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Shabbat Shalom,
This year, we have a unique Pesach holiday as it falls on Saturday night, which creates many issues like when should we begin Seder if Shabbat ends at 8 pm? Can we start the Seder early? I have answers to all those questions and more from my colleague Rabbi Josh Heller from Bnai Torah in Atlanta, Georgia. Click here to read. You can find all the resources you need for Pesach, including resources for your Seder, on the Exploring Judaism website.
Because the Seder falls on Saturday evening, we have to do some things a little differently. For example, we held our Fast of the First Born Minyan this morning, rather than tomorrow, as we generally don’t hold a fast on Friday. Even though Passover begins on Saturday night, we will be in a strange, in-between place, until the holiday starts. One custom usually performed the night before Passover, Bedikat Hametz, the searching for Hametz in the home, will be performed tonight, Thursday night. This is truly when the journey of Passover begins. We stand together as households in a dark home, searching for the hidden Hametz in our homes, but we are not alone, and we are not in complete darkness.
Our Bedikat Hametz rituals in our home are joyous and happy times, with a lot of laughter. I hide the pieces of Hametz around our house, and then our family gathers together, anxiously anticipating the search, as all the lights in the house are turned off. I give our children a list of hints about where they could be found, we say the blessing together, and a fun game of ‘hide and seek’ for Hametz ensues. Smiles are across our faces as we search; not only do we have the joy of the moment, but our path is lit with a flame that brings us joy and reassurance. The Egyptians had the opposite experience before Bnai Israel was set free.
The Egyptians could not see one another during the ninth plague because they were in darkness. The commentators note that the Egyptians could light candles, but it made no difference, because their darkness was much deeper than visual; it was an emotional and spiritual darkness. But, as the Torah says, the Israelites enjoyed light in their dwellings - אוֹר בְּמוֹשְׁבֹתָם.
This is the light that we enjoy, the light that begins the holiday of Passover before it actually begins. Rabbi Ya’akov Leiner of Izbica (1818-1878) commented on the peculiar practice of searching for Hametz the night before Passover. He asks a valid question: "Why not search for Hametz during the morning of Erev Passover when we have the light of day to help us?" He explains that the first step in preparing for the Seder is finding out who we really are; where our place in the world is, and what we have been placed in the world to repair. Now, in this unredeemed world, he explains, "We suffer because we don’t know what to fix." But, in the future time of redemption, God will show us that even when we were in the dark, we were fulfilling a divine plan. In seeking out leaven by candlelight, we are, literally and metaphorically, giving ourselves a glimmer of light amidst the darkness, in that the light used for the search reminds us that we already have the direction we seek. This idea resonates deeply with a passage from this week's Torah portion, Parashat Tzav. We read about the fire on the altar:
“A perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar; it shall not go out.” (Leviticus 6:6)
The eish tamid, the eternal flame, served as a constant—a visible and enduring symbol of divine presence, discipline, and faith during times of uncertainty for the Israelites. Even as the world changed around them—through sin, wandering, wars, kings, and exiles—the fire continued. It was a reminder that holiness can be cultivated through regularity and intention, even in unstable times.
In many ways, our small candle during Bedikat Hametz echoes that same eternal fire. It’s not just about finding crumbs — it’s about lighting a path through the murkiness of transition, of searching when things are not yet clear. Just as the fire on the altar offered stability in the wilderness, our traditions, our rituals, and the light we kindle remind us that we are never truly lost — even in the
in-between moments of Shabbat turning into festival, of exile turning into redemption.
This Pesach, we hold the brokenness, the whole, the light, and the darkness together. We will sit at our Pesach Seder tables knowing that there are still hostages being held in Gaza, and an entire nation is waiting for them to be freed. This Pesach, Rachel Goldberg-Polin, mother of slain hostage Hersh, suggests we bring a little light in the form of a lemon to our seder tables. She wrote, “As we prepare our Hillel sandwiches, let us place a slice of this lemon between the matzah, maror, and charoset. With each bite, may the sharpness of the lemon cut through the sweetness of the charoset, reminding us of the urgency of their plight and the strength of our hopes for their freedom. This act of solidarity — a pledge that their bitterness is ours to share — endures until they are returned to the embrace of freedom.
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