On Seder night, we trace the steps recounting the origins of the Jewish People:

וְעָנִיתָ וְאָמַרְתָּ לִפְנֵי ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, אֲרַמִּי אֹבֵד אָבִי, וַיֵּרֶד מִצְרַיְמָה, וַיָּגָר שָׁם בִּמְתֵי מְעָט; וַיְהִי-שָׁם, לְגוֹי גָּדוֹל עָצוּם וָרָב. וַיָּרֵעוּ אֹתָנוּ הַמִּצְרִים, וַיְעַנּוּנוּ; וַיִּתְּנוּ עָלֵינוּ, עֲבֹדָה קָשָׁה. וַנִּצְעַק, אֶל-ה אֱלֹהֵי אֲבֹתֵינוּ; וַיִּשְׁמַע ה אֶת-קֹלֵנוּ, וַיַּרְא אֶת-עָנְיֵנוּ וְאֶת-עֲמָלֵנוּ וְאֶת-לַחֲצֵנוּ. וַיּוֹצִאֵנוּ ה, מִמִּצְרַיִם, בְּיָד חֲזָקָה וּבִזְרֹעַ נְטוּיָה, וּבְמֹרָא גָּדֹל–וּבְאֹתוֹת, וּבְמֹפְתִים. וַיְבִאֵנוּ, אֶל-הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה; וַיִּתֶּן-לָנוּ אֶת-הָאָרֶץ הַזֹּאת, אֶרֶץ זָבַת חָלָב וּדְבָשׁ. וְעַתָּה, הִנֵּה הֵבֵאתִי אֶת-רֵאשִׁית פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה, אֲשֶׁר-נָתַתָּה לִּי, ה; וְהִנַּחְתּוֹ, לִפְנֵי ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ, וְהִשְׁתַּחֲוִיתָ, לִפְנֵי ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ. וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְכָל-הַטּוֹב, אֲשֶׁר נָתַן-לְךָ – You will answer and say before your God, “The Aramean pursued my father, and he descended to Egypt, and dwelled there, where he became a nation, great and many. Egypt cruelly afflicted us, and they gave us hard labor. We cried out to Hashem, God of our fathers, and He heard our cries and saw our suffering and affliction. He extracted us from Egypt with a strong hand and an outstretched arm, with great wonders and miracles; and brought us to this place. He gave us this land, flowing with milk and honey. And now, see I have brought my first fruit, which God has granted me, and I place it before God,”. He shall place it before God and bow, and rejoice at all the good he has been given. (26:5-11)

What fascinating is that this section isn’t from the primary record in the book of Shemos. It’s from the end of the Torah, about the mitzvos pertaining to the Land of Israel, and this section is part of the prayer recited when a farmer would bring his first fruit – ביכורים.

Why does the Hagada quote the paraphrased story and not the original story of the Exodus?

The Sefer HaChinuch explains that the mitzvah of Seder night is not accomplished by telling a history story; we need to express gratitude, which the historical sections do not have.

The sections about the mitzvos of the Land of Israel sharpen our appreciation for the Exodus, because having once been oppressed slaves in Egypt, we have a finer understanding of what it means to be free.

One of the most common offerings was for thanksgiving – the Korban Toda – which was brought if someone was released from jail; crossed an ocean or a desert, or recovered from illness. It provides a template for gratitude.

The offeror presented a sheep with 40 loaves of bread and had to finish the entire feast within a day. No man can or should eat an entire sheep or 40 loaves of bread, let alone both; you’d have to invite your friends and family in order to finish it before the time limit.

The Abarbanel notes that the Korban Pesach is essentially a national Korban Toda; the Jewish People were liberated from slavery; crossed an ocean and a desert; and when they stood at Sinai, were healed of all sickness.

Accordingly, it makes a lot of sense that the Hagada quotes from the first fruits because the goal of Seder is to appreciate all our blessings publicly.

The blessing’s conclusion sums it up perfectly – וְשָׂמַחְתָּ בְכָל הַטּוֹב אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לְךָ ה אֱלֹהֶיךָ וּלְבֵיתֶךָ – you should rejoice in every single thing Hashem does for you.

Gratitude is a pervasive and recurring theme, not just in Judaism, but in a good life. Take each opportunity to count your blessings with your family and friends.

The Korban Pesach is meant to commemorate the miracle of the Jewish households being “passed over” in Egypt.

But why were they ever at risk? The plagues were punishments for enslaving the Jews. If the first nine plagues were targeted at Egyptians, why should the tenth have been any different, requiring being “passed over”?
Why is the salvation of the Jewish firstborn different that it required spreading blood on their doors, and later generations then had to commemorate this act by eating the Korban Pesach?

R’ Yitzchak Blaser explains that the Gemara in Yuma 86a teaches that even though repentance alone does not usually atone for a violation of a negative commandment; nevertheless, on Yom Kippur the flood of mercy is so great that if a person repents, he can have attain forgiveness – even if they might not deserve it!

The Midrash says: Woe to the wicked, who convert Divine mercy to strict justice – מדת הדין into מדת הרחמים.

R’ Yitzchak Blaser explains that what the Midrash is the reverse application of the Gemara – if a person had a chance to erase sins they couldn’t get rid of an entire year, and turned their back on such an opportunity, the disdain shown for the mercy offered rebounds, and it becomes strict justice.

