Perhaps the central narrative event in Jewish history is the story of Pesach (Passover), the exile and redemption from Egypt. The deliverance from bondage is so essential to the Jewish belief system that it is a religious obligation to recall it twice a day. Thus, we recite the third paragraph of the Kriat Shema morning and evening (containing the commandment of tzitzis) specifically because it mentions the exodus. Not only does this story provide the paradigm of Jewish history, with its long cycle of exiles and redemption, it is emblematic of the very nature of creation as an entity separate -- i.e. in exile -- from G-d, and the fundamental human dilemma of mankind's exile from meaning and spirit. The primacy of exile as a universal condition is alluded to in the opening verses of the Torah. "And the earth was formless, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep" (Genesis 1:2). In this one verse, says the Midrash, all four major exiles that the Jewish People experienced are alluded to (except for the Egyptian exile, which is the root of them all). "Formless" refers to the Babylonian exile; "Void" the Persian exile; "Darkness" the Greek exile; and "the Deep" the Roman exile. The Midrash implies that the state of exile is inherent in the very fabric of creation, in the primordial void. Conversely, the deliverance from Egypt was not merely a historical event, it is the ongoing process of creation's return to its source. All of human history is the process of returning from exile, from independent existence back to unity and union with G-d.

As is known from mystical sources, the Torah is not simply a history book, nor is it a mere compendium of Jewish law. It is a prophetic text that addresses every individual, in every generation, from the beginning of time to the end. Everything is contained in the Torah: society, history, cosmology, religion. "The Torah is the blueprint of creation," declares the Midrash, "G-d looked in the Torah and created the world." This means to say that the Torah defines the very basis of reality. Thus, the stories of the Torah are not one time events, but eternal patterns that reoccur in the life of every individual. Finding these patterns and integrating their lessons in our lives is what the study of Torah is all about.

What then is the personal meaning of exile and redemption? Exile means being out of one's place, one's homeland. It is the sense of not belonging, of being distant from one's true goals and inner nature. In other words, personal exile is the individual's inability to realize his or her potential, that leaves one's deepest strengths and inclinations unfulfilled. This is especially prevalent in our generation, which is considered one of the very last before the final redemption. Personal alienation is perhaps the great psychological affliction of our time, resulting in an unprecedented degree of depression worldwide. Media and advertising add to this depression by offering a set of values and ideals that promise to satisfy man's basic longings, but which do not even begin to address the individual's inner spiritual resources. As long as we are out of touch with our true purpose in the world, we exist only on the periphery of life, in exile from who we really are.

Personal redemption would be the exact opposite; it implies a state of absolute connection with the deepest, most profound elements of our being. Realizing one's potential means that our innermost essence becomes expressed even in our outermost deeds. Each person has a unique, G-d-given spark, which must be discovered and revealed. Realizing this spark does not mean that one's life suddenly expresses itself in overtly religious terms. The artist can remain an artist, the thinker a thinker. It does mean that one's outer life becomes an extension of one's inner ideals. Eventually, with ever-deepening growth, one will touch the spark of G-dliness within and, if the channels of expression are indeed open, this inner realization will naturally direct one's potential into the service of G-d.

On the other hand, Judaism strongly denies the validity of the nine-to-five philosopher. Individuals who are not at one with their ideals. Such has been the case of many great and influential people throughout history, whose works expressed noble themes, but whose lives were sordid and unethical. There is likewise a flaw with truly righteous souls whose outer lives do not reflect their inner sensitivities. True spirituality means complete integration. Returning from exile means finding one's heart, and revealing it in the world.

The Chumash (Pentateuch), as a spiritual guidebook, is remarkably silent when it comes to describing higher states of consciousness. There is no talk of enlightenment, no nirvana. And yet, the Kabbalah teaches that the entire purpose of the Torah is to bring the individual to G-d realization. Nonetheless, the Chumash does not mention these states of mind explicitly. This is because the Torah is concerned with actions and transformation on the physical plane. It presents us with things we must do. When the higher states arrive, we will understand how they are actually hinted to in the text. Likewise, the Torah tells us very little about the enlightened consciousness of the Patriarchs. We know them only through their deeds. One needs the knowledge of Kabbalah, and the sensitivity to read between the lines, to appreciate something of their greatness. We know that Avraham was a man of kindness, as seen through his actions in the chapters of "Lech Lecha" and "Vayera." What this means spiritually is that he had achieved to a total realization of G-d's infinite love for creation, and made himself a channel for the revelation of this love in the world. The Torah tells us that Isaac was bound upon the altar. This means that he experienced complete ego annihilated from which, some say, he never returned.

