Editors Note: The following Hagada contains very few of my own ideas. It is my translation of what I have been taught mainly at Reishit Yerushalayim. The basic Hagada is based on Rav Ari Marcus's Hagada Shiur.

The Toras Emes Hagada Shel Pesach

 Why is this night called a Seder? And why do we only have one on Pesach (and not a Rosh Hashana Seder for example)?

We call it a Seder, because there is an order, a set pattern, and even a fixed Hagada for everything we say and do tonight. We begin by reciting the table of contents for the evening (Kadesh, Urchatz...) and we even announce the procedure we are about to perform before we actually do it (and now, for Karpas...). Everything is very orderly and fixed.

The reason we only have a Seder on Pesach (when we were freed from slavery) has to do with the Jewish concept of freedom. The truth is that even the best vacation is an orderly one. The more you have a set itinerary, the more you are constantly doing something, and the less time you have to be bored. Even sunbathing can be a planned activity, but as all kids know, there is nothing more boring than sitting around with tons of time, and not knowing what to do - having nothing planned. The definition of Cheirus, (freedom) is not Hefkeirus, a Balagan, do whatever you want, no holds barred, all options open, zoo, like some ancient fish market. Freedom is the acceptance and carrying out of responsibility, i.e. order.

Being free does not entail sleeping all day, eating whatever you want, whenever you want it, or watching TV twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. That is slavery. It is slavery to one's animalistic drives and desires. The desire for sleep, food, laziness, etc. is not what makes one human. One can never look at a woman for who she really is, if he is a slave to his desire for physical pleasure. All he will see is another way of worshipping his navel - worshipping himself. If one truly wants freedom, he must rid himself of his allegiance to his desires, and enslave himself to nothing other than G-d. He is the one who created our animalistic drive, and therefore he is the only one who knows how to control it.

Fads change. Today people dress as if it is the sixties again. Two years ago, people dressed as if they were homeless. The only thing that is objective and unchanging is G-d and his Torah. At the end of the day, G-d controls every one of us, whether we admit it or not. Once we accept that, we are as free as is possible. Why be a slave to a slave? Serve only the boss. There was once a "say no to drugs" advertisement that read - Addiction is slavery - and it is. It is slavery to one's desires.

The four Parshiyos that we read before Pesach are all about things that we are not privileged to perform anymore: The half-Shekel, Amalek, the red heifer, and sanctifying the month. So why do we read them? We read them because they each have a lesson to teach us about freedom. Rav Aharon Soloveitchik explains that we read these four sections before Pesach to instill within us a sense of freedom. Shkalim teaches us not to be slaves to money. Zachor teaches us not to be slaves to our desire for power and might. Parah teaches us the limits of our mind. There are some things we cannot understand; we cannot be slaves to our own intellects. The last Parsha, HaHodesh, teaches us the value of time. We are only here for a short time; we have to make it meaningful. We must discipline our use of time, if we really want to be free. Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi once said: "Avdei HaZmaan, Hem Avadim. VeAvdei HaMakom, Hem B'nei Chorin." - Those who serve time, who are living for the "now," all they see is themselves. They are slaves. But, one who serves G-d is truly free, for he is not bound by time. One who enslaves himself to G-d is a partner with the infinite (This is one aspect of why Adam and Chava had to die after sinning. They chose to live in the "now," to prioritize their temporal bodies before their eternal souls. They enslaved themselves to their bodies, to time. Time has a beginning and time has an end, so they had to also.). We are only free when we realize that everything has order; everything has a proper place.

There is a story of a Rav who used to go visit his son in Yeshiva. He would first go to see his room. If the room was orderly, he could be sure that his son's mind was too. However, if the room was in disarray, he knew that his son's mind was as well.

In fact, the miracles that were performed in Egypt were to let us know that there is order to the world, and G-d dictates that order. G-d is in control and he can change it if he wills. There is a natural order to the world; it is not Hefker. G-d demonstrated this by changing the natural order for a moment - because sometimes we only appreciate something when we understand what it would be like without it.

The Seder demonstrates our submission to the divine order, divine control. Only the acceptance and fulfillment of our obligations to Him will enable us to be truly free.

 Why does the one leading the Seder wear a Kittel, the clothing of a dead body?

The most basic answer is that it puts us in a serious frame of mind, either because of the Mitzvah of Sippur Yitziyas Mitzrayim (the telling over of the story of the Exodus), or because the whole evening is a remembrance of the Korban Pesach, which was Kodshim Kalim and when we are eating off the "Shulchan Gavohah" we have to be serious. This is supported by the fact that the three times one wears a Kittel are very serious moments: when getting married, Yom Kippur, and when one is buried.

Rav Moshe Soloveitchik asks a good question: If we wear a Kittel for seriousness, then everyone at the Seder should wear one. So he says that the leader wears one simply so that the children will ask questions.

The Kli Yakkar says that the whole reason we went down to Egypt in the first place was a result of the jealousy over the colored cloak of Joseph. Tonight we demonstrate our remorse for the hatred that B'nei Yisrael had for one another by wearing simply white.

Another possibility is that tonight is an evening of paradoxes. Freedom and slavery, wealth and destitution - as we will see, everything has both aspects. So too the Kittel, is something worn at the peak of Simcha (marriage), and the depths of mourning (burial).

 Rabbeinu Peretz says that Kiddush is the Bracha on the Hagada.

 Why do we say Kiddush on wine?

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsh says that we need to make Kiddush on wine even after we say it in the Amidah at Maariv, because Jews can't only sanctify the spiritual, they must also sanctify the physical. What could be a better representation of the physical than wine?

The Ishbitzer says that wine is what comes out at the end of a long process of production, like the Jews after Egypt and then the desert and then exiles, etc. All is sweet in the end. He adds that this is why we can also say it on bread if we have no wine, because it is also a result of a long process.

 Why do we have four cups?

The Talmud Yerushalmy gives several reasons:

1) They represent the four Leshonos of redemption (Shmos 6:6,7): VeHotzeisy, VeHitzalty, Vegaalty, and VeLakachty.

2) The three cups that Pharaoh's butler mentions to Joseph, and the one that Joseph mentions to the butler (Rashi in Pesachim 118a says three, for the three the butler mentions and one for benching).

3) They correspond to the four kingdoms that ruled the Jews: Bavel, Madai, Yavan, and Edom. What do these have to do with Egypt? The Bais HaLevi quotes the famous saying of Chazal that if the Jews would have been in Egypt a second longer (They were on the forty-ninth level of Tumah, which means that all their individual components were decrepit. The fiftieth level would have meant that their totality was decrepit.), they would have been destroyed. So G-d made a deal: I will let you out early, but you will have to pay it back. The pay back was these exiles. In addition, a fundamental theme tonight is not only the reliving of a redemption, but the anticipation of the coming one Bemeheirah Beyameinu.

4) The four cups of punishment that G-d will give to the nations of the world at the end of time: Jeremiah 25:15, 51:7, Psalms 75:9, 11:6. Opposite these are four cups of consolation for the Jews: Psalms 16:5, 23:5, 116:13 (They say the word Yeshuah twice, and Kos Yeshuos is double).

