Liberating Ourselves from Leaven: A Passover Lesson

Before Passover’s festival begins, Jewish households must remove all leaven from their homes, including any products that may have come into contact with leaven.
Bread or leaven products are not permitted, and all leaven is not to be kept in one’s possession, nor is it to be found or seen. One is to receive no pleasure or benefit from it. In the strictest sense of the word, leaven is considered taboo.
A Chicago-based pet company that produces kosher for Passover pet food is even leaven-free for people who meticulously follow the rabbinic laws of Passover.
Throughout Jewish generations, preparations for Passover have been meticulous. Every day in traditional households, dishes, pots and utensils are stored elsewhere and are replaced by special Passover plates and tools. Cupboards are cleaned, floors scrubbed, and every corner of the house is examined carefully to ensure strict compliance with the rules.
On the eve of Passover, preparations culminate with a room-to-room candlelight search that no leaven crumbs remain, and on the morning of Passover, any leftover crumbs are burned.
Why, one might ask, are the laws of Passover obsessed with leaven?
With the youngest child at the Passover seder, we can ask, “How is this night different from all other nights?
On other nights, we can eat leavened or unleavened bread (i.e., matzah). Why on this night only unleavened bread? What is it about leaven that sets it apart from the usual Jewish practice of eating whatever we wish, according to the Jewish dietary laws of keeping kosher?
The rabbis identified leaven with every human’s evil impulse. There everys saw in the ceremony for the search for leaven more than simple spring cleaning.
Leaven, according to the Jewish mystics, symbolizes arrogance because bread raises itself above the matzah’s level, even though it is only filled with air pockets. On Passover, we want to try to remove the leaven (representing our ego and excessive pride) from our hearts. As many Jewish families have chosen to rid their homes of leaven, it would behoove everyone (whatever one’s religion or faith) to rid ourselves of personal, spiritual leaven.
We must delve into our heart’s darkest corners to destroy traces of the “leaven in the dough,” taking a candle to our souls to remove all traces of our vanity and conceit.
Passover is called the season of our freedom, reminding us that we were once enslaved in Egypt. It’s is a reminder that it was not through the Israelites’ efforts that they were liberated from slavery, but instead because of God acting in history.
Our vanity and conceit developed only when we began forgetting what being enslaved was like. Passover is meant to remind us that we are not masters of our destiny, and that our achievements are not necessarily the result of our efforts. It reminds us that we should not always be puffed with pride of self-importance, and that we should not revel in ourselves at the greater community’s expense.
This holiday season, I have questions for you to ponder:
• When was the last time you volunteered to help someone?
• When was the last time you restrained the impulse to say, “I’m really too busy to help out. Can’t someone else do it?”
• When was the last time you made a difference in another person’s life?
Micah was the prophet that told us what God wanted from every person: be kind, just and humble.
May all of us be granted the courage and strength to persevere and succeed. May this holiday season, whatever your faith, bring you much joy, peace, healing and liberation.
ED. NOTE: Rabbi Isaacs is rabbi at Beth Judah Temple, in Wildwood.