Stressed about Pesach? [TWW #2]

How do we make Pesach both Kasher AND Sameach?! Guest Post by Nachum Goldstein

Apr 02, 2025

This is the second esssay of The Write Way, writing from Bnei Torah in the workforce. Nachum Goldstein has spent a lot of time thinking about mental health challenges that latch on to attempts to serve Hashem and infect them like a virus. That’s because he himself struggled with these very severe issues. He opened up about his personal journey in this Shtark Tank episode. In this essay, he gives two hashkafic approaches that will enable us to celebrate Pesach while minimizing the stress.

In loving memory of and לעילוי נשמת my grandmother, Claire Goldstein –ז"ל חיה רעכיל בת ר' צבי יהודה – who passed away on ב' ניסן תשפ"ה. The look of pure joy and nachas on her face on Leil HaSeder, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, as she led the family in Dayeinu as only she could, and beautifully harmonized to Adir Hu, will be remembered and cherished by her family for generations to come.

The Source of the Stress

Pesach can be an incredibly stressful time. The weeks preceding it, as well as the seder itself, are full of detailed minutia necessary to fulfil the relevant mitzvos of the day. In a sense, the rush and stress associated with Pesach can be found in the origin of the day itself. As the pesukim describe, B’nei Yisrael didn’t have much time to prepare before leaving Egypt^[1]. The notion of חיפזון – the hurried, abrupt manner in which they had to leave Egypt, seems to have set the tone for that same sense of urgency we feel as Rosh Chodesh Nissan approaches.

On the one hand, this is understandable on three levels; the first in the pragmatic, halachic sense, and the additional two in the experiential sense. Firstly, the stakes are much higher on Pesach vis-à-vis the rest of the year from a purely halachic standpoint. As opposed to other Moadim - who’s unique halachos, if not kept properly, at most constitute a bittul aseh - during Pesach, issurei kareis are on the line. And as the stakes rise, so does the pressure - to clean the house, rid the chametz, and to make sure all components of the seder are in order^[2]. This, as mentioned, explains the sense of urgency from a halachic perspective.

From an experiential perspective, however, there are additional factors that contribute to this sense of chipazon and urgency. Firstly, Pesach comes only once a year. The sense of novelty, freshness and renewal that come with each of the Moadim are felt more acutely on Pesach with its myriad halachos and minhagim. Moreover, Leil HaSeder carries with it a majestic quality. It is indeed, a night different from all other nights. Not just in terms of content, but in terms of capacity for spiritual engagement, fulfilment and experience. The grandeur of Leil HaSeder can be rivalled only by Kol Nidre night as the two nights a year which are universally treasured by Jews, across the spectrum of religious observance worldwide.^[3] Leil HaSeder carries with it the expectation of a grand religious and spiritual experience, a desire to truly feel that the exodus from Egypt wasn’t just an ancient historical event, but one that we are living through right now, as we conduct the Seder.^[4]

On the other hand, the sense of stress and worry to properly perform the mitzvos of Leil HaSeder, can result in the chag being “kasher”, but not necessarily “sameach”. Indeed, it is not unheard of for people to dread Pesach and all that it entails, instead of looking forward to and reveling in its coming. Furthermore, the expectation to have a deep and profound religious experience can create a pressure to have things “go right” at the Seder. This is made all the more difficult by the fact that the longed-for experience isn’t necessarily taking place in lab-like conditions. Rather, it’s happening with the extended family (some of whom get along better with the members of the table better than others), with tired, impatient children (and/or adults as well). The dissonance between hoping for a religiously and spiritually uplifting night on the one hand, and the ill-equipped conditions and external factors for making such an experience easily accessible on the other, can indeed be a source of stress, pressure, and maybe even disappointment when at the end of the Seder, one can find oneself feeling a sense of missed opportunity, or even just having a bad experience. To combine a phrase from Chazal with a colloquial Yiddish-ism; the Seder can be Matchil Be-gnut, U’mesayeim b’Shvach…

The 18 Minutes

How do we manage this problem? How do we prepare for Pesach properly, thoroughly and effectively, without a destructive, negative emotional fallout? How do we balance hoping and desiring for a meaningful religious experience, yet accepting the fact that it might not turn out as we hoped? In order to answer this question, it is necessary to broaden the scope of the discussion to entail not just Pesach per se, but other mitzvos as well. As an example, let us discuss the notion of the “18 Minutes Dash”, the frenzy and intensity of a matza bake experienced by many on Erev Shabbos.

