Last Saturday we read in the Torah:

The Torah tells us about the first Seder in the Jewish history: Pesach Mitzraim. This first Seder took place when the Jews were still in Egypt, and set the model for any further Seder. Matzah and Maror were eaten in Egypt as we eat them these days. However, the Passover sacrifice, the lamb or the kid is absent from our tables since the destruction of the Second Temple.

We don’t have sacrifices any more (the idea of animal sacrifices is –perhaps- the most difficult issue to explain in the Torah). However, because the Torah "is a tree of life for those who grasp it" we may find wisdom and insight for our days even in those words that explain the details of the Passover sacrifice.

Why if the household is too small for a lamb or a kid, should he and his neighbor who is near his house then take according to the number of people? Why if I have the money to buy an entire kid for myself do I need to go to and have Pesach with my neighbor? Why should you not leave any of it until morning and any of it that is left until morning you should burn in the fire? Why can’t I save it for tomorrow or keep it in the freezer?

Our people grew up under the premise that we are a small people. Despite God’s promise to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, we almost never were a majority or even a big people. However, being small allowed us to grow up. Being small is not necessarily a defect or a punishment. May be it is an opportunity to grow, to be with other people, to meet and make new friends.

What does a family do when it realizes that it is small? It gathers with other family and shares what it has.

God wants to see if the Children of Israel are ready to be a community. If they can share a meal, they might be able to share a long way in the wilderness. We need to learn to share. We might be able to share big projects, ideology and abstract words, if we are able to eat together, to study together and to play together. To be with others I need to teach myself how to be humble. Only humble people need others. According to our Rabbis, the Chametz is a symbol of false pride and arrogance. When we burn the Chametz the day before the Seder, we also commit ourselves to burn the Chametz in our hearts, to expel from ourselves false pride and arrogance.

The Passover preparations have already started. People have gone to Baltimore and Washington in order to buy products Kasher LePesach, almost 40 people already made reservations for our second Sedder, and it seems that even Spring wants to be ready for Pesach.

However some people in our congregation don’t know yet where they will be for the first Seder. Jewish students at Virginia Tech may be waiting for an invitation, some of the Russian families in our community may stay alone at their homes that night. We have brothers and sisters in the VA Hospital, at Catawba Hospital, in Floyd, in Bent Mountain, in Bedford. They may have plans for Passover but who knows?

And I am not talking necessarily about poor people. It is also sad for rich people to stay alone on Passover. Some people may invite themselves to a Seder. However, some other people are shy, and if we don’t approach them, they will not approach us.

This Devar Torah concludes with a practical suggestion: think about who in our congregation lives alone, which family may not have a Seder unless some of us invite them. If you don’t know about any family or person in this situation, but you still want to invite some people or even a single person to your home, please, talk to me as soon as possible, and I will help you to fill your table.

"All who are hungry – let them come and eat; all who are needy (and that includes all who are needy of love, friendship and care) – let them come and celebrate Pesach with us"

And let’s pray that God, who brought us from slavery to freedom, from sorrow to joy and from servitude to redemption, will redeem us again and will grant to us and our families, health, sustenance and peace.

Shabbat Shalom!

I always understood this famous introduction as a cordial invitations to everybody in need: "Whoever is hungry, come eat with us". However, this year I read the Haggadah again, as I do every year before Passover, and I saw those introductory words under a different light: "This is the plain, poor bread that our parents ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, come eat with us". Why could someone like to eat poor plain bread? Moreover, Why does the host issue his invitation in such discouraging way? Imagine if someone invites you for dinner in the following way: "these are the leftovers from yesterday, whoever is hungry, come eat with us" or "this is the cheap cake I bought yesterday in Kroger, whoever is hungry, come eat with us". In the best imaginable scenario, you will answer: "thank you very much, but I have another commitment".

Nevertheless, this is what we express every year at the beginning of our Seder: "This is the plain, poor bread that our parents ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, come eat with us"

I would like to suggest another interpretation to these well known verses, although first of all I need to discuss with you the significance of the "Matzah", the main food and symbol of our holiday.

Matzah is indeed the plain, poor bread that our parents ate in the land of Egypt. We break the middle Matzah as a reminder of the crumbs that our fathers ate in Egypt, always too poor to eat a whole loaf of bread. "Poor slaves also never have enough to eat, so they put something away for the next meal", and so we do after we break the Matzah.

