Achron Shel Pesach

When any Yom Tov approaches, we have to be ready to answer the question “Mah Chovaso B’Olamo” as it relates to these days. What are we to focus on; what treasures and secrets does the Moed hold, awaiting our extraction? Often the essence of the day is apparent: no one asks this question when Rosh Hashana or Shavuos nears. The final days of Pesach, however, are different: there is no apparent Avodas HaYom, no special Mitzvah or Minhag that occupies our time and minds, and it can therefore be difficult to understand what we are to take from these days.

In a sense, these days are inherently unique: they are the only days of Yom Tov on which Shehechiyanu is not recited. This is because, as opposed to the last days of Sukkos, they are really a continuation of the first days of Pesach. As such, one may expect that their flavor and focus would be largely the same, yet we don’t find any hint of this relationship. Other than continuing to refer to the “Zman Cheiruseinu” in Davening, there doesn’t seem to be much of a connection to the Avodah of the first days, which is marked by the Mitzvos of Sipur Yitzias Mitzrayim.

In fact, the last days of Pesach seem almost diminished in their Kedusha or significance due to an anomaly in the Teffilos HaYom—these are the only days of the Shalosh Regalim on which Hallel HaShalem is not recited, but only the truncated Chatzi Hallel. True we say Chatzi Hallel on Chol HaMoed as well, but this is done in order not to “embarrass” the days of actual Yom Tov by using a more elevated Avodah on the days of Chol. The final days of Pesach, however, are themselves excluded from the Teffilah of Hallel HaShalem, which would seem to indicate that they are on something of a “lower” level than other Yomim Tovim. An examination of this aspect of the days, however, may allow us a peek into just how elevated they are.

According to most, this Minhag is rooted in a Medrash that is brought in the Gemarah in Megillah. At the time of Krias Yam Suf, the Malachim wished to say Shira, but they were reprimanded by Hakadosh Baruch Hu: “Masei Yadai Tovin B’Yam V’Atem Omrim Shira”. Seeing as the Malachei HaShares were criticized for wishing to say Shira while the Mitzriyim were drowning, we do not say the full Hallel on the Seventh day of Pesach, which is the day of Krias Yam Suf.

There are two important points which must be understood as we consider this Medrash, and the Mihag that asirses from it.

First, and perhaps most importantly, the Medrash brings a Passuk that hints to the exchange between the Hashem and the Malachim: “V’lo Karav Zeh El Zeh Kol Halayla.” The Pashut Pshat in the Passuk is that the “Zeh El Zeh” refers to the Machaneh of Bnei Yisroel and that of the Mitzriyim. The Medrash, however, draws on the usage of the term “Zel El Zeh” with regard to the Malachim, as we say in Kedusha “V’Karah Zeh El Zeh V’Amar”, and so the Passuk can be understood as referring to the fact that the Malachim did not say their Shira that night. If we look at the context of the Passuk, however, a glaring question arises.

The “Layla” referred to in the Passuk is the night prior to Krias Yam Suf, and the simple meaning is that Bnei Yisroel and the Mitzriyim were separated that night and did not engage in any way. In the rendering of the Medrash, however, it would appear that the Malachim wished to say Shira that night and Hakadosh Baruch Hu ciriticized them, saying “Masei Yadai Tovin B’Yam V’Atem Omrim Shira.” Why would they be reprimanded for saying Shira at a time that humans were drowning if it had not yet happened yet? Krias Yam Suf itself occurred early the next morning “B’Ashmores HaBoker”—why then were the Melachim reprimanded for desiring to say Shira the night before?

The Halacha that is extrapolated from this Medrash requires explanation as well. The Malachim, on their level, were instructed not to say Shira when Mitzriyim were drowning, but obviously Bnei Yisroel themselves did when they said Shiras HaYam. Why do we choose to follow the practice dictated to the Malachim, which perhaps applies only to them, when it seems that Bnei Yisroel themselves were exempt from this criticism? Even if we assume that Bnei Yisroel were encouraged to say Shira because they themselves experienced the Nes of Krias Yam Suf, which perhaps does not apply to us, why do we assume that the dictate of “Masei Yadai Tovin B’Yam V’Atem Omrim Shira” applies after the fact, in our times? Why do we change our normal practice of saying full Hallel on Yomim Tovim because of something Hakadosh Baruch Hu said to Malalchim?

There is a comment that the Sforno makes on this Passuk that may help us understand the Medrash, and in turn the message of these days of Yom Tov.

