In the Haggadah this week, we read “Even if: all of us were filled with wisdom; all of us blessed with understanding; all of us elders, well-versed in living; all of us sages well-versed in Torah, still it would be our sacred obligation to tell and retell the story of our exodus from Egypt.” Why? Because, as this quote from Abraham Joshua Heschel says in our prayerbook, “We are a people in whom the past endures, in whom the present is inconceivable without moments gone by. The Exodus lasted a moment, a moment enduring forever. What happened once upon a time happens all the time.”
In every moment, there is a people enslaved and oppressed calling out for redemption. In every age and every generation, we are commanded to see ourselves as the ones who went out from Egypt. This identity connects our story to the contemporary suffering others experience. When the Torah instructs us concerning the protection of vulnerable populations like widows, orphans, and immigrants, it often does so with the reminder that we were once ourselves slaves in Egypt. Our liberation is bound up with that of all peoples, none of us is free until we all are. So, even as we recline at the Seder this week, it is incumbent on each of us to see the fetters of wickedness and yokes of oppression still present in the world today. We, inheritors of this sacred tradition, must strive to unlock those fetters and break every yoke.
This is the central difference between the wise child and the wicked child we discuss in the Haggadah: both have essentially the same query, but the wicked child frames their question external to themselves. Ben Zoma teaches in Pirkei Avot (4:1) that the one who is wise must learn from all people, so too we must see our story in others’. As Edmond Fleg so eloquently wrote, “I am a Jew because in every place where suffering weeps, I weep.” So, even in our joyous Pesach festival, we keep those who still suffer at the top of our minds. If the words of the Seder do not inspire us to action, then they are nothing more than meaningless and empty vanities. If our bread of affliction does not remind us to provide for the hungry, it may as well be cake. If the memory of our people’s slavery in Egypt is subjugated to our particular experience, it is doomed to be forgotten. But this is what makes the Exodus a great story, one that will never be forgotten: our story is timeless because it invites every oppressed people to believe that redemption is possible; because it calls us into relationship with them; and demands that we stand by their side until they too can sing of freedom. The song of freedom is not a solo. It demands the harmonies of all people together. So, this Passover, let us sing. This Passover, let us share our story as one still unfolding.
Under the guidance of our medical advisory committee, we have moved to an optional masking policy for worship. We will continue to watch the numbers and, in accordance with the CDC, will update the policy as necessary. With unmasking, it will be even more important to monitor yourself and to stay home if you are experiencing any symptoms or have been a close contact.to anyone with a confirmed case. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.
