The Torah’s weaving of command and story around chametz in Parashat Bo suggests a powerful message: when people are slow to change, providence sometimes rearranges reality so that we “live” a mitzvah before we can fully choose it, training us to confront the inner chametz of ego and habit.
Shemot 12 begins with clear, assertive instructions.
- “Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread; on the first day, you shall remove leaven from your houses, for whoever eats chametz… that soul shall be cut off from Israel.” (Shemot 12:15)
- The section continues with repeated prohibitions: no chametz may be present, no chametz may be consumed, only matzot. (Shemot 12:17–20)
Right in the middle of these commands, the narrative cuts in:
- The Egyptians urged the people to hurry and send them out of the land… So the people took their dough before it was leavened, with their kneading bowls wrapped in their cloaks…” (Shemot 12:33–34)
- Later, the Torah explains: “They baked the dough which they had brought out of Egypt into cakes of matzah, for it had not leavened, because they were driven out of Egypt and could not delay; and they had not prepared any provisions for themselves.” (Shemot 12:39)
The contrast is striking: a clear divine command not to have or eat chametz—yet a story that suggests the only reason they ate matzah was because they were in a rush.
Viewed this way, the text suggests that if left to their own devices, the people might just do what they always did: let the dough rise and eat regular bread. The command is new, their spiritual strength is weak, and the old habits of Egypt are still strong. However, the result aligns exactly with the command: they end up with matzah, not chametz.
The force behind this obedience isn’t Israel’s willpower but the Egyptians’ panic: “the Egyptians urged the people… for they said, ‘We are all dead men.’” (Shemot 12:33) Through that panic, God creates a world in which there is literally “no time” for chametz. History itself becomes a kind of divine barrier: reality narrows the gap between command and action while Israel remains spiritually sluggish.
This is a picture of providence working with human inertia. At the start of a person’s religious journey, God does not simply say, “Here is the law—now become ideal observers overnight.” Instead, God shapes circumstances so that the first act of the mitzvah occurs almost despite them. The people’s choice is real—they are leaving, they are following Moshe—but the specific form of their obedience (matzah rather than chametz) is “midwifed” by pressure and haste.
Later Jewish thought broadens this by interpreting chametz as more than just a food category. Chametz symbolizes inflated self, ego, and over-expansion, while matzah stands for simplicity, humility, and faith.
- As Sefer HaChinuch explains (Sefer HaChinukh 19-21), the purpose of eating matzah and avoiding chametz is to embed the memory of the Exodus and God’s miracles so deeply in our behavior that it shapes our character—reducing pride and self-reliance and instead grounding us in gratitude and faith.
- Many teachers observe that the physical process reflects the inner one: dough that sits and swells is similar to a person whose ego, worries, and stories “rise” when given too much space. Matzah, flat and quick, represents a simple self that can move when God says “Go.”
Viewed in this way, the Israelites are not only too slow to knead differently; they are not yet able to voluntarily diminish their inner chametz. Slaves who are suddenly told, “You are a people of God, keep a calendar, reorder your diet and your time” are likely to cling to what feels familiar. The hurried exodus therefore impacts not only the dough but the soul: there is no time to puff up—physically or spiritually.
God, so to speak, “pre-emptively” humbles Israel from the outside before they can willingly choose humility from the inside. The first matzah represents enforced simplicity: no elaborate loaves, no patient waiting, just the bare essentials grabbed on the way out.
The Torah then transforms that once‑forced behavior into an annual, chosen practice:
- “You shall observe the Feast of Matzot, for on this very day I brought your hosts out of the land of Egypt; therefore you shall observe this day throughout your generations…” (Shemot 12:17)
- Every year, we are commanded to intentionally remove chametz, search for it, burn it, and choose to eat matzah—not because history left no time, but because we are reenacting and internalizing that first rushed transformation.
What was initially imposed by circumstances becomes a mitzvah we willingly embrace. The story, “because they were driven out of Egypt and could not delay,” turns into a charge: choose to live with less inner delay, less inner swelling, less inner Egypt.
This arc—from providence guiding us to mitzvah chosen by us—speaks profoundly to spiritual growth.
- Often, a person initially performs a mitzvah because life leaves them no choice: a crisis, a move, or a relationship falling apart, and suddenly they pray, keep Shabbat, or simplify their life.
- At first, it may seem accidental or forced, like the matzah of Exodus 12. Only later does that pattern turn into a deliberate choice: “This, it turns out, is how I want to live.”
Together, the parasha delivers a powerful message about our own inner chametz and inertia.
- There are times when reality “rushes” us—deadlines, crises, unexpected turns—and pushes us into simpler, humbler patterns: less time for elaborating excuses, less room for ego, more reliance on God and others.
- Those moments are not only unfortunate pressures; they can be our personal Yetziat Mitzrayim, in which providence narrows our options so that we taste matzah before we know how to bake it on purpose.
The invitation of the mitzvot of chametz and matzah is to shift from being pushed to walking. Instead of waiting for Egyptians—external pressures—to strip away our inflated plans, we can view Pesach and daily character work as opportunities to voluntarily remove a little inner chametz: one habit of pride, one layer of self-importance, one delaying excuse.
The first generation left with matzah because “they could not delay.” We, armed with the full story and the mitzvot, are asked to choose not to delay—to let providence and effort align—and to become the kind of people who no longer need to be hurried into humility.
