Context matters. When the Torah prohibits something, at all times and in all places, it is fair to say that it has a negative view of it. Conversely, when the Torah bans something only at certain times or in specific places, it stands to reason that it is not bad per se, but only in the given context. One such example is chametz, leavened bread, which is totally forbidden at a specific time (Pesach), yet completely allowed at all other times. Chametz also has other restrictions that are context-specific: As this week’s parashah teaches us, no korbanot (sacrifices) were allowed to contain chametz[1]. There were various offerings made from flour and water throughout the calendar year, yet (almost) all were not allowed to be leavened. Instead, they were brought as different forms of matzah.

Why is this? What is it about Pesach and korbanot that elicits this halakhic response? The mystery deepens when we analyze the exceptions: There are two korbanot that contain chametz. One features in this week’s parashah: the “קרבן תודה – the sacrifice of thanksgiving”, which is accompanied by forty rolls of bread, of which ten are chametz[2]. This sacrifice of gratitude was brought by those who had survived a sea voyage, traveling through the desert, imprisonment or serious illness[3]. The other exception was the “קרבן שתי הלחם – the sacrifice of the two breads” offered on the festival of Shavuot. Shavuot, named accordingly, is the only festival in the Torah that is not given a specific date, but is calculated by counting seven weeks (Shavuot in Hebrew) from the second day of Pesach. We would not know when Shavuot was without first knowing the date of Pesach. The Torah even positions Shavuot as a sort of epilogue to Pesach. This makes its exception even more remarkable: At the climax of the extended Pesach period, we bring a sacrifice containing chametz!

To understand this mystery, we must first understand the relationship between matzah, chametz and Pesach. Why do we eat matzah on Pesach? The common answer is that the Jews left Egypt hastily, therefore their dough was not given enough time to rise and was baked into matzah by the desert sun. Indeed, the Torah tells us:

וַיֹּאפ֨וּ אֶת־הַבָּצֵ֜ק אֲשֶׁ֨ר הוֹצִ֧יאוּ מִמִּצְרַ֛יִם עֻגֹ֥ת מַצּ֖וֹת כִּ֣י לֹ֣א חָמֵ֑ץ כִּֽי־גֹרְשׁ֣וּ מִמִּצְרַ֗יִם וְלֹ֤א יָֽכְלוּ֙ לְהִתְמַהְמֵ֔הַּ וְגַם־צֵדָ֖ה לֹא־עָשׂ֥וּ לָהֶֽם: (שמות יב:לט)

And they baked the dough that they had taken out of Egypt, into cakes of matzah, for it was not leavened, since they had been driven out of Egypt and could not delay; nor had they prepared any provisions for themselves (Shemot 12:39).

However, that is just one of the reasons. Preceding this, the Jews had already been commanded to eat matzah: They were supposed to eat their Korban Pesach “על מצות ומרורים – with matzah and bitter herbs” (Shemot 12:8). They had already been commanded that the events of their upcoming redemption would be commemorated by a festival where they must eat matzah and were forbidden from eating chametz[4]. The Jews ate matzah while still in Egypt. This is understandable: matzah is, as described in the Torah, “לחם עוני – bread of affliction” (Devarim 16:3). Slaves eat matzah: They have no time to let their bread rise as they must hastily return to their tasks. They also eat food that is digested slowly, providing them with energy over their long hours of labour.

So is matzah the bread which reminds us of liberation or the bread that reminds us of slavery? It is both. It is bread of multiple perspectives[5]. It is the bread of transition that bridges slavery and redemption. It is the bread that the Jews eat while they are on their journey from the former to the latter.

This is surprising. If anything, we would expect chametz to be the bread through which they would commemorate redemption. The Jews who left Egypt, no longer to be harried by their taskmasters, probably thought they could finally wait for their bread to rise. They would no longer have to eat “לחם עוני – the bread of affliction”. Yet they reached for their shoulder bags and found it there. Therein lay the secret of matzah and its profound message: To remain free, they had to always remember the “לחם עוני – the bread of affliction”. They must never take their liberty for granted. They must remain on the expectant journey towards it, never allowing it to become an event of the past. Chametz has risen, matzah is yet to rise. Chametz’s journey is complete. The journey of matzah is ongoing.

That’s why the Torah has such an aversion to eating chametz on Pesach. Redemption can never be something that we look back on, a thing of the past. We keep marching on the path to redemption, reliving it in the present. Our destination must always be ahead of us. Redemption must never grow old; its bread cannot get stale.

This theme carries across to the world of “קרבנות – sacrifices”. All korbanot are acts of transition. The person who brings them is on a journey. Whether they bring korbanot that serve as acts of repentance (קרבן חטאת, קרבן אשם, sin offerings or guilt offerings), acts of rededication (קרבן עולה, offerings that ascend (directly to God)), or acts of friendship with the Divine (קרבן שלמים, peace offerings), they aim to change the situation as-is into something better. The root of the word “קרבן” comes from ק-ר-ב, which denotes closeness. A korban symbolizes Man becoming closer to God.

The only exception to this rule is a “קרבן תודה – a sacrifice of thanksgiving”. The person who brings it is not embarking on a journey. The life-changing event for which they bring their sacrifice is already behind them. Giving thanks is always past-oriented: You give thanks for something that happened. Thus, the sacrifice comes from chametz, the bread which has already risen. Ramban[6] explains that the “קרבן שתי הלחם – the sacrifice of the two breads” was also a thanksgiving offering. It was brought on Shavuot, the festival of the harvest, to thank God for His blessings. On a more mystical note, Ramban adds that it might be an offering to thank God for the Torah that was given on Shavuot. Either way, it is past–oriented: we thank God for what He gave us.

On Pesach, we only eat bread that has not yet risen. We relive our redemption, year after year, thus ensuring that it is not only an event of the past but a guide to our future. As long as it always remains ahead of us, we will continue to rise.

[1] Vayikra 2:11, 6:10

[5] See Pesachim 36a, where the expression “לחם עוני”, normally translated as bread of affliction is explained differently by Shmuel who calls it “לחם שעונים עליו דברים הרבה”, literally “bread about which much is said”. Or perhaps more smoothly “bread with multiple perspectives”.

[6] See Ramban’s commentary to Vayikra 23:17

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