17 Mar AFFLICTION AND REDEMPTION

“Ha lachma anya…. This is the poor
man’s bread.” The bread of our affliction.
Kol dichfin yaisai v’yechol…. Whoever is
hungry, let him come and eat…. Kol
ditzrich yaisai v’yifsach… Whoever is
needy, let him come and celebrate
Pesach…” (From the Pesach Haggadah)
Seder night. As we sit around our
beautifully set table, we begin the maggid
section of the Haggadah, telling over the
story of yetzias Mitzrayim, our nation’s
exodus from Egypt. The story of our
redemption, a story that is told and retold,
a story for generations.
We all have our personal seder memories.
Oftentimes, memories from years ago,
recalled with great fondness.
My mother a”h would often be a guest
speaker at Pesach programs, and our
family, along with my siblings and their
families, would join.
First seder night. Time for urchatz, to
wash our hands. As we walked through

the dining room to the washing station,
my then seventeen-year-old son, Yosef
Dov, noticed someone we didn’t see. A
person easily missed. There was an elderly
man sitting at a table for one. My son
turned to us and remarked that no one
should be alone for seder. “Let’s invite
him to join us. Don’t we say ‘kol ditzrich…
Anyone who is needy, let him join us”?
Needy could be being lonely, needy for
companionship. Needy to hear a kind
word. Needy for an invite.
We knew what we had to do. Together, we
walked over to the gentleman’s table and
asked him to join us. All of a sudden, a
forlorn face turned bright and smiley. In
no time, he picked himself up and came to
our table. With a strong southern drawl, he
told us that he was from Norfolk, Virginia.
During the course of the evening, he
regaled us with stories about Jewish life in
Norfolk. And every year, as I say kol
ditzrich, it brings back memories of our
friend from Norfolk. That simple
invitation transformed both his seder and
ours.
There’s an age old question about Ha

lachma anya. Isn’t it a bit late in the
game to invite one to a seder? Why,
then, as we sit down around our
table do we say “all who are
hungry, come and eat, all who are
needy, come and join us”?
As the one who prepares the food
and sets the table, I look at the
question through the lens of a
woman. So often, we are
intimidated to extend an invitation.

We think we can’t cook up a multi-
course gourmet meal. I don’t have

the time, the strength, the know-how.
Preparing for company is so much more
work.
Ha lachma anya teaches us differently.
One doesn’t have to cook and prepare
weeks in advance. It doesn’t have to be a
five-star Michelin dinner. Our tablescape
doesn’t have to be magazine worthy. It’s
okay to invite in the last minute, and share
whatever you have. People are so grateful
for the company. Just to be at another’s
table and share conversation. I remember
my mother saying, “A burger with friends
tastes better than a steak eaten alone.”
“This is the poor man’s bread.” Is that
the “chef’s choice”? Is that the best we
can offer? What about inviting for a tasty
piece of salmon, a savory portion of
short ribs. A sweet taste of apple crumble.
Our seder is our seudas ho’da’ah, our
gratitude dinner. We emphasize the
matzah to help us focus on our beginnings
in Egypt. Days of slavery and
deprivation. A life of matzah and marror.
Bitter, painful days. But then, a miracle
occurred. HaShem took us out of Egypt
with His strong hand, with miracles the
world have never seen before.
But it’s not just about the past. Beginning
the seder with the bread of affliction, the
poor man’s bread, should remind us that
while we, too, may experience struggles
and challenges, the “I can’t take it any
longer days”, we also have days of
gratitude. We should take a minute while
we are sitting at the seder to contemplate
all of the things that we personally have
to be grateful for. It is a night to remember
that HaShem was with us in the past, and
acknowledge that He continues to be
with us, on both a personal and global
level.
“The bread of affliction that our fathers
ate in the land of Mitzrayim”. But don’t
we eat matzah to commemorate our
ancestor’s leaving Egypt in a rush, not
having time to let the dough rise? Wasn’t

it a bread of liberation and not a bread of
affliction?
Matzah is both the bread of affliction, the
food of slavery, and the taste of
redemption. Another message of sharing
our table with others.
No matter where life takes us, we can
share. With the ongoing war in Israel, with
missiles flying and sirens blaring, there
has been a lot of “shelter time”. With that
comes opportunities of giving and caring.
I recently saw a clip of a crowded shelter,
filled with people from all walks of life.
As can be expected, there were lots of
cranky little ones. One mother grabbed a
little snack bag for her toddler as she ran
from her apartment to the shelter. But she
was happy to share whatever small items
she had with the other little ones. The
beauty of Am Yisroel.
To share, no matter what, no matter where.
Be it the food of our affliction in times of
difficulty, or food of our redemption in
times of celebration. With small acts of
kindness, our nation rises to its glory.
As I was looking over the Haggadah, the
last of the Four Questions stood out. “…
ha’leila hazeh kulanu mesubin… on this
night, we all recline.” Night, darkness, is
usually associated with challenge,
difficulty, and uncertainty. Yet, the
Haggadah says we recline, a form of
relaxing. I understood it to mean that no
matter how dark the night may be, we
place our emuna and bitachon, our faith
and trust in HaShem. We recline. We take
a breather. We say, HaShem, I will do
mine, and after that, I have total trust in
faith in Your miraculous hand. I leave it
up to You. With that spirit, even in the
darkest of dark, we can recline.
Pesach. A night to open our tables and
hearts. A night to recall the bread of
affliction and the bread of redemption. To
have gratitude for what was, what is, and
what will be. A night to joyfully sing,
l’shana ha’ba’ah b’Yerushalayim.