The Rayved says that the four cups correspond to the four death punishments G-d gave the Egyptians: Maakos Bechoros, drowning in the Red Sea, in the days of Nevuchadnetzar Bavel beat down Egypt, and in the future, they will get it once more.

 Why do we need four words for "G-d saved us?"

Rav Aharon Soloveitchik says:

VeHotzeisy = psychological and moral redemption.

VeHitzalty = social and economic redemption.

VeGaalty = political (national independence) redemption.

VeLakachty = ultimate purpose of redemption (dedication to G-d and his Torah). The context of the Psukim supports this distinction. (Additional note: The first two are individual and the second two are national, while the first and last are spiritual and the middle two are physical.)

 Why is red wine the best wine to use?

The Ohr Zaruah gives two reasons: Because of the blood of the babies that was spilled when the Egyptians threw them into the Nile, and because of the blood of the Korban Pesach. Here we see the dichotomy inherent in the wine. Everything tonight has a dual nature.

 There is disagreement as to whether the Mitzvah of leaning is part of the Mitzvah of the four cups and Matzah (the Rosh), or if it is a separate Mitzvah all together (the Rambam). The practical difference lies in a case where one did not lean - did he fulfill the Mitzvah? According to the Rosh, no. Also, optimally, should the rest of the meal be eaten while leaning? According to the Rambam, yes. According to the Rosh, there is no need.

 Pesachim 115a says that anytime one dips something in water he should wash his hands. The GR"A points out that really one should wash before dipping, anytime the food will remain wet while he eat it.

 If the rest of the year we do not wash for Karpas, why do we tonight? Are we only Frum two nights a year [outside Israel, and only one night in Israel]?

We are trying to demonstrate that we are not slaves; we are free. We are so hungry and now we finally get to eat something, but we push it off another few moments to demonstrate we are not slaves to our stomachs.

Rav Nachman MeBreslov says Rachitz in Aramaic means "trust." Because we should have trust in Hashem no matter what our meal consists of, even if it is only this little appetizer. We should have Emunah that there is more to come that we do not see.

Another possibility is that someone who is exacting with this Mitzvah - one that we are prevented from performing today (Tumah and Taharah), shows his faith in the Chochomim and the Halachic system.

 We have Karpas so that the kids will ask questions. Why not spit wooden nickels? What is the connection between Karpas and Pesach?

Dipping is a sign of wealth. So why do we dip into salt water? Because of the dichotomy of the night: The salt water represents both the tears the Jews shed while working so hard and the waters of the Red Sea which split to send us to freedom.

 Karpas represents spring, when the Jews were redeemed, which demonstrates the Chesed of G-d. He could have taken us out in the middle of the winter in the rain, or in the middle of the summer in the heat. Nevertheless, he took us out in perfect weather. The question is doesn't the fact that G-d took the Jews out in general reflect his Chesed?

There is a difference between Chesed and Rachamim. When you see a poor person and feel bad, you give him some money. That is Rachamim, not Chesed. G-d's taking the Jews out of Egypt does not necessarily demonstrate anything other than Rachamim. They were dying, one more second and they would have been finished (They were on the forty-ninth level of Tumah; they were dying spiritually as well as physically). The Jews would have been glad to leave in the rain or in intense heat. The fact that G-d took them out in perfect weather shows his Chesed - he went above and beyond what was necessary. That is why tonight we are going to invite the poor in to our homes. It is easy to go give a dollar to a poor person on the street, but that is Rachamim. Nice, but normal. Tonight, when we celebrate the Chesed of G-d, we go above and beyond the norm. Tonight we do not just give them money and send them on their way; we invite the poor in to our homes for a meal.

 There is a story about Reb Itzeleh Wooker, who was having a Seder with his Chasidim, and it came time for Karpas. On a plate in the middle of the table were various pieces of potatoes, some large, some small. As soon as the Rebbe reached Karpas, one of the Chasidim jumped up and grabbed the biggest piece. Reb Itzeleh Wooker looked at him and said, "Today is Pesach, we're supposed to be celebrating Cheirus. How can you be celebrating Cheirus, when you are still an Eved to a potato?"

 There is dispute over what should be used for Karpas. The RITV"A goes as far as to say it must be something bitter, as is demonstrated by what it says in Mah Nishtanah, "all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables, tonight we only eat Maror." Therefore, the vegetable we use for Karpas should be bitter. The Magen Avraham says it cannot be a cooked vegetable, which rules out potatoes, but others permit them. Most Poskim say it has to be a Yerek, so it must be green. The most agreed upon vegetables are celery and parsley.

 Why do we split the Matzah in two?

The simple answer is because one of the definitions of "Lechem Oni" in the Gemara, is "broken bread." Therefore, we brake it.

Rav Nachman MeBreslov says this concept of the broken bread is a reflection of our knowledge of G-d in this world. When we brake the Afikoman, the bigger part is hidden and we will not see it until the very end of the Seder. So too, we chase after a complete knowledge of G-d, but we will never be able to see him in his entirety. How can the finite ever perceive that which is infinite? As Rav Aharon Soloveitchik says, sometimes to appreciate a painting, one has to take a step back. We are living inside the painting; of course it does not make sense. When we look at Jewish history, we ask "why?" It doesn't make sense. If we are the chosen people, why do such terrible things keep happening to us? Rav Blachman says that this is what Moshe Rabbeinu asked G-d "Hareiny Na Es Drachecha" - "Show me your ways." He asked why do bad things happen to good people, and good things to bad people. G-d answered "Eino Yachol Liros Es Panai." - "You cannot see my face." Sometimes, later when a new piece of the puzzle is added we can somewhat understand why something happened, or at least what resulted. However, that is only when we take a step back and look at it from hindsight (a result of the Holocaust was the State of Israel, and there are more people learning there now then ever before in history. While that certainly is no justification, it is a historical result.). We cannot see the future; we cannot even understand the full consequences of our present actions. "You cannot see my face." However, sometimes we can see G-d's "back." We can look at past events and understand them to a certain extent, but we will never really understand G-d's ways. Rav Eliyahu Tauber in Choose Life writes a story about when he asked a couple of friends working in a factory in the Negev, if Israel really had a nuclear bomb (this was before it became public knowledge). They said that they did not know. They had worked there for ten years and everyday they went to a window and got a few parts and instructions about how to assemble them. Once they finished, they gave the constructed part to the next window. For all they knew it could have been a bicycle part, or a tape recorder, who knows. Sometimes they were told to switch booths so that no one would know what he was doing. One thing was obvious: It must be something serious, because it is so secretive, and there are detailed instructions. They said that if the instructions were not followed exactly, they were penalized.

