blogs/rabbi-joshua-hoffman

Leaving Egypt
Pesach 5779
Rabbi Joshua Hoffman
Clergy Corner, April 17, 2019

Someone, like my Uncle Mike, will fondly pronounce at the Seder with a snicker in his voice, “We were slaves, now we're free. Let's eat!” After all, it is Passover in an instant, in even less than 140 characters. What's all this extra talk about matzah, bitter herbs, plagues, and a song about what would have been enough? “If God brought us to Mt. Sinai in the desert and didn't bring us to the Promised Land, Dayenu - it would have been enough!” Really?! Well, we do get carried away.

And then there's the awkward pause after the chuckles subside. I think we're wondering for a moment if we've really said enough.  Half the family is ready to sit down and eat the gefilte fish with the carrot slice on top and the other half are waiting expectantly, thinking, “Is that really all there is to this holiday?”

There is a real opportunity to make the Seder and the holiday meaningful by reflecting upon another line, also fewer than 140 characters. “In every generation, one is obligated to see himself as though he left Egypt.” I think this is the one statement from the Haggadah we need to recite now, even more than ever.

Seeing ourselves leave Egypt as truly free people isn't so easy to do.  Most of the time, it's easier to see ourselves as we once were. We remember the days of yesteryear, often as a retreat from the present tense.  There's something familiar in how we used to be, even if we weren't so great. That's why the Israelites spent far too much time whining about how it used to be better when they were slaves as they trudged aimlessly through the wilderness toward the Promised Land.

This regressive tension, relishing in the good old days, is pretty harmful in a time of so much change. Going back to Egypt sounds good when you take a moment and absorb what's happening today. The latest fears are cast on the blazing horizons of rampant gun violence, rising anti-semitism, even the looming threats of mechanical intelligence replacing human intelligence. This alone produces more than enough anxiety for human societies to rush back to the crib and suck our collective thumbs into blissful sleep.

Almost in defiance of all this latent stress, we gather as families and small communities to celebrate life and our freedom. Passover is a chance to root ourselves to core values and principles that keep us grounded and moving forward. We must resist the grossly oversimplified message, “We were slaves and now we're free,” because brevity is a defense mechanism against the increasingly complicated social climate today.

Just try talking politics at your Seder table! Quick pithy statements about the way things are or the ways things ought to be are the recipe for disastrous conversation. It's too easy to identify where politics and the corrosion of values collide. There is a natural tendency to regress to a place where the world felt more secure. That's why our societies and local communities drift into familiar patterns of tribalism, us versus them thinking, even widespread populism to buttress against the rapidly changing present.    

Instead, proclaim with pride, “In every generation, one is obligated to see himself as if he left Egypt.” shifts the narrative. No one wants to go back to Egypt. We can't imagine our ancestors endured unimaginable suffering so that we could whisk by the idea that we have freedom at all. It's natural to argue on how best to use our freedoms, but to neglect them altogether for something comfortable and secure is dangerous.  

It's like that old story about the two guys who walk with their heads down all the way out of Egypt, all the way to the Red Sea, and didn't look up as they casually walked all the way back to Egypt.  With their heads down all the time, they missed the miracles. The holiday isn't complete until we make the connection that where we are headed is toward freedom for good.

So, munch on some matzah, sneeze at some horseradish, laugh when your silly uncle says, “We were slaves, now we're free. Let's eat!” And then make this year's Pesach a little more meaningful by reciting and discussing the most important line of the whole holiday, “I am obligated to see myself as if I left Egypt.” I hope you and your families meet each other on the journey to promised lands this year too.