Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus (Exodus 23:15) sets the pilgrimage: The feast of unleavened cakes thou shalt keep. Seven days thou art to eat unleavened bread, as I have instructed thee, in the time of the month of Abiba, because in it thou camest forth from Mizraim; and you shall not appear before Me empty.
The month of Abiba — Aviv, the month of green ears — is when the barley stands ripe in the Land of Israel. Spring. The memory of Exodus is anchored to this particular season, to this particular smell of growing grain.
The Prohibition of Empty Hands
The last clause is the striking one: you shall not appear before Me empty. Every pilgrim climbing up to Jerusalem for Pesach must bring something. An offering. A contribution. Not a single person shows up with only their own presence and no gift in hand.
The Torah's reasoning is psychological. Appearing before God is a transfer of something. You came up the road. You used your feet. Now the ritual asks for another transfer — of goods, of labor's fruit, of honest cost. The pilgrimage is not complete until your pocket has been opened.
Matzah as Memory
Seven days of matzah is not only a ritual — it is a re-enactment. You eat the bread of haste, the bread that did not have time to rise, the bread your ancestors carried out of Egypt on the run. For one week every year, the Jewish mouth tastes freedom in its unfinished form.
The Takeaway
Festivals in the Torah are not performances — they are meetings. And you do not come to a meeting with God carrying nothing. The Torah expects every pilgrim to arrive already giving.