This is life. We are all in a secretive assembly line. In the end, we will see what we have made and it will make sense and be worth all the trouble. For now though, all we see are the little parts. We are born at a certain time, in a certain place and with certain talents. Why? There are so many questions. Every day there are new surprises. How can we know any of the answers when we are stuck in a booth? It is just like being too close to the painting. However, if we weren't in that booth, we would not have free will. Once the full picture is revealed, everyone will want to be a Jew. They will not be able to though, because of course when everything is clear all the nations will want to get in on the Emes. However, we have the ability now, to strive in the darkness, in our little booth, because we have detailed instructions about what to do with every single piece - the Torah. This is what we say every night: "Lehagid Baboker Chasdecha, VeEmunascha BaLeilos." - "To talk about your righteousness in the morning, and your loyalty at night." Why Chesed in the morning and Emunah at night? At night, when things are dark and unclear, we must be loyal, and "We will discuss your loyalty to us" - you trusted us with the duty of spreading your Torah. At night we only see the smaller half of the Matzah, but we know that in the morning, when things are "clear as day," there will be a bigger half out there that completes it and makes sense of it all.

There is another possible meaning in braking the Matzah. Rabbi Gutman Locks says that we see each other as individuals, as different parts. But, Clal Yisrael really has one Neshama; we are all really one, not broken parts. For example, if I were to put an empty frame on the wall, and all you saw is what was in the frame, you would think that what is inside the frame is all there is to it. However, once I showed you that what you see inside the frame is really part of a greater wall, you would realize how insignificant the frame really is. It just hides the fact that what it contains is part of a greater collective. We are each a frame, but take away the frame and we are all a collective whole. Another example is light. Light is white. But, when it is bent, when it is slowed down, we see green, blue, purple, etc. How many lights are there is a rainbow? The answer is one. Since it is bent, you see different shades, but there is still only one light. Put most bluntly, we are all one Neshama, each with his own mask. The mask is all we see, so we think that it is what is real. We are obsessed with our mask. But, at the end of the day, it's just a mask. The Matzah that we are breaking represents that we are all really one, but we do not see it. All we see now are the smaller parts, but in the end, we are all part of a greater whole, with a collective history, a collective mission and a collective will.

 Why is there only a Mitzvah of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim, and not a Mitzvah of Sippur Sukkos, or Sippur Kiddush Hashana?

The Zohar on Parshas VaYikrah says that Pesach is really two words: Peh - Mouth, and Sach - Speaks (because a Samach and Sin are often interchangeable - see Kel Adon). The Jews were not only enslaved physically, they were also enslaved mentally; they had a slave mentality. They could not even think for themselves, they had no Daas. They couldn't even pray to G-d properly: (Shmos 4:2) The Pasuk does not read VaYispalelu - that the Jews prayed to G-d to relieve them of their suffering. It says Vayizaku - they screamed, without words, like an animal caught in a trap. They did not even have the faculty of speech. When they were redeemed, they regained this faculty. Now that we are redeemed, the mouth speaks.

Rav Akiva Tatz says that the mouth is a place of connection, both physically between people, and spiritually in that G-d spoke to man through the K'ruvim in the Bais Hamikdash, which was where Hahsem's connection to the world is most manifest. Eating, in fact, connects the body and soul. Without food, the Neshama would leave the body (Incidentally, this is how Reb Chaim of V'loshn explains the Bracha after going to the bathroom - HaRofay Kol Basar, Umaflee Laasos. What is so amazing (Peleh)? The fact that the Neshama, which is infinite, remains connected to the finite through food.). The parallel is a Korban. Sacrifices maintain contact, as it were, between G-d's presence and the world. The place of sacrifice is the Bais HaMikdash. The Gemara says that heaven and Earth kiss: "Heicha DeNashki Arah VeRakiyah Ahadadei." The Gemara is hinting at the nature of the connection, and the mouth in this metaphor is the Bais HaMikdash. This is also the place where the infinite first connected to the finite. The foundation rock in the Kodesh HaKodashim is the place where creation began. Tonight we remember when we as a people first met G-d, the beginnings of our connection. The mouth is the place of connection, and this is why Kol Hamarbe, Harei Ze Meshubach - whoever says more than is necessary about Yetziyas Mitzrayim tonight, he is praiseworthy, for he is connecting to G-d.

Another idea is that speech is expressing the hidden dimension in the world, which was the purpose of Yetziyas Mitzrayim.

 The Rambam says that we have an obligation to talk about the exodus until sleep overcomes us.

 We start Begnus, with denigration, and finish Beshevach, with praise, because we gain a much greater appreciation for what we have when we see how bad it can get. The jump in the pool feels the best after three hours of perspiring outside first. The best vacation comes after hard work. Shabbos only comes after six days of creative activity.

 There is dispute in the Gemara how to begin with denigration and finish with praise. Rav says we begin with "In the beginning our forefathers were idol worshippers," and finish with "And now G-d brought us to Sinai to serve him." Rava or Shmuel (different opinions who it is) says no, we begin with "Avadim Hayeenu," and end with "Hashem, Elokeinu took us out from there." Rav focuses on the spiritual slavery, the other opinion focuses on the physical slavery. The Ritva says that they both agree that you have to mention both the spiritual and physical, but they argue over which you do first. The Rambam in the Laws of Chometz UMatzah (7:4) says the spiritual comes first ("In the beginning..."). However, in his Hagada, the Rambam puts Avadim Hayinu first, like our Hagada. Rav Ahron Soloveitchik says that in his Halachos, the Rambam is focusing on the ideal, when the Bais HaMikdash is standing. Then you discuss the spiritual first. But, his Hagada has the introduction: "This is the language of the Hagada that is the tradition of B'nei Yisrael at the time of exile." We see that at a time of exile, the physical comes first. Some people would not support actions to free the Jews from Russia "Since they aren't going to be religious anyway." We see from here that at a time when the Jews are in Galus, our physical well being comes first.

 There are a number of questions about this paragraph: Why is all of it in Aramaic except for the last line? Why is Matzah called Lechem Oni? Why do we only have an open invitation like this on Pesach? Why don't we invite everyone in to the Sukkah for example? Why do we invite everyone in after Kiddush, why don't we make the invitation at the beginning? How can we say "whoever needs to partake in the Korban Pesach, come?" We don't have a Korban Pesach anymore! Furthermore, there is a Halacha that one has to be involved in the process before it is offered to be allowed to eat it! Why is there repetition at the end (whoever is hungry come and eat, whoever needs a Pesach, come and make it), isn't it the same thing? Why does it go back and forth at the end of the paragraph (now we're here, next year there, now we're slaves, next year free), why doesn't it just say it all in one statement? Furthermore, we are not slaves anymore!

Rashi says in Sefer HaPardes, that it is in Aramaic because demons do not understand that language. This way they will not come when we invite everyone. Tosfos in the beginning of the tractate Brachos, questions this statement in general, and says that angels understand all languages. Anytime Aramaic was instituted it was so that the general populace would understand. The Ravyah uses this logic here too. He says that the paragraph was written in Bavel, and was in Aramaic so the women and children would understand, since they didn't understand Hebrew. He adds that "Next year we'll be free" is in Hebrew so the Babylonians wouldn't understand and get mad at the Jews. The Abarbanel says, if it's only so the women and kids will understand, then the four questions should be in Aramaic too, since that's the part the kids are asking! Besides, we say "Next year in the land of Israel" in Aramaic! That won't get the Babylonians mad? He answers that it is supposed to be a real invitation to the poor, so they need to understand us. It was written in Bavel, when Aramaic was the common language.

