The foundation of the age-long tradition of celebrating the Passover Seder derives from a statement in the Mishnah which says, “In every generation, each inpidual is obligated to see him/herself as if he/she personally was redeemed from Egypt. As the Torah teaches ‘You shall teach your children on that day, saying it is because of what the Lord did for me when I went free from Egypt…’” Each year as we recite the Seder, we say these words that embody the entirety of the Seder’s imperative. Our mission of the evening is to relive the experience of our ancestors, and our Seder is the re-enactment of the last night of slavery. But, thousands of years after our liberation, why are we still so obsessed with taking upon ourselves this experience. After all, given the choice, most of us would be more than happy to release ourselves of any traces of the darkest moments of our lives. So, why, do we hold on so tightly to the memories of the darkest moments of our ancient ancestors’ lives?
Our Seder is full of questions, some of which are answered explicitly or implicitly through the text and through the customs and rituals of the evening. There are indeed things about this night that are different than other nights and it is no wonder that the child is taught to ask the four questions inquiring about all of the strange things going on at the table. After all, bread is basic to eating, and all of a sudden, as Passover begins, all bread is cleared out and only strange flat boards of matzah appear on the table. Likewise, on other nights, dinner includes all kinds of vegetables – broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, salad, etc. And, on Passover, we eat maror (horseradish)? Not exactly your run of the mill vegetable. Moreover, the child asks why on this night do we dip our foods in one another. On any other night, most parents scold their children for playing with their food and now all of a sudden we’re supposed to play with our food. And, why, asks the child, are we allowed to lean and lie back at the table when all other nights we have to sit up and mind our manners? Yet, after all has been said and done, even if we say, chant or recite every word of the Seder, we never really find an answer to the question of why we continue to cling to this experience.
The answer to the question is found in the Exodus itself. Exodus gave us freedom, philosophy and ethics and theology. Because we were strangers in Egypt, we know the heart of the stranger, the plight of the weak, and despair of the homeless. Through the re-reading of the book of Exodus and the reference to it elsewhere in the Bible, we begin to see why reliving the experience is important to our Jewish identity and growth. A couple of examples to consider:
In Exodus chapter 20, the Torah says “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. You shall have no other gods besides me.” The Torah could have simply stated “I am the Lord your God”. After all, if there is only one God, why would it need to specify that this is the God that brought us out of Egypt. By adding the phrase, the Torah makes the experience of God more personal, experiential and distinctively Jewish. Our God is not simply an idea or being that is independent of us. This is a concept of God who watches over the plight of God’s people and leads us to liberation, inpidually and collectively. If God is present in the inpidual experiences of our ancestors, then so, too, is God present in our lives. Furthermore, this is a concept of a God who acts in history and is present on our personal journeys. And so, the Exodus becomes the foundation for Jewish theology and our reliving it solidifies our own theology.
Why is this important?
The Exodus also teaches us about Ethics. Exodus 22:20 says “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. You shall not ill treat any widow or orphan.” 36 different times the Torah calls upon us to act in specific ways because “you were strangers in the land of Egypt”. Why is the Torah so obsessed with this idea? Though most of us would probably say that when we have experienced what others are experiencing, we can more easily empathize with them and would be of greater assistance. Nonetheless, the empirical evidence would indicate that this is not always present in human behavior. And so, the Torah comes to teach us the importance of our own memory in creating a system of morals and ethics. Because we were oppressed in Egypt and we remember that experience, we have an obligation to insure that others are not oppressed. Therefore, the Seder helps remind us of a need to create compassion for others through own memories. Abraham Joshua Heschel, one of the most well known Jewish philosophers of our century, held a strong conviction to this idea. He suggested that faith is not simply and affirmation of beliefs – it is loyalty to memories, and that the biggest spiritual problem is distraction.
And so, as Rabbi Harold Schulweis suggests, on Passover, we eat theology and drink ethics. Our food and drink, our table, our discussion, our posture and gestures, and our singing all help us experience the oppressions and redemption and allow us to process the memories. Our Seder customs are not simply ritualistic acts of fulfilling commandments, but they are inherently a part of how we relate to God and how we seek liberation for ourselves and others in the modern world.
As we celebrate Passover this year, and we participate in all of the “strange” behaviors of the evening, may we all be blessed to identify those things in our lives for which we can truly be grateful and those things that still enslave us. May we also find within ourselves the memories of our own struggles that can help spur us into action to help others find liberation from that which enslaves them.
Hag kasher V’sameach! Happy and Kosher Passover.