Though I split my time between Montreal and Jerusalem, there’s nothing quite like being in Jerusalem for this holiday. The scent of lemon-scented cleaner drifts through the stairwells of my apartment building. Grocery stores are already rearranging shelves, families are scrubbing their kitchens, and children can be spotted helping with dusters and brooms—mimicking the grown-ups as if they, too, are part of something sacred. The whole scene feels like a collective return to memory, meaning, and freedom.
It has long been a truism in Jewish tradition that one can only fully practice Judaism in the Land of Israel. My generation is uniquely blessed—not only have we witnessed the mass return of the Jewish people to Zion, but we live in a sovereign Jewish state where the Torah can be realized in both public and private life. The founding of the State of Israel in 1948 wasn’t just a political event—it was a turning point in Jewish religious and national history.
The Festival of Freedom and the Work of Chametz Removal
Passover, or Pesach, is a remarkable example of how Judaism flourishes in its homeland. Prescribed in the Torah as a seven-day festival, Passover marks the beginning of spring—the “first of the months”—and commemorates the Israelites’ liberation from slavery in Egypt. It’s one of the three pilgrimage festivals once celebrated in the Temple of Jerusalem, and today, it remains a deeply rooted national and spiritual celebration.
Central to Passover is the commandment to remove chametz—leavened products—from our homes. As the Orthodox Union explains, chametz is any food made from wheat, barley, spelt, oats, or rye that has fermented or risen. This includes bread, crackers, pasta, and even food processed with chametz-contaminated equipment. In practice, Jews avoid anything not certified kosher for Passover.
But this is about more than just bread. The entire month of Nissan becomes a period of intense preparation. Jews around the world—and certainly here in Israel—spend weeks scrubbing kitchens, vacuuming cars, shaking out clothing, and checking bags for crumbs. It’s a physical process that quietly opens the door to deeper introspection.
The Spiritual Search: Insights from the Mei Hashiloach
Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner’s Mei Hashiloach, a Hasidic commentary on the Talmud (Pesachim 8b:12), offers a profound interpretation of the ritual of chametz removal. He teaches that this act serves as a metaphor for self-examination. The process of searching for chametz, he suggests, is a call to reflect on our inner lives—and this introspection can be guided by two pairs of commandments from the Tablets given at Sinai.
The first pair:
“I am the Lord your God” – Engage your heart’s full devotion to the Torah.
“Do not murder” – Guard your thoughts; thinking badly of others is like killing them in your heart.
The second pair:
“I am the Lord your God” (again)
“You shall have no other gods before Me.” – Focus your search on resisting bodily desires and re-centering your spiritual priorities.¹
According to the Mei Hashiloach, if a person is clean in these areas, it is a sign they are clean in the entire Torah.
Rabbi Robert I. Rhodes shared this teaching at Shira Hadasha synagogue in Jerusalem on April 5. I left that class struck by how relevant and urgent it felt. As we polish our countertops and check pockets for crumbs, we’re also being asked to inspect the corners of our hearts. Are we holding onto resentment? Ego? Empty distraction? That’s the real chametz.
In Israel, where Torah and daily life intersect so naturally, this season feels alive in a way that’s hard to describe. The cleaning is collective. The intention is national. And, the freedom we celebrate is not only from ancient Pharaohs but from whatever enslaves us in the here and now.
This week, as I scrub the corners of my own apartment in Jerusalem and sort through the shelves for stray crumbs and hidden chametz, I’m reminded that this work—both physical and spiritual—is part of what binds me to this place, to this people, and to the deeper rhythms of the Jewish year.
May this Passover bring clarity to our homes, our hearts, and our habits—and may we each emerge just a little more free.
Footnote:
- Mei Hashiloach, Pesachim 8b:12. Sefaria, www.sefaria.org/Mei_HaShiloach%2C_Volume_I%2C_Genesis%2C_Bereshit.2?lang=bi.