Lechem Oni according to one opinion in the Gemara comes from the word Ani - poor. Either because just as the poor man rations his bread, so do we (Yachatz), or because just like a poor man is very hungry and needs to eat immediately, so too we eat bread that is prepared very quickly (less than eighteen minutes). The Gemara's second reason is the famous explanation, that we eat it because the bread didn't have time to rise when the Jews were leaving Egypt, so this is to remember that redemption. The Gemara's third possibility is that it comes from Oneh, to answer. "Lechem She'onin Alav Devarim Harbeh", "bread which a lot of words are being said about it."

We specifically invite the poor in on Pesach because we want to show gratitude in some minute way for the tremendous Chesed that G-d did for us by not only taking us out, but taking us out in the spring, with immense wealth, with supernatural miracles, etc. We invite others for the meal specifically on Pesach, to do them a Chesed. The Gra explains the Pasuk (Shmos 13:6)"Seven days you should eat Matzah... and Matzah should be eaten for seven days." Why does the Pasuk repeat its self at the end? Because we have two obligations: First that we eat Matzah all of Pesach and second, that we make sure every other Jew eats Matzah on Pesach too.

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik says that simply by inviting guests, we are demonstrating our freedom. Since slaves cannot own anything, (even a lost article they find belongs to their master) they cannot have guests over. What house would they invite guests too? How can a slave invite people to his owner's house? Freedom is partly the ability to invite guests.

We do not invite the poor until now, because now is when the poor are out looking for a place to eat. They hang out at Shul hoping to be invited to someone's home, then when everyone is gone, and they are without a meal, they go searching.

The Raavan and Tosefos HaRid both say that now a days, we should not say "Come and eat the Korban Pesach" because we don't have one. Others explain that we say it because it refers to the Afikoman today, whereas during the time of the Bais HaMikdash, this paragraph was said before the animal was even slaughtered.

Rav Yaakov Emden explains the double language of "Come and eat," and "Come and Pesach." He says it is in this order because the first invitation is to everyone, even non-Jews. Whoever is hungry should come and eat, whether you are Jewish or not. However, the second invitation is not to eat, but rather to fulfill the obligation of the Korban Pesach. This obviously only applies to the Jews.

The end has the double language to distinguish between the personal level of slavery, and the national level. The national level comes first though, because this is the order in which it happens. Just like the Jews were freed from Egypt on a national level, but still had a slave mentality, and still didn't have their own land; so too today, we have the land of Israel, but we are still not B'nei Chorin; we are still not completely free.

The Moadim Uzmanim points out that this statement that we are still slaves seems out of place at the end of an invitation. In fact, it is rather anticlimactic. He explains that this is just like at a wedding, when everyone is happy and yet we remind ourselves that we cannot get carried away with Simcha. We brake a glass and say, "If I forget Jerusalem, let me forget my right hand." In order not to get carried away with our freedom, we remind ourselves that even now, we are still not free; we are still in exile.

These two ideas of returning to Jerusalem and doing Chesed are fitting partners, because the Gemara says the Temple was destroyed through baseless hatred. Rav Kook once said that if the Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred, then it can only be rebuilt through baseless love. As the Pasuk says "VeShavehah Betzedakah" - everyone will be returned to Zion through Tzedakah.

 Why does the child only ask these things? Why doesn't he ask about the four cups, or about the shankbone or something?

The Abarbanel says that the child only points out those things that are contradictory: Matzah and Maror represent slavery, while dipping and reclining represent freedom. The child basically asks, "What are we, schizophrenic? Why do we do both? Are we free or slaves?"

 Perhaps it is not four questions, but rather one question and four answers. Or, maybe it is a sarcastic statement and no questions at all.

 An interesting explanation of the Mah Nishtanah is that night means exile. 1) Why is this exile different from all the other exiles? In all the other exiles we didn't have it so rough, it was both Chometz and Matzah. This exile is all Matzah, very demanding, and exacting - Matzah has to be baked in 18 minutes, watched from when it was harvested, etc. Not a very laid back operation. 2) In all the other exiles we never had physical possessions like we do now - we did not even dip once, we weren't rich at all. This exile we are obsessed with possessions and physicality.

 Why is it in question-answer form? What's the big deal about asking questions? Why don't we just jump right in and tell the story of the Exodus?

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik was giving a Shiur once, [at the beginning of his "career"] and there was a student who wasn't taking notes, he was just kind of yawning away. The Rav approached him after the class and asked him what he thought of the Shiur. He answered it was the same explanation he thought of. The Rav realized that the student had only understood the class superficially. The next time, the Rav asked all of his questions to the class first, and then explained the answers. This time the student was busy writing. Sometimes we have a question on a Pasuk in the Chumash, for example. We read an explanation and it answers our question exactly, very simple. However, once someone else starts asking questions about the Pasuk, we realize the explanation is much more profound than we originally thought. He is answering more questions than we even thought of.

Another possibility is the following example: We can understand something, but once someone asks a question on that understanding, we realize that we did not know it so well. There was once a student who was considering teaching, but feared that his learning would suffer. His Rav comforted him saying, "Whatever you lose quantitatively, you will gain qualitatively." The teacher learns from his students when they ask questions.

Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik points out that it is clear from the words of the Rambam (Laws of Chometz and Matzah 8:2) that the Mitzvah of telling over the story of the Exodus has to be in question-answer form (See the Rav's Hagada "Siach HaGrid" #12&13).

 The Abarbanel says that this is the answer to the four questions.

Rav Nachman notes that we do not answer the questions directly. The answer remains hidden. In Egypt, we saw G-d's miracles, his guiding force behind the veil of nature. Today we do not see it, but we know it's there. Our knowledge comes from Emunah, loyalty. We are loyal to the revelation on Sinai, that even in our world today, when his direction isn't explicit, he is still there running everything, just as he was in the Exodus when we saw it.

 The Gra notes that this paragraph is in groupings of threes:

1. We were slaves.
2. Worse, we were slaves to Pharaoh (a vicious, unjust King).
3. Worse, we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt (to a vile people).

Then the relief is in a grouping of three:

1. We were freed by Hashem.
2. We were freed by Hashem, Elokeinu (our new master, a just King).
3. We were freed by G-d from Egypt.

Again, we see the pattern with: "And if G-d hadn't taken us out, we would still be:

1. Slaves.
2. To Pharaoh.
3. In Egypt.

G-d took us out of every level of slavery, not just from being slaves, but from the vicious, unjust master, and from the vile people.

We have three Mitzvos to correspond to these three levels:

1. Pesach
2. Matzah
3. Maror.

 What is the difference between a "strong hand" and "an outstretched arm?"

The Gra says a strong hand means G-d freed us against the will of the Egyptians. An outstretched arm means it was a public miracle (Kechatzos Hayom, midday is when the Jews actually left). Everyone saw it, not just the Egyptians, and there was nothing they could do about it. The Vilna Gaon goes on to explain that this is why we dip twice tonight. Karpas represents the outstretched arm: We dip only for show, so that the children will ask questions. The dipping of the Maror into the Charoses though, represents a strong hand, because we are taking two opposing forces and mixing them (the bitterness of the Maror, and the sweetness of the Charoses). We are blunting the taste of the Maror. We are sweetening the flavor of slavery.

