Is Passover Worth All the Effort?
Sol Bernstein was slowly making progress, climbing the corporate ladder at the bank where he worked. His work ethic and astounding results caught the attention of managers, and he was offered a positon with the Salt Flats Bank of Utah with a salary he never dreamed he could get. As required, he and his wife move to Salt Lake City, where he continued to produce amazing results.
Except there was one minor problem – the Board of Directors was uncomfortable and concerned about how customers would react at having a Jew as president of the bank. So the chairman of the board approached and asked Sol if he would mind converting to placate the malcontents. Sol talked it over with his wife, and they decide it is worth it to comply with the request.
But after a few months, they realize they miss the Jewish holidays, traditions, rituals and customs. They feel out of place in the church, and regret that they had ever agreed to convert.
Sol tells his wife he is going to talk to the head of the company and tell him that they want to return to the faith of their ancestors and are going to go back to being Jewish, even if it means he will have to give up his position and all the perks that came with it.
The bank was doing so well under his direction, the Board reconsidered and decided to allow him and his wife to go back to being Jewish, and that he could retain his job, his salary and his title.
Sol was so excited he couldn’t wait to tell his wife. He runs home to tell her the good news, only to be surprised by her reaction. He says to her, “All these months you’ve been hocking and complaining about how big a mistake we made and said you wish we could undo it. I am shocked. I thought you would be thrilled to know that now we can go back to being Jewish again.”
She says, “Of course I’m happy for us. But Sol, did you have to do it a week before Pesah?!”
Pesah is a labor-intensive holiday. To do it right entails heavy-duty thorough spring cleaning of the entire house, inspecting every nook and cranny to be sure that the Biblical injunction is observed, that no hametz be found in our midst or possession. And as I like to remind people at this time of year, that includes your cars.
We may on occasion wonder if it is all worth it. Sometimes people tell me that they think the whole custom is archaic, out of date, unnecessary and pointless. They say their parents and grandparents did it, but they do not understand why it is necessary for them to still do so.
I reply that the rituals and customs are an important medium and the means to preserve and perpetuate memory. And this is important because our collective memory forms our identity, which in turn forms and informs our values, for I contend that the rituals and customs, the mitzvoth are the DNA that keeps Judaism alive.
Last night I told the story and read the testimony of David Ben Gurion before the UN Peel Commission in 1937 when they were considering whether or not to grant the Jews independence so the Jewish nation could establish a country in their ancient homeland.
Ben Gurion contrasted the fact that whereas Americans know little if any of the details of the Mayflower ship coming to America in the 1600’s, Jews know exactly when their ancestors left Egypt. We know not only the day, but also the time of night when they left. We know what they ate along the way and other details that, were it not for our faithfully carrying out the commandment – Zachor – to remember, and v’higadata levencecha – to tell your child about the experience; were it not for the generations of those who came before us passing the story along and telling it to their children, the saga would have been long forgotten.
But there is an epitaph to the story about Ben Gurion.
While he understood the deeper meaning of Passover – the importance of being connected to our past, to the land, and the role of ritual in passing those values on to the next generation, because his parents did so, I read that unfortunately and sadly, his descendants did not and do not have a seder.
What a tragic loss. To discard and lay by the wayside the rich and beautiful traditions of Judaism is to impoverish the next generation and denies them the richness of the tapestry of our magnificent heritage.
Earlier this week, just the other night, we had a most unusual scene here at B’nai Tzedek. Muslim prayer rugs were spread out and placed over our carpet. An imam stood on our bema and beautifully chanted the Islamic call to prayer. He called out, “Allah Akhbar”, right here, on this bema. We hosted an interfaith observance of Iftar for the end of the day’s Ramadan fast with an Islamic Women’s group committed to repudiating anti-Semitism and hatred of Israel among Muslims and which promotes and encourages positive relations with Jews and Israel.
Knowing that they were going to recite Moslem prayers at the end of our program, I decided that we should open the gathering and begin it with Jewish prayer. We started the program with the Minha, afternoon service. I explained that one of the reasons we have letters on the wall in the sanctuary is because I was inspired by mosques which are adorned with artistic representations of the letters of the Arabic language.
My experience has always been that we should not shy away from proudly expressing and practicing our religion. We are respected that much more when we observe our customs and are not afraid to publicly show who we are.
A poignant story is told about Napoleon Bonaparte who once was travelling through a small Jewish town in Europe. He entered the synagogue and saw worshippers sitting on the floor in a darkened room weeping while reading out loud. He inquired what misfortune had befallen them that they were so sad and was informed that the Jews were observing the holiday of Tisha B’Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago. He is reported to have said, “A people that cries and fasts for over 2,000 years because they are mourning the loss of their land and Temple has real hope that they will regain what they lost.”
That is what we Jews do. We tell the story, our story, the story of our origins and history. We preserve the memory of our past – not to instill bitterness, but to pass on immortal messages and values. On Wednesday night, Jews around the world will gather together around their seder tables to tell the story of what happened to us in Egypt.
Regardless of the hagadah you will use, you will read of the Four Children, one of whom is referred to as the rasha, the wicked child.
The appellation is harsh, as is the traditional response to him. Why is he so roundly condemned and put down? It is because his dismissive attitude of the seder is what our sages found to be so offensive and reprehensible. He seems to mock the seder rituals, to distance himself from what is going on. And that is why he is so roundly condemned. He has taken himself out of the community. He has decided to break the chain which links one generation to the next. And this is unforgiveable. One may question traditions and their purpose, one may question, challenge and even deny the existence of God, but one who excludes himself from the community is scorned.
Yes, as Sol Bernstein’s wife knew, Passover is strenuous and laborious – but it is worth the effort.
