By Rabbi Dan Lewin
Nissan

Nissan, the current month, derives its name from the Hebrew word for “miracle.” The common term for miracle — neis — also means something that is raised or elevated. One explanation is that a miracle lifts the seemingly ordinary natural order, revealing the divine orchestration behind it — something we might otherwise take for granted.

True choice is rare

Smack in the middle of this month named for miracles comes the all-encompassing festival of Pesach, the Festival of Freedom, which paved the way for the birth of the Jewish nation. But Pesach doesn’t just commemorate a collective liberation — it offers us the chance to experience something deeper. As we relive the Exodus and pass our heritage on to our children, we also touch a very personal kind of freedom.

True personal freedom, in simple terms, means not being bound by our innate inclinations — whether base desires, emotional reactions or rigid perceptions of reality. It’s the ability to exercise independent will, regardless of circumstance. But how often are our actions truly “free” decisions, rather than automatic responses driven by emotion or self-interest?

This question is addressed in a well-known mystical discourse taught during Nissan — one that challenges many assumptions about free will. Most of what we call “choice” is influenced by some internal or external pressure: logic, emotion, environment or personal gain. True free choice (bechirah chofshit) is not just the ability to pick between options. It only surfaces when the paths before us seem equally compelling. With no strong emotional or logical pull in either direction, we must dig deeper to decide. That’s when real choice begins.

This helps explain why, according to the esoteric teachings of Torah, choice is the soul’s most profound expression. Left on its own, the intellect will always lean toward self-interest. To keep the mind impartial, it must be guided by a deeper allegiance. At the same time, we are not meant to operate with intuition or faith alone. We must work actively with the mind — and through the mind — to choose wisely. That’s what makes real choices both rational and soul-driven.

During Pesach, as we follow the unique mitzvot of the holiday — eating the bread of faith and drinking the four cups of wine — the soul expands. We are infused with added strength to make those daily positive choices going forward. We emerge from the marathon nights of the Seder renewed, with greater clarity and less pull toward impulse.

Seudat Moshiach

Redemption is another central theme of Pesach. What began on the first night — the physical exodus from Egypt — carried within it the power for all future redemptions. Many assume that the Seder is the peak of the holiday, with the remaining days less potent or significant. But the spiritual energy of Pesach builds through the week, reaching its peak during the final days.

On the seventh day of Pesach, the Jewish people were finally and fully free from their enemies. The sea split in the ultimate miracle, the pursuing Egyptian army was swallowed, and the people burst into song — Shirat HaYam, read from the Torah on that day. But the eighth day looks forward. Its Haftorah, Isaiah 10:32–12:6, describes the “root of Yishai” — the Messianic figure — and the everlasting kingdom of Israel. According to the Zohar, “a reflection of the light of Moshiach” shines on this day.

Beginning with the Baal Shem Tov, and more widely publicized in 1906, a cherished Chassidic custom developed: on the final day of Pesach, we hold Seudat Moshiach — the Feast of Moshiach — and drink four cups of wine. The four cups at the Seder correspond to the four expressions of redemption in Exodus 6:6–8, with the final phrase alluding to the future era. Another explanation connects them to four punishments destined for the nations who oppressed us, and four corresponding “cups of comfort” to be poured for the Jewish people after their brutal journey through exile.

At Seudat Moshiach, the lens shifts. It’s a celebration of redemption, but unlike other festivals, we’re not commemorating a past event — we’re looking to the future. We draw strength from ancient wellsprings, rekindle our faith, and carry the spirit of redemption into the rest of the year. And in that gathering, with song and inspiring words, we confront a deeper question: How do we relate to this vision in a world so easily distracted and disillusioned?

Will There Be Miracles?

One major obstacle to transcendent vision and pure imagination is the way many once-meaningful terms have been co-opted, trivialized or distorted to serve modern ideological frameworks. Even in religious settings, we see the same trend. Concepts like the devil, prophecy or Moshiach are often sensationalized or laced with foreign imagery far removed from the Torah’s authentic view. As a result, when the real Redeemer arrives, the world may already be numb to the message. Fantastical portrayals of utopia can further cloud the teachings of our sages.

One of the most common questions people ask about the Messianic age is: Will there be miracles? Will the laws of nature be overturned?

On one hand, the Rambam (Maimonides) writes:

“Do not presume that in the Messianic age any facet of the world’s nature will change, or that there will be innovations in the work of creation. Rather, the world will continue according to its natural order. Although Isaiah 11:6 states, ‘The wolf will dwell with the lamb, and the leopard will lie down with the young goat,’ these words are metaphorical… and similar prophecies are likewise allegorical.”

Yet other sources appear to suggest the opposite. The Midrash Torat Kohanim, for example, teaches that even barren trees (ilanot serak) will bear fruit. Similarly, the final lines of Tractate Ketubot describe vivid, tangible changes to nature.

In a masterful treatment of this apparent contradiction, the Lubavitcher Rebbe brings together these classical sources, analyzes their implications and reaches a compelling conclusion: the future era — Yemot HaMoshiach — will unfold in two distinct stages.

And that takes us full circle — back to the themes of this month.

One of the core transformations of the final era is hinted at in Zechariah 14:9: “On that day, G-d will be One and His Name will be One.” In the esoteric works, this means the veil of nature (associated with the Divine Name Elokim) will be permanently lifted, and the human eye will perceive the miraculous divine energy (Havayah) that animates all existence.

But in a deeper sense, there’s also something uniquely precious about our current state. The tension between light and dark, good and evil, concealment and revelation — that’s what makes free choice possible. That difficulty, that inner struggle, will one day fade. The world will no longer teeter between the two forces but will progress only from good to greater. And so, while we long for that final era of peace and increased revelation, we can also cherish the merit of living now — when choosing the good path takes strength.

Rabbi Dan Lewin is director of the nonprofit Maayan Chai Foundation. For information, visitwww.maayan-chai.org.