The stress of Shabbos preparation, especially during the short winter Fridays, are familiar to many. Shabbos, like Pesach, entails a myriad of halachos, with issurei kares on the line. The food must be cooked, and the lights – in the house and in the refrigerator - properly set. It can be stressful. And as sunset approaches, the tension rises. It can somewhat be comforting to know, however, that we are not the only ones who contend with the stress of “making it” before shkia on Erev Shabbos The Mishna tells us that there are three things a person must check with the members of the household before the start of Shabbos – that the ma’asros have been set aside, the eiruv has been taken care of, and that the Shabbos candles are ready to be lit^[5]. However, the formulation of the Mishna is somewhat peculiar. Instead of saying that these three things must be said “לבני ביתו” – to the members of the house, the Mishna says “בתוך ביתו” – inside the house. The Tiferet Yisrael, picking up on this unique formulation, brings a remarkable comment.

בתוך ביתו. ולמה לא קאמר תנא, לבני ביתו, אלא ר"ל שלא יאמר בקול אווש שישמע בחוץ, רק יאמר בנחת כדי שיצייתו לו:

And why did the author of the Mishna not say “to the members of the household”? This is because the Mishnah wants to teach us that one shouldn’t raise his voice or yell in such a manner that he can be heard outside, rather he should speak calmly in such a manner that they will listen to him.

The Tiferet Yisrael reminds us, that while being ready for Shabbos in a timely fashion is of supreme importance, it does not supersede the expectation and necessity that we treat our family members with respect and dignity. Ones own will and drive to perform mitzvos – as “L’sheim Shamayim” as it may be – need not, and should not come at the expense of another individual’s sense of respect.

But easier said than done. How can we achieve this? How can we be engaged in the pursuit of a mitzvah – and the word “pursuit” is used here deliberately – and still have the wherewithal and mindfulness to be aware of the needs of others, and keep our own pressures and hurriedness in check?

It seems that there are two main perspectives, inter alia, that can offer us a path forward. One pertaining to the world of middos specifically, and one pertaining to a broader outlook and perspective on kiyum hamitvos as part of Avodas Hashem in general.

Serenity

At first glance, the way to balance the sense of urgency and importance that comes with certain mitzvos – be it preparing for Pesach, preparing for Shabbos or any other mitzvah – is to address it through the prism of middos. We may ask ourselves – which middah constitutes the linchpin for a serene observance of otherwise stress-inducing mitzvos? The middah of patience – or in Chazal’s formulation – ארך אפיים- certainly comes to mind. The Rambam^[6] views this as a manifestation of being God-like in our behaviour, thus performing the mitzva of והלכת בדרכיו. However, it seems that there is another middah that is even more foundational in maintaining one’s equanimity, not just during hectic times of preparation for Pesach or during the seder itself, but rather during the totality of ones Avodas Hashem writ large -the middah of Menuchas Hanefesh – Serenity.

