Pesach - The Deep Meaning of the Holiday in Light of Chassidus

00:00 Seder night, the first night of Pesach—and outside of Israel, the first two nights of Pesach—is really the high point of all the celebrations of the month of Nissan and the festival of Pesach. In general, we are in the month of Nissan, a month of Geulah. In Nissan our ancestors were redeemed from Egypt, and in Nissan we are also destined to be redeemed. We are all looking forward to it and waiting for it to happen this year. We can already see the miracles. We want to see it through to the end, to merit the true and complete Geulah and salvation. Within the month of Nissan, of course, Pesach is the festival of “festivals for rejoicing,” the season of our freedom. Throughout the festival we are in an atmosphere of freedom, but the high point of it all is Seder night. In all Jewish communities, Seder night is a holy night, a special night, when families and communities sit together, each place with its own customs and practices. With joy, with song, and with the Haggadah and its stories of the Exodus from Egypt, every community celebrates the night of Pesach according to its customs, in a wonderful way, with tremendous joy and a feeling of freedom. Our Sages tell us in Tractate Pesachim, and we also say it in the Pesach Haggadah: “In every generation, a person is obligated to see himself as though he had left Egypt.” In other words, in every generation, every year, when this night arrives—the night of watching over, when the Exodus from Egypt actually began—the Torah established it as a night when a Jew must see himself not merely telling the story, but truly experiencing and reliving the atmosphere of the Exodus from Egypt, as though we ourselves are leaving Egypt right now. That is why the practices of Seder night include all these expressions of freedom and abundance: eating while reclining, setting out the dishes—all the dishes—on the table, and trying to celebrate in the most abundant and expansive way possible. It is meant to give us the feeling that we ourselves, today, right now, are in the midst of

02:11 our own Exodus from Egypt. Today we will go a little deeper into this, to understand what Seder night really means and what is so special about this night, as illuminated by the deeper meaning Chassidus gives it. We will take a central point from Chassidus and see how it sheds a precious light on this night. It also helps us understand the thread connecting major parts of the Pesach Haggadah, so that we can understand them more deeply and clearly. The telling of the Haggadah has many parts. We begin with—right at the beginning—the passage “Kadesh, Urchatz,” all the steps of Seder night, and then we reach Maggid, the storytelling section of the Pesach Haggadah. There are various passages there whose connection we may not understand: Why do we need to tell this? And other questions arise as we recite the Haggadah. If we understand the deeper meaning of what happens on this night, we will find new meaning in the entire telling of the Haggadah and in everything we do on Seder night. Then we will understand, as Chassidus always teaches us, that all the mitzvos we perform are not just a matter of tradition. They are not just a way of remembering stories from the past. They are an experience in the present. All the mitzvos, all the stories, and everything the Torah tells us are eternal things—things that are, in fact, happening now. If we can grasp their deeper meaning, we can connect to every detail of the Haggadah’s story and every part of Seder night’s events in a deep, lived way. We can become part of it, be right there within it, and feel the Exodus from Egypt as something personal happening to us on this very night. Of course, in our class we will not be able to cover and discuss every detail. Seder night is long and profound, and every detail

04:33 has its own depth. We will, of course, take one of the central points and use it to look at least at certain parts of the Haggadah. By way of introduction, in the early years of the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s leadership—one could say the first twenty years, from 5710 to 5730—the Rebbe would conduct the Seder in his father-in-law’s home. This was after his father-in-law’s passing, but the Rebbe continued to conduct the Seder there. That was his practice. Then, on the second night of Pesach—outside of Israel there are two Seder nights—the Rebbe would come down to the shul at 770 after the second Seder. Everyone from the area would gather after finishing their own Seders, and the Rebbe would hold a farbrengen. Of course, it was a farbrengen without refreshments. After the Seder, one may no longer eat or drink, so there was no food or drink and no saying l’chaim. But it was a full farbrengen, with niggunim, dancing, joy, and wonderful explanations of the Haggadah and Seder night. From those sichos and explanations, we gained a wonderful perspective, a deep and wonderful understanding of what this night really means to us, of its deeper meaning. The Rebbe would generally begin the farbrengen by quoting what is written in the writings of the Arizal, in the Arizal’s siddur, which presents the various themes, intentions, Kabbalah, and secrets of Seder night. It begins at the start of Seder night, saying that when a person returns home from shul on the night of Pesach, on Seder night, he should be filled with great joy. This great joy, he writes, is the greatest joy of all. There is no greater joy throughout the year than the joy of the holy Shechinah. And he explains—of course, this is a Kabbalistic expression, but I am repeating it—that on this night