However, the Haggadah will give further on, a complementary explanation of why we eat Matzah: "Because God, the King of kings, showed us His glory and saved our ancestors by taking them from Egypt so quickly that there was no time for their dough to rise"

Regarding this last statement, some commentators ask a very simple, yet profound question: "Why didn’t God tell the Jews to prepare food for their journey, so that they would have time to bake bread?’ The book of Exodus is full with instructions before the final redemption took place. God could have added a more simple instruction: "by the way, don’t forget to bake bread in advance".

Our Rabbis explain that "just as yeast makes dough rise and become big and puffy, so our Yetzer Hara, our evil inclination, convinces us to act in ways that would make us arrogant, and once we are arrogant it is easy to sin.. People would be much less likely to do wrong if they would be satisfied with the simple things that they really need. In order to remind us of this, God made us leave Egypt so quickly, that our dough did not have a chance to rise. This reminds us that the best way to be free is not let ourselves become big and puffy with false pride"

Here the Matzah receives a new meaningful symbolism. It is not just "the plain, poor bread that our parents ate in the land of Egypt". It is the bread of humility and therefore the bread of freedom. It is the triumph of the spirit over the materialism. It is the lesson our fathers learned in their way out of Egypt: "Don’t let your ego rise too much, don’t let yourself become puffy, be plain and humble, like this bread we have before us today. Be free from those things you don’t need and are obstacles in your service to God"

And now I am ready to suggest a new explanation to the introductory words of the Maggid: "This is the plain, poor bread that our parents ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, come eat with us"

This Matzah, the central food of Passover, is the plain, simple, not puffy, bread our parents ate in the land of Egypt. This simple Matzah symbolizes the willingness of our fathers to choose spiritual freedom over material pleasures. Whoever is hungry for this kind of bread, come eat with us. Whoever is in spiritual need of this special bread of freedom, now is the time to incorporate it to our system.

And it is under this explanation that the rest of the paragraph also receives a new light:

Places are not necessarily physical. Geography can be also a matter of the spirit. Egypt and Israel are not only two places in a map. Egypt and Israel are mainly two spiritual dispositions. Egypt –Mitzraim- reminds us of oppression, not only in a physical sense but mainly in a spiritual sense. In Egypt the only rule was Pharaoh’s rule. Israel –on the other land- is the promised land, the hope for freedom. Freedom, as Barry Mallinger reminded us last week to the Minyanaires, is spiritual freedom. Freedom that allows us to serve God with joy, to be better persons and better Jews.

This year we have upon our shoulders the burden of our "Chametz", of the yeast within the dough, of the puffiness which puts us in the center of the universe and displaces God from the center of our lives. But next year, things might be different. Next year we might be free, next year we might learn to be happy with less things and more spirit.

The redeeming experience of Passover is not one that can be done in solitude. Passover is a family experience, a congregational experience. Children should turn to their parents and grandparents for encouragement and advice. Parents should turn to their children and grandchildren for enthusiasm and inspiration. And this is why we invite others to our Seder: "Whoever is hungry, come eat with us". We invite other to share this special journey with us. It is difficult to change, but it is easier if we do it together, if we support and encourage each other.

And may the Almighty bless us and our families with joy and with health, with Parnasa and spiritual growth, with a Kosher and happy Pesach!

"Hashem will give strength unto His people; Hashem will bless His people with peace" (Psalms 29:11).

The Midrash, interpreting the verse "Now Moses was tending the flock" (Exodus 3:1), is telling us: The Holy One tested Moses by means of the flock. As our masters explained: When Moses, our teacher, was tending Jethro's flock in the wilderness, a lamb scampered off, and Moses followed it until it approached a shelter under a rock. As the lamb reached the shelter, it came upon a pool of water and stopped to drink. When Moses caught up with it, he said, "I did not know that you ran away because you were thirsty. Now you must be tired." So he hoisted the lamb on his shoulder and started walking back with it. The Holy One then said, because you showed such compassion in tending the flock of a mortal, as you live, you shall become shepherd of Israel, the flock that is mine (Exodus Rabah 2:2).

Although this Midrash was known to me for many years, I discovered a simple, yet deep teaching about it in the wisdom of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the last Lubavitcher Rebbe, Alav Hashalom.

Said the Lubavitcher Rebbe: "In addition to demonstrating Moses' compassion, this incident contains another important lesson: Moses realized that the lamb did not run away from the flock out of malice or wickedness – it was merely thirsty. When a Jew alienates himself from his people, G-d forbid, it is only because he is thirsty. His soul thirsts for meaning in life, but the waters of Torah have eluded him. So he wanders about in foreign pastures, seeking to quench his thirst. When Moses understood this, he was able to become a leader of Israel. Only a shepherd who hastens not to judge the runaway lamb, who is sensitive to the causes of its desertion, can tenderly lift in into his arms and bring it back home.