 How can we say that if G-d had not taken us out we would still be slaves to Pharaoh? The Blacks were freed! And why specifically our fathers? Why couldn't G-d have freed us a hundred years later?

We know that the Jews were on the forty-ninth level of Tumah in Egypt. Had they remained any longer they would have been destroyed; they would have completely assimilated. Therefore, our fathers had to be taken out, or there wouldn't be anyone after them. But, why would we still be slaves to Pharaoh?

Pharaoh represents the evil inclination. The whole point of the ten plagues was to get Pharaoh to submit to the control of G-d by his own free will (that's why G-d had to harden his heart, so he would be able to look at the miracles objectively, as if they were normal, day to day events). If Pharaoh would have, it would have been the end of history, the Jews would have gone to Israel, Moshe would have been the Mashiach, and that would have been the end of history. But, the evil inclination doesn't give in so easily, he always comes up with a rationalization, some way to keep us from seeing the truth (that's why he's called Sama[k]el, because he blinds us from seeing G-d). We required a way to force the evil inclination to recognize G-d's control. The whole purpose of the Exodus was the giving of the Torah on Sinai, because the Torah is what gives us the ability to control our evil inclination. Our animal drives: food, sleep, and pleasure, among others, all have direction through Torah. We sanctify food through Kiddush, and Seudot, and simply by saying blessings before and after we eat! We have an entire day every week to rest; it is called Shabbos. Moreover, all bodily pleasures can be sanctified through marriage and whatnot. The Gra says that even those traits we perceive to be bad, can be harnessed through Torah. If one has tremendous energy, and it results is a temper or evil acts, he can harness this energy by becoming a slaughterer, or a butcher, etc.

The number of Mitzvos that have no physical action involved can be counted on two hands. Why do we have so many actions? Why don't we just think all day about religion? Why don't we just philosophize?

It is very simple; the whole point of the Exodus was to give us the Torah, to give us the equipment necessary to control our evil inclination. How do we do that? By thinking about how much we would love to be freed from slavery to our desires? No. We have a concept called "HaChitzoniyos MeOreres Es HaPenimiyos - the externals awaken the internals." The only way to get inside of ourselves, to change our nature, is by performing physical actions. Rav Tatz tells a story about three Christian guys who decided they were going to love humanity. They devoted their lives to it. All they did was Chesed for mankind, and they loved every living creature (even the annoying ones). Then they got their draft cards and were sent to Vietnam. They were told to kill other human beings. At first, it was very rough, and the moral dilemmas in their heads were enormous. However, after a while, it became natural, and killing the enemy became as easy as drinking dry wine with dinner. Once the war ended, they returned to America, and desperately tried to regain their sense of humanity. They thought about it every day, and had discussion groups about it, but it didn't help. Then they heard that a wise Rabbi was coming to town, so they decided to ask him what to do. After his lecture, they approached him and told him their story. He told them, "You lost this feeling through actions, you can only regain it through actions."

The first time one goes to visit the hospital, it's not so much fun. It smells and everyone is sick, etc. The second time it's a little easier. By the fourth time, it starts to become natural. Almost every Mitzvah is an action, because that is how we change our nature; that is how we control our desires.

Why is there a Halacha about which shoelace to tie first? Because everything we do needs to be under our control, and directed to G-d. One who controls himself, cannot be controlled by others, and will not try to control others. When you are sixteen, and all your friends are at your house, and your mother tells you in front of everyone, "Don't forget to take a coat." Are you going to listen? Of course not! "She doesn't control me! She can't tell me what to do!" However, take the same situation years later. You are now sixty, and mom is eighty-something, and she tells you to take a coat, will you listen? Of course, why not? It is just for your own good. The difference between the two situations is who controls you. When you are young, you feel like everyone is trying to control you, so you rebel. But, when you are older, you realize it is only for your own good.

The Russian Refuse-nicks were put in solitary confinement for years. Yet, they continued to count the days until Shabbos every week. The Russians could not break them. When one was released, the Russian guards instructed him to walk in a straight line across the bridge to freedom. He walked in a zigzag. Of course they could not be broken, they had complete self-control. They knew that any control the Russians exercised on them was only superficial; they could never get inside.

It is actually funny that people fear being "brainwashed" in Yeshivas in Israel. They are so brainwashed by their society. If you ask them why they dress the way they do, why they speak the way they do or why they act the way they do, they would have no choice but to answer, "Because everyone does." Have they ever asked them-selves why they do these things? People are afraid that when they get to Israel, they will not be in control of themselves anymore, the "Rabbis" will be controlling them. The irony is that all their lives they have not been in control, society has, television has. Finally the Torah is giving them the chance to really be in control for the first time, and they are too scared to let it in. The world is a mask; we are barraged by suggestive ads. We think we are buying a personality, when we are really just buying a car. Do you want to look like the model in the picture, or do you want to clothe your body? Torah gives us control, the discipline, the freedom to see beyond the world mask, and make free choices. If G-d had not taken us out of Egypt, if he had not given us the Torah, we would still be there; we would still be slaves to our desires, to Pharaoh; to our evil inclination. We would really believe that the world has no mask and that this is reality. With the Torah and with only the Torah, can we be free.

 What is the difference between a Chochom, a Navon, a Zaken and Yodei Es HaTorah?

A Chochom is someone with a lot of knowledge. A Navon is someone who can reason, who can apply his knowledge practically. A Zaken is someone with common sense, someone with life knowledge. A Yodei Es HaTorah is someone who has knowledge from tradition (he just knows about the traditions, but has no real grasp of his knowledge).

 Why would anyone think that someone who is really smart should be exempt from the Mitzvah? Why do we need to say that even these people are obligated?

If the whole purpose of the Exodus was receiving the Torah, then maybe someone with the ability should just learn Torah and the Halachos and not discuss the story of the Exodus. This tells us that everyone has an obligation to talk about the story of the Exodus.

 Why are the Rabbis listed in this order?

Because Rabbi Eliezer was the oldest, he is listed first. Rabbi Yehoshuah had to come before Rabbi Akiva because he was Rabbi Akiva's teacher. Rabbi Elazar was the youngest, so he should be last, but he was the Nasi. Rabbi Akiva is before Rabbi Tarfon, because he was the Rabbi of Bnei Brak.

 Some say they did not realize it was light out, because it was during the Hadrianic Persecution and they were hiding in a cave.

 Why do we mention this Mishnah at all in the Hagada? It relates to the Mitzvah of remembering the Exodus, which is a Mitzvah every day, not only Pesach night.

The Rambam's version of this Mishnah reads, "Amar Lahem..." He said to them. Meaning Rabbi Elazar said this in the cave as part of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim. The Brisker Rav says that we see from here one can fulfill his obligation of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim by discussing Halachos relating to the Exodus as well as the story its self.

