We stand at a unique bridge in the Jewish calendar. Purim is behind us, while Pesach begins to come into view. The sefarim teach that the Yomim Tovim are not isolated moments, but part of a continuous cycle, each one preparing us for what follows. The avodah of one Yom Tov quietly lays the foundation for the next. As we move from the hidden miracles of Purim toward the revealed redemption of Pesach, we begin to see that the lessons we carry now are exactly the ones we will need at the seder table.
Now we stand before Pesach, the Yom Tov that forms the foundation of our emunah and bitachon. Let us not simply retell the story of exile and redemption. Let us live it, breathe it, and remember at the seder that Hashem is always there.
The mishnah in Pesachim lists several options of vegetables we can use for maror on seder night. ואלו ירקות שאדם יוצא בהן ידי חובתו בפסח, בחזרת ובעלשין ובתמכא ובחרחבינה ובמרור — These are the vegetables with which a person fulfills their obligation on Passover: chazeres, alshin, tamcha, charchavina, and maror.
The Chasam Sofer writes that there’s a special ma’alah, a deeper advantage, in using the third option listed
— tamcha (which we today refer to as chrein, or horseradish) for maror. These are his words:
“In particular, it can be fulfilled through tamcha (which is called chrein) because תמכא is an acronym for: ת Tamid / מ Misaprim / כ Kevod / א Kel — constantly telling over the glory of Hashem.
As we sit at the seder table and taste the bitterness of slavery and suffering, we are reminded that, specifically in these moments of hardship, we fortify ourselves with the truth: Tamid Misaprim Kevod Kel — we are constantly recounting the greatness of Hashem. Even when the taste is bitter.
The Satmar Rav, quoted by the Mishchas Shemen, expounds on this idea, teaching that the time we most need to hear this reminder is in the moment of maror — the bitterness, the hester, the hiddenness of Hashem’s presence.
When life is sweet and cheery, when everything is going well, it’s easier to recognize and speak of G-d’s glory. But when things are bitter — when the tears fall, when the struggle is real, when there is darkness, confusion, or loss, rachmana litzlan — that’s when it’s hardest to remember that Hashem is still with us. He’s still the same G-d, still holding us, still orchestrating every thread of the tapestry of our lives.
And so on Leil HaSeder, as we eat the maror and relive the pain of our forefathers, we don’t just taste the bitterness; we also internalize a deeper truth. Through the act of eating the maror, we teach ourselves, and we teach our children, even now, even here, even in the bitter moments — we know: Tamid Misaprim Kevod Kel.
We continue to tell ourselves, to tell our children, to tell each other — that even when we don’t understand the plan, we trust the Planner. We trust that there is a greater picture being woven, one far beyond our limited perspective.
Maror, and specifically tamcha, is not just a vegetable. It is a mission statement that says: Even as I taste the bitterness, I will still praise. I will still be thankful. I will still speak of Your greatness, Hashem.
And perhaps that is the deepest message we carry from Purim into Pesach, and from the seder into the rest of the year. Life will contain moments of concealment and moments of revelation, bitterness and sweetness, exile and redemption. Our avodah is not to wait for clarity before we praise, but to keep praising even before the clarity comes.
Tamid Misaprim Kevod Kel.
Again and again. In light and in darkness. At the heights and in the struggle.
Because the Jewish response has never been silence. It has always been song. And even when the maror burns, we remember who holds the story, who guides the journey, and who never leaves our side.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 75.
