2] Shir Hashirim Rabba, ch. 2.

[3] Gevurot Hashem, ch. 30.

[4] “Shuvu Le-vitzaron,” Ma’amarei Ha-Re’aya, vol. II, p. 360.