 Some say that the Mishnah should be explained like this: Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah said, "I am very young, and no one would listen to my explanation of why we have to mention Yetziyas Mitrayim at night, until Ben Zoma explained [in Pirkei Avos: "Who is wise? He who learns from EVERY man]. Then they felt comfortable enough to listen to my explanation, even though I was so young."

 Rav Blachman explains that the Gra says what we are saying here is:

Baruch HaMakom - "Come down (Baruch comes from Berech, Bircayim, knees, because we are asking G-d to "bend down," to come into our experience more than he presently appears to be) you, who's place is not the world, but who is the place of the world (i.e. the creator of reality, the source of it all).

Baruch Hu - Blessed is he (Come close you) - who is so much more than that.

Baruch SheNasan Torah LeAmmo Yisrael - Blessed is he who gave us the dimensions of reality through Torah.

Baruch Hu - Blessed is he who is so much more than reality." (Blessed is he who created the world, and gave us the instructions) Come down to all of us, all four sons, all kinds of people. G-d's name "Place" is a major focus of Pesach, because this is where we get our sense of direction from, our sense of place, from the Exodus. We get our identity as a people from Pesach. The name Makom tells us not to take our existence for granted. Many religions and philosophies tend to deal with, "We don't know why we're here, or how we got here, but since we are, here's what to do - to justify existence." Judaism says that the definition of our existence does not depend on what you do with it. Do not take the fact that you exist as a given. G-d is HaMakom; he is that which gives you a sense of existence to begin with. We say to people, "Get off my back, give me my space." It is G-d that gives us a sense of even having a space, a sense of self. So we say Baruch HaMakom, - "Come close G-d, give me a better understanding of what my place is." Baruch Hu, - Somehow, "The more I find a sense of my self, the more I will find of you." Because HaMakom tells us that we don't just decide what to fill our lives with, to justify our existence. HaMakom justifies the fact that we have a consciousness of self, a consciousness of existing. Judaism says there must not only be a justification for "why I'm here" but also for why I have a "here," a sense of self, to begin with. Freedom does not depend on knowing that G-d controls all that exists. Real freedom is knowing that G-d is the justification for even having a sense of existence, that he is our sense of reality. But, Baruch Hu, because at the end of the day he is so much more than that.

 Some say that Baruch HaMakom is the Bracha on the Hagada.

 The Abarbanel says that to fulfill the Mitzvah of the night, we have to tell over the story to everyone on his own level. To a wise person in an educated way, to a simple person in a simple way, etc.

 The Netziv says that there are corresponding patterns of four here: Baruch HaMakom refers to the Chochom, because it is he who can understand the concept that G-d is the place of the world, the world is not his place, and can appreciate what it means to be partners with him in eternity. Baruch Hu refers to the Rasha. We do not say G-d's name because we are not exactly sure why we are blessing him. We do not understand evil, but the Gemara Berachos says that just as we bless G-d for good, we must also bless him for bad. Baruch SheNasan Torah refers to the Tam, who is a simple Torah follower. He does not understand so much, but he is a loyal Torah observant Jew. The final Baruch Hu refers to the one who doesn't know how to ask, because like the Rasha, we don't know why we are blessing G-d for a child who doesn't know. Incidentally, the two "Baruch Hu" children get the same answer, just as they get the same Bracha.

 The Maharal asks three questions: Why does the Hagada list a Chochom as the opposite to a Rasha, why not a Tzadik? Why is the Rasha listed before the tam? The Torah lists the Rasha, then the Eino Yodeah, then the Tam, then the Chochom. Why aren't they in this order in the Hagada? Why are there only four sons?

The Maharal says that the four sons represent the four levels of wisdom: The bottom level is one who cannot even ask the questions. Next is the simple person, who doesn't search for the answers, but questions that which is right in front of him. (A friend of mine wrote the following quote from Samuel Johnson on his yearbook page, "If it rained knowledge, I'd hold out my hand; but I would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.") Then there are two types of brilliant people: The kind who has all the knowledge, but cannot control his desires, he doesn't internalize his knowledge. (They say that Aristotle codified morality, but himself was not such a moral human being. He is reported to have said, "I am only Aristotle from the shoulders, up.") Their desires influence and corrupt their wisdom; they can become a Rasha. Then there is the kind who has the knowledge and doesn't let his desires blind him. If he internalizes what he learns he can be a true Chochom. The Rasha comes before the Tam, because we are dealing with levels of wisdom and the Rasha is wiser. Now we understand why the opposite of a Rasha is not a Tzadik - because we are dealing with levels of wisdom, not righteousness.

 Rav Moshe Feinstein explained the four sons as four generations: The wise son represents those who grew up in small towns in Eastern Europe. Their lives revolved around Torah and Mitzvos. They might not have had much money, but they were content. He asks all the right questions, and includes himself.

The wicked son represents those who after living through the pogroms and witnessing the atrocities of the Holocaust, came to America and wanted nothing to do with Judaism. They say that if G-d really existed, he would not allow such a thing to happen. Therefore, he excludes himself from the Seder that his father (the wise son) so devoutly performed.

The simple son can only ask "What is all this?" His only knowledge of Judaism is a distant memory of his Zaide in a long, black coat. His father wanted nothing to do with religion, so the simple generation only has a vague impression of Judaism.

The son who doesn't know how to ask, represents those who never knew their great grandfather, they don't even have the vague memory like their father. All they know about Judaism is what they have picked up from an uneducated father and a non-practicing, cynical grandfather. They know very little indeed. If these children aren't educated quickly, the next son will be the son who doesn't even know he's Jewish. As Chabad Chassidim are fond of saying, there is a fifth son. He does not even come to the Seder table. We have to go find these sons, and bring them back to the table and to Judaism in general.

 Why do the Rasha and the Eino Yodeiah get the same answer?

The Gra says you do not answer the Rasha. You speak to the Eino Yodeiah, and say, "Because G-d took us out of Egypt..." If the Rasha had been there, he would not have been taken out. They do not have the same answer; we do not even dignify the Rasha with a reply. We do not even acknowledge his question.

 Why would we think that the Mitzvah of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim starts from Rosh Chodesh?

Rav Aharon Soloveitchik says that since the Jews first Mitzvah was "HaChodesh Hazeh Lachem", the Mitzvah of sanctifying the months - i.e. Rosh Chodesh, it shows that the spiritual redemption of the Jewish people began on Rosh Chodesh. Maybe the Mitzvah should begin with the Jews spiritual redemption? No, the Pasuk says Bayom HaHu, on the day they were physically redeemed.

 If Baavur Zeh teaches us that we can only say Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim at a time when the Matzah and Maror are right in front of you, why do you need Bayom Hahu at all? The only time the stuff is before you is at the Seder, on the night after the 14th!

The Netziv answers that we need Bayom HaHu, because if we didn't have it, we would think that once you eat all the Matzah and Maror there is no longer a Mitzvah of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim. Bayom HaHu tells us that even when the Matzah and Maror are no longer there, you still have a Mitzvah the rest of the day, until you fall asleep.