07:04 the union takes place in the world of Asiyah. If we put that into simple words, as the Rebbe did, “union” means the connection, the bond, the revelation of the Shechinah, of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, from the loftiest and highest place—for, as is known, there are many levels, sefiros, and higher worlds upon higher worlds. Here we are speaking of the deepest level and revelation of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, from the highest and most wondrous place. Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself is revealed—where? Here below, in the world of Asiyah. He therefore goes on to say that the Haggadah and the entire order of the Haggadah should be conducted with the Haggadah recited aloud and with great joy. This is how the Rebbe would begin the farbrengen, stirring the chassidim to great joy and dancing on Seder night. And, of course, there is the explanation of what this means: As we said, what is so special about this revelation on this night? In fact, we say it later in the Pesach Haggadah. There is the well-known passage that says Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself—not through an angel, not through a fiery angel, not through an emissary: “I, and no other.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself appeared to them on that night and redeemed them. This is exactly what we were saying. What happened on the night of the first Exodus from Egypt was the most wondrous revelation, bringing together the two most distant extremes imaginable. On the one hand, the revelation was, as we said, not an angel, not a fiery angel, not an emissary, not anyone else; not any level, sefirah, or higher world. Higher worlds, angels, worlds, angels, sefiros—none of that was it. What was revealed at the Exodus from Egypt? “I, and no other.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. The revelation

09:11 of the very essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, as He is beyond all the sefiros and spiritual levels. But where was this revealed? In “the nakedness of the land,” in the lowest, most degraded, most material, coarsest place, in the deepest darkness. At that moment, the Jewish people were at their lowest point in every respect. Physically, they were subjected to backbreaking labor, working with mortar and bricks, to hard labor and all the humiliation they suffered in Egypt, as the Torah tells us. At the same time, they were at their lowest moral and spiritual point. As the Midrashim tell us, they worshipped idols; they were deep in impurity, at the forty-ninth gate of impurity, as explained in the seforim. So the Jewish people were in a state of utter lowliness. And that was the great wonder, the great miracle, the extraordinary revelation of that night: Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself took no calculations into account. He sent no messengers; He Himself, so to speak, descended into Egypt, into “the nakedness of the land,” and brought the Jewish people out of Egypt from there. And that is the joy. This is what the Arizal says. What the Arizal reveals to us is a wonderful foundation of the mystical teachings. Kabbalah tells us that we need to know this story did not happen just once, 3,336 years ago. That was the first time it happened. But we need to know that every single year, when this night arrives—the night of Pesach—it happens again with the same force, and even more deeply and wondrously, as the Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya. The Alter Rebbe says that to understand this extraordinary event of the Exodus from Egypt, we can picture an analogy: Imagine a great and magnificent king, the greatest king in the world, an exalted king, who leaves behind all his ministers and all the servants and attendants surrounding him, and personally, without any messengers, without any agents—

11:29 he sends no one. Instead, he himself goes down to the garbage heap. That is how the Alter Rebbe puts it in Tanya, chapter 46. He goes down to the garbage heap, to the lowest, filthiest place, and there he finds a lowly, despised person lying in the garbage and takes him out. He personally takes him, cleans him, washes him, brings him into his innermost chambers and is alone with him. The Rebbe says that this is essentially what happened at the first Exodus from Egypt, and it happens again every single year at the time of the Exodus. To a certain extent, it also happens again each and every day. But right now, when we are at the Seder night, this is the peak, the gateway. Because there is, in fact, a mitzvah to remember the Exodus from Egypt every day. Here we are talking about the gateway. There is one day in the year when this revelation takes place, and from that day we have the strength to take a spark of it, to take something from it, and live with it every day of the year. After all, we mention the Exodus from Egypt each and every day. The Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya that “in every generation” also means every day. Every day in davening, a Jew speaks about the Exodus from Egypt. There is a mitzvah to remember the Exodus from Egypt every day. But when do we receive the strength for that? On the Seder night, on the night of Pesach. In other words, the great joy of the Seder night comes when a Jew understands, when he grasps what exactly is happening tonight. Tonight is the night when Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, in His own glory, without any tzimtzumim, without any sefiros—He Himself, so to speak—is revealed down here in this physical, material world. And this person—

