Armed with Chesed: Shvi’i/Acharon Shel Pesach

The Torah tells us:
“וחמשים עלו בני ישראל מארץ מצרים” – And the Children of Israel were ‘armed’ when they went up from Mitzrayim (Shemos 13:18).

Now, Rashi jumps right in and gives us two explanations. The first is the straightforward one — chamushim means they were physically armed, they had weapons. But that leads us to ask: what weapons? They barely had time to bake their bread! How could they have gathered swords and shields? It’s a strong question on the pshat.

So Rashi brings a second interpretation from the Midrash. Chamushim shares the root with chomesh, meaning a fifth. Only one-fifth of the Jewish people actually left Egypt. The other four-fifths? Tragically, they perished during the plague of darkness. Why? Because they weren’t ready to leave. They were comfortable in Egypt. Sure, they didn’t want to be slaves — but they weren’t ready to become a nation of Hashem either. They couldn’t let go of Egypt, and they were left behind.

But then comes a third explanation — from Targum Yonasan ben Uziel. He says that each Jew left Mitzrayim with five children. That’s a surprising detail. Why five? And how would that be consistent across all families, especially considering the miraculous birth rates we know about from Egypt — six at a time!

And then, Rav Yosef Salant zt”l enters the picture and ties everything together masterfully in his Be’er Yosef.

He brings in a fourth approach from the Targum Yerushalmi — that their “weapons” were not swords or spears at all, but mitzvos and ma’asim tovim — good deeds. But this raises another question: didn’t we say they were spiritually bare at the time? Isn’t that why Hashem gave us the blood of the Pesach and milah? The Haggadah even quotes the pasuk, “ואת ערם ועריה” – we were spiritually naked!

So what mitzvos are we talking about?

Here’s the brilliance of Rav Salant’s answer:

Yes, only one-fifth of the Jewish people left Egypt. But what happened to the children of the other four-fifths? According to halacha, the death penalty only applies from age 20 and up. So the younger generations — all the kids — survived. That means four out of every five families were left without parents.

And do you know what the one-fifth who survived did? They adopted those children. They took in those orphans, they raised them, they made them their own. That’s why Targum Yonasan says each man left Mitzrayim with five children — his own family, plus four more.

And that is the mitzvah. That is the ma’asim tovim. That is the weapon the Jews carried with them out of Egypt.

And so, all four interpretations come together as one beautiful picture:

• Only one-fifth left Egypt.
• They were armed — not with swords, but with chesed.
• They took in orphans and raised them as their own.
• And so they earned mitzvos and good deeds that were like spiritual armor.

This gives new depth to the pasuk in Yirmiyahu:
“זכרתי לך חסד נעוריך” — I remember the kindness of your youth.
It’s usually explained as our emunah, our willingness to follow Hashem into the desert. But Rav Salant says it may also refer to this act of pure chesed — adopting four families each, raising a nation in a moment of compassion.

That’s why the Seder begins with “כל דכפין ייתי ויכול” — let all who are hungry come and eat. It echoes the great act of kindness that brought us out of Egypt in the first place.

And that’s why, now, when the world feels like it’s wrapped in darkness once again, we must remember our true armor — chesed.
That’s what protected us in Mitzrayim.
That’s what will protect us now.

And now we come to Acharon Shel Pesach.

Why is it called “Acharon Shel Pesach” — the last day? We don’t call the end of Sukkos “Acharon Shel Sukkos,” or the end of Shavuos “Acharon Shel Shavuos.” So why here?

The Navi Yirmiyahu tells us that there will come a time when we won’t even mention the Exodus anymore. Not because we’ll forget it — but because it will be eclipsed by a new redemption: the Geulah Sheleimah. The final one. The one we’re still waiting for.

So we call it “Acharon Shel Pesach” — not just because it’s the last day, but because we’re davening, please, Hashem, let this be the last Pesach in galus.

Let this be the year we stop looking back to Mitzrayim — because Moshiach has come, and we have something greater to celebrate.

We talk a lot about the phrase “sheleimah” – teshuvah sheleimah, refuah sheleimah, emunah sheleimah, geulah sheleimah.

Rav Nissan Kaplan shlita explains:
Each one doesn’t just mean “a lot” — it means complete. Permanent.

• Teshuvah Sheleimah means the kind of repentance where Hashem Himself can testify: this person will never return to that sin.
• Refuah Sheleimah means not just healing, but that the illness never comes back.
• Emunah Sheleimah means our faith stays strong even through the hardest test.
• And Geulah Sheleimah? That means no more back and forth. No more exiles. It means we’re finally home.

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So as we stand at the end of Pesach, the final day, we say:

Ribono Shel Olam — please let it be complete.
Let our teshuvah be real.
Let our sick be healed — forever.
Let our emunah be unshakable.
And let the Geulah finally come. No more waiting. No more pain.

We can already hear the footsteps of Moshiach.

Please, Hashem — open the door.

אמן כן יהי רצון.