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John, At our Seder table this week, Meg and I were grateful to welcome friends and families to celebrate Passover. As the Haggadah (the Passover prayer guide) instructs: Bechol dor vador chayav adam l’irot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza mi-Mitzrayim In every generation, each person should each feel as if they personally came out of Egypt. During Passover, we are assigned to imagine that we personally felt the chains of slavery, the lash of forced labor, and the thrill of freedom. Passover asks us to imagine ourselves in the shoes of slaves and refugees — and to think about what their story means for us today. This year, Passover’s questions felt closer at-hand — and harder than usual. The Haggadah calls our attention to the suffering of Jews across the centuries. So when we read “In every generation, they try to destroy us,” we mourned the over 1200 Israelis killed by Hamas on October 7th, and prayed for an end to the captivity of those still held hostage (like Hersh Goldberg-Polin, whose parents have shown such extraordinary courage keeping up their fight to bring him home). But in Exodus 23:9, God also commands: “You shall not wrong a stranger, nor oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” The lesson that I learned around my Grandma Alice’s Seder table: We're required to help all people achieve liberation. So when we tasted tears in the saltwater and the bitterness of the herbs, our hearts ached too for the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza, more than 34,000 killed (including Lara Sayegh, sister of Khalil Sayegh, an 18-year-old university student killed just this week on what was supposed to be a “safe route”), over 13,000 children, more than 80% of their homes destroyed, their schools and hospitals and neighborhoods turned to rubble. As we recounted the Ten Plagues, we worried about cycles of revenge. When one people’s quest for safety leads to another people’s lack of freedom, neither of them is likely to be safe or free for very long. When we broke the middle matzah and read “Let all who are hungry come and eat,” we talked as we usually do about the marvelous kosher soup kitchen Masbia (whose director, Alex Rapaport, welcomed me to make our matzah in his backyard bakery this year). And we imagined that we were calling out, too, to Palestinian families facing the horror of famine in Gaza, where the International Crisis Group says acute malnutrition numbers are increasing at a jaw-dropping rate, especially among children under five, right now, on these very nights. So here’s one small thing we decided to do: To observe Passover this year, we’re making charitable contributions not only to Masbia, but also to World Central Kitchen, seven of whose aid workers were killed by Israeli bombing in Gaza earlier this month, and the International Rescue Committee (IRC), who are continuing the critical work of providing humanitarian aid there.
To be clear: What’s needed in Gaza is a ceasefire, the return of all the hostages, an end to the war, reconstruction, and a path to mutual recognition and peace for Palestinians and Israelis. But this Passover, one essential step, as World Central Kitchen’s Jose Andres (who has worked with Masbia’s Alex Rapaport in the past) said in his mourning, is to let people eat. Though the bitterness was sharp at our Seder table this year, we found sweetness too: as we drank four cups of wine, we insisted on the joy of freedom, and imagined the day when it will be truly held by all. As Rabbi Hillel said, in the best approach to Passover’s questions that I can find: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am for myself only, what am I? And if not now, when?” This year, we are still in chains. Next year, may we all be free. Brad P.S. As Passover has unfolded, we’ve been watching protests spring up across the country. We can and must protect free expression, combat antisemitism and other forms of hate, and draw a clear line at nonviolence to keep people safe. You can read some of my thoughts on what’s been happening at Columbia University this week here. |
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