13:27 me, a simple, physical person, with my body and my yetzer, just as I am—Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes to me and gives me the wine, lifts me up and gives me the strength to leap. That is, in fact, the meaning of the word Pesach: Pesach means leaping. Rashi tells us, “And Hashem will pass over the entrance.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu leaps. Leaping is the whole theme of Pesach. It is a festival of leaping, when a Jew jumps from his very lowest place, leaps past every calculation and rises to the highest place. That is the extraordinary power this night holds. And this connects with the whole course of the Seder night on a deeper level, with an understanding of its inner meaning. The message, as the Rebbe emphasized year after year, is an extraordinary, encouraging, comforting message for every Jew on this night, one that gives us tremendous strength and joy. The message to every Jew tonight is that it does not matter how you behaved a moment ago. It does not matter how you acted, what you did, whether you did something or did not do it; it does not matter what you did a moment before. Today, at this very moment, on this night, in the blink of an eye, you have the opportunity to make that leap, that jump. “Leaping over the mountains, skipping over the hills.” “My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.” This is the night of leaping. We, the Jewish people, have the power to leap out of all the doubled and redoubled darkness here in this physical world and connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. Hakadosh Boruch Hu, too, leaps past every calculation and everything that says, “Perhaps yes, perhaps no—perhaps he does not deserve it.” He does deserve it. There is a leap from both sides. We leap out of our situation. Hakadosh Boruch Hu leaps past every calculation, and there is a connection here—

15:28 the most extraordinary connection. That is why the joy is so great. This is essentially what happens on this night. We begin with Kiddush: Kadesh Urechatz. I had the merit to hear this from the Rebbe myself on Erev Pesach 5751. I had the merit to be with the Rebbe in Nissan 5751. At that time, the Rebbe spoke with great enthusiasm about 5751: its Hebrew letters form the initials of “May it be a year when I show him wonders”—a year of miracles, miracles and wonders. The whole atmosphere was about the miracles and wonders Hakadosh Boruch Hu was beginning to perform for us, the wonders of the Geulah. I remember that on Erev Pesach, close to sunset, after Minchah, the Rebbe delivered a sicha and spoke about Pesach and the miracles through which a Jew is uplifted. It was an uplifting sicha. Among other things, the Rebbe made an interesting point. Kadesh Urechatz. In the Haggadah’s list of the Seder steps, we say Kadesh Urechatz. That “u,” meaning “and,” appears nowhere else. We say it only once: Kadesh Urechatz. After that we say Karpas Yachatz. What is the meaning of this connecting “and”? We should say Kadesh, Rachatz. Instead, we say Kadesh Urechatz. Why? Kadesh refers to the Kiddush we make on this night, and Rachatz refers to washing our hands. Immediately after Kiddush, we wash our hands—not for the meal, but to eat the vegetable for Karpas, as is well known. But what does this symbolize? What do these words, Kadesh Urechatz, with the “and” connecting them, tell us? The Rebbe says something wonderful. Here begins the deeper point we were discussing: what happens on the Seder night. Usually, the normal order is that a person must first wash in order to become holy. Washing means purification. When a person is in a state of impurity, he washes. There is washing the hands, netilas yadayim; there is immersion in a mikveh; there are all the laws of purity that the Torah teaches us. All of that is called washing. After washing, after cleansing yourself of idols and impurity, holiness can begin. Holiness means entering into