On the words “V’lo Karav Zeh El Zeh Kol Halayla” the Sforno seems to explain why the two camps, Yisroel and Mitzrayim, did not approach each other that night: “Ki Haholchim Bachosech Holchim L’At B’Hechrach Ki Lo Yodu Bameh Yikashlu. For those who travel in the darkness must walk slowly because they do not know on what they may stumble.” This comment seems to be a bit extraneous—must the Sforno really explain to us that one may not venture forth in the dark night? Certainly it is understood that there was no warfare that night, due to the darkness, and especially considering that there was an Amud Esh between the two camps, inhibiting contact. What is the Sforno conveying with his words? Perhaps, however, we can understand these words in the context of the Medrash.

At the time of “Lo Karav Zeh El Zeh Kol Halayla”, although Krias Yam Suf had not yet occurred, Moshe had been told that it would. Four Pessukim earlier, Moshe is told “Harem Es Matecha U’Nitei Yadecha Al HaYam U’Vikaehu”, Hashem informs him that he is to lift his hand and stretch it out upon the Yam, whereupon it will split. Further, Moshe is told that Bnei Yisroel will walk through on dry land, and Mitzrayim will follow, allowing Hashem to display his power, and the Kvod Shamayim to be expanded. Thus, although the Yeshua had not yet occurred, Hashem had clearly explained how it would come about.

We, mere humans, can set the best laid plans, but we can never be certain of their outcome, as Teva has a way of interfering. We are the “Holchim Bachosech” that the Sforno refers to, always treading carefully, never sure what kind of Michsholim might stand in our way. The Malachim, however, are not subject to such matters. The reside in the Olam HaElyon, where the Dvar Hashem reigns supreme. They live not in a world of darkness, but one of light, thus, once Hashem told Moshe that Krias Yam Suf was in the offing, it was as though it had already occurred. Because the Malachim live in a world without Teva, once the Dvar Hashem came forth, informing them that the Mitzriyim would ultimately drown, it was as if they already had, to the point that their desire to sing Shira was, on their level, inappropriate. The Sforno, then, includes his comment so as to to answer our question, and explain why the Malachim were criticized in this way, by pointing out that we live in the world of darkness which colors our perception of events.

Maybe this is the message of Achron Shel Pesach.

On all other Yomim Tovim we stand and say Hallel Shalem, but on these days we do not, because the Malachim were reprimanded for deigning to say Shira once they knew that the Mitzriyim would drown. By allowing our the events described in the Medrash affect our Avodas HaYom, we are making an important declaration.

The theme of the first days of Pesach, the Seder and all its components, is Emunah in Hashem. We examine the events of Shibud Mitzrayim and the Geulah in a way that allows us to see that the Yad Hashem was at work the entire time. In fact, our description of the historical events begins much earlier, speaking about Terach Avi Avrohom, indicating that our arrival in Mitzrayim did not occur in a vacuum, but was the result of a predestined chain of events. This leads us into the second portion of the Seder, following Shulchan Orech, during which we are focused on the Geulah HaAsida—the ultimate redemption that we know will come just as the Geulas Mitzrayim did.

If we are successful in the Avodah of the Seder and Pesach itself, we reach new levels in Emunah B’Hashem. Having properly examined the events of Yetzias Mitzrayim, we may have restored and renewed faith in the Yeshuas Hashem. We too can be like the Malachim, secure in the knowledge that our ultimate Geulah will yet arrive, having been told that it will. On the Seventh Day of the very first Pesach, the Malachim were expected to act as though the Mitzriyim had already drowned, because Hashem had said that they would. On this day we resist the urge to say Hallel HaShalem, limiting ourselves to Chatzi Hallel, to remind ourselves that we too can achieve these heights—our newfound Emunah can allow us to rejoice in the Yeshuas Hashem that has not yet arrived because we know that one day it will. In this case, saying half of Hallel is an expression of our full Emunah.

This then is the Avodas HaYom of these days, which are in their essence an extension of the first days of Pesach. We are to use them to reflect on the results of Yom Tov, the insights and Chizuk in Emunah which we have hopefully achieved. We can spend these days, which are relatively quiet, and free from any special responsibilities, to reflect on the relationship we have with Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and strengthen our belief that the Gulah HaAsida is but a moment away, looking forwad to the day when we too will b say the Shira of “Az Yashir” as all the world recognizes the reality of “Hashem Yimloch L’Olam Va’ed.”