 Rechush Gadol, great wealth, is actually spiritual wealth, but manifested as physical wealth to please the Jews. There is a story about a five-year-old prodigy, who was a master piano player. A rich man heard about him and figured he would be the perfect addition to his nightly art shows/parties, with the wine and cheese, and the fancy decorations, etc. Everyone at the parties heard the kid and loved his music, and when they found out he was five years old, they approached the rich man, amazed. "Where did you find this kid? He's amazing!" The rich man received a lot of honor for having him around and business was booming. So after a week of the kid playing for an hour every night, the rich man was so happy, he gave the kid a check for fifty thousand dollars. The kid thanked him and went home. As soon as he got home, he burst out in tears, "Look what he gave me, some stupid piece of paper," thinking that it was probably just another certificate to put on the wall. The kid was very upset. So his father called up the rich man and said, "Listen I know that what you gave him is incredible, and it will help him like he can't imagine in the future, but although he can play piano like a master, he's still a five year old kid. Can you please just give him some colorful lollipops (together with some more checks), he would appreciate that so much more." G-d gave us lollipops too, because we didn't yet appreciate what were really getting out of the Exodus.

 The Gemara Brachos (9b) explains a few Psukim. In Shmos (12:35,36), it says that the Jews asked the Egyptians for gold, silver, and clothing. G-d made the Egyptians favor the Jews, they gave them their requests, and the Jews drained Egypt of its wealth. Rav Ami says the Egyptians gave the Jews against their will. Against who's will? The Gemara explains it could be against the Egyptian's will, or even against the Jews will, because they just wanted to leave already. (If someone is in jail for a while, and hears that he is being released tomorrow, he is ecstatic. He is finally free. Then he hears that if he stays a day longer, he can have a hundred dollars too. He will say forget it, "I just want to get out of here." Since he is looking forward to it, every second he stays in jail feels like an eternity.) Then the Gemara gives two possibilities of what the Pasuk means by "they drained Egypt of its wealth." Either they made it like a storehouse that had no grain, or they made it like the depths that have no fish. Rav Ilan Segal explains that just as the last part of the Gemara was explaining two different perspectives, so is this part. What is the difference between a storehouse and the depths? The Egyptians saw it as the depths without fish, because the fish had always been there. Egypt had always been rich. However, the Jews saw it as a storehouse. Yosef made Egypt rich. So he put the grain (literally) in the storehouse when the Jews first came, now that they are leaving, they are taking it out.

 This is the explanation of what the promise was to Yisrael, which was mentioned in the last paragraph. That is why it says "VeHi," this is the promise...

 The Rambam says that the essence of the Mitzvah of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim is explaining this Pasuk.

 What does Tzey Ulmad mean? Where are we supposed to "go?"

The Abarbanel says go out from the story of Yetziyas Mitzrayim, and learn it all from the story of Yaakov and Lavan.

The Gra says if you really want to see G-d's constant influence on the world, if you really want to see him in history, you have to go out and look for it. Even if you say that the miracles can be explained naturally, why did they happen just then? Many people would say it was coincidence. We can rationalize anything. If you really want to see G-d, you have to look for him yourself, not wait for him to prove it to you.

 Your hair grew - Just like the more you cut hair, the more it grows back and faster, so too the more the Egyptians oppressed the Jews, the more they increased and faster.

 VaYareinu Osanu HaMitzrim - Rav Shlomo Alkabetz (the author of Lecha Dodi) says, it doesn't say they did bad "Lanu," to us, it says "Osanu." This teaches us that they "made us bad." They gave us their bad morals, and corrupted us. Once they made us bad, G-d no longer protected us, and then they could oppress us, as the Pasuk continues to say.

 VaYanunu - They didn't just oppress us physically, Sivlos means psychological burdens. Like the Nazis Yemach Shemam, in the death camps, they would line everyone up and ask them, "Who are the best people on earth?" They would have to respond "The Nazis" or suffer the punishment. On the walls of the bathrooms at Aushwitz, which was nothing more than a big room with a lot of holes in the floor, were pictures of toothbrushes and toothpaste and razors, etc. A sign read, "Cleanliness leads to G-dliness." It was psychological oppression.

 Arei Miscanos - Either storehouses, or buildings for no purpose.

 BeFarech - The Gemara (Sotah 11b) says it stands for Peh-Rach, a soft mouth. Pharaoh tricked them into working. Rashi says, it comes from the same word as Paroches (the curtain separating the Kodesh Kadashim from the rest of the Temple). Pharaoh separated the men from the women; he did not let them lead normal family lives.

 UveOsos - The staff had the abbreviation for all the plagues written on it. It's interesting that there is a Midrash that says the staff was stuck in a rock outside of Yisro's house in Midyan and no one could get it out until Moshe came along.

 Timros Ashan literally means smoke in the shape of date palm trees. What do mushroom clouds look like? The Gra says that the battle of Gog UMagog, the end of time, will last about 15 minutes. One-third of the world will be killed, one-third injured and the remaining third will survive unscathed.

 We take out sixteen drops of wine: Ten for the plagues, three for the abbreviation and three for "Blood, fire and mushroom clouds." Why sixteen? Because in YeChezkel and Daniel we learn that G-d's throne represents divine justice and on his throne there are four animals, each with four faces. His justice is expressed in sixteen different ways.

 Why should we take out the drops with our finger and not a spoon?

Because during the plague of Lice, the magicians proclaimed, "Etzbah Elokim Hee," it is the finger of G-d (They couldn't even bring themselves to say it's the hand of G-d, just the finger), so we too use our pointer finger to take out the wine, as if exacting punishment once again from the Egyptians. Some have the custom of using their baby finger, since all these punishments, even if they are Etzbah Elokim, are only his little finger, because these plagues are like nothing to him.

 What do we mean it would have been enough? The whole point of the Exodus was to give us the Torah, so how could it have been enough without it?

There was a Pesach not to long ago, when there were no Jews in Chevron. After the massacre in 1929, Jews did not return. However, one year, a group of families decided they were going to celebrate Pesach, in Chevron Eer HaAvos. So they contacted an Arab who owned a hotel there, and told him, "Listen you have no customers, we will rent out the entire hotel for a week and then we'll leave." They were correct; he had no business, so he agreed. So this group, made up of mostly religious Zionists, got the hotel, Kashered the kitchen, cleaned for Pesach, and the whole deal. Pesach came, and Jews celebrated the holiday in Chevron for the first time since nineteen twenty-nine. During the Seder, they went around the room and everyone gave a Dvar Torah. Finally, they reached one of the secular Israelis and he stood to deliver his Dvar Torah. All the religious people there were a little worried about what kind of heresy might come out of his mouth, but in the spirit of the night, they let him speak. He said, that his whole life he had never understood what this Dayeinu thing was all about. How could the Jews have been satisfied standing with their backs to the ensuing Egyptian army staring at an un-crossable Red Sea? What does it mean it would have been enough? He said that after being there in Chevron, he finally understood. No Jews presently lived there; it was land purchased by our earliest forefather and the Jews had to leave because they were being killed mercilessly. That day, there was still no Jews living in Chevron. However, right then, while they were sitting at the table having the Pesach Seder, he felt like this was it. This was the peak of the reconquest of Eretz Yisrael. He felt that if this were all he would ever see of Chevron, it would be enough.

