Dvar Torah for Pesach (Seder) New hesber in eating Matzah and Ha Lachma Anya

The Lesson of the Bread of Poverty: e-mail address removed

שבעת ימים מצות תאכלו– Seven days shall you eat matzah (Shemos 12:15).
We say in the Haggadah, in the first paragraph of Maggid: “Ha lachma anya di achalu avhasana be’ara de’Mitzrayim. Kol dichfin yeisei ve’yeichol kol ditzrich yeisei ve’yifsach. Hashata hacha le’shanah haba’ah be’ara de’Yisrael. Hashata avdei le’shanah haba’ah bnei chorin – This is the bread of poverty that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat. Whoever is needy, let him come and celebrate Pesach. Now, we are here; next year may we be in the Land of Israel. Now, we are slaves; next year may we be free men.”
In his Haggadah, Simchas HaRegel, the Chida explains the flow of Ha Lachma Anya, based on the Midrash in Eichah. The third pasuk of Eichah begins, “Galsah Yehudah mei’oni –Yehudah has gone into exile from poverty.” Referencing the word mei’oni, from poverty, the Midrash (Eichah Rabbah 1:28), as quoted by the Chida, explains that we went into exile for two reasons: from not eating lechem oni, the bread of poverty (matzah); and from not giving matnos aniyim, gifts to the poor. (Our version of the Midrash differs from that of the Chida’s.)
To offset these two shortcomings, we begin the Seder by stating, “Ha lachma anya di achalu avhasana be’ara de’Mitzrayim” – We, unlike our ancestors prior to the exile in Bavel, are eating the bread of poverty, and “Kol dichfin yeisei ve’yeichol kol ditzrich yeisei ve’yifsach” – We, unlike our ancestors prior to the exile in Bavel, are concerned with the poor, and are offering them matnos aniyim and support.
Given the truth of our tikkun in these two areas, the last part of Ha Lachma Anya follows naturally: “Hashata hacha le’shanah haba’ah be’ara de’Yisrael. Hashata avdei le’shanah haba’ah bnei chorin” – Now, we are here; next year may we be in the Land of Israel. Now, we are slaves; next year may we be free men.
I believe that by making a few observations about the language and details of both Ha Lachma Anya and the Midrash in Eichah, we can arrive at a deeper meaning of the two, as well as a new insight into the kavanah, intent, required while eating matzah on Pesach.
Before that, we have a few questions. First, in Ha Lachma Anya, why is matzah described as the bread of poverty, rather than the bread of slavery, which would have been more accurate?
The second question is regarding the second part, where we say, “Whoever is hungry – let him come and eat. Whoever is needy – let him come and celebrate Pesach.” This call and offer to provide to others seems rather disingenuous. The guest lists have been made, the invitations have all gone out, and we are now beginning the Seder. Any invitation to others, however hungry, falls only on our ears; it doesn’t seem to be based on any real concern for the needy. What are we accomplishing with this statement?
As we read through the Midrash carefully, we come up with a few more questions. First, why is the sin of not eating matzah a reason to be sent to galus? What is the middah keneged middah? Beyond this, what is so bad about not eating matzah? The sin is only a passive one, a bittul mitzvas aseih. Why would this warrant the severity of exile?
Another, more basic, difficulty in the Midrash is that it seems incomprehensible that the people as a whole would neglect to eat matzah, an action performed today by the most secular Jews. There is no mention of the Jews not bringing the korban Pesach, a sin that would incur the kareis punishment. If they were, as a whole, bringing the korban Pesach, how could they not be eating it with the requisite matzah?
And finally, is there any connection between not giving gifts to the poor and not eating the bread of poverty, or is the Midrash presenting us with two unrelated reasons?
The Gemara (Berachos 6b) tells us that Mar Zutra said: “Agra de’taanisa, tzidkasa – The [main] reward of a fast day lies in the charity dispensed.” According to many mefarshim (see Mishlei Yaakov on Vayikra: 144), the true value of a fast is not in abstaining from food, but in the sympathetic chord that resonates within the person who denies himself sustenance. All year long – while the belly is full – one cannot truly understand the plight of the poor and hungry. It is only during a fast, when one experiences his own hunger, that true identification with starving people is possible; it causes a person to reflect, “Just imagine. This guy feels this way all year long!” This thought process gives a person a newfound ability to give tzedakah with an open hand. Hence, the main reward for fasting is due to the identification with the poor and the empathetic change it can bring.
Perhaps this is one of the lessons of eating matzah. The Torah wants us, one week each year, to eat the simplest of fare: plain flour and water. By eating lechem oni, bread of poverty, during Pesach, we are reminded that some people have to subsist on this all year and cannot afford a more costly or tastier fare. That is why it is called bread of poverty, and not bread of slavery. As we chew on it, we should ruminate over how impoverished some of our brethren are, in contrast to the bounty with which we are blessed.
We can now reconcile the Midrash, which states that the galus came about because they did not eat lechem oni, with the more likely fact that if they brought the korban Pesach, they must have eaten lechem oni, as well.
Yes, they did eat matzah, as most every Jew does, but they did not eat it as lechem oni, poor man’s bread. They did not learn from it to have empathy for the poor. It is possible that they had the greatest intent of fulfilling this important mitzvah bein adam la’Makom, but they did not bear in mind how this can translate into a bein adam la’chaveiro concern.
Now we understand the two-step process of the Midrash. “Galsah Yehudah mei’oni” – Because we did not eat the matzah as lechem oni, with the right intent and feelings for the poor, this caused us not to give matnos aniyim, which caused us to be exiled. This was middah keneged middah; since we were not concerned about our impoverished brothers, we were placed in exile, where we, too, were not cared for.
Perhaps that is why we start the Seder with Ha Lachma Anya. We remind ourselves that some people are truly hungry, surviving on flour and water. While we think about the sad lot of others versus the bounty which we have, the only possible course of action comes to both mind and lips. We are not issuing an insincere invitation to others, but we are speaking to and reminding ourselves of how we must act – not only during Pesach, but the entire year. While tonight the words are only spoken, henceforth they will be heard near and far: “Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat.” What better message for the start of the Seder.
If we undo the mistakes of the past, this galus will come to an end.
Hashata avdei le’shanah haba’ah bnei chorin.