Our sages were insistent that Pesach fall in the spring, which means that the advent of baseball season often coincides with the festival of freedom. A few days ago I saw that Craig Breslow, a Jewish pitcher on my Boston Red Sox was going to take questions via Twitter. Half joking, I submitted a question, asking him what his plans were for Pesach. Breslow, both a Hebrew school and Yale grad who has fasted during a Yom Kippur baseball game, responded to my question to all of Red Sox nation on that Twitter feed. 

The response: 

“@rebelkrim "It's tough to plan and navigate with the baseball schedule. We're probably traveling..." #AskTheSox”

I’m impressed that he chose to respond and did so honestly. He could have easily avoided the question altogether. But as a friend of mine pointed out to me, we Jews are all about travels. As a matter of fact, Pesach is about such movement as well. 

Pesach is actually an interesting name for the festival (even though technically it refers to the day before when the paschal offerings were sacrificed). It refers to one small aspect of the Egypt experience we immortalize, God’s skipping over the Jewish homes when killing the Egyptian first born. Here are the first two mentions in the Torah, that of the action and the name of the offering. 


"וככה תאכלו אתו מתניכם חגרים נעליכם ברגליכם ומקלכם בידכם ואכלתם אתו בחפזון פסח הוא לה. ועברתי בארץ מצרים בלילה הזה והכיתי כל בכור בארץ מצרים מאדם ועד בהמה ובכל אלהי מצרים אעשה שפטים אני ה'. והיה הדם לכם לאת על הבתים אשר אתם שם וראיתי את הדם ופסחתי עלכם ולא יהיה בכם נגף למשחית בהכתי בארץ מצרים'" (שמות י"ב:י"א-י"ג)

And thus shall you eat it; with your loins girded, your shoes on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste; it is the Lord’s Passover. For I will pass through the land of Egypt this night, and will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment; I am the Lord. And the blood shall be to you for a sign upon the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I strike the land of Egypt – (Shmos 12:11-13)

Rashi (in verses 11 and 13) offers, to my count, seven usages of the root p.s.ch.  I can’t recall off hand where else Rashi offers so many cognates of a word. 

First, Rashi states what we all know. That the Paschal offering is so called because Hashem was skipping and leaping over the Jewish homes. Second, he also suggests that Hashem jumped between Egyptian and Egyptian allowing the Jew in the middle escaping. Third, it is also called Pesach because it describes the zeal of the Jews to fulfil God’s will. Fourth, the Old French verb pasche, is an expression of stepping. Fifth, he cites Unkelus’ comment that the word means to have mercy (see Isaiah 31:5). Sixth, he cites a famous challenge issued by Eliyahu Hanavi to the Jewish people who can’t decide if they are God fearing or idolaters: (Kings I 18:21) – skipping between two ideas. Finally, all those who are lame are called pischim because they walk like lepers. Having mercy and sparing can be interpreted as ‘he makes him skip away and escape from among those put to death. 

So I’m left with two questions: what does the name of this festival mean and why was this seemingly minor part of the narrative privileged to name this august festival. 

Perhaps the answer is found embedded in the chapters about a character on Pesach who lived centuries after the exodus: Eliyahu Hanavi. 

When the Jews left Egypt their faith was tenuous at best. Only 20% left. The test of taking the deity of the Egyptians, the lamb, tying it up and slaughtering it, was an enormous statement of faith. There were scoffers in Egypt and there have always been those doubters. Centuries later during the reign of Achav in the northern kingdom of Samaria, the Jews were no different. The prophet Eliyahu tried his best to rouse the Jews and created a High Noon-esque moment on the majestic Carmel mountain range. He challenged 850 idolatrous Ba’al and Asheira priests to a spiritual duel in the presence of the nation. Ultimately Eliyahu called to God to engulf his animal offering in flames despite being immersed in a mote of water. The supernatural miracle merging water and fire hadn’t been seen since the plague of hail in Egypt. Eliyahu’s act of offering a sacrifice outside of the precincts of Jerusalem’s Temple is deemed in Halacha a hora’as sha’ah, a one-time exception to precedent due to extremely mitigating circumstances. He truly embarrasses the pagan priests and the Jews ended up inspired and moved, falling on their faces in reverence,twice declaring in unison, “Hashem hu Elokim,” the Lord is God, the verse we declare at the end of Yom Kippur. 

Prior to his great act, Eliyahu cries out to the massive Jewish audience:


"ויגש אליהו אל כל העם ויאמר עד מתי אתם פסחים על שתי הסעפים? אם לה' האלקים לכו אחריו, ואם הבעל לכו אחריו, ולא ענו העם אתו דבר" (מלאכים א' י"ח:כ"א)

“And Eliyahu came to all the people, and said, How long will you hobble between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him. And the people answered him not a word” (Kings I 18:21). 

Ironic that waffle, a gluten and carb that typifies chametz, is the meaning of Pesach. 

But this is what Eliyahu says to the nation. You have to decide. You have to make a choice. You have to act! You can’t be true to yourselves if you are nisht a her and nisht a hein (neither here nor there). Stop skipping back and forth. Make a decision. Be decisive!

I believe all of Rashi’s examples fall under this definition. Hashem did indeed pass over our houses while killing the Egyptian first born. But we were told to take decisive action and paint the doorposts with the blood of the Egyptian deity. One of the commentators pointed out that the inside lintel and doorposts had the blood, not the outside one. The sign was not to prevent God from killing the wrong first-born. It was an assertion of faith meant for the Hebrews about to be freed. Compassion also represents a decision. One cannot passively fulfil chessed or empathy. One makes a decision to help another person, and to take of their own time and/or resources to do so. Zeal certainly demonstrates assertiveness. This is the message of Pesach! Freedom does not mean we get; it means we give. Freedom was summed up by President Kennedy when he asked Americans to “do for your country.” I’ve mentioned this numerous times, but I’ll say it again. Victor Frankl in his classic “Man’s Search for Meaning” argues that while the Statue of Liberty is on the East Coast, there needs to be a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast. That is freedom. What can I do, not what can you do for me. This is the message of Eliyahu Hanavi to a waffling, lazy and ambivalent Jewish nation unsure of its beliefs. 

Skipping and jumping also connotes love. We will read next Shabbos in Shir Hashirim (Song of Songs): 


"קול דודי הנה זה בא מדלג אל ההרים מקפץ על הגבעות" (שיר השרים ב:ח)

“The voice of my beloved! Behold, he comes leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills”(Shir haShirim 2:8). 

Love connotes certainty and celebrates the graduation from uncertainty. The holy Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev sums it up so well. We call the festival Pesach because that describes what our Beloved did for us; He passed over our homes and spared us. The Torah, however, almost exclusively refers to the festival as Chag Hamatzos, Why? Because that describes the loving act we performed and continue to perform for Hashem. Each names the festival based on what their loving partner did for them. 

Craig Breslow got it right. We travel on Pesach. We journey towards true love and appreciation for the Ribbono shel Olam. We waffle, we hobble, we skip, we pass over, and we spring. Funny that Pesach is called Chag ha’Aviv, the festival of spring. The buds don’t just passively sit there; they burst forth this time of year. The Boys of Summer leap out of the dugout and take the field to begin each home game. And our love is rekindled with the Almighty as we remember the reasons He loves us and we love Him. 

May we decisively declare Hashem Hu Ha’Elokim and May Hashem continue to be our loving Father, protecting us, watching us and guiding us to live a life of meaning, a life of freedom, a life of zestful movement!