As we approach Pesach and begin to feel its atmosphere, let us examine the very first passage of the Haggadah—Ha Lachma Anya.
This opening section is somewhat unusual. It is written in Aramaic, and it appears before the main body of the Haggadah begins. The central narrative really starts after the Mah Nishtanah, with Avadim Hayinu or MiTechilah Ovdei Avodah Zarah. That is where we fulfill the mitzvah of “Vehigadeta levincha”—telling over the story in response to the child’s questions.
But before all of that, we begin with this introduction:
Ha Lachma Anya, Kol Dichfin, Hashata Hacha.
There are three distinct statements here, and each raises a fundamental question.
First, we say:
“Ha Lachma Anya di’achalu avhasana b’ara d’Mitzrayim”—This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt.
But what does that mean? The matzah we eat is to commemorate that when the Jewish people left Egypt, they were rushed out so quickly that their dough did not have time to rise. That happened at the moment of redemption, not while they were still in Egypt. So why do we say that our fathers ate this bread in Egypt? Where do we find that the Jewish people were eating matzah while still enslaved in Egypt? There is no explicit source for that.
Second, we say:
“Kol dichfin yeisei veyeichol, kol ditzrich yeisei veyifsach”—Whoever is hungry should come and eat; whoever is in need should come and join.
But this too is puzzling. At this point, we are already sitting at the Seder table, after Kiddush. If we truly wanted to invite guests, we should have done so earlier—before Yom Tov, or at least in shul before coming home. Why are we now, once the Seder has already begun, extending an invitation? Who exactly are we addressing?
Third, we say:
“Hashata hacha… hashata avdei”—Now we are here; now we are slaves. Next year we will be in the Land of Israel; next year we will be free.
This seems even more difficult. The entire Seder is meant to celebrate freedom, joy, and redemption. Why do we begin by emphasizing that we are still in exile and still like slaves? How does that set the tone for a night of liberation?
The Rebbe explains that this entire section is not incidental—it is the key introduction that frames the entire Seder.
When we come to the Seder, we are asked to celebrate freedom. We recline, we drink four cups of wine, we speak about redemption. But at the same time, the reality we see around us does not fully reflect that freedom. We see struggles, challenges, people in need, and even within our own families, we see different types of children—each with their own difficulties. On a broader level, we are still in exile, still facing hardships, still not living in a state of complete redemption.
So we are faced with a question:
If we were redeemed from Egypt, where is that redemption today?
This is exactly what Ha Lachma Anya comes to address.
When we say, “This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in Egypt,” we are not making a historical statement about what they physically ate. Rather, we are expressing a deeper idea: that even at the moment of redemption, they were still, in a certain sense, in Egypt.
The Jewish people were taken out of Egypt not because they had fully perfected themselves, but because Hashem, with a “yad chazakah”, pulled them out. In truth, they were not yet fully ready. They had become influenced by Egyptian culture and idolatry. The attribute of strict judgment even argued: why should they be redeemed, if they are not so different from the Egyptians?
And yet, Hashem took them out.
This means that the redemption from Egypt was only the beginning of a process—not its completion.
That is why we say that the bread of affliction was eaten “in Egypt.” Because even as they were leaving, they were still spiritually connected to Egypt. They had not yet fully freed themselves internally.
And that is why, even today, we can say:
“Hashata hacha… hashata avdei.”
We are still in that process. We have left Egypt physically, but the complete redemption—both individually and collectively—is still unfolding.
This also explains the invitation:
“Kol dichfin…”
We are not simply inviting physical guests. We are acknowledging that the process is not complete—that there are still those in need, still those who must be brought in, still aspects of ourselves and our people that require elevation and inclusion.
The Seder begins by acknowledging this paradox:
We celebrate redemption, yet we are still in exile.
We are free, yet not fully free.
And the answer is that the redemption of Egypt was the beginning of an ongoing journey—one that continues until the final redemption with Mashiach.
That is why we conclude:
“Leshanah haba’ah b’ara d’Yisrael… leshanah haba’ah bnei chorin.”
Next year in the Land of Israel. Next year as truly free people.
We are not expressing despair—we are expressing hope. The process has already begun, and we are confident that it will reach its completion.
The Rebbe explains that many parts of the Haggadah follow this same theme: that Hashem initiated the redemption, even when we were not yet fully ready, and that our task is to continue that process until it is complete.
In this sense, Pesach is not only a commemoration of the past—it is a living experience of an ongoing redemption.