17:49 Holiness, to rise to higher levels. Say, for example, a Jew wants to enter the Beis Hamikdash. First he has to purify himself with the purification of the red heifer. So first comes purification, and then holiness. First “Urchatz,” then “Kadesh.” First turn away from evil, and then do good. That is true on ordinary days. But on Pesach night, the author of the Haggadah comes along, we open the Seder, and he tells us: tonight it is “Kadesh, Urchatz.” Don’t wait for Urchatz. Don’t start by saying, “I’m still dirty.” A person says: “How can I enter the Seder night? How can I bring the Pesach offering? How can I be ready for such a great light that shines tonight? I know myself. I know I’m full of blemishes, full of dirt, full of evil, full of darkness. I still haven’t corrected my thoughts, my speech, or my actions.” We tell the Jew: “My friend, Kadesh. First things first: tonight, we’re not making calculations. There is a revelation of the Infinite Light. There is a revelation of the Shechinah. So go straight to Kadesh. Hakadosh Boruch Hu makes you holy. After that comes Urchatz. Work on all the details; afterward, fix what needs fixing. But right now, Kadesh. Hakadosh Boruch Hu makes you holy from the outset. Kadesh. Only then, Urchatz.” A wonderful thing. We continue through the Seder and recite the familiar words, “Ha lachma anya,” or “Halachma anya,” depending on the version, “da’achalu avhasana be’ara deMitzrayim”—this is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in Egypt. And then we continue: Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat. Whoever wishes, let him come and partake of the Pesach offering. This year we are here; next year we will be in the Land of Israel. This year we are slaves; next year we will be free. And here the question arises: What exactly is the message? Who are we saying this to? Have you ever thought about that? We are already in the middle of the Seder. You’re already sitting inside your home,

19:46 you’ve already made Kiddush, you have the matzah, everything is ready at home, and you have your guests. Whoever came has come. You’re sitting inside your home, and what are you saying? What exactly am I saying here? Who am I inviting? I’m saying, “Whoever wishes, let him come and eat.” If you want to say that, say it in shul. Stand on the balcony and shout into the street: “Whoever wishes, let him come and eat!” But no, we don’t see Jews doing that. They sit at home, deep into the Seder with their family. The guests you invited—you took care of that two weeks before Pesach. You’re not thinking now about bringing in new guests; you’re not announcing it to the street. So what exactly is the message of this passage, with which we open Maggid, the part of the Haggadah that tells the story of the Exodus from Egypt? And another question altogether: Why do we begin by saying, “This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in Egypt”? What is the message here? Why do we need to speak about poverty and say that this is the bread of affliction they ate in Egypt? Wouldn’t it be better to say the opposite? “This is the bread we ate when we left Egypt; this is the matzah with which we left Egypt.” After all, there is something far more wonderful about matzah. Why do we need to mention this and begin the Seder night with it: “This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in Egypt”? This whole passage calls for explanation. But based on the point we discussed earlier, this is its essence, its central point, its message. There is an extraordinary message here, one that goes far beyond the words written here. As we said, a Jew comes to the Seder night. This is the night when he stands in a state of freedom, a state of Geulah, and he knows that the King of kings, Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, says: “Tonight I am with you. I redeem you. I take you from all forms of slavery to freedom, from mourning to Yom Tov, from darkness to light.”

21:44 That is this night. A Jew says: “I’m in darkness, and the world is in darkness. Look at what is happening in the world. Look at the darkness—the pitch-black darkness—all around. How much suffering is there still in the world, how much darkness is there still in the world, how much exile, how much of an exile mentality, both materially and spiritually? And if I look at myself personally, where am I? How do I behave? What about my conduct in thought, speech, and action, in my character traits and my behavior? How am I ready for the Exodus from Egypt? I’m very far from it.” So right at the opening of the Seder night, we tell the Jew: Look at what happened during the Exodus from Egypt. “Ha lachma anya da’achalu avhasana be’ara deMitzrayim”—this is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in Egypt. In Egypt, a moment before freedom, the Jewish people were still in the land of Egypt. Mitzrayim is related to the word meitzar, a narrow strait; they were surrounded by all the darkness there. “Lachma anya”—we were slaves, forced into backbreaking labor. As the Ibn Ezra says, the bread they ate then was matzah, the sort of thing slaves are fed, because matzah stays in the stomach for a long time. That is why they ate matzah. It was matzah born of oppression, of slavery. The author of the Haggadah tells us: Look at what happened there. The moment the time for Geulah arrived, Hashem did not delay even for the blink of an eye. Hakadosh Boruch Hu did not leave us there for a moment. The moment that night arrived—“At midnight I will go out into the midst of Egypt,” as Hakadosh Boruch Hu had promised Moshe—at precisely that moment, at precisely that time, came the plague of the firstborn: a blow to Egypt and healing for Israel. Complete Geulah came in an instant. The same thing happens today. Whoever is in need, whoever is hungry—if you feel hungry, if you feel you are lacking, if you are not where you ought to be, know that on this night Hakadosh Boruch Hu provides for you, feeds you, gives you the Pesach, and gives you the strength to pass over and leap forward.