The situation Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson describes is also well known for us: Jews whose souls thirst for meaning in life, but the waters of Torah have eluded them.

Thirst for meaning in life is something natural. You feel it, late or early. All of us have had or will experience this moment in our life when we ask ourselves, "Why am I here?" " Why am I important?" " What is the reason for my existence?"

For a Jew, the answers could be found within the Jewish tradition, the richness of the Torah and the Jewish texts and a strong belief in God. However, for many of our Jewish brothers and sisters the waters of Torah have eluded them. They didn't have a basic Jewish education or someone to show them a path of faith and confidence in God. Some of them, like the second of the four sons of the Haggadah, see Judaism as something that doesn't belong to them. What does he say? What does this service mean to you? ‘To you' [he says] but not about himself, excluding himself from the Jewish people. Some of our Jewish brothers and sisters, like the fourth son in the Haggadah, don't even know how to ask the basic questions about Jewish life. Others keep a simple faith, enough for them, but not to pass on. The wise sons are fewer and fewer and most of the time inquire more about the details of the law rather than how to bring back their brothers and sisters who have strayed.

Nevertheless, our brothers and sisters outside are still searching for meaning in their lives. They don't know very much about us, but maybe they are waiting for a sign, for a call.

"Draw me after you" (Song of Songs 1:4) – they are crying! "I am dark (ignorant and indifferent), but (still) comely" (Song of Songs 1:5). Look at me! They exclaim.

According to the Sages, the assembly of Israel is addressing God in these lines. "Just a little sign, a call and I will run after you" - they seem to insinuate to us. "We are wandering about in foreign pastures, seeking to quench our thirst, but we want to come back home" – they call.

And this is a big test for each of us, who are part of a Jewish Congregation, who identify ourselves as Jews, who come to the Synagogue and enjoy the messages of our tradition. Will we be able to hear the silent call from our thirsty brothers and sisters calling "Draw me after you"? Will we make them a sign that they are always welcome? Will we be able –as Moses did- not to judge the runaway lamb, to be sensitive to the causes of its desertion, to tenderly lift it in into our arms and bring it back home?

We read in the Hallel: "The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone" (Psalms 118:22). We never know which stone will become the cornerstone and it is not our task to reject them. Lazy or indifferent students can be the great Rabbis and leaders of the morrow, not only for Roanoke, but also for the entire Jewish people. People, who don't show interest today, can be strongly involved in the future. It is up to us to draw them, to show them how important they are for us, and to tell them that there always is a place for them in our congregation, in our community and among the Jewish people. And this is a responsibility of all of us, not only the Rabbi's responsibility. Lay leaders and members of our Synagogue, children and old people, everybody can set an example, everybody can become a teacher, a leader, in one way or another.

"And may Hashem grant strength to His people; and may Hashem bless His people with peace" (Psalms 2911)

Chag Sameach!

By doing this, we are reminded that the best way to produce a Chacham is to make sure that the sweet taste of Torah always remains with him just as the taste of the Afikomen lingers on Pesach. Hopefully, the wicked Rasha learned that lesson as well and will become a Chacham one day.

Its no mistake that the Rasha - the wicked son is mentioned immediately following the Chacham. Shouldn't the Rasha be last? Why would we place him next to the Chacham at the Seder?

Perhaps, our sages are showing us the best way to reach all our people effectively. Let the Rasha hear the Chacham's questions and be enlightened by the answers. Let him see that there is still hope for him if he stops excluding himself from our people. Let us not fear that the Chacham will be corrupted by the Rasha; quite the contrary. Let the power, the beauty and the truth of the Torah change the Rasha for the better. However, the seating arrangement sends a message to the Chacham as well.

The Chacham should remember that he shares his destiny with his close neighbor, the Rasha and he must reach out to him with love and genuine concern for their mutual benefit.

Indeed, the Rasha has much to gain by sitting next to the Chacham but the Chacham needs to be near the Rasha as well.

Reb Yosef Yitzchak of Lubavitch teaches that the Chacham must be taught that if he ever stumbles, he will never become a Tam (a simple one) or a She'eno Yodea Lishol (one who doesn't know how to ask). When a Chacham fails, he becomes a Rasha. This powerful message warns the Chacham to never stop using his intellect in the service of Hashem. By placing the Chacham and the Rasha together, each has the opportunity to learn the lessons crucial to their survival.