Passover Seders are over, but the week-long observance is not. Following Seders on Saturday and/or Sunday evening, Beth Israel and TMO (The Metropolitan Organization) held its annual Interfaith Seder at Beth Israel. It was underwritten by Alan Gover and his children Maxwell and Mary, in loving memory of Ellen Gover. Over 140 people gathered around tables where Beth Israel members acted as hosts, facilitating conversations and responding to questions. Rabbi Miller and I led the Seder and engaged the gathering in the lessons of the Exodus story.
Essential to our interfaith experience was the text we read in the Haggadah, “You know the heart of the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” It’s an ancient lesson, and it still speaks to us today. How does it speak to us? The Rabbis explained, “Do not scold your neighbor with a fault which is also your own.” The fault could be many things that would make this a true statement; but, the Rabbis focused on only one. The fault we share is our experience as slaves in Egypt. We were once strangers bound by laws and rules that suffocated our hopes for a life bounded by God’s love, alone, found in Torah and mitzvah.
That single, timeless, memory is essential to us as Jewish men and women who share a common outlook. Out of our Seder experiences come Jewish responses that reflect our deep association with our people’s past. Often, we link our sense of purpose to the aftermath of the Holocaust, but the “fault”, even though the Rabbis didn’t know of the Holocaust, remains the 430 years of slavery our people suffered in Egypt (yet, I would be inclined to consider the insights we could gain by linking the Rabbis’ teaching to the Holocaust). Egyptian bondage, alone, establishes our pursuit of social, religious and political liberty as more than a democratic right. It is a human right that is born with our commitment to uphold these norms for us and for all people. Remember that the wine we delicately withdraw from our cup at the Seder draws down our joy in the midst of Egyptian suffering. We may have been singled out as a people to receive God’s Covenant, sealed at Sinai, but it did not come with a codicil to inherit its teachings exclusively. All God’s children are welcome to choose the Covenant; and Judaism makes it clear when we recite, “On that day, God will be one, and God’s name will be one.”
In the future, we will address some of the toughest social, political and religious issues our nation has faced in a long time. We will have to make tough decisions to be sure that Americans have equal access to our nation’s assets and not only its liabilities. From whatever political perspective we may come, we must recall our Jewish record of real service to the neediest among us. If we remember the message of Passover and the promise of freedom, then there is much hope for us and for all God’s children. But, if you and I think that the story of Passover has little to do with us today, then we will have become the “wicked child” in the Haggadah, who disconnects himself from the fate of the Jewish people and the hope of all people.
The meaning of the Seder for us and for interfaith gatherings is not found in the bitterness of the slavery, but in the hope of the middle matzah. It’s the one we break in order to share our bread, our hope, with those who are still hungry for freedom. My faith in the future is connected to my faith in you, my community at Beth Israel.
From my desk to yours, Shabbat Shalom.
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