My first article in these pages was about “scruffy hospitality.” Dedicated readers of this esteemed column will recall that I encouraged us all to embrace the dust in the corners and the toys on the couch in the interest of welcoming more people into our home – and thus, our community. (I stand by that, by the way, even as I panicked about the literal dust in the corners only minutes before my Seder.)
Continual antisemitism and its significant recent rise poses the question: How do we personally respond to antisemitism in our daily lives? Do we each have enough knowledge and diplomacy to convince reasonable persons that they are misinformed about Jews? If not, what do we need to know? Are we going to be bystanders or upstanders?
As we approach Passover, we are reminded of the incredible journey of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt to freedom. Passover is a time to reflect on the miracles that shaped our history and to renew our sense of hope and faith in the possibility of redemption.
It was a dark and quiet evening; we walked into a forest where we were confronted with a large grave. The grave contained 801 children who were brutally murdered for one reason and one reason only – they were Jewish.
Last year on Passover, the anti-Israel group Jewish Voice for Peace staged what they called an anti-Zionist Seder at the University of Southern California.
I was bewildered at how such a Seder can even be constructed. The following serves as my open letter to JVP, going through each of the Seder’s 14 steps and demonstrating how each and every step contains a connection to the Holy Land:
The Torah commands that leavening, chametz, disappear from Jewish homes and lives for the duration of Passover. For many, the mitzvah extends much further: thoroughly cleaning homes down to the smallest crumb, removing from storage special Passover dishes and utensils, and selling or otherwise disposing of all leavening a family owns.
On May 5, 2000, I delivered a very strong message to the community about Passover. In reading it over again, I think it is even more true today. It was based on remarks of the late blessed Lubavitcher Rebbe. He wanted to know where the fifth son was from the Passover Haggadah, why he was missing.
During our Passover Seders, we recount our ancestors’ Exodus from Egypt, celebrating our liberation from the shackles of Egyptian slavery into the promise of freedom. Yet, as we celebrate our freedom, we must also confront a painful truth: For too many in our community, the journey to freedom remains incomplete. Domestic violence — a modern form of bondage — persists, even within Jewish homes, undermining the peace and dignity we cherish.
Passover is, hands down, one of my all-time favorite Jewish holidays. A gripping story? Check. A delicious meal? Absolutely. A gathering of friends and family filled with song, laughter and a high-stakes game of afikomen hide-and-seek? Check, check and double check.
So, it’s Passover again. Another Seder night where we reunite with distant relatives we nearly forgot about to retell a story we are never allowed to forget. One might wonder: Is it really necessary, more than 3,000 years later, to still commemorate our ancestors’ freedom from slavery in Egypt? Can’t we move on to more pressing and contemporary issues?
