Passover: The Courage to Change

Last Pesach, an Orthodox friend of mine, Shmuly, was at a business meeting during the middle days of the holiday. When lunchtime came, his colleagues went out to local restaurants, but Shmuly remained at the conference table and took out his matzah and hard-boiled egg. As he unwrapped it, another colleague joined him and unwrapped his lunch. It was ham and cheese on matzah.  

The colleague looked at Shmuly with a relieved smile and said: 
“Boy, I'm glad I'm not the only one. It's hard to explain Passover, isn't it?” Well, today I want to explain the name of the holiday. 
Why is the holiday called ‘Passover’, or in Hebrew, Pesach?  

We know it is because G-d “passed over” the Jewish homes while the plague of death swept across Egypt. But sparing the Jews during the plague of death was one of many extraordinary miracles that took place during the Exodus; for example, the splitting of the sea, the protective clouds of glory, and manna from heaven. The holiday could have been called the “Festival of Splitting Seas.” Why is the ‘passing over’ the one miracle for which Passover is named?  

According to our sages, despite their slave status, the Jews in Egypt were assimilated. The midrash explains, “When Joseph died, the Children of Israel stopped circumcising their sons. They said, ‘Let’s be like the Egyptians.’  

The Jews followed this path of Egyptian paganism and its immorality for more than two centuries. After generations of slavery, their hearts were dull, their minds were numb, and all outward signs of spiritual life were stifled. The Jews assumed the idolatrous practices of the Egyptians; in many ways, they were as spiritually and morally corrupt as their enslavers. The Midrash recounts that as they crossed the Red Sea, dire accusations were being leveled against the Jews in heaven. The angels asked G-d, “Why are the Jews being saved? How are the Jews better than the Egyptians? The Jews are idolaters, and the Egyptians are idolaters. 

So, on the eve of the Exodus, when G-d passed over the Jewish homes while the plague of death swept through Egypt, there was little difference between the Egyptians and the Hebrews. In fact, based upon their merits at that time, Israel was considered unworthy of redemption. But despite their assimilation, despite their attempts to become more Egyptian than the Egyptians, G-d redeemed the Jews, on their potential, because of what they would yet be – “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”  

G-d passed over not only the houses of the Jews but also the deeds of the Jews. G-d passed over the present to realize the future. He saved the Jewish homes not because of their spiritual status in Egypt but rather because of what the Jewish home would eventually be in future generations. G-d did not look at what the Jews were in Egypt. He looked at what they could become.  

This idea is implicit in the word Pesach, “to pass over.” Passover tells us that even if your Jewishness is equal to that of an Egyptian pagan, don’t despair, G-d will help you skip over it, to the Jew you can become. G-d will help you redeem yourself.  

We all need a personal redemption, the courage to pass over our self-destructive inclinations, and realize our potential to reach the person we can become.  

Even the greatest figure in Jewish history is no exception. There is a story recorded in the Midrash that a king who had heard of Moses’ greatness sent skilled artists to the Jewish encampment and commissioned them to make a portrait of the Jewish prophet. When the artists returned, the king submitted the portrait to his expert physiognomists, wise men who were able to assess a person's character and personality from his outer appearance and facial features.  

The experts examined the painting and reported that the portrait was of a selfish, narcissistic, ego-driven, jealous, and lustful person. This man, they said, was the lowest of the low.  

The king was perplexed because he was confident in the skills of his artists and the competency of his wise physiognomists. Yet their analysis was the opposite of what he had heard about Moses. Mystified, the king decided to make the trip to the desert to see Moses for himself.  

When the king met Moses, he saw that his artist's drawing had been perfect, unerringly accurate. He then shared with Moses how far off his experts had been. In response, Moses said to the king,  

“No, your experts were not wrong at all. You see, all that they can gather from a study of facial features is what kind of character traits a person has at birth, and in this respect, they were right. I was born with all the capacities to be egocentric, decadent, and greedy. However, I channeled these tendencies towards spiritual goals and converted them so that I am greedy to achieve more spiritual wealth. And I have a passionate lust for all of humanity to have a closer relationship with G-d. I passed over my negative character traits and revealed my deepest potential. Your wise men could not detect these converted, elevated traits.  

