הָא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא | Passover haggadah by Miriam Shaviv

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Ha lachma anya is one of the Haggadah texts we rattle off every year, without really noticing that actually – it doesn't make much sense.

Traditionally we read it as an invitation to our fellow Jews, particularly those who are poor, to join our Seder. It seems like an appropriate opening to what is, by its very nature, a social event, one in which we celebrate our formation as a nation. We end by expressing the wish that God should ultimately complete our national redemption, returning us to the land of Israel and making us into a free people.

But what if Ha lachma actually means something completely different?

In fact, the text is far from straightforward.

First, historically, it is actually three separate statements that seem to have been cobbled together over time. “This is the bread of our affliction...” “Anyone who needs to should come and eat...” “This year we are here, next year in the land of Israel” - in various historical Haggadot, these appear in different orders, with variations in the words, or not at all. The paragraph we recite today clearly went through many iterations. And if you think about it, actually these lines are disjointed. They are talking about three completely different things.

But even if you take each line alone, they are problematic.

(1) First of all, it doesn't make sense to invite the poor to join the seder at this point in the ceremony. We have already made kiddush - therefore anyone joining here will not fulfil their obligation of drinking four cups of wine. They needed to be invited to join in earlier.

(2) Second, if you accept that the text is very ancient - some say it dates back to Temple times - we are clearly not inviting new guests to join any old Seder, but a Seder in which the Paschal lamb is eaten. “Whoever is hungry, let them come and eat. Whoever is needy, let them come and share in our Pesach” - that means, “share in our Paschal sacrifice”.

But the Paschal sacrifice was eaten by a group, usually a household, in which the members had pre-registered their attendance - in effect RSVP'd. So it was impossible to invite strangers off the street to eat it at the last minute. In addition, it was supposed to be eaten "al hasova" - on a full stomach. How, then, can we say, "Kol dichfin yetei veYichol" - anyone who needs to should come and eat? It couldn't be shared by anyone who was hungry.

(3) The last few lines make little sense either. "This year we are here, next year we will be in the land of Israel". This is patently untrue if you are, in fact, making your Seder in Israel. And if this was written as early as some researchers claim, before the destruction of the Temple, it made no sense originally either - the people were in the land of Israel already! Perhaps this is proof that it was written later, in the diaspora, but in this case it is hard to understand why people are being invited to join in the Paschal sacrifice, which could only be offered in Israel while the Temple was still standing.

(4) "This year we are slaves, next year we will be free" - this makes no sense whenever you say it. Isn’t the whole point of the Seder that we are now free? Of course you can always read this metaphorically, as freedom from materialism or some such, but the literal sense is plain wrong.

(5) And while we're looking at the textual difficulties, let's go back to the very first line. The reason given for eating matzah here is that it was “lachma anya” – bread of poverty or affliction, a reminder of Jewish life in Egypt. Later on in the Seder, however, we are explicitly told that the reason for matzah is that our ancestors’ dough did not have enough time to rise as they were fleeing from Egypt. Rather than being the bread of affliction, it is the bread of redemption. Why the inconsistency? Is it significant?

To answer these questions, stop thinking of Ha lachma as an invitation to the poor to partake in our seder. Rather, imagine yourself for a moment a Jew in the land of Egypt – right before the Exodus. The very night before the Exodus. These are your words.

Ha lachma anya, this is the bread of affliction/poverty which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt – this is the only meaning that matzah has for you right now. The episode in which you flee from bondage too quickly to bake proper bread is yet to happen. Matzah will not become the bread of redemption until you rush out of Egypt in great haste, tomorrow.

“ Whoever is hungry, let them come and eat. Whoever is needy, let them come and share in our Paschal sacrifice”. Just before the Israelites left Egypt, on the eve of the Exodus, they celebrated the first Pesach – known as Pesach mitzrayim, the Egyptian Pesach. This is a rare case in which the korban Pesach was offered outside Israel (it happened just once again, during the people's wanderings in the desert).

These lines are addressed to the members of the group signed up to share a Paschal offering. Those who are hungry are called upon to eat (from the special chagigah sacrifice, which formed the main part of the festival meal) before they partake in the korban Pesach. Those who are already full, and now need to (“ditzrich”) eat their share of the Pesach sacrifice, are called to come and do that.

Now we are here, next year we will be in the Land of Israel – That is, now we are in Egypt, next year we will be in the land of Israel – or so the Jews must have believed when they fled Mitzrayim.

Now we are slaves, next year we will be free men – Again, literally true for the generation that took part in the Exodus.

One of the main themes of Seder night is that in every generation, we are supposed to see ourselves as if we personally left the land of Egypt. This little paragraph, right at the opening of the seder, puts us in the right frame of mind, landing us in the minds of the Jews who were actually there, on the night before they left. We are in Egypt 3,300 years ago, preparing our Paschal sacrifice with the other members of our household, nervously and hopefully looking forward to our entire lives changing the next day. We start off by simulating their experience.

This helps explain why, in some very old Haggadot - such as that of Maimonides - the entire paragraph was preceded by the sentence, "Bivhilu yatzanu miMitzrayim" - "in a panicked rush we left Egypt". In theory this has nothing to do with Ha Lachma . But if you read Ha Lachma as getting into the heads of the Israelites on the eve of the Exodus, it makes perfect sense.

And now to the Seder….

haggadah Section: Cover

Source: Adapted from Lisa Beth Liel, http://lamrot-hakol.blogspot.com