23:56 And that is why we conclude by saying, “Next year in the Land of Israel; next year, free people.” The Rebbe says: We don’t mean next year as in another year from now. No, no, no. “Coming” can be understood in two ways: coming someday, or coming right now. “Next year” means the year that is coming now, at this very moment. Right now we are entering a new year, a new time, a new era. In an instant you become a truly free person. In an instant you become a Jew whose entire being is freedom—a free person, a Jew connected to the Land of Israel, a Jew connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the opening of the Pesach Haggadah. We continue. And then, suddenly, there are questions. Four questions, four questions. “Why is this night different from all other nights?” There is much to discuss here, but let’s take the same approach again and follow the same point we’ve been discussing. “Why is this night different from all other nights?” What is different? What is the question here? If we follow the same line of thought, the deeper question is what a person asks himself: How can you suddenly expect this night to be different from all other nights? You’re telling me that in a single night I can change from one extreme to the other? How can you tell me that tonight I can become so free in an instant? We all recline as though there were no poverty at all, no lowliness, no evil, no darkness. Everything shines; everything is bright. How can you say that? Why is this night different? What is it about this night that lets you say that everything can turn around in an instant, from one extreme to the other? And the answer is: “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and Hashem brought us out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” Just as in the Exodus from Egypt, Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought about that transformation at that

26:13 In one night, from one extreme to the other: from being Pharaoh’s slaves, within a second they became servants of Hashem our G-d. And that is why the story of the Exodus from Egypt is our story. It is the story of the Jewish people, an essential Geulah. And the Exodus from Egypt, as the Maharal of Prague says, was not just freedom for that moment. Through the Exodus, the Jew became free in his soul, free in his very essence. A Jew is, by nature, a person of Geulah. In his very essence, a Jew is a person of freedom. When, at certain times, he falls into states of darkness, that is not who he is. Those are external things. That is not his essence; that is not his true reality. Something happened at the Exodus from Egypt. The Maharal of Prague explains it wonderfully in his books. There was an essential change: the Jewish people went from being a nation of slaves to a nation of free people. Freedom became our very essence. And on this night, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and He took us out.” That transformation, that leap, is reawakened every year on the night of Pesach. So this night really is different from all other nights. It truly is a different night, and on this night you can bring about salvation and wonders in a way that has no equal. There are no calculations, no limitations. It can happen in a second. In a moment, you can leap, as we said, from the lowest place to the highest. Hakadosh Boruch Hu bestows the greatest blessings upon every Jew, without any limitations, from the very highest to the very lowest. And so we continue. Based on this, the Rebbe says something wonderful. We can understand what is written later in the Haggadah as well. We say: “In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers, and now the Omnipresent has brought us close to His service.” Yes, the Haggadah tells what happened to the ancestors of the Jewish people at the beginning of our history—our ancestors, Terach and others, who were idol worshippers. Avraham Avinu himself was born into idol worship. And then, “now the Omnipresent has brought us close to His service,” and the passage continues. The Gemara says, “He begins with disgrace,” and says that this is an obligation in telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We have to begin with the disgrace, tell how “in the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers,” and then continue the story of how Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought us out. Here, two general questions arise about this passage and, really, about the whole Haggadah. First of all, why begin with disgrace? Speaking disparagingly is a negative thing. After all, the Gemara says that the Torah sometimes uses extra words so as not to speak disparagingly even of an animal. It says “the animal that is not pure” in Parshas Noach, rather than saying “an impure animal.” In other words, sometimes we change our wording to avoid a disparaging word, and suddenly here we speak disparagingly of the Jewish people—we open with disgrace. Why? Why, on the night of Pesach, is there a particular point in beginning with disgrace? Why not go straight to the beautiful period when the Jewish people flourished? And second, why this wording: “And now the Omnipresent has brought us close to His service”? What does “now” mean? This happened more than three thousand years ago. It should have said, “In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers, and afterward the Omnipresent brought us close to His service.” But no, we say “now.” The Rebbe says something wonderful. This is the very point of the night of Pesach. Again, this is who we are right now. A Jew comes to the Seder night and needs to tell himself—and he says it to those around him, explaining it to them: Know what is happening on this night, today. “In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers.” I do not mean only our ancestors in the simple sense, those who lived three thousand years ago. I mean my own ancestors. “In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers.”