A person might be shocked to discover their own bad or even sinister character traits, and they may therefore either refuse to look truthfully at themselves or simply deny these components of their characters. In either case, they will lack knowledge of their true selves. But we learn that Moses, the exemplary Jewish leader, did neither. He was aware of his negative traits and was not afraid of them. He stared them in the face and transformed them towards positive goals and great ideals, and he succeeded. Moses's life and Exodus are both about the miracle of passing over. So, if your psychiatrist tells you, “I’ve analyzed your personality, it’s a bad picture,” respond, like Moses, “the picture you have is accurate, but I am a ‘Passover Jew. We all can pass over who we are today on the way to who we want to become.  

One year, during the most intense moments of the Yom Kippur prayers, the Baal Shem Tov cried more than usual. His students were concerned that perhaps there was some dire decree in heaven against the Jews, and they intensified their heartfelt prayers. Suddenly, the Baal Shem left his congregation and walked across town to the thieves’ Synagogue.  

You see, we Jews are a very democratic people. In the shtetl, there were synagogues for all kinds of groups, and the thieves had their synagogue as well. That Yom Kippur the Baal Shem Tov prayed there with the thieves. Later, the Baal Shem’s perplexed students asked him why he prayed with the thieves. “And of all days, they wondered, Why on Yom Kippur? Can’t you accomplish more with your righteous congregation?!” The Baal Shem Tov replied:  

“I saw that all the gates in heaven were locked, and we could not open them. I needed someone who knew how to break in; I needed people who knew how to open locked doors.”  

Like so many Jewish stories, this one contains hidden depths. Every bad character trait, the Baal Shem was saying, has at its source a positive counterpart. You need to learn how to redirect the negative trait, to pass over its negative expression. A person may be aggressive, brazen, or rebellious; these traits can make a person into a thief. However, if you trace this negative energy to the depths of the soul, you will see it is the manifestation of an ability and power to “break in” and reach heights that more well-behaved people may never reach. This is the ultimate expression of the Divine Image in each of us. Here is a more contemporary example. Professor Nechama Leibowitz (1905–1997) was a brilliant teacher and Biblical scholar and the winner of a prestigious Israeli Prize in Education. Once, she was invited to appear on an Israeli radio program where participants spoke about the most interesting person they had ever met.  

Most guest-related incidents involved well-known figures in political and intellectual life or the arts. But Nechama, as she was known throughout Israel, described an incident involving a policeman she had met many years earlier.  

Shortly after Israel was founded (1948), Nechama was teaching at a college in Jerusalem where students and faculty enjoyed a close-knit relationship. But one day, some money was taken from a student’s purse. A few days later, a valuable pen disappeared, and then a student’s watch disappeared. The school was in an upheaval; clearly, there was a thief among them.  

While Leibowitz was conducting a class with the school’s fifty students, the principal came in with an elderly police officer. The policeman turned to the students and said, “I'm a very experienced policeman. I started my career in the days of the British Mandate. I've already investigated hundreds of cases like this one. It is clear that this is an inside job—someone among you is a thief.”  

The officer continued: “Now I want to talk to the thief who’s sitting here in this room. Only you know who has stolen things from your fellow students three times—only you and G-d Almighty. No one else in this room, including me, has any idea who you are. You have succeeded three times; for all I know, maybe you've succeeded in getting away with it more than three times. Let me tell you from experience, once you've succeeded in getting away with stealing, you will continue —and probably won't get caught.”  

The policeman’s eyes scanned the room, and he spoke directly to the unidentified thief: “You will see that it is not so difficult to steal, and you will continue to do so. You'll have money. And you won't get caught because we in the police force, we know that very few robberies are ever solved. You might become respected and wealthy, but one thing is true – you'll be a thief all your life. You’ll never be able to clear yourself of that fact.  

“Now, I'm going to make a suggestion. It’s now 12:30. We’re all going home soon because it’s Erev Shabbat; it will soon be Shabbat. Between one and two o'clock at the latest, put the things you stole in some open place where they can be found—and you'll be absolved, no longer be a thief.”  

