Parshat Tzav/Shabbat Hagadol: What Does It Mean To Be Free

by Chanchkie Slavin '26

I wonder what it means to be free? We talk about it, celebrate it, even dedicate a whole festival to it. But what does it mean? Are we a free people today? 

I have grown up in a golden age for the Jewish People. Here in Melbourne, Australia, we have lived loud and proud as Jews. But lately there is a fear and instability in our community that reminds me of the stories I was told by my grandparents and their generation. They were the generation of inside names and outside names. Of hiding your identity. My children have Hebrew names (kh’s and all) and use them everywhere they go. But lately, more than ever before, I think more about how I present as a Jew. I hear the insecurity of friends and congregants. Are we free if we are constantly looking over our shoulders, censoring ourselves as we engage with the wider society? 

Hashem’s sweeping miraculous actions in the Pesach story seem far removed from the reality we face today. And I wonder what it was like to live in the generation of the Exodus. We know the end of the story, and so can retell it with joy. But what about the people that lived through it? 

This week, we commemorate Shabbat Hagadol, that great Shabbat before the Jews left Egypt. A lot happened over those few days, but I'd like to focus on one aspect. 

Shemot 12:21 states “Moses then summoned all the elders of Israel and said to them, ‘Go, pick out lambs for your families, and slaughter the passover offering.’”

Our sages tell us that the Jewish people took a lamb–a deity in the eyes of their Egyptian captors—and brought it into their homes in broad daylight, tying it to their bed posts for a few days, in preparation for the Pesach sacrifice they would offer the next week. Their captors, the Egyptians, enraged at the treatment of their holy sheep, demanded an explanation. The Jewish people told them the truth of their intentions and their belief that they were about to be freed. This radical act led to civil war amongst the Egyptians, and precipitated the final Exodus (See Tur, Orach Chaim 330:1).

There were many miracles that weekend, but the biggest one for me is that the Jewish people, downtrodden for over 200 years, slaves to their masters, actually went through with tying the lamb to their bedposts. When asked what they were doing, they didn't deny it, or try to find an appeasing explanation, but told their masters outright who they answered to and what their plans were. 

What does it take to be free? R’ Tsadok of Lublin teaches that there are two kinds of freedom. One, where you are taken out of darkness into a place of light, and the other, where you bring light into the darkness. The first step of the Exodus was executed not by God’s mighty hand but by the callused, unsure hands of the Jewish people, shaking with fear as they led their lambs into their homes. To be free is to defy what you are told to believe, even if everyone around you believes it. It is to walk proudly and publicly with God, your outsides reflecting your insides, echad ba’peh v’echad ba’lev, your true essence, your neshama (soul), being expressed in the way that you live your life. Slavery is to be subjected to the will of another mortal being; freedom is to be the master of your own. Unafraid, with pride for who you are and not shying away when challenged. Like our ancestors of that first redemption, one small shaky step in that direction might be enough to lead us to the true redemption, where we are taken completely out of darkness into the ultimate light.I wonder what it means to be free? We talk about it, celebrate it, even dedicate a whole festival to it. But what does it mean? Are we a free people today? 

I have grown up in a golden age for the Jewish People. Here in Melbourne, Australia, we have lived loud and proud as Jews. But lately there is a fear and instability in our community that reminds me of the stories I was told by my grandparents and their generation. They were the generation of inside names and outside names. Of hiding your identity. My children have Hebrew names (kh’s and all) and use them everywhere they go. But lately, more than ever before, I think more about how I present as a Jew. I hear the insecurity of friends and congregants. Are we free if we are constantly looking over our shoulders, censoring ourselves as we engage with the wider society? 

Hashem’s sweeping miraculous actions in the Pesach story seem far removed from the reality we face today. And I wonder what it was like to live in the generation of the Exodus. We know the end of the story, and so can retell it with joy. But what about the people that lived through it? 

This week, we commemorate Shabbat Hagadol, that great Shabbat before the Jews left Egypt. A lot happened over those few days, but I'd like to focus on one aspect. 

Shemot 12:21 states “Moses then summoned all the elders of Israel and said to them, ‘Go, pick out lambs for your families, and slaughter the passover offering.’”

Our sages tell us that the Jewish people took a lamb–a deity in the eyes of their Egyptian captors—and brought it into their homes in broad daylight, tying it to their bed posts for a few days, in preparation for the Pesach sacrifice they would offer the next week. Their captors, the Egyptians, enraged at the treatment of their holy sheep, demanded an explanation. The Jewish people told them the truth of their intentions and their belief that they were about to be freed. This radical act led to civil war amongst the Egyptians, and precipitated the final Exodus (See Tur, Orach Chaim 330:1).

There were many miracles that weekend, but the biggest one for me is that the Jewish people, downtrodden for over 200 years, slaves to their masters, actually went through with tying the lamb to their bedposts. When asked what they were doing, they didn't deny it, or try to find an appeasing explanation, but told their masters outright who they answered to and what their plans were. 

What does it take to be free? R’ Tsadok of Lublin teaches that there are two kinds of freedom. One, where you are taken out of darkness into a place of light, and the other, where you bring light into the darkness. The first step of the Exodus was executed not by God’s mighty hand but by the callused, unsure hands of the Jewish people, shaking with fear as they led their lambs into their homes. To be free is to defy what you are told to believe, even if everyone around you believes it. It is to walk proudly and publicly with God, your outsides reflecting your insides, echad ba’peh v’echad ba’lev, your true essence, your neshama (soul), being expressed in the way that you live your life. Slavery is to be subjected to the will of another mortal being; freedom is to be the master of your own. Unafraid, with pride for who you are and not shying away when challenged. Like our ancestors of that first redemption, one small shaky step in that direction might be enough to lead us to the true redemption, where we are taken completely out of darkness into the ultimate light.

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Chanchkie is a third year student at Maharat.