On Pesach, we celebrate one of the most defining moments in Jewish history, our redemption from Egypt. We were slaves, and God took us out “with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” It is a time of joy, gratitude, and deep spiritual reflection. And yet, something curious happens in our liturgy.
On the first two days of Pesach, we recite the full Hallel, psalms of praise and thanksgiving. But from the intermediate days onward, and especially on the seventh day, when we commemorate the crossing of the sea of Reeds, we recite only half Hallel. Why diminish our joy at precisely the moment when the miracle reaches its climax? Reciting the half Hallel at this most triumphant of times in our calendar became for our Sages an act of spiritual discipline. They taught us that even when we experience salvation, even when justice is served, our joy must be tempered with compassion. We are not permitted to celebrate the downfall of others.
This is not easy. Human instinct pushes us toward triumphalism. When we are angry and feeling vulnerable, as we are at this very moment, we can fall into a state of triumphalism and become intoxicated with power. The Torah asks more of us; it asks us to hold complexity.
Pesach, then, is not just a story of liberation. It teaches us what it means to be free, not only politically, but ethically. Freedom is not just the absence of triumph over oppression; it is the presence of moral responsibility.
By reciting only half Hallel, we internalise a profound truth, that our joy is incomplete when it comes at the cost of human suffering, even the suffering of those who oppressed us. Our story teaches us that the Egyptians enslaved and brutalised the Israelites. Their defeat was necessary for the liberation of our people. But this necessity does not erase our humanity. Our tradition asks more of us; it asks us to be present to the suffering of the other, even if that other is an enemy.
This message resonates deeply in our world today. We live in times of conflict, division, and pain. It is easy to fall into binary thinking, us- them, good -evil. But the Torah reminds us that even in the midst of conflict, we must not lose sight of the image of God in every human being.
The recitation of the Half Hallel during six of the eight days of Pesach calls on us to cultivate empathy, even in these most tempestuous of times. It challenges us to celebrate our freedom without dehumanising others. This is where our liturgy truly shines. Encoded in all these liturgically inclusions and exclusions are signs and road maps for how we increase the level of empathy and compassion in our Tefilah, which essentially means in our spiritual practice, in the way we walk in the world.
All these points are about the season of Pesach, not just being about miraculous salvation. Chanting the half Hallel during most of the days of Pesach teaches us about the kind of people we are called to become, a people who remember suffering, and do not perpetuate it. In diminishing our joy during the festival of freedom, our Rabbis affirmed and taught us that true freedom is not only about what we were freed from, but what we were freed for. They taught us that we were freed to build a world rooted in and guided by dignity, empathy, and moral courage. Will we be able to heed their call?
Magnificent Rabbi Mordechai. Thank you.
Nice words George. But do people Listen to words on the computer?
Made me think about how to regard/treat others with kindness. Thank you.