Rules! There are so many rules for Passover, and it all begins with chametz. The Torah explicitly forbids chametz—any of the five grains (wheat, barley, oats, spelt, rye) that have come into contact with water and been allowed to ferment or rise for more than 18 minutes. This includes: bread, pasta, most cereals; beer, whiskey, most grain-based alcohol; crackers, cookies, and cakes made with these grains; most soy sauce (which often contains wheat); and anything with these grains as ingredients.
The prohibition is so strict that not only are we forbidden from eating chametz, but we are also forbidden to own it. “No chametz shall be seen with you, and no chametz shall be found in your possession” (Exodus 13:7). Violating this is considered a serious transgression. So, what do you do with a full liquor cabinet, or a restaurant owner with thousands of dollars worth of whiskey, or a grocery store with an entire bread aisle? You have to sell it!
But do you take a loss? Here, a clever rabbinic loophole comes into play. Most people don’t arrange this themselves; instead, you authorize a rabbi—through a simple form or, nowadays, often online—to act as your agent and sell your chametz on your behalf. The rabbi conducts a single transaction, selling the chametz of the entire congregation to one non-Jewish buyer. There are rabbis who specialize in this, and major Jewish communities have designated buyers who perform this every year.
Once the transaction is complete, the chametz in your home or business must be hidden away. In our own unkosher home, my wife takes all our chametz and puts it in the pantry, sealing off the door with crime scene tape. It has a sort of resonance for her—put it aside! Turn away from it!
So, what does chametz symbolize? What’s so distasteful—almost toxic—about this substance? This is a sub-theme in our Passover observance. It’s not discussed directly in the Haggadah, but it’s there—hidden in my pantry! The main interpretation is that chametz represents ego, pride, and puffed-up-ness. What makes bread rise? Gas—air puffing it up, making it seem larger than it really is.
Matzah, in contrast, is what it is—no inflation, no pretense.
Matzah (מצה) and chametz (חמץ) differ by just one letter: matzah has a heh (ה), chametz has a chet (ח). They are nearly identical words separated by the thinnest orthographic line—something rabbis see as deeply meaningful. Freedom and slavery, humility and pride, are closer than we often realize.
At a deep level, the Passover purge is about removing the ego from our lives. It’s a spring cleaning of our inner selves. The strictness of the prohibition—not just “don’t eat it,” but “don’t own it, don’t even see it”—reflects the spiritual truth that ego isn’t just about minimizing it; it must be rooted out completely.
Certainly, recognizing moments of hubris and removing them should be an everyday practice. Passover reminds us to search our souls. The chametz fast helps recalibrate our self-awareness and how we might grow over time. Just as our Yom Kippur fast can lead to atonement, Passover can bring us back to our moment of liberation. We can free ourselves from chains and find redemption—all contained in a breadcrumb…
Before Shabbat 