R' Simcha Zissel Ziv of Kelm wrote extensively about this middah. In his words, the middah of Menuchas Hanefesh is the כליל המעלות – the crown of all virtues^[7]. One who is serene is firmly rooted mentally, and is fully present wherever and whatever one does. As a result, extenuating circumstance, be they halachic in nature or socially imposed, don’t rattle a person who is serene and equanimous. Such a state allows a person to ask the members of his household, in the household, if the Shabbos preparation has been completed properly. A person with Menuchas Hanefesh needn’t resort to turning to the middah of patience – of Erech Apayim - because it is contained in a more latent sense within the serenity that one experiences. Furthermore, serenity is the crown of all virtues and middos because it allows a person to function to the highest capacity in all aspects of Avodas Hashem – Torah, Avodah and Gemillus Chassadim. One who is serene can fully concentrate on what one is learning, being fully present and engaged. One who is serene can experience being in the presence of the Ribbono Shel Olam – fully. The words of tefilla can flow from a sense of ידבר איש אל רעהו, as Ramchal so beautifully describes in Mesillas Yesharim^[8]. "Machshavos Zaros" -foreign thoughts during tefillah don’t become a battleground, because there is no battle raging outside the mind – one is fully present and engaged in tefillah. And lastly, a serene person can engage in Gemillus Chassadim, focusing solely on the needs of the person who needs assistance, be it physical, financial or emotional. The importance of serenity is brought down not just by the Lithuanian Ba’alei Mussar, but in Chassidus as well. The Ba’al Shem Tov^[9] explains the passuk of שויתי ה' לנגדי תמיד, as “Shiviti, Hashem L’negdi Tamid”. “Shiviti”, as in “השתוות”, meaning equanimity. I retain my equanimity, because Hashem L'negdi Tamid. If the Ribbono shel Olam is constantly in front of me, or more properly phrased – if I am aware that I am always in the presence of the Ribbono shel Olam, then direct result of that is “Shiviti”. I retain my sense of serenity and equanimity because He is in control. That sense of Bitachon, which we generally associate with material matters, is equally relevant with spiritual matters as well^[10]. We do the best we can to perform a given mitzvah with the time we have, but ultimately, “Shiviti”.

Easier said than done. How can we inculcate the middah of Menuchas Hanefesh into our lives? This is a twofold process. First, we must practice being serene. R’ Zelig Plisken’s book Serenity: Formulas Stories and Insights is a wonderful place to begin, with practical tips for practicing serenity in all situations – all involving the ability to bring oneself back to the present moment, fully. But how do make this second-nature, or at the very least, a state that we can easily access at will? The Rambam answered this questions for us – constant repetition is the only answer.^[11] There are no shortcuts. Only constant, and consistent practice, again and again, will allow us to be more comfortable and able to access a state of serenity and Menuchas HaNefesh when we most need it.

Ratzon Hashem

Until now we have discussed the notion of maintaining a sense of calm and serenity while in the midst of a stressful mitzvah-related environment through the prism of middos. However, there is an additional approach worth considering, which relates to the place of kiyum hamitzvos within the broader context of Avodas Hashem. This approach assumes that indeed, kiyum hamitzvos is not necessarily synonymous with Avodas Hashem, but rather a component of it. To illustrate this concept, it is necessary to discuss and learn from the example set by R’ Moshe Twersky Hy”d.

The terrorist attack that was committed in Har Nof in November 2014 affected me deeply. Beyond the crusader-like barbarity of the killings of 5 Jews and the context in which they occurred – in shul, during davening, while those murdered were wrapped in Tallis and Tefillin - the life stories of the victims were especially moving. But the one whose story had a particular impact on me was that of R’ Mosheh Twersky Hy”d. My maternal grandfather was a close and devoted talmid of the Talner Rebbe, R’ Yitzchak Twersky zt”l^[12] . R’ Twersky was and still is a towering spiritual presence for my family, and his Torah and derech in Avodas Hashem have a major influence on my life. R’ Mosheh was the Talner Rebbe’s son, and his death, while I never met him personally, shook me deeply. About a month after his death, his brother, R’ Mayer Twersky, gave a hesped at a shloshim event.^[13] It is not an understatement to say that his hesped changed my life. One of the most powerful parts of the hesped, is when R’ Mayer said the following:

