Shabbat Pesach Seventh Day, Exodus 13:17-15:26, Numbers 28:9-25

This Parasha has been generously sponsored by Karen Teasdale.

It is a short road from gnawing on the bread of affliction to suggesting to others "let them eat cake."

Every year I am amazed with the growing array of kosher for Passover products: muffins, bagels, pasta, even pizza. This is ha-lahma anya, the bread of affliction? Even traditional matzah ain't what it used to be, now that you can choose wheat, rye or spelt matzah. Then, of course, there's shmura matzah, the traditionally watched and hand-baked item that reflects the bread of poverty in looks but not in price.

Matzah is as elemental a symbol of the staff of life as can be found: just flour and water, minus the fermentation. We are told that during the Exodus there was no time to let the bread rise; hence we omit the fermentation or leavening agent. Perhaps leaving out this one item is another symbol of leaving Egypt behind, since scholars believe that fermentation was discovered in Egypt making it the birthplace of bread and beer.

Bread was used to pay the workers' wages in ancient Egypt. Those who toiled received grain or simple loaves of bread made from flour and water. In contrast, the rulers dined on bread that contained honey, fruit and nuts. The difference between the haves and have-nots was abundantly clear in the edifices built for the rulers. Pharaonic tombs contained food to sustain the occupant in the afterlife. These tombs contained more wealth and foodstuff than a worker could ever dream of having. What could be more symbolic of a hardened heart, than the food placed in tombs by a worker who could never hope to consume such delicacies?

Bread's relationship to wages is found in English is well. Bread used to be a common slang expression for money, probably derived from the Cockney rhyming slang expression "bread and honey" which rhymes with "money." Fans of old gangster movies will recall dialogue where bank robber would demand the "dough."

While the Torah does remind us that man does not live on bread alone (Deuteronomy 8:3), the Hebrew language appears to have an unusual association with the word for bread. Lechem, the Hebrew word for bread, is the same root as lochem, to do battle. What is the common element? Dr Joseph Lewin offers an intriguing possibility:

What can you say about a culture that uses the same root lamed, het, mem) — for both bread and war, milhama? Do lehem and milhama really come from the same root? It's a good question, and to answer it one must invoke a third use of the root. It seems that laham means not only "he did battle" and "he ate bread" but also "he joined together."

Using this third meaning, Ludwig Koehler, in his 1953 Dictionary of the Hebrew Old Testament, opines that our root originally had the connotation of "to be closely packed together" and that that meaning is the common denominator. In war, says Koehler, soldiers often engage in hand-to-hand combat in close quarters. Voilà for war, milhama. Bread, he adds, suggesting perhaps that it is considered highly nutritious, is "compact food." Voilà for bread, lehem.

Joseph Lewin, A Hebrew Lesson (l-h-m), Jewish Heritage Online Magazine

Another connection between bread and battle has nothing to do with grammar and everything to do with food fights. People go to war over food and sources of food. The silent film classic Battleship Potemkin begins with a group of sailors rebelling when they are fed maggot-infested meat. Or think of the words attributed to Marie Antoinette when told the peasants had no bread: Let them eat cake.

Significant as it may be as a Pesach symbol bread (albeit in its unleavened form) is in the background on this last Shabbat of the festival. The battle between the God of Israel and the god of Egypt is the focal point.

The Torah constantly points out that Pharaoh's hard was hardened – he stubbornly ignored the suffering around him. This is part of the battle between God and Egypt's ruler.

When the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled, Pharaoh and his courtiers had a change of heart about the people and said, "What is this we have done, releasing Israel from our service?" He ordered his chariot and took his men with him; he took six hundred of his picked chariots, and the rest of the chariots of Egypt, with officers in all of them. The Lord stiffened the heart of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and he gave chase to the Israelites. As the Israelites were departing defiantly, boldly, the Egyptians gave chase to them, and all the chariot horses of Pharaoh, his horsemen, and his warriors overtook them encamped by the sea, near Pi-hahiroth, before Baal-zephon.

(Exodus 14:5-9)

Adding to the battle imagery is the fact that our ancestors are armed (Exodus 13:18) as they make their way out of Egypt and find themselves at the Sea of Reeds with Pharaoh and a cast of thousands giving chase. We all know how the story ends, we cross the Sea of Reeds, Pharaoh and his army drown, and we sing a song of victory to God our Redeemer.

But before we take the plunge a strange thing happens: Pharaoh is not the only one with a change of heart! Our ancestors saw Pharaoh and his troops approaching and they too had a change of heart. The text tells us that they thought they had made a fatal mistake; better to have stayed in Egypt under the yoke of the king. The term describing Pharaoh's approach is faro hikriv, Pharaoh drew near. The root is k-r-v, the same word as korban, sacrifice and often used to indicate drawing close to God. This is the understanding of the Midrash:

What is meant by "Pharaoh drew near"? He brought Israel close to the repentance they showed. Rabbi Berachiah said: Pharaoh's drawing near was better for Israel than a hundred fasts and prayers.

Exodus Rabbah 21:5

As if to stress the importance of this point, Itturei Torah, a collection of Hassidic teachings and Mussar, comments that it takes Pharaoh to bring Israel to repentance.

What is going on here? Pharaoh serves as a reminder of suffering; and that changes the people's will. They turn to God to find the strength to cross the sea and sing triumphantly to the God who redeemed them.

Yet at this moment of our great joy, our rabbinic ancestors wanted to make sure that our hearts would not be hardened and that we would never forget the tragic cost of this freedom: The countless Egyptians who died in the plagues and at the Sea of Reeds. To help us remember the lives lost, the Talmudic sages imagined how this event played out in the heavenly court:

In that hour the ministering angels wished to utter the song of praise before the Holy One, Who is Blessed, but God rebuked them, saying: My handiwork (the Egyptians) is drowning in the sea and you want to sing before me!

Talmud, Sanhedrin 39b

Throughout the festival of Pesach there are constant reminders to prevent us from developing a hardened heart. Remembering the suffering of the Egyptians is the reason we spill the drops of wine when recounting the plagues at the Seder; our joy is diminished by their suffering. For the very same reason we abbreviate the Hallel (Psalms of Praise) that we sing at services on the last days of Pesach. As we read this portion at the end of Pesach, we are reminded that our rejoicing must be tempered.

We were saved at the Sea of Reeds, the symbol par excellence of Redemption. But our redemption is incomplete. What we lacked when we stepped onto dry land, what we oftentimes still lack, is the awareness of the suffering of others. Even worse is the knowledge that others suffer and we do nothing. It is a short road from gnawing on the bread of affliction to suggesting to others "let them eat cake." It is the path of the hardened heart.

On the seventh day of Pesach, as we watch the Sea of Reeds recede in the distance, we know that a long journey still awaits us. Pesach is the beginning of redemption; this is as far as God takes us. Spiritually, this is as far as God can take us; the rest of the journey is on our own. Full redemption can only be achieved when we no longer need to be reminded of the suffering of others. When our heart is open to the suffering of others, and when we act to correct the injustices causing that pain, then all of us will truly be redeemed.

Chag sameach,
Shabbat shalom,
MS