Encountering God in the Wilderness: Passover 2022
By Boaz D. Heilman
This year, as in all but three of the past 22 years, Passover and Easter coincide. This isn’t a mere coincidence—both holidays are celebrated on or around the first full moon of spring. Passover begins on the first evening of the full moon; Easter, on the Sunday following it.
There are other commonalities. The wine, the matzah and the shank-bone—representing the Paschal lamb: These took on new meaning for Christianity as the new religion pushed further away from the common roots it once shared with Judaism.
Sadly, the convergence of these two holidays wasn’t always peaceful. But at least in recent decades, there has been wider acceptance of Passover and its traditions, to the point where today there are many Christians who celebrate a Seder with their Jewish neighbors, friends and even families.
There are, of course, also those who celebrate a “Christian Seder.”
There are various reasons for this new phenomenon—not all legit. One belief is that since Jesus was a Jew (a view not widely accepted by all Christians), celebrating a Seder is one way of reconnecting with ancient roots, or perhaps understanding the mindset of the Christian Savior.
But of all the Jewish holidays, Passover—Pesach, in its Hebrew name—is not only the oldest, it’s also the most uniquely Jewish. From its very start, recounting the history of the Israelites, to its climax, retelling the Redemption from physical and cultural enslavement in Egypt, the narrative of Pesach follows the entire arc Jewish history, tradition, philosophy and theology.
Avadim hayinu— “We were slaves unto Pharaoh.” So begins our story, reminding us of our humble origins. Not descended from royal stock but rather from unassuming ancestry, we persevered in our beliefs and traditions despite oppression and persecution. “A fugitive Aramean was our father,” the story continues, an understatement if there ever was.
The Haggadah—the book we follow during the Seder meal—is centered around the account of the Exodus as it appears in the second book of the Torah. Yet even as the Haggadah describes the ten dreadful plagues brought upon Pharaoh and his subjects, it leaves out one important detail: Moses. It is God who brings about Redemption; God who causes the waters of the Nile to turn into blood; God who causes the natural disasters and then, ultimately, the most horrible affliction of all, the death of every Egyptian first-born.
By removing Moses from the story, the focus shifts to the struggle between God and an impostor: Pharaoh. It isn’t only a new people that emerges, but also a new belief—the belief in a God whose transcendent power to redeem comes from somewhere beyond Nature itself. It’s a moral God who takes the upper Hand, a God who demands empathy, not apathy; who teaches us to live with compassion in our hearts, not cruelty.
In its use of symbolic foods, the Seder reminds us of our Jewish history and traditions. The shank-bone and the burnt egg takes us back to the time when the Temple yet stood in Jerusalem, when the Israelites gathered to thank God with the Paschal sacrifice. The maror—bitter herbs—and the salt water in which we dip our vegetables recall the suffering we endured in the past. And the afikomen—the broken half of a matzah hidden for the children to find at the conclusion of the Seder—reinforces our belief in a future when there will be no more hunger or need.
And yet it isn’t all in God’s hands. In many Jewish homes, the story of the Exodus from Egypt is expanded to include personal stories of heroism and survival. The ancient past comes to life year after year. “In every generation we must see ourselves as though WE were redeemed from Egypt.” The purpose of this reminder is not abstract. It’s there to remind us of what slavery and oppression feel like. To forget this means not only that we lose a part of our past, but also of our charge to redeem those who are still oppressed and enslaved, those who still endure prejudice and discrimination.
May Passover, the Festival of Freedom, inspire us to carry forward the vision of our ancestors and the purpose we took upon ourselves when we encountered God in the Wilderness of Sinai. May the spirit of the Prophet Elijah infuse all our homes with sweetness and hope. May freedom, health, joy and peace come soon to a world sorely in need of these blessings.
© 2022 by Boaz D. Heilman
Rabbi Heilman, Can you explain why Jews reject that the prophet Elijah returned in power and spirit as John the Baptist? Thank you, Wendy
ReplyDeleteIn Jewish folklore Elijah is given the role of the spirit that inspires and brings hope. It will be Elijah who will announce the coming of the Messiah, in due time, and it will be Elijah who will answer those nagging questions that people have not been able to answer for themselves (e.g. should there be four or five cups of wine during the Passover Seder. The fifth cup, corresponding to the fifth promise of redemption has become Elijah's cup). In Jewish belief he is NOT transformed into another person, much less a figure in another religion. Judaism and Christianity may come from common sources but they differ in many ways. Elijah does not become John the Baptist, he remains a stalwart defender and proponent of JUDAISM, not Christianity. Those are two separate and distinct religions and, as I say, though they may stem from the same roots, they are not one and the same and may not be conflated. And by the way, Jews do not reject the prophet Elijah per se, but rather the Christian view of his role in the Christian belief system.
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