28:26 I mean myself—where I have been, how I have behaved until now—and our ancestors too. In other words, all my conduct until now may have been a form of idol worship. Of course, idol worship can be understood in different ways. It does not have to mean literally worshipping statues. Chassidus explains that idol worship can also exist in the subtleties of the soul, and sometimes it takes the form of improper thoughts. Sometimes, as Chassidus says, when a person invests too much of himself in material things, that too is a kind of idol worship: giving too much power to nature and the workings of nature, to money, and to material and physical things. So there are many levels of idol worship. A person says: “In the beginning, our ancestors were idol worshippers.” Before the Seder night, we were idol worshippers. “And now”—“now” here means, in the simplest and deepest sense, right now. Now is now: this night, this moment. “And now,” on this night, on this day, at this moment, the night of Pesach—what is the wonderful power of this night? “The Omnipresent has brought us close to His service.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu brings us close, takes us out of all the filth, and gives us the ability to connect with Him, moving from one extreme to the other. A person says, “But I’m not ready. What have I done? I didn’t prepare; I didn’t do anything.” They tell him: No—“He has brought us close.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not wait. That is the essential point of the night of Pesach. As explained in Chassidus, this is the difference between the month of Tishrei and the month of Nissan. In Tishrei there is a long process. You have to begin in the month of Elul, with preparations, taking stock of yourself, teshuvah, the days of Selichos, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and the Ten Days of Teshuvah. There is a long, complete process designed to bring a Jew to teshuvah, to a connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. On the night of Pesach, it comes as a gift.

30:33 The night of Pesach is the night of dew. On Pesach, after all, we pray for dew—the blessing for dew, the prayer for dew. Dew is a gift. Rain must be requested; dew is given from Above. The Midrash says that the night of Pesach is the night when dews of light, dews of blessing, and dews of divine bounty are opened up. This is dew from heaven. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives to every Jew: “The Omnipresent has brought us close to His service.” He brings us close, draws us in, and gives us the ability to leap from the lowest place where I find myself to the highest place, without any limitations or calculations. So here we see, section by section and passage by passage, how the Pesach Haggadah represents us, teaches us, and explains to us the wonderful depth of what happens on this night. And of course, here we come to the very—one of the high points of the Seder night itself. As I said, we cannot discuss every detail, so we will go straight to the part—the second part of the Seder night: opening the gates, opening the doors, the moment when we open the door for Eliyahu Hanavi and recite the passage “Pour out Your wrath upon the nations.” What happens at that moment? It is brought in the sichos in the name of our Rebbeim, the Chabad Rebbeim, that when we open the door for Eliyahu Hanavi, that moment is one of the greatest moments of extraordinary divine favor. When a Jew opens the door of his home, the Rebbe says, at that moment all the doors of heaven open. Everything a Jew does down here on this night happens in the same way Above, so to speak. When we open the door on Seder night, all the doors of heaven, all the gates of heaven, open. No door Above remains closed. And then we have the ability to draw down blessings and divine bounty without end or limit. And here is the story the Rebbe brings in the Haggadah of

32:37 The night of Pesach is the night of dew. On Pesach, we pray for dew—the blessing for dew, the prayer for dew. Dew is a gift. Rain we have to ask for; dew is given from Above. The Midrash says that the night of Pesach is the night when the dews of light, the dews of blessing, the dews of Divine influence are released. This is the dew from heaven. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives it to every Jew: “The Omnipresent brought us close to His service.” He draws us close, brings us in, and gives us the ability to go from the lowest place where I find myself and leap to the highest place, without any limitations, without any calculations. So here we see, section by section, passage by passage, how the Pesach Haggadah shows us, teaches us, and explains to us the wonderful depth of what happens on this night. And of course, here we come to the very—one of the climactic moments of the Seder itself. As I said, we can’t discuss every detail, so we’ll go straight to the part—the second part of the Seder: opening the gates, opening the doors, and the moment when we open the door for Eliyahu Hanavi and say the passage, “Pour out Your wrath upon the nations.” What happens at that moment? The sichos relate, in the name of our Rebbeim, the Chabad Rebbeim, that when we open the door for Eliyahu Hanavi, it is one of the most extraordinary moments of Divine favor. When a Jew opens the door of his home, the Rebbe says, at that moment all the doors in heaven open. Everything a Jew does down here on this night happens in the same way Above, so to speak. When we open the door on Seder night, all the doors of heaven, all the gates of heaven, open. Not a single door Above remains closed. And then we have the ability to draw down an outpouring of blessings and Divine influence without end or limit. And here there’s the story the Rebbe brings in the Haggadah of