The Talmud says that Jacob was the chosen of the Forefathers. It goes so far as to imply that Jacob had actually repaired the sin of Adam, and restored the primal unity between G-d and creation. Once again, we must read between the lines to see exactly where this is alluded to. "And Jacob was a simple man, a dweller in tents" (Genesis 25:27). Rashi, the great medieval commentator, explains this verse by saying, "His mouth was like his heart." This means to say that Jacob was a completely whole human being. There was no division between his innermost realizations and his outermost expression. This is the state of personal redemption, discussed above. It means that Jacob was completely in touch with, and able to give voice to, his innermost perceptions of divinity. The "Voice of Jacob" (Genesis 27:22) represents the ability to give utterance to one's deepest spiritual perceptions. Jacob is considered to be the embodiment of truth. "Give truth to Jacob" (Micah 7:20), for he was a simple man -- simply as he was, as G-d made him, from the center of his being, to the outermost extreme.

This process has its correspondence on the cosmological frame. The opening chapter of Genesis records the creative utterances of G-d. "And G-d said, Let there be light." "And G-d said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters." "And G-d said, Let the earth bring forth grass." These statements are the very essence of creation. G-d is at every moment "speaking" the world. If He were to abate this creative energy for even one instant, the world would revert to nothingness. This is true of all reality, G-d's word is constantly giving life to every act and detail in creation. As the verse says, "Forever, O L-rd, Your word stands in the heavens" (Psalms 119:89). This creative act is referred to as speech, because just as speech requires a limitation of one's thoughts, in order that one's ideas can actually be expressed, so G-d "limited" His Infinite Being, as it were, that a creation could exist in which His will could be revealed.

This state of revelation is called redemption; the state of concealment is galut -- exile. When the world does not reveal the Divine, when G-d's voice is silent, then the Divine Presence is in a state of exile, Kabbalistically referred to as Galut HaShechinah. Although G-d's presence is constantly speaking to us through creation, "The heavens declare the glory of G-d, and the firmament speaks of His handiwork" (Psalms 19:2), nonetheless, as long as we are unable to hear it, as long as division exists between the inner nature of reality and the outer, "There is no speech, there are no words, their voice is not heard" (ibid. 19:4). However, when the world reaches its ultimate state of perfection, a state of simplicity, as our Father Jacob achieved, then G-d, who is the heart of the world, will speak through the creation. In other words, G-d's innermost presence will be revealed in even the outermost details of reality. Divine unity will pervade reality, and the entire creation will reveal the loving presence of its Maker.

The Jewish People were exiled in Egypt. They were spiritually and physically out of their place, cut off from their supernal source. The nature of a slave it that he has no voice, no opinion or independent identity. His being is totally subjugated to the will of his master. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, one of the great Jewish thinkers of our time, wrote of this:

"Redemption, we have stated, is identical with communing, or with the revelation of the word, i.e. the emergence of speech. When a people leaves a mute world and enters a world of sound, speech and song, it becomes a redeemed people, a free people. In other words, a mute life is identical with bondage; a speech-endowed life is a free life.

"The slave lives in silence, if such a meaningless existence may be called life. He has no message to deliver. In contrast with the slave, the free man bears a message, has a good deal to tell, and is eager to convey his life story to anyone who cares to listen The slave has neither a story nor a curious audience. Moreover, he is not merely a speechless being, but a mute being, devoid not only of the word, but of the meaningful sound as well

"Before Moses came, there was not even a single sound. No complaint was lodged, no sigh, no cry uttered. Only an agonizing un-human shriek would penetrate the weird silence of the night. The slaves were gloomy, voiceless and mute. The women did not cry when their infants were snatched from their arm; the men kept quiet when they were mercilessly tortured by the slave drivers. Torture was taken for granted. They thought this was the way it had to be."

Even Moses experienced this silence to a degree. As the root soul of the Jewish People, his speech was also in exile. "And Moses said to G-d, O my L-rd, I am not a man of words, neither yesterday, nor since Thou hast spoken to thy servant; for I am slow of speech and slow of tongue" (Exodus 4:10). All this came about because of the Jewish People's subjugation to Pharaoh.