Although the Jews had served the Egyptian idols, it hadn’t been out of choice. But with the slavery effectively over, they had the chance to throw off any trace of idol worship and show their commitment and dedication to Him by taking a lamb, an Egyptian deity, and publicly display that they did not accept

If they turned their backs on this ideal opportunity they would have incurred Hashem’s wrath and מדת הדין.

The other plagues were specific punishments that the Jews were not deserving of, but the 10th plague was not “just” a punishment for the Egyptians, unlike the previous plagues, it had a secondary function. The first nine plagues were punishments that they revealed Hashem’s hand in nature; the Jews had done nothing to be punished in this way – they were victims. But here they had an opportunity to throw off the yoke of idol worship, and had they not taken their chance, they would have incurred a מדת הדין – putting themselves in danger.

The Korban Pesach we take is a remembrance of the kindness we were shown, that led to us being saved. The Targum actually translates ופסחתי (Shemos 14:13) as a word meaning “compassion”.

In the Hagada, one of the four questions asked is that שבכל הלילות, אנו אוכלין חמץ ומצה, הלילה הזה כולו מצה – Why on other nights do we eat chametz and matza, whereas tonight we only eat matza?

The Abarbanel explains that this question has an additional subtle nuance to it. The Korban Pesach is essentially a Korban Toda, a thanksgiving offering, for having been saved. With an ordinary thanksgiving offering, the sacrifice is brought with chametz loaves and matza crackers as part of the offering. The question therefore becomes; why is the thanksgiving offering on Pesach only supplemented with matza?

The Chasam Sofer explains that chametz is a metaphor for negativity. It is symbolic of the inflation of the ego, among other things. Matza is synonymous with the positive and pure – it is representative of things the way they ought to be, in their simple, distilled, natural state.

When we offer a regular thanksgiving sacrifice, we are thanking Hashem for the good He has done, but equally, the bad from which we learn to appreciate the good.

But on Pesach there is no such thing as bad; even being enslaved served a “good” purpose – it certainly wasn’t a punishment for anything the slaves had done! If the Jews could achieve perfection without going through Egypt, they wouldn’t have had to – therefore it served a constructive purpose. The purpose was so that when they were offered the Torah the Jews would be able to understand and accept the concept of service – they had been pushed to the limit and beyond in Egypt; they could do the same for Hashem. We answer how Pesach is a night where כולו מצה – there is no such thing as bad, there is only good.

The Chafetz Chaim wonders why Moshe was unable to build the Menorah, a problem he had not had when building everything else, and had to ask many times for the instructions to be repeated. The answer parallels the above. The Menorah is compared to to the Torah – hence the phrase “the light” of Torah – and it’s eternity. Moshe’s problem was that he did not understand how he could make something that was meant to reflect the infinite and eternal. Homiletically, how could the Jews keep the Torah forever? Wouldn’t there be evil? Exiles, wars, Holocausts, Inquisitions, expulsions and pogroms?

Hashem’s answer to Moshe illustrates this concept perfectly. “Put it in the fire, and see what comes out”. In reality, there is no negativity, and challenges are not bad. It is only a trial from which there is potential to grow. Adversity builds character.

In the Hagada, one of the four questions asked is that שבכל הלילות, אנו אוכלין חמץ ומצה, הלילה הזה כולו מצה – Why on other nights do we eat chametz and matza, whereas tonight we only eat matza?

The Abarbanel explains that this question has an additional subtle nuance to it. The Korban Pesach is essentially a Korban Toda, a thanksgiving offering, for having been saved. With an ordinary thanksgiving offering, the sacrifice is brought with chametz loaves and matza crackers as part of the offering. The question therefore becomes; why is the thanksgiving offering on Pesach only supplemented with matza?

The Chasam Sofer explains that chametz is a metaphor for negativity. It is symbolic of the inflation of the ego, among other things. Matza is synonymous with the positive and pure – it is representative of things the way they ought to be, in their simple, distilled, natural state.

When we offer a regular thanksgiving sacrifice, we are thanking Hashem for the good He has done, but equally, the bad from which we learn to appreciate the good.

But on Pesach there is no such thing as bad; even being enslaved served a “good” purpose – it certainly wasn’t a punishment for anything the slaves had done! If the Jews could achieve perfection without going through Egypt, they wouldn’t have had to – therefore it served a constructive purpose. The purpose was so that when they were offered the Torah the Jews would be able to understand and accept the concept of service – they had been pushed to the limit and beyond in Egypt; they could do the same for Hashem. We answer how Pesach is a night where כולו מצה – there is no such thing as bad, there is only good.

The Chafetz Chaim wonders why Moshe was unable to build the Menorah, a problem he had not had when building everything else, and had to ask many times for the instructions to be repeated. The answer parallels the above. The Menorah is compared to to the Torah – hence the phrase “the light” of Torah – and it’s eternity. Moshe’s problem was that he did not understand how he could make something that was meant to reflect the infinite and eternal. Homiletically, how could the Jews keep the Torah forever? Wouldn’t there be evil? Exiles, wars, Holocausts, Inquisitions, expulsions and pogroms?

Hashem’s answer to Moshe illustrates this concept perfectly. “Put it in the fire, and see what comes out”. In reality, there is no negativity, and challenges are not bad. It is only a trial from which there is potential to grow. Adversity builds character.