Saturday at sundown began the eight-day long celebration of Passover (Pesach in Hebrew), the anniversary of the Jewish people’s exodus from Egypt. Last year, I had my first and second night Seder (the long dinner where we retell the story of the exodus) over Zoom, as we were about a month into quarantine when the holiday came. I recall confidently saying to my family members, “next year in person.” Well, “next year” came and I once again attended a Zoom Seder, this time with my college community. Much has changed in my life and the lives of those around me in the past year, but the coming of Passover brings feelings of joy, redemption, and freedom.
There has also been a sort of national awakening in the past year. As a society we have become more acutely aware of institutional injustices, and have decided that this time we will not let the conversation and the opportunity for change pass us by. Only time will tell if that aim will come to fruition, but I can confidently say that one year ago I could not have guessed at how much more I would understand our world now. Because of that, I am seeing Passover in a whole new light as well.
In Ancient Egypt, the Jews were the slaves of the Pharaoh for generations. I will not fully retell the story of Passover (I highly suggest you attend a Seder at some point in your life; they are a lot of fun and are highly educational and intellectual experiences), but I will provide some important details so that my reflections make more sense. As the Jews were enslaved by the Egyptians and being horribly treated (as slaves are), Moses gets a message from God telling him to lead the people out of Egypt. Moses is concerned for the safety of the people, rightfully so, but God promises him that they will be protected. So, Moses corralled the Jews and they promptly left. (Fun fact: the Jews did not have enough time to bake their bread before they left, thus creating the Matzah cracker, which is simply unleavened bread.) While they were on their way out, Pharaoh realized it was a mistake to have let the Jews leave so easily, so he sent his army to chase after them. It is at that moment that God infamously parted the Red Sea, allowing the escapees to cross safely, and drown the Egyptian soldiers. Oh, and God inflicted ten horrific plagues upon the Egyptians.
Each year, we sing dayenu: it would have been enough. It would have been enough for God to lead us out of Egypt, but he also inflicted the plagues upon the Egyptians. Now that too would have been enough, but God also parted the Red Sea for us, so that we could travel safely. The gifts continue, and so does our gratefulness. Dayenu is my favorite part of the Seder, not just because it signifies that soon we'll be eating the delicious food for which I wait all year, but because I really put into perspective how grateful I am for everything that is given to me. There are many things that I take for granted in my life. This year, I have focused most specifically on my health, my familial situation, my access to education, and my whiteness. For any one of those things, dayenu, that would have been enough. But, just like with the Exodus, I can only begin to express how grateful I am for all of the things that happen to me.
Even though I didn’t spend this year with family on Zoom, my biggest takeaway from the last two missed Seders is how important my family is to me. Every year of my life until 2020 (and hopefully once this pandemic ends), I have been lucky enough to spend each night of Seder with a different part of my family: first night, my dad’s side, the second night, my mom’s side. Also, for most of my life, my family hosted the second Seder with nearly 40 other family members coming each year. My dad’s side is much smaller, but still, each year my Seder schedules are consistent and routine. I never realized how lucky and grateful for that I am until last year, when even though we all got together on Zoom (it is definitely not the same), I could not hang out with all of my extended family at once. I have wonderful, life-long memories from my 19 years of Seder, and I feel such a void from missing the past two years of them.
And, quite importantly (and this definitely deserves its own paragraph), I miss the food.
Even though the Seder is sometimes long, and my outfit may be uncomfortable, and I may get hangry and have to snack on a bunch of matzah, it is such a mindful and thoughtful experience. One of the most important themes is that we are blessed to have escaped bondage, and we must replenish the world with love, kindness, and respect. We are the chosen people; we were chosen to survive and to tell our story. (These themes can be traced quite frequently through Jewish tradition and history.) I think of this at least once a day, when I think about my many roles in society, and how it is my duty to fulfill them the best I can. This Passover, I am thinking about my role to be educated and knowledgeable about the people whose voices are silenced, whose well-beings are neglected, and whose lives are destroyed by the systems that I grew up being indoctrinated into.
So much of being Jewish is about being a good, moral person. We have been so wrongly treated throughout history, and it is so special that we emphasize using our position to provide love and kindness to the world. Mitzvot and Tikkun Olam are two great examples of Jewish methods of kindness which I try to personify often. It’s really inspiring to be Jewish, and to hear so many lessons taught by my rabbis and peers about being a good person in the face of all of the horror in the world. It’s made me who I am.
This Passover, I feel more in-tune with my Jewish identity than ever: I’ve never thought about my philosophical Jewish beliefs as much as I have lately, in this season of Pesach and the retelling of the Exodus. It’s special to celebrate joy and freedom, whether it’s yours or that of your ancestors. It makes us have hope and believe that we, too, will experience that in our lifetimes. We just have to work for it, and we do that by being a good person, and filling the world with love, respect, and kindness.