The police officer picked up his briefcase, said “Shabbat Shalom, and left the room. At home that afternoon, as Nechama prepared for Shabbat, the phone rang. It was the principal. With great excitement, he told her that the three missing items – the money, pen, and watch were all sitting on the table in the school's main corridor. Someone had quietly placed them there for all to see.  

When Leibowitz related this story in a radio interview a decade later, she did far more than arouse peoples’ interest in this clever policeman. Over the years, people who heard her tell this story, or heard about it from others, used this same technique with equal success. On one occasion, Nechama received a letter from the principal of a youth village near Beer Sheba:  

“I want to meet with you as soon as possible; please let me know when you can give me an appointment.”  

Nechama invited the man to come over as soon as it was convenient for him. He told her that over approximately two months, eight ballpoint pens had disappeared (this was at a time when ballpoint pens were new and somewhat costly).  

“I remembered your radio program several years ago, and I called an assembly in the dining room. Like that policeman you described, I told all the children: 'There's one person in this room who knows he's a thief—that he's taken eight pens, and maybe we'll never discover who he is. But one negative deed leads to another, and while he might be successful and never be caught, he'll be a thief all his life, no matter what else happens to him. 

The director then told the class that the teachers' room would be left open so the thief could return the stolen pens when no one was around. A full three weeks went by, and still the pens weren’t returned. Then, one day, while the principal was alone in the teachers' room, a boy came in with eight pens in his hand. His head lowered, he put the pens on the desk. The director asked him, “Tell me, what took you so long? Why did you wait three weeks to return these things?”  

The boy explained that for many days after the director's speech, he wanted to return the pens, but there were always children around, waiting to see if the thief would show up. Finally, with time, the other students gave up, so that now he could return the pens without being seen.  

The director knew, however, that something deeper was going on. Why, after all, had the boy come in while he was sitting there, instead of just dropping off the pens when no one would see? He remained silent, waiting for the boy to speak. Finally, the boy asked if the director could tell him about some way in which he could repent for his stealing. The director reassured the boy, “The fact that you have returned the pens, you have mended your ways.”  

“No, no,” the boy insisted. “I must do something more. I did something bad, so now I must do something good in its place.”  

“Like what?” asked the director. “Well,” said the boy, “like going to the blind institute across the street after school twice a week to read to the children there.” And that is exactly what he did.  

The police officer and school principal used their intelligence not to catch a thief but to take teenagers who had already committed a few thefts and reverse their bad behavior. This is a greater achievement than mere prevention. This is transformation.  

The former thief passed over his negative inclinations and redirected his energies. Now, he was breaking down barriers by helping kids with special needs. Childhood, when we are still learning and developing, is the best time for this kind of transformation.  

This is what David means in Psalm 27: “My father and mother abandoned me, they did not know who I was. They didn't pay attention to me.” His teachers probably didn’t think he was a good student in Jewish day school. He was playing with slingshots, tending goats, and he probably did not learn his Haftarah well.  

But G-d knew differently; G-d lifted him. He knew who David was. The lesson is clear. It is all too easy for teachers and parents, and even prophets, to miss the potential in each child. The Psalm, therefore, expresses a tragic possibility. There are cases in which the relationship between parents and a child or between a teacher and student can be hurt – when a child feels his inner potential is ignored. Yet, says the Psalm, our Father in heaven knows who we can be and lifts us. Thus, the Psalm and the holiday of Passover itself reveal a majestic truth about the human condition. G-d never abandons us or gives up on us, because He never ceases to believe that we can develop our hidden soul potential. More than we have faith in G-d, G-d has faith in us. He lifts us when we are down, affirming us amid self-doubt. G-d skipped over the Jewish homes in Egypt because of what the Jewish home would be in the future. Likewise, he helps individuals pass over their negative impulses to achieve their true potential.  

Thus, Passover reminds us that we can rise above our restraints and, like Moses, King David, and even the young pen thief in Israel, fully realize our

G-dly potential.  

Pesach is about redemption, not only for the ancient Israelites but for each of us; the possibility of redemption is present every day of our lives. With G-d’s help, may we pass over the habits that hold us back and achieve a greater spiritual richness —may we have a happy “Pass-over!” And may G-d bring the ultimate and complete redemption of the Jewish people and all of humanity with the Moshiach, Amen.  

Shabbat Shalom and a Happy Pesach, 

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky