The souls’ journey to truly experience Hashem, to develop mochin d’gadlus, expanded spiritual awareness, begins on Pesach. The Tzadikim teach us that our mission is to attain a level of clarity and closeness with Hashem that can only be described as nevuah, prophecy.
What does it mean to attain nevuah in our generation? How do we embark on this journey on Pesach?
On Pesach, we have lots of mitzvah objects—matzah, maror, four cups, Haggadah. But what’s the first object we actually use to start preparing for Pesach? The first Mishnah in Pesachim tells us: “Or l’arba’ah asar bodkin es hachametz l’or haner,” we search for chametz by candlelight. So if Pesach is all about starting the journey toward becoming a Navi, and the very first act involves a candle, that candle must contain the secret of how to begin.
In Kabbalah, we’re taught that the Nevi’im of old used to form a merkava (a spiritual chariot) in their minds to ascend and experience prophecy. In a sefer called Pirkei Heichalos, attributed to R’ Nechunya ben HaKana, it describes how the ancient Nevi’im created complex “vehicles” of holy names to reach Heavenly places. Now, we’re not on their level, but Hashem, in His kindness, made the process easier as we get closer to Moshiach. We still need a merkava, some way to travel toward Him, but it’s now more accessible to us.
Our avodah on Pesach is to build that merkava for our souls. The candle we use to check for chametz hints to Nefesh and Ruach (the two lower parts of the soul), whose initials spell “ner.” The higher parts, the Neshamah, Chaya, and Yechida, are higher spiritual levels. But the foundation of everything is Nefesh and Ruach, the simple part of you that just does a mitzvah, physically, with sincerity. That’s what the candle represents.
The Komarna Rebbe, in his sefer Nesiv Mitzvosecha, brings down a teaching from the Apter Rav, explaining the line “Kol haschalos kashos,” all beginnings are difficult. The Apter Rav says that when you start serving Hashem, you shouldn’t jump right away to huge spiritual madreigos. In the beginning, realize “La’pesach, chatas rovetz,” at the opening, the yetzer hara tries to make you stumble. So you begin by being a “poshete Yid,” by just doing the mitzvos with sincerity. Say “Shehakol” slowly, put on tefillin, daven the words. Not with some half-hearted dryness, but with simple earnestness. Appreciate the gift that Hashem lets you say a brachah like your Zeidy and Bubby did. That’s it. That’s how you start.
And the Komarna says it’s not just a fallback plan. That simplicity, that pshitus, becomes your chariot, your merkava, to reach all the high places. Even the greatest Tzadik or Kabbalist only ascends higher by deepening that same earnestness. If you ever lose that foundation, you lose the very vehicle that carries you upward. So Pesach begins with searching for chametz by candlelight (Nefesh and Ruach) reminding us that the real start is embracing mitzvos in the most tangible, heartfelt, and yes, simple way.
This is why at the Seder, with all the lofty teachings and Kabbalistic hints flying around, the focus is on the children. The biggest mekubal in the world is told: “Talk to your kids. Answer their simplest questions.” Because if you forget pshitus, you have no merkava. Even the mitzvah to tell over Yetzias Mitzrayim is learned from the parsha of Bikkurim—Arami Oved Avi—where a simple Jewish farmer shows up in the Beis HaMikdash with the first fruits. Why not just use the direct pesukim in Shemos? Because Bikkurim is about appreciating something as small as a fruit and thanking Hashem for it. That simple gratitude is the gateway to all of the high and lofty spiritual levels. If you can say, “Ribbono Shel Olam, I’m thankful for this apple,” that’s already your merkava. The farmer says to the Kohen, “I declare before Hashem, your G-d, that I’m here,” meaning even I, an ordinary Jew, can tap into the highest levels. How? By leaning into the simplest gift Hashem gave me.
That’s why the Haggadah specifically uses the words from Bikkurim to talk about Yetzias Mitzrayim, and not the actual pesukim from Shemos, because Pesach is built on that same pshitus. The Seder ends with “Chad Gadya” and “Echad Mi Yodea”, returning to the simplest points of faith: “I know there is one Hashem.” That’s where it starts, and that’s actually where it keeps going. All the sophistication is only real if it’s driven in a vehicle of simplicity and appreciation.
Hashem should bless all of us that this Pesach, we seize the opportunity to start fresh as a nation and as individuals, building our personal merkava from something as simple as a ner, as simple as a brachah, as simple as a heartfelt “Boruch Hashem.” Don’t let go of that pshitus. Through that, may we reach the highest madreigos, the ones we’re truly meant to attain. May we accomplish the mission of our generation, to attain closeness with Hashem, turning ourselves into the nevi’im that we are meant to be, and let’s daven that soon we’ll stand together, all of us, with our simple mitzvos and our big visions, in the final geulah, speedily in our days. Amen.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 31 Special Pesach.