35:02 Pesach. There is a Pesach Haggadah with commentaries the Rebbe wrote—a wonderful book with explanations, interpretations, details, customs, and practices. It is a truly wonderful book on the Haggadah. At the beginning, the Rebbe relates something he heard from his father-in-law, the previous Rebbe, the Frierdiker Rebbe. He told how, when he was a child, his father, the Rebbe Rashab—Rabbi Sholom Dovber, the fifth Rebbe—said to him on Seder night, calling him by name, “Yosef Yitzchak, on Seder night a Jew needs to ask to be a mentsch.” To be a mentsch. That’s an expression that needs a lot of explanation: to be a human being. And Hakadosh Boruch Hu will help. In particular, he told him, when the door is opened for Shefoch Chamascha, that is an especially wonderful time to ask. Don’t ask only for material things; ask for spiritual things too. In other words, at that moment we need to understand what we want, what we’re asking for. The Rebbe spoke about how we Jews are now in the moments before the Geulah, so of course we need to ask for what matters most. On this night, a Jew needs to ask and plead with Hakadosh Boruch Hu to bring us Moshiach, to bring us the complete Geulah. A Jew doesn’t settle for little pieces, little gifts. A Jew needs to ask for everything, for the depth of it, for the deepest and most wonderful thing. The Rebbe would often repeat the Alter Rebbe’s saying, which he would say in moments of deep attachment to Hashem: “Master of the Universe, I don’t want anything—not Gan Eden, not the World to Come. I want You, You Yourself.” So the Rebbe said that, on Seder night, this means not to settle for small, limited requests. “Give me food and a livelihood, children and health”—Hakadosh Boruch Hu will give you those things too. Don’t worry.

37:14 The Rebbe explains in his sichos that on Seder night, Hakadosh Boruch Hu bestows blessings and abundance on every Jew in all areas of life. But we need to seek the inner point: to ask that we be able to unite and connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. That is, in fact, the complete Geulah we are waiting for. And then the entire second part of the Haggadah speaks about the light of the Geulah, of Moshiach, about the wonderful blessings we will have when Moshiach comes, and “Next year in rebuilt Jerusalem.” That is really the essential point of Seder night. I remember—I’ll finish with a memory I have of a Seder night I was privileged to spend with the Rebbe in 5748. That year, 5748, was an exceptionally joyous year. The Rebbe called it “tismach”—“you will rejoice”—and there was indeed tremendous joy, especially on Pesach. I just want to tell you about one point connected to everything we’ve been discussing. That year the Rebbe delivered sichos every night of the festival. After Maariv, the Rebbe would speak about the essence of the day. One thing I remember especially vividly was the second night of Pesach, which outside Israel is the second Seder night. I remember the Rebbe speaking then about the great joy of that night, speaking with tremendous enthusiasm about the joy that each and every person should feel. The Rebbe quoted the Gemara, a teaching of our Sages in Pesachim, page 85: “A kezayis of the Pesach offering, and Hallel split the roofs.” The Gemara says that once, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, the Jewish people gathered—thousands, or hundreds of thousands of Jews—on Seder night, ate a kezayis of the Pesach offering, and sang Hallel, and the roofs burst. Rashi says that the noise and commotion made it seem as though the roofs were bursting from all the joy. The Rebbe cited this teaching of our Sages and said that the same should be true on Seder night.

39:30 The joy should be so great, so completely without limits, that “the roofs burst” from all the joy and dancing. I remember that at the Seder we celebrated that night in the yeshiva at 770, there was tremendous joy and dancing. We felt the... the great joy the Rebbe had spoken about that night. May Hakadosh Boruch Hu help us merit to celebrate Pesach this year with the complete Geulah. May we not have to wait; may we see the complete Geulah even before Pesach. Then we will have the building of the Third Beis Hamikdash and be able to fulfill all the mitzvos of the Seder as prescribed, and eat of the Pesach offerings and the festive offerings—as the wording goes, or the other way around, of the festive offerings and the Pesach offerings—as the Torah commands us. And “we will thank You with a new song for our redemption and the deliverance of our souls.” Wishing everyone a kosher and joyous Pesach.