The word Pharaoh, when read backwards, spells out the word oreph, which means "neck". Kabbalistically, Pharaoh stands in the place of the neck, cutting of the head from the heart, the inner from the outer. We might say that Pharaoh had his hands around the throat of the Jewish People, preventing them from crying out. Likewise, the word for "Egypt," in Hebrew, is Mitzraim, which means "a narrow place." It is the place of constriction that seeks to block the revelation of G-d that flows from the deepest recesses of the soul. Chassidic texts identify Egypt as the embodiment of physical desires. For whenever a person falls into desiring the physical world as an end in itself, he is pursuing external reality alone, and has separated the world from its source. Whatever temporary satisfaction this world may offer, it can never replace the true joy of being united with one's root, and expressing that realization freely in every aspect of one's life.

Thus, the deliverance from Egypt came about through a restatement of G-d's Being. On the first night of Pesach, G-d spoke His presence in the land of Egypt. "And I will pass over the land of Egypt and smite all the first born" (Exodus 12:12). That is, He revealed His presence in the world, and all those forces that deny the unity of G-d, that exist only because the world seems to be an independent entity, were destroyed. On that night, G-d's speech came out of exile, and so did the Jewish People. Only after the redemption could their voices be heard in prayer and praise, as at the Song of the Red Sea. Moses's speech was also redeemed, and for forty years the Divine word spoke through him, as he taught Torah to the people of Israel.

This is the spiritual energy of Pesach, reoccurring from year to year. Thus, the essential mitzvah of the holiday is the reading of the Haggadah, which means "the telling over." When we speak of G-d's wonders and of the deliverance, we too are revealing His Presence in the world. Our mouths have also become vessels of revelation. The great sixteenth century Kabbalist, Rabbi Yitzchok Luria, says that the word "Pesach" can be read as two words, Peh Sach, "the mouth speaks." On this night, the heart and the mouth come together, and Pharaoh's grip is loosed from our throats. Coming out of exile means the fulfillment one's potential. And there is no greater fulfillment than when one touches the root of one's soul, and gives expression to it in ways that are uniquely one's own.

We began with a verse from Proverbs: "Honor G-d with your wealth." The Sages say: "Instead of reading the word as 'wealth' -- honcha, read it as honencha -- with what He graces you." For this is our greatest treasure, to serve Him with the unique gifts he bestows upon each one of us. Then one truly has something to say; words of depth and beauty that come from the heart. In yet another place, the Sages say, "Don't read the word as honcha, but as groncha -- your throat!" For when the channels are open, one's entire being gives praise to G-d. What greater potential can a person realize than to be a vessel for the Almighty. Then the mouth speaks. Then, "My heart and my flesh will give praise to the Living G-d" (Psalms 84:3).

As we mentioned above, the reading of the Hagadah serves to free the Jewish soul from the confines and slavery of the body. The Hagadah starts with a discussion of slavery, and ends with songs of praise. In this way it literally takes us through all the stages, from confinement to redemption. It is good to recite the Hagadah in a loud voice, this opens channels of spiritual energies that can bring us to new levels of awareness.

Matzos represent truth. They are simply what they are, not puffed up or exaggerated. They embody the simplicity of Jacob. While there are many deep and profound meditations that the Kabbalah would have us intend when we take our first bite of matzah, the simplest, most honest intention we can have is to pray in our hearts that G-d lead us on the path of truth. Also, matzos have no sweet taste, they do not feed that selfish part of ourselves that seeks satisfaction from the sugary coating of life.

Likewise, removing leaven from our homes symbolizes the destruction of the ego, and the powers of selfishness that obscure our vision of the Divine.

The four cups of wine represent the four promises of redemption mentioned in the Torah, Say unto the children of Israel, I am the L-rd, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will rid you of their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm, and with great judgments. And I will take you to me for a people, and I will be to you a G-d (Exodus 6:6,7). The four cups also correspond to the four letters of G-d s Name, which represents the complete power to move from potential to actual.The wine further serves to expand the consciousness, that we can perceive the illuminations of the day.

There are a great many laws that are observed on Pesach, with numerous details. For a very comprehensive guide, we recommend The Laws of Pesach, a multi-volume set discussing every aspect of the holiday, by R. Shimon Eider.

(C) Eliezer Shore, Bas Ayin

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