27 Mar WHEN LIFE FEELS COMPLICATED, CHOOSE MATZAH

I once attended a
funeral for a woman
whose life had been
marked by tension
and complexity.
There was a palpable
strain among her
children and grandchildren, and
speaker after speaker, sometimes
subtly and sometimes not, hinted at
the conflicts she had introduced into
the family. Then her son rose to speak.
He paused, looked out, and said that
his mother was complicated. He then
looked at his siblings and said, let’s
not be complicated. Let’s keep things
simple. Let’s simply love one another,
simply be loyal to one another, and
simply get along with one another,
and with that he sat down.
Sometimes we complicate that which
we should keep simple.
Each year, as we recite Vehi She’amda,
בכל דור ודור עומדים עלינו say we
לכלותינו, that in every generation there

are those who rise against us. We tend
to imagine darker periods of history,
or rising antisemitism in Europe, or
threats from Hamas and Hezbollah.
Yet increasingly, we are reminded that
what should be morally clear is often
treated as complex. But some things
are not complicated. Some things are
.simple ,פשוט
The Torah commands that we eat
matzah for seven days, describing it as
lechem oni, bread of affliction. Matzah
sits at the center of the Seder, yet it is
deeply paradoxical. It symbolizes
freedom, the bread over which we
recline like royalty and recount our
liberation, yet it is also called the
bread of affliction. Beyond symbolism,
it is strikingly plain. Made from just
flour and water, any additional
ingredient disqualifies it. No
sweetness, no spice, no fermentation.
Compared to the elaborate foods we
celebrate, matzah is bland, imperfect,
and simple. How can such a food
represent royalty and freedom?

The Maharal of Prague addresses
exactly this question and offers a
profound answer. We tend to equate
wealth and freedom with abundance,
with more possessions, more
experiences, more sophistication. But
the Maharal teaches that the more
dependent we are on external things,
the less free we actually are. When
we rely on comforts, stimulation, and
complexity to feel satisfied, we
become enslaved to them. True
freedom is the ability to live without
dependence.
Lechem oni does not mean bread of
suffering, but bread of living with
less. That state does not lead to
deprivation but to liberation. When
we are not reliant on extras, we are no
longer controlled by them. Freedom is
found in פשטות, in simplicity.
Judaism does not demand that we live
this way all year. We do not eat matzah
year round and there is nothing wrong
with enjoying comfort and pleasure.
But for one week, Pesach trains us
to step back and detach from what
we have come to see as necessities.
It reminds us that many of the
things we think we need are
actually luxuries. That shift in
perspective changes how we relate
to everything.
Consider Warren Buffett. Now in
his mid nineties and worth well
over one hundred billion dollars,
he has lived in the same modest
home in Omaha for decades. When
asked why he never upgraded, he
said, “I’m happy there. I’d move if
I thought I’d be happier someplace
else.” “This house does just fine.
I’m warm in the winter, I’m cool in
the summer, it’s convenient for
me. I couldn’t imagine having a
better house.” His freedom is not
defined by what he owns, but by
what he does not need. He is not
dependent on luxury to feel
content.
This idea is spreading more widely.
Across America, many people are
stepping away from constant
connectivity, trading smartphones
for simpler devices. The appeal is
not nostalgia but the desire to
reclaim presence and clarity.

People feel overwhelmed by the
complexity and distraction of modern
life and are searching for something
simpler. People today are saturated
with chametz and are searching for
matzah.
Pesach itself reflects this reality. With
fewer ingredients available, we often
eat more joyfully. Children, with
fewer toys, frequently find greater
happiness, sometimes in the simplest
things. The Brisker Rav would keep
his matzos under lock and key before
the Seder. When asked why, he cited
and ושמרתם את המצות verse the
explained that just as we protect
valuable jewels, we must guard our
matzos. The simplest food becomes
the greatest treasure.
All year long, we complicate our lives
by chasing more and adding layers
that we think will enhance our
experience. Pesach and matzah remind
us that what is most simple is often
most true and most valuable. The
things that are most straightforward
are the ones that set us free.
The safety of Jews, whether in Israel
or around the world, should never be
complicated. It is a matter of clarity,
not nuance. We must not accept
explanations that obscure what is
morally obvious.
That is the message of matzah. If we
want geulah, we need to bring more
simplicity into our lives and into our
relationships. Instead of making
things more complicated, we can
choose to keep them simple. We can
choose to love one another, to be loyal
to one another, and to live together
with greater harmony.