COMMENTARY
April 2022
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Passover reimagined Rabbi Howard S. Herman DD
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he story we tell during the Passover Seder reminds us, repeatedly, that we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Part of the celebration of the Seder is feeling pride that we broke the bonds of slavery to become a free people. It is imprinted within us to never enslave anyone and to take care of the stranger because we, too, know what it means to feel the degradation of being a slave/stranger. We hear about hunger, homelessness and oppression. We read, “This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.” Yet, we function in a society where forms of slavery and treating strangers poorly are the norm. We sometimes pay it lip service; we sometimes rise to heightened
awareness of its existence; we even, sometimes, write letters to the proper authorities to create a civic awareness that some things need to change. And that, my friends, is the essence of Pesach. Change! In his book, “Conquering Fear: Living Boldly in an Uncertain World,” Rabbi Harold Kushner tells us, “Change is unsettling; we crave the familiar. Our brains register serious discomfort when things aren’t what and where we expect them to be. It is a lot more efficient to be able to do things the way you have always done them, without having to think about it.” Like it or not, change is life’s only constant. As the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, put it more than a couple of millennia ago, “Nothing endures but change.” We live in an age of uncertainty and doubt. I find it fascinating and revealing that the question — one of unknowing — shares its origins with the distinct feelings of the Israelites throughout the Passover story. Imagine yourself in their situation, being told that they have to leave all they
knew and travel through an unknown desert, led by an individual they were not sure they trusted. Egypt was oppressive and scary. Facing a complete revolution of time and space feels dangerous and scary, too. They might have hesitated because it was scary. As a popular expression reminds us, “Better the devil you know then the devil you don’t know.” This year, when we relive the story of our own liberation, we can also think of how COVID has exacerbated so many of the inequalities facing vulnerable communities around the world, deepening the challenges of poverty, violence, discrimination and other afflictions. Passover needs to inspire us to take a more meaningful role in hastening freedom for women, girls, LGBTQI+ people, indigenous communities, religious and ethnic minorities, and other marginalized groups around the world. The essential message of Passover is one of freedom and the will to persevere with faith against all odds. The story of the Exodus is a metaphor that is appreciated
by Jews and all people of faith. As “A Haggadah for Justice” says, “The Babylonian Talmud reminds us that it is imperative for us to take care of all in our community, even the poorest person, during Passover and throughout the year.” It is imperative for us to remember those who need a second chance. The Jews from Egypt who limped away from their captors, with them hot and heavy on their heels, looked to build a new society based on the values and ethics that were inherent to their souls. Crossing the Red Sea was scary, with the walls of water on either side keeping them alert, anxious and focused. They came through as a community. We, too, need to move forward as a community. A community where justice and equity, so sorely lacking today for so many, is the focus of our march so that it is possible to, indeed, live in a better, more honorable and just world. A zissen Pesach to all. Rabbi Howard S. Herman DD serves at Naples Jewish Congregation.
Later in its narrative, the Haggadah offers a second answer to Ma Nishtana. After the parable of the Four Sons, we read, “Mitchilah Avdei Avodah Zara Hayu Avoteinu (From the beginning, our ancestors were idolaters, but now Hamakom [God] has brought us close to Him to serve Him).” Here, the Haggadah focuses us on the spiritual nature of the experience. We were idolaters, distant from God. But God brought us close and allowed us the experience of worshipping Him, thereby redeeming us as spiritual beings. It is not by accident that the Haggadah, at this point, speaks of God using spiritual rather than physical imagery: Hamakom (“The Place”), a being that has no physical boundaries and, therefore, encompasses everywhere. A being that is wholly spiritual. Our distance from God was a spiritual distance, our suffering was spiritual suffering, and God, forever empathizing with his People Israel, acted spiritually to redeem us. These two perspectives on God’s redemption of the Jewish people exist in the Haggadah side by side, but independent of one another. Each follows the Mishnah’s dictum to speak of our humble beginnings and of the glory to which God has brought us; but each does so according to a different understanding of redemption, physical or spiritual. The parable of the Four Sons suggests that the two perspectives are included in the Haggadah because each speaks to a different set of “sons.” For some, physical suffering and the need for worldly redemption is paramount. The importance of the Exodus lies in the promise that it holds for ending all human suffering. The only meaningful answer to the night’s question is that of Avadim Hayinu, we were slaves. For others, spiritual distance from God is the ultimate exile. The Exodus is important for the promise it holds that
God reaches out to us and that we can reach back. For these, the only meaningful answer is that of Mitchilah Avdei Avodah Zara Hayu Avoteinu. Offered together, the two perspectives provide a vision of redemption that allows Jews of all persuasions to sit
together and proclaim, “Baruch Hamakom Baruch Hu (Blessed be the Place [God], Blessed be He).” Blessings to all for a joyful and meaningful Passover. Rabbi Ammos Chorny ser ves at Beth Tikvah.
Redemption Rabbi Ammos Chorny
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he Passover Haggadah offers not one, but two answers to the perennial question, “Ma Nishtanah Halayla Hazeh (Why is this night different from all other nights?)” Immediately following the four questions, we read, “Avadim hayinu l’pharoh b’mitzrayim (We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt),” focusing us on the physicality of the experience in Egypt. We slaved for Pharaoh bodily; we suffered physically, and God redeemed us. It is not by accident that the Haggadah, at this point, uses strong physical imagery in invoking God’s role in the Exodus: “…and the Eternal our God brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.” Our experience was a physical experience; our suffering was bodily suffering; and God, forever empathizing with his People Israel, used physical means to redeem us. The Haggadah goes on to tell us, “Had the Holy One Blessed Be He not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, we and our descendants would still be enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt.” As explained by Maharal, God’s redemption of our ancestors from their suffering in Egypt holds in it the promise of redemption from all current and future suffering. We suffered and, by redeeming us, God demonstrated that it is possible to end suffering. In doing so, He provided a model for us to emulate, acting to redeem all who suffer. Had God not redeemed us, we would not have known that it is possible to act to end suffering and “we and our children and our children’s children would still be slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt.”