Even if we have ideals and goals, sometimes a little taste feels as if we have achieved the greatest visions.

 Rav Blachman explains that why would it have been enough if we hadn't received the Torah? Because we still would have a collective experience of there being "no other options." We saw G-d revealed in the miracles in Egypt, and we saw his cloud during the day and his pillar of fire at night in the dessert. We understood that there was no option other than serving him. All else was funny in comparison. That experience of having no choice is what saved us from every pogrom and from every time that someone tried to force the Jews to convert. Think about it, Haman did what no Prophet could. The prophets told the Jews to stop sinning and worship G-d. They would not listen. The Jews continued to disregard the Torah, and worship idols. Haman comes along and says, "You guys aren't allowed to obey the Torah, and you have to worship idols. You have no choice, I will kill you if you don't obey." Then the Jews realized, yeah, there is no choice. Torah is what is real, these idols pale in comparison. They are funny. It would have been enough simply to have the collective experience that there really is no choice.

 If you don't mention these three things you do not fulfill which obligation?

According to most Rishonim, you do not fulfill your obligation of Sippur Yetziyas Mitzrayim. However, the Ramban says in Milchamos Hashem in Masechos Brachos, that if you do not mention these three things you do not fulfill your obligation of Pesach, Matzah, and Maror.

 The Abarbanel points out that Maror represents the bitterness of the enslavement. Matzah represents the redemption. Pesach represents the transition between the two.

The Nodeh BeYehudah questions this interpretation. If that is true, the Maror should be first. We say Pesach first, then Matzah, then Maror. Then he answers his own question. Only after the Galus has ended, can we really appreciate how it helped us, how we gained from the painful experiences. Since we are in Galus now, we cannot say Maror first, because we cannot appreciate how it is helping us.

 The Gra points out that there are nine words of thanks at the beginning of the paragraph, which correspond to the first nine plagues, and "VeNomar Lefanav Shirah Chadasha" corresponds to the plague of Makas Bechoros, because that is when we really became free.

 One should be careful to eat two Kezayisim of Matzah (Approximately one large Shmurah Matzah, or one and a third of the machine kind).

 One should be careful to eat a Kezayis of Maror; two to three leafs of lettuce (or enough horseradish to cause two heart attacks).

 One should be careful to eat a Kezayis of Matzah, and a Kezayis of Maror (half a large Shmurah Matzah, or one square one, with two or three leafs).

 One should be careful to eat another two Kezaisim of Matzah for the Afikoman. It is best to eat it before Chatzos, because there is a dispute between Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Akiva how long the Korban Pesach could be eaten. Rabbi Elazar says only until Chatzos, Rabbi Akiva says until dawn. Therefore, we try to fulfill both opinions, by finishing the Afikoman before Chatzos.

 Why do we open the door for Shfoch Chamascha?

The Maharal says that we open the door for Eliyahu, who comes to lead the battle against those Non-Jews who don't recognize G-d, by ushering in the messianic era.

Others say we open the door to express that tonight is Layle Shimurim, when G-d protects us (we do not even say Shema before going to sleep). We express our trust that G-d will protect us by opening the door. The practical difference between the two opinions is the Minhag some have to stand up when we open the door. If we open it for Eliyahu, we should stand out of respect. But, if the reason is because we have faith in the protection of G-d, then there is no reason to stand.

 Why don't we say a Bracha if we are saying Hallel?

Rav Eliyahu Soloveitchik says the following: The Gemara (Sanhedrin 94a) criticizes the Jews, because Yisro was the first to say, "Blessed are you Hashem." But, didn't the Jews sing Shirah after crossing the Red Sea? That is what we say every day in davening - Az Yashir! We see that the Jews didn't take it for granted, they did express thanks to G-d. So what exactly is the Gemara criticizing them for?

The Ran on Pesachim, in the name of Rav Hai Gaon, says that the Hallel in the Hagada doesn't require a Bracha, since it is said in the form of song and not in the form of reading. A Hallel of song, is an emotional reaction. The Jews instinctively reacted to the miracles of the Exodus by singing praises to Hashem. A Hallel of reading, is when we intellectually analyze an event, and sing praises because of that analysis. It is an intellectual exercise, as opposed to an instinctive, emotional one. A Bracha only precedes a Hallel of intellectual analysis, not an emotional outpouring of the soul. Our Hallel tonight is an emotional one, because the Mitzvah is to see ourselves as if we ourselves are leaving Egypt. Therefore, we do not say a Bracha.

We have two Tephillin, one on the arm and one on the head. They represent the dedication of our emotions to G-d (because the arm Tephillin is opposite the heart), as well as our intellect (because the head Tephillin goes on the brain). We first bind our emotions; only after that do we bind our intellect. Without a dedication of the heart, of the emotions (an instinctive dedication), one cannot come to be truly intellectually committed. After the miracles of the Exodus, the Jews said an emotional Shira, because they were emotionally committed. However, this emotional response has to achieve reality by being actualized in an intellectual fashion. We have to build on our emotional dedication with an intellectual one. The criticism of the Gemara is that the Jews did not follow through with a response of intellectual commitment. Yisro did. He gave an intellectual response and said "Baruch Hashem." After we put on the Tephillin of the arm, we must then put on the Tephillin of the head, or we do not fulfill the Mitzvah. At the end of the day, our emotions have to be actualized with an intellectual commitment; otherwise, it is just "fluff." This is what Yisro (a non-Jew) taught us, and this is one of the reasons that a Parsha in the Torah is named after him. A Hallel of song is incomplete, but just as the Exodus built the foundation for the Jewish people, the emotional commitment expressed by a Hallel of song is the foundation of our dedication to G-d.

 Why should the nations praise G-d because of the Chesed he did for the Jews? It doesn't make sense!

Only the Goyim really know how much Chesed G-d really does for the Jews. Sometimes we find out that a terrorist blew himself up in a hotel before he had a chance to blow up a bus; but how many other ways has G-d foiled their intentions? We will never know, but the Goyim do; those who were involved do. Only they can really appreciate all of the Chesed G-d has done for the Jews. They should realize this, and praise G-d.

 It should be noted that there are twenty-six verses in Hallel HaGadol. The name of G-d that expresses his trait of Chesed is Yud and Hey and Vav-Hey. The Gematriah of that name equals twenty-six. There were twenty-six generations from creation until the giving of the Torah, corresponding to the numerical value of this name, because before there was a Torah, the world had no merit to exist. The first twenty-six generations existed only because of the Chesed of G-d. After the Torah was given, the world had to merit its existence. This is why according to the Nefesh HaChaim if there is one second when Torah is not being learned, the world would cease to exist; it would have no merit.

 If you add up the Gematriah of Echad, you get thirteen; which is the number of things listed. Because G-d is one, he includes all the other things.

 If you add up all of the numbers: 1+2+3+4+5...+13 = 91. The Gematriah of Yud Key Vav Key = 26, another name of G-d is the way we pronounce Yud Key Vav Key, Alef Daled Nun and Yud = 65. 26+65=91! Again, we see that G-d is all-inclusive.

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