Pesach: Surrender as the Path to Liberation

Pesach: Surrender as the Path to Liberation

Pesach is about learning to see the light in people’s hearts, to recognize goodness even when our instinct is to close ourselves off or react defensively. It is about the greatness of freeing ourselves from the external, and understanding that within this process, we are receiving a gift.

Egypt (Mitzraim) represents limitation. The word comes from metzarim, meaning narrowness or constriction. Leaving Egypt is not only a historical event, but a daily process of moving beyond our own internal limitations, trusting that the spiritual force, Hashem, is what truly breaks the barriers that feel impossible.

On the night of Pesach, there is an opening to connect with a state of greatness, to the point of understanding who I am and what I am capable of. From that place, a central question arises: what Egypt am I leaving?

On this night, it is not about thinking or speaking from the limited mind, because that has nothing to do with our true capacity. The work is to become still, to see things as they truly are, and to observe honestly who I am in the face of what is happening to me.

The 15 steps of the Haggadah describe a deep spiritual process connected to Chochmah and Binah, wisdom and understanding. There is a force that pushes us, a light that moves us out of our place and compels us to dismantle the old, the familiar, the fears, the traumas, and the worries. That internal movement is the true secret of the night of Pesach.

From there, preparation is no longer only external. The cleansing is also internal, because many of our negative thoughts do not lead us anywhere positive. The Haggadah invites us to connect with the consciousness of the Creator and to begin building the vessel capable of receiving our fullest potential.

This work becomes real when we begin to observe ourselves: to overcome negativity, to share from the heart even when we do not feel it, and to recognize that many times we are not fully present with the Creator. If we were truly able to perceive that everything that happens is perfect, we would not live in conflict. Infinite goodness is always present, even when we cannot see it.

Within the symbols, the egg represents desire, associated with the left column – the force of receiving, the initial impulse. The work is not to eliminate desire, but to transform it into a desire for light, not centered only on oneself.

The bitter herb represents the central column. To chew it is to go through moments where there is no clarity, where the question arises: “Where is God?” It is the experience of discomfort, emptiness, and uncertainty. The work is not to avoid this state or to artificially sweeten it, but to move through it with awareness. When we do not escape the process, bitterness transforms into sweetness – not because external circumstances change, but because consciousness changes. And in that shift, we begin to see that even there, there was light.

Within this same process, forces arise that attempt to diminish us, gradually disconnecting us without us even noticing. We stop taking care of ourselves, we neglect our relationships, we stop being grateful, and we lose connection with both our greatness and our humility. From that place, we begin to act from fear, reaction, or ego.

This is where the work becomes conscious. To pause and ask: where am I? What have I done? Where did I act from fear instead of from the heart? These questions are not meant for judgment, but for awareness – for the purpose of transforming that energy into light.

From here, the meaning of true desire becomes clearer. To desire the light at all times, even when it is uncomfortable, when we do not see results, or when we feel we are not receiving what we believed we deserved. It is in those moments that we discover whether our desire is real or conditional. And from there, a deeper decision emerges: to choose connection with the light of the Creator, not based on what we understand, but on what we are willing to sustain.

This is why we eat matzah, the bread of affliction. It is not only a historical reminder, but an internal state. Matzah represents the absence of ego, of artificial expansion, of pride and control. It is bread that does not rise. To eat matzah is to recognize that we are not yet full of light, that we are a vessel still in formation. It is an act of humility, of emptying ourselves in order to receive.

Within this same process, the second cup of wine represents the creation of that vessel. Desire alone is not enough. We must develop the capacity to hold what we wish to receive. That vessel is built through awareness, humility, inner work, and the ability to share.

Pesach is no longer only about leaving Egypt. It is about becoming someone capable of sustaining what comes after. It is a process of breaking the ego, moving through discomfort, and choosing the light even when it is not obvious.

And ultimately, it is about remembering why we came into this world, and beginning to live from that place – with awareness, humility, and true connection.

Note: I wrote this article from my first connection with Pesach, as this is my first time experiencing this holiday, with respect and openness toward everything I am still learning.