A Slice of Humble Pie: A Passover Message
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
April 3, 2023
While scrolling through the news feed the other day, I was struck by a posting about a fashion mavenista who advertised that for a mere $10,000 (financeable over a year for only 999 a month) she would post a personal thank you on Instagram.
At first I was astonished by the sheer chutzpa of this proposition. Then I remembered that memorabilia signed by famous people is actually lucrative business. So mah nishtanah? Why should this be any different from all other scams?
Human beings have always been awe-struck by fame and famous people. We call celebrities “stars” and are willing to practically throw ourselves at their feet for the slightest bit of recognition. I would call it a weird symptom except that it isn’t rare and actually goes back probably as far as humankind itself.
Just imagine what an autographed copy of the Torah would fetch today! (And how fortunate that this does not exist!)
The Passover story, replete with miracles and wonders, is actually an important lesson in the difference between excessive pride and down-to-earth humility. As was the custom in ancient days, Pharaoh saw himself as the epitome of culture and civilization, the very representative of the gods among whom he saw himself as a legitimate equal. He expected not only to be immediately obeyed, but also to be worshipped!
Moses, on the other hand, was the exact opposite—he ran away from the trappings of power, preferring the simple and anonymous life of a desert shepherd over all the riches and glory of ancient Egypt.
Today when we think of Passover, we think of the Seder dinner that we share with family and friends. Despite the work involved, we enjoy creating various dishes that mask the absence of any flour, and we celebrate the fact that the entire meal is centered on the crumbly and dry matzah, accompanied by a bitter spread that burns our mouth and brings tears to our eyes.
One of my favorite Seder traditions is eating matzah shmura, the large, thick, circular and practically charred matzahs that are prepared by hand, under strict supervision from field to oven, following the most rigorous rules and regulations of Jewish Law. The burnt flavor and coarse texture of this special matzah don’t so much a reflect my level of religious observance as they serve to remind me of my family’s history of despair and redemption during the Holocaust and in the years since then. Matzah shmura adds personal relevance to the overall experience of Passover.
Jewish tradition actually gives three different meanings to the humble matzah.
The Passover Haggadah calling it lechem ‘oni, “bread of affliction,” meant to remind us of our suffering at the hand of Pharaoh thousands of years ago.
The Torah has another explanation, telling us that the origin of the matzah is in the hurried departure of the Israelites from Egypt, which left no time for the dough to rise. As we may infer from the Torah’s teaching, matzah stands for the hurry and haste of the life of ordinary people, always short on time and energy yet always prepared, at a moment’s notice, to respond to God’s call.
And yet another interpretation for the humble pie we call matzah may be found in the detailed instructions for the sacrifices that were offered at the Tabernacle in the Wilderness and, later, at the Temple in Jerusalem. These gifts of food often included unleavened bread, made with the barest ingredients—flour and water—and nothing else.
With that, the offering of unleavened bread gains additional meaning: It reminds us to remain humble, not to let “hot air” inflate our egos, not to see ourselves as rich and powerful rulers, but rather as unassuming servants of a higher authority.
The Torah commands us to eat matzah for seven days (or eight, if we follow more strictly the rules of Halakha, Jewish law). And while for some this may be difficult or even impossible, even if we partake of it for only one night or one day, we must remember its lessons: First, it’s a reminder of the suffering we endured for so much of our history. Second, that we must always be prepared to heed and follow God’s call. And third—just because we sometimes are blinded by our overly inflated egos—that a piece of humble pie every once in a while serves us all well.
May the taste and message of the lowly matzah be sweet in our mouths this Passover, and may any tears of bitterness be transformed into joy and gladness for us all. A zissen Pesach—may this be a sweet and happy Passover for the whole community of Israel and for all who celebrate (or pray for) freedom and justice.
© 2023 by Boaz D. Heilman
Rabbi Heilman, The Seder tradition I most remember was keeping the door to my grandmother’s apartment slightly ajar and pouring an extra cup of wine should Elijah pick that night and our family to return to earth as Messiah. What was never explained to me however, was who John the Baptist was, the assumption about Elijah returning in the flesh vs. in the spirit, the Bereans who used the Torah to overcome their doubts about the Messiah, and other unsettling but fascinating aspects of the Old Testament as it relates to Passover and prophecy. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on this complex and meaningful subject. Wendy
ReplyDeleteJudaism and Christianity differ in many aspects, including Elijah's role and whether the messiah has already come (as in the Christian belief) or is yet to come (the Jewish belief). Today, as they have been for nearly 2000 years, the two religions are separate and must not be confused or conflated.
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