“There was a certain t’mimus in my brother’s life… I was outside our shiur room and very focused on entering the shiur room, beginning to learn, and a woman... whose husband is very ill, who has great need, stopped me. I was about to politely brush her aside and tell her that I can’t now. And at the moment, דמות דיוקנו של אחי הקדוש. appeared to me. Let me explain… I live a fragmented life. There are times when I learn a bit of Torah, do some mitzvos. And then there’s other times. Theres Torah, and there’s me. That fragmentation spills over to the way one approaches mitzvos as well. A mitzva becomes a self-contained distinct obligation, and it’s that self contained distinct obligation that I was focused upon, and this was an interference, a disruption. What did the דמות דיוקנו remind me? My brother was never focused on Talmud torah per se, on Kiyum Hamitzvos per se. He was focused on being mekayem Retzon Hashem. If there’s no fragmentation in one’s life, if there’s a wholesomeness, a “תמים תהיה”, every ounce and fiber of one’s being is with Hashem Elokecha, there’s a t’mimus. If right now the Retzon Hashem is to detour and not to go into the class, and lend a sympathetic ear to someone who needs it, so then it’s not a disruption. When one lives a fragmented existence – there’s me, my hobbies and desires, and there’s Torah, so then even within Torah there are distinct obligations. Right now, there’s this; another mitzvah becomes an interference when one lives a fragmented existence. My brother lived a wholesome existence – a life of t’mimus. Every moment possible he was learning. If there were אומללים and מרי נפש who were unfortunate souls who needed him, he could listen for hours and hours and hours – with interminable patience. And it wasn’t disrupting him. It wasn’t interfering with what he should have been doing, because there was a wholesomeness to his life – because there was a continuum – he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. A moment ago, before this person called or knocked, Retzon Hashem was to be sitting over the Gemara, and now Retzon Hashem is to be sitting with this person. That wholesomeness wasn’t only in terms of the interplay between different mitzvos, which is why it was never viewed as a competition, an interference or a disruption. But that wholesomeness was also because of his fulfillment of בכל דרכיך דעהו. When what a person does is oriented towards Retzon Hashem, there’s a seamless transition, a wholesomeness to one’s life…”

[Ed. Note: Rav Twersky also spoke about this idea in the context of being a Ben Torah in the workforce, when he gave a shiur to the Shtark Tank community last year.]

If we take this concept of viewing the performance of a mitzva as part of a greater picture of fulfilling the will of the Ribbono shel Olam, it can be applied directly to the challenge of maintaining serenity in the home before, and during the Seder. If the need to rid the house of chametz, to prepare the Seder, and to fulfill the relevant mitzvos are their own, self-contained objective, then indeed, any factor which constitutes a hinderance to the proper fulfilment of those mitzvos will be a trigger for stress and tension. However, if the objective is not to rid the house of chametz per se, or to have the proper shiur of matza per se, but rather to fulfill the Retzon Hashem, than external circumstances which may otherwise have been perceived as a bother or an obstacle now become opportunities to shift gears, change course, and fulfill Retzon Hashem in other ways, no less important. This does not in anyway take away from the importance of an individual mitzvah and its uniqueness. It does however, contextualize it, and reminds us that what grants the Mitzvah its status as a Mitzvah is the fact that the Ribbono Shel Olam willed it so. And the Ribbono Shel Olam who willed the Mitzvah of Matza and the Issur of Chametz also willed that we treat our family and loved ones with kindness, love and respect. The two need not, and ought to not be contradictory.

Conclusion

The combined perspectives of Menuchas HaNefesh and reorienting our trajectory towards fulfilling a broader definition of kiyum Retzon Hashem can help us address the challenge of falling short of our spiritual and religious expectations vis-a-vis the experience of Leil HaSeder. Indeed, we may want to, and rightfully and properly so, not just perform the physical aspects of the mitzvos of the Seder, but to identify with and experience them emotionally as well. But what happens when that doesn’t end up happening because the children were being rowdy, or any other external factor which contributed to the Seder not turning out as we would have hoped?

