This coming Saturday evening, Jews around the world will
gather in their homes or at synagogues and other communal venues along with
family members, guests and fellow congregants to celebrate the seder, the
ceremony that inaugurates the weeklong Passover holiday commemorating the
Israelites’ Exodus from Egypt and their liberation from bondage. The seder is at one and the same time a liturgy, an educational experience, a symbolic re-enactment
of events from the ancient past, and, above all, the telling of a story, all
centered around a multi-course meal. The story that is told is the narrative of
the Israelite people’s humble beginnings as slaves to Egypt’s pharaohs and
God’s deliverance of them from their plight and setting them free.
Seder means “order,” and the evening proceeds through
a prescribed series of recitations and ritual acts. Leader and participants
read from a book called the Haggadah (the word appropriately enough
means “telling”). Although questions and sharing of thoughts about the Passover
story and its meaning are not only permitted at a seder but encouraged, for the
most part seders that I have attended or led have generally adhered closely to
the text of the Haggadah without additional discussion. The traditional Haggadah grew organically over the centuries and comprises passages from the Scriptures,
Talmud and Midrash as well as songs from the Middle Ages. The Haggadah has been the most widely published Jewish book and the one that has appeared in
the most varied editions. There have been illuminated manuscripts of the Haggadah that were produced in the Middle Ages, contemporary printed Haggadot with illustrations by noted artists, and Haggadot put out by the Reform
and Conservative Jewish movements with additions to and modest or more
extensive changes from the traditional text, and with supplementary commentary.
Outside of Israel, Haggadot are printed with an accompanying translation
into the vernacular language. Last but not least, there are family-friendly Haggadot designed to make the story more understandable to young children and to keep
their interest throughout the evening.
Elie Wiesel once said that God created humans because God
loves stories. Storytelling has been a feature of human civilization since time
immemorial. We listen to and tell stories about others, because they resonate
with our own experience and convey a deeper knowledge and appreciation of the
human condition. As members of a group, the stories we tell about our
beginnings and our past, about our triumphs and travails, and about our hopes
and aspirations impart a sense of identity and cohesion and provide us with
lessons about how we should live our lives today.
Uncovering the historic facts which underly the stories told
by scripture and by the Haggadah are the realm of the academic historian
and are certainly beyond my ken. The scriptures were not intended as a history
book, and the stories have a validity and a relevance beyond their historical
accuracy.
When I read the Haggadah, as I will be doing along
with my family and friends this coming Saturday evening, I will be fulfilling a
mitzvah, a religious obligation, to tell the story of the Exodus. The
telling, as the Torah makes clear, is especially meant for the benefit
of the younger generation at the seder table. (Exodus 12:26 and 13:8;
Deuteronomy 6:20). It is an affirmation of my belief that God wants us – the human race without distinction– to enjoy
the blessings of freedom, that God despises enslavement, oppression and
exploitation, which are a desecration of the Divine image in which we are all
created. At the seder, we taste the bitter herb, which symbolizes the
harshness of slavery, only after we have eaten a piece of the unleavened bread,
which reminds us of the Israelites’ hurried flight to freedom. Only when the
slaves had their first experience of freedom, did they fully realize how bitter
the life of the slave is; and even when we personally are enjoying our own
freedom, we are obligated to attend to the plight of those not so fortunate,
who are still enduring oppression. The ultimate lesson of the Passover story
for me is empathy, a quality so very desperately needed in our world today.
“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger,
having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 23:9).
Rabbi Barry Marks is rabbi emeritus of Temple Israel in
Springfield.
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