On Wednesday evening I was stuck in heavy traffic for close to an hour on the I-10, which I believe was thankfully caused by construction and not an accident, and I couldn’t help feeling frustrated and annoyed by the delay. Inching forward on the freeway can feel very constraining, but as I listened to a recording of the Chassidic gathering the Rebbe held in honor of his 74th birthday (11 Nissan) days before Pesach 1976, I heard the Rebbe deliver a profound perspective on liberty that reframed even my silly nervousness as I sat in traffic.
On Pesach we celebrate liberty. Not a liberty we need to fight for and defend, but a liberty which is hereditary that we just need to tap into, develop and nurture. A liberty that was gifted to us by G-d and can never be taken away from us.
True liberty is freedom of the spirit, not the freedom of expression, movement or activity that can be largely dependent on external circumstances. For most of our history Jews lived under oppressive regimes but always remained inherently free. Even in Soviet Gulags and Nazi concentration camps, the spirit of faith, empathy and care for another managed to flourish because the spirit is always free.
To illustrate the distinction between external liberty and true liberty the Rebbe utilized a fresh story that was rocking the world media at the time.
A week earlier, on April 5, 1976 the world learned about the death of Howard Hughes, an American business magnate, investor and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most financially successful individuals in the world. His extreme paranoia and eccentric reclusiveness had driven him into hiding and at the time of his death he suffered from malnutrition and was covered in bedsores.
Here was a man who had the ability to do as he wished, yet in his personal life was more confined than an incarcerated prisoner. His freedom of expression, movement and activity was so severely hampered because he did not have the tools to tap into the liberty of the spirit.
My grandfather, Rabbi Moshe Greenberg languished in Stalin’s gulags for seven years but stubbornly subsisted on potato peels and sugar cubes for the eight days of Pesach so as not to eat Chometz during the festival. As a teenager in Auschwitz, Shainy’s grandmother, Mrs. Itu Lustig refused her morsel of bread the Nazis gave her on the night of Pesach. “It was my proudest moment in Auschwitz,” she told me with a smile a while back.
Pesach reminds us that we are always free. Even in silly situations like when you get nervous and upset because you are stuck in traffic and feel the minutes and hours of the day slipping from your control you have the choice to make that time meaningful in ways you hadn’t planned on.
As we clear away the Chometz to welcome in the Matzah let us focus on nurturing the spiritual liberty the Matzah represents and fill every moment of our time with bringing more goodness, kindness and inspiration to our world.