 | The matzah that is the Passover bread is about many things. Amidst the crunch and crumbles we might find humility, ancestry, community and reminders of liberation. Hidden in matzah's layers of meaning (and this week's Torah portion) is one more thing – a profound empowerment and call to each of us. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Tzav & Passover 5785 (2025)
During the Passover days ahead, millions of folks gathered at tables worldwide will make matzah crumbs. (So many crumbs!)
We also will re-make meaning that celebrates liberation and calls us to continue pressing the horizon of freedom forward against tyrannies of all kinds.
In this sacred and timeless calling, each of us will step into the shoes of the first Kohen Gadol (High Priest) of Israel, Moses' brother Aaron. Yes, each of us – and that means you, too.
The Passover seder table – and, nowadays, our own everyday kitchen and dining room tables – substitutes for every holy place fashioned with human hands. These include the Second Temple (c. 490 BCE - 70 CE), and before it the First Temple (c. 970 - 586 BCE), and before that regional spiritual centers (c. 1200 - 970 BCE), and before them the desert-traveling Mishkan where Aaron and his sons served after the exodus from Egypt.
That's the caliber of what we do when we gather to commemorate, sanctify and inspire.
This week's Torah portion preceding Passover makes the point literally. When our ancestors brought offerings to the altar's eternal flame, Aaron and his sons dedicated them to God on their behalf with matzah (Lev. 6:5-10) – the same unleavened bread of Passover. We also learn that matzah is eaten only in a holy place (Kli Yakar, Lev. 6:9).
Therefore, when we eat matzah and wherever we eat matzah, we must make that time and place holy. That means our homes, our seder tables, anywhere, everywhere.
How do we do that? We are called to remember what matzah is really about, and to eat it with those intentions on our minds and hearts.
Matzah is the bread of haste, a relic of spiritual history that our fleeing enslaved ancestors had no time for their bread to rise (Ex. 12:39). It reminds us that the call to freedom is urgent, the stand against tyranny is exigent. No time to wait: now.
Matzah is the bread of poverty, literally לֶחֶם עֹנִי / lehem oni (Deut. 16:3). It reminds us that we ourselves – not just our ancestors but also each of us, you and me – were liberated from the greatest poverty of all. It reminds us to share our bread, to feel the world's poverty in our bones rather than lift ourselves blithely above its moral call to our hearts, minds and spirits.
Matzah is the bread of humility – no yeast, nothing to puff it up – aligning with our spiritual ancestors' humble homage to the miraculous news of liberation (Ex. 12:27). It reminds us not to be haughty in our blessings but to remember how so much comes from beyond us. It also reminds us of the ancient priesthood that received offerings with matzah: they received in the Name of What Transcends Any Name. So do we.
When we take in matzah with those intentions, we transform matzah and we transform ourselves. It's not just about crunch and crumble: it's about the essence of who we are and who we are called to be in a world still aching for liberation.
May this year's Passover inspire us to stand in the High Priest's shoes and take this season's urgent steps forward toward the next turning of our liberation from bondage – for us, for our loved ones, for our people, for every people.
From my heart to yours, חַג פֶּסַח שָׂמֵחַ / hag pesah sameah – a joyous festival of Passover.
P.S. The 49-day Omer count from Passover (liberation) to Shavuot (revelation) begins at the Second Seder of April 13. The first week of Omer is for hesed • lovingkindness – that liberating power that connects and transcends. Spread some extra, and let some extra in.
Tzav & Passover 5785 (2025)
During the Passover days ahead, millions of folks gathered at tables worldwide will make matzah crumbs. (So many crumbs!)
We also will re-make meaning that celebrates liberation and calls us to continue pressing the horizon of freedom forward against tyrannies of all kinds.
In this sacred and timeless calling, each of us will step into the shoes of the first Kohen Gadol (High Priest) of Israel, Moses' brother Aaron. Yes, each of us – and that means you, too.
The Passover seder table – and, nowadays, our own everyday kitchen and dining room tables – substitutes for every holy place fashioned with human hands. These include the Second Temple (c. 490 BCE - 70 CE), and before it the First Temple (c. 970 - 586 BCE), and before that regional spiritual centers (c. 1200 - 970 BCE), and before them the desert-traveling Mishkan where Aaron and his sons served after the exodus from Egypt.
That's the caliber of what we do when we gather to commemorate, sanctify and inspire.
This week's Torah portion preceding Passover makes the point literally. When our ancestors brought offerings to the altar's eternal flame, Aaron and his sons dedicated them to God on their behalf with matzah (Lev. 6:5-10) – the same unleavened bread of Passover. We also learn that matzah is eaten only in a holy place (Kli Yakar, Lev. 6:9).
Therefore, when we eat matzah and wherever we eat matzah, we must make that time and place holy. That means our homes, our seder tables, anywhere, everywhere.
How do we do that? We are called to remember what matzah is really about, and to eat it with those intentions on our minds and hearts.
Matzah is the bread of haste, a relic of spiritual history that our fleeing enslaved ancestors had no time for their bread to rise (Ex. 12:39). It reminds us that the call to freedom is urgent, the stand against tyranny is exigent. No time to wait: now.
Matzah is the bread of poverty, literally לֶחֶם עֹנִי / lehem oni (Deut. 16:3). It reminds us that we ourselves – not just our ancestors but also each of us, you and me – were liberated from the greatest poverty of all. It reminds us to share our bread, to feel the world's poverty in our bones rather than lift ourselves blithely above its moral call to our hearts, minds and spirits.
Matzah is the bread of humility – no yeast, nothing to puff it up – aligning with our spiritual ancestors' humble homage to the miraculous news of liberation (Ex. 12:27). It reminds us not to be haughty in our blessings but to remember how so much comes from beyond us. It also reminds us of the ancient priesthood that received offerings with matzah: they received in the Name of What Transcends Any Name. So do we.
When we take in matzah with those intentions, we transform matzah and we transform ourselves. It's not just about crunch and crumble: it's about the essence of who we are and who we are called to be in a world still aching for liberation.
May this year's Passover inspire us to stand in the High Priest's shoes and take this season's urgent steps forward toward the next turning of our liberation from bondage – for us, for our loved ones, for our people, for every people.
From my heart to yours, חַג פֶּסַח שָׂמֵחַ / hag pesah sameah – a joyous festival of Passover.
P.S. The 49-day Omer count from Passover (liberation) to Shavuot (revelation) begins at the Second Seder of April 13. The first week of Omer is for hesed • lovingkindness – that liberating power that connects and transcends. Spread some extra, and let some extra in.
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