From a Menuchas HaNefesh perspective, we must remind ourselves that the key to serenity lies not in our external circumstances, but in our internal convictions and attitudes. Bluntly put, the most exalted religious experience of them all – Matan Torah – the Ribbono shel Olam revealing Himself to the entirety of Knesset Yisrael, took place in a firestorm with thunder, lightning and an incredible amount of noise. In a desert. Not exactly ideal conditions for receiving the Torah and learning it with a peace of mind. But the external factors didn’t matter because we were in the presence of the Ribbono shel Olam, and we felt that palpably. If Menuchas HaNefesh is rooted in the sense of “Shiviti”, then even when things are getting rowdy and out of hand, in-laws and extended family are stressing us out, or if we’re just not “feeling it”^[14], then we can bring ourselves back to that place of “Shiviti”, and remember that we are always in the presence of the Ribbono shel Olam. All other external factors aren’t relevant. And we will try, calmy and serenely, with the Ribbono shel Olam at our side, to guide the Seder back to the atmosphere we were aiming for.

D’recheha Darcehi Noam. The ways of Torah are ways of pleasantness. Pikudei Hashem Yesharim M’samchei Lev. Mitzvos should invoke a sense of serenity and joy from fulfilling the will of the Ribbono shel Olam. They need not become a source of anxiety and tension – not vis-a-vis one’s self, nor one’s family and loved ones.

These two perspectives - the approach of the Alter of Kelm and the Baal Shem Tov - the attempt to strengthen within ourselves the capacity to be serene and maintain equanimity on the one hand, and the Derech ha-Chaim of R’ Moshe Twersky Hy”d - of viewing the days of preparation for Pesach not as a self-contained objective, but as an avenue to fulfill the Retzon Hashem which ought not supersede other avenues related to the realm of bein adam l’chaveiro – can help us merit to have both a chag kasher and a chag sameach!

^[1] Devarim 16:3

^[2] When the Beis Hamikdash will be rebuilt, the Korban Pesach – one of only two mitzvos aseh which carry a chiyuv kares if not fulfilled (the other being Bris Milah) -will also have to be prepared and arranged properly.

^[3] Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik addressed the similarities between these two nights. See R’ Dr. Aaaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, The Rav: The World of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Volume 2, Pages 172-173.

^[4] Rambam, Hilchot Chametz U’Matzah 7:6

^[5] Mishna Shabbat 2:7

^[6] Hilchos De’os 1:6

^[7] Chochma U’mussar 1:152

^[8] Mesillas Yesharim 19.

^[9] Tzav’as haRibash, 1

^[10] The Steipler Gaon, R’ Yaakov Yisrael Kanievesky, discusses this idea with regards to ones achievements in the realm of Talmud Torah (see Eitzos V’hadrachos by R’ Mordechai Greenwald, page 103). Perhaps R’ Tarfon’s dictum in Pirkei Avot (2:16) – "לא עליך המלאכה לגמור" – can be applied in our context as well.

^[11] Hilchot De’ot 1:7

^[12] Known in academic circles as Prof. Isadore Twersky, who’s expertise in the field of medieval Jewish philosophy is world-renowned.

^[13] The exact venue escapes me and unfortunately, the youtube link to the hesped can no longer be found.

^[14] My Rebbeim at Yeshivat Har Etzion would often quote the founding Rosh Yeshiva, R’ Yehuda Amital ZT”l, about such a feeling on Yom Kippur. A person can spend an entire Elul preparing, learning about Teshuvah, doing Teshuva, thinking about the concepts and ideas of the unique opportunities of closeness to Hakadosh Baruch Hu that the Yamim Noraim offer. But sometimes, Yom Kippur comes, or sometimes even Nei’lah – the apex of the day – and there’s just no gas left in the tank. One can feel burned out, unable to connect or feel the gravitas of the moment. R’ Amital would say that even in those situations, one must accept the fact that he’s not “feeling it”, and with those feelings honestly turn to Hashem in tefillah. A component of “לעבדך באמת” – to serve Hashem in truth, is to be honest with one’s self in matters such as these, and to allow yourself to come as you are – באשר הוא שם- before Hashem. Such tefillot , and by extension, a Leil HaSeder, done in self- honesty, are also precious and dear to the Ribbono Shel Olam.