Passover, Yizkor 22 Nisan 5767 / April 10, 2007

If I were more musical, I would be tempted to sing the song from “My Fair Lady” which includes the line “just a few more hours, that’s all the time I’ve got.” But I shall spare you. However, the sentiment is one that I am sure that most of you share with regard to Passover: just a few more hours and Passover will have passed over. Perhaps one more meal with matzah and then once it gets dark, a rush to buy some bread or pasta or cake or some cookies, to eat something not made with matzah meal or even worse with potato flour; something clearly chametzdik. It is amazing how quickly Passover comes and goes despite the vast amount of preparation that goes into it.

And yet before we pack away Passover for next year—and next year we get a bonus, with a Jewish leap year, so Passover won’t begin again for nearly 54 weeks—the first seder will be on Saturday night, April 19^th (that means effectively an extra day of Passover!)-- , we should pause for a few moments to consider the enduring messages of the holiday. And let me do so through a few phrases from the seder.

At the very beginning of the seder we recite in Aramaic the passage “Ha Lachma Anya, this is the bread of affliction.” We make several powerful statements in this short passage, The first, which is echoed at the end of the seder, declares; “HaShatah Hachah, L’shanah Haba’ah B’Arah D’Yisrael. This year we are here; next year we shall be in the land of Israel.” The echo is to be found with the phrase “L”Shanah Haba’ah BeYerushalayim with which many of us conclude the seder. (Currently it is not at the end: it once was. And so, if you move the songs such as Adir Hu and Chad Gadya, as we did, then the seder really does conclude with this hope, of next year in Jerusalem.) So what is stopping us from living this out hope for being in Israel, in Jerusalem next year? Round II of the Intifada has come and gone; Israel is quiet. Jerusalem beckons: the culinary possibilities are nearly endless. If you haven’t been to Israel in a few years, there are more than enough new sites to keep you occupied. If you are an oneophile, there are great Israeli wines that can’t be sampled here. It is time to start planning a trip, if not for this year, then next year. Enough with sending your kids or grandchildren, be it on Pilgrimage or Birthright: it should be your pilgrimage; it should be your birthright. And don’t worry about the language barrier: most of the people you will encounter, be it in stores or restaurants have a better command of English than you or even I have of Hebrew—my everyday Hebrew is rusty; I can read a rabbinic text with minimal difficulty, but can’t remember the words for everyday items, such as tissues--. [I’ve been told that Kleenex seems to be acceptable Hebrew!] The haggadah may have a Messianic thrust when it makes these declarations at the beginning and at the end. We need not wait for the Mashiach to go. Whether you opt to go next year with the Hazan to celebrate Aaron’s Bar Mitzvah or go on your own: just decide to go. It is one thing to hunt down the isolated Jewish site in distant lands; it is another to be in the reborn Jewish homeland.

The second phrase from the passage that should linger is “HaShatah Avday, L’shanah HaBa’ah B’nai Chorin, now we are slaves, next year we shall be free men and women.” Setting aside the personal enslavement some of us feel with regard to either our jobs or to preparing for Passover, the truth is that we aren’t living oppressed lives. For all of its faults, this country is a far cry from the oppressive conditions of Eastern Europe or indeed of the Arab lands. We have full liberties. We are in fact already B’nai Chorin. Perhaps, too, much so, with regard to our Jewish commitments—but that is a sermon for another time--. As free people, we should recognize that Pesach which the liturgy designates as Z’man Chayrutaynu, the time of our freedom, is the apposite time to reflect on that gift. As we conclude Yom Tov, we should reflect on that gift, on ways we can preserve our freedoms and also how we share that gift of freedom with peoples throughout the world.

And the third phrase I have in mind, precedes these two. We declare “Kol Dichpin Yeatay Vayachol, Kol Ditsreech Yeatay V’yifsach, Who are hungry let them come and eat; all who are in need let them come and share Passover with us.” I have often thought this is a strange time to be offering an invitation to company. In some homes the door is opened to symbolically invite guests in. At least once it worked. Years ago, I knew someone who while in Israel as a student had no place to go for seder. He went to a Hassidic shule for services, followed home one family after shule, waited until this passage and then knocked on the door. They invited him for their seder. (And in fact, invited him back for lunch the next day.) It’s too late for us to invite the sederless to our homes. But it is not too late to follow up on the sentiment of the passage. Erev Pesach, Sarrae counted the money in our tsedakah box and sent a contribution via the internet to Mazon, which supports food programs across the country. That is one post-Passover response to our Passover bounty that we can all emulate: sharing our blessings with others. Closer to home, our own food pantry needs help—more than leftover boxes of matzah--. It needs canned and boxed goods; it needs funding. Take a small percentage of what you spent for your Passover shopping, say 3%--which happens to be the percentage that Mazon suggests—and donate it to our pantry. We should live out this invitation.

And one last item, at least for this morning. Count the Omer. Beginning on the second night of Passover at the seder we began counting the Omer. In ancient times it marked the beginning of the barley harvest. In our day it is the count-up to Shavuot. It is a reminder that Judaism isn’t a three time a year phenomenon: High Holy Days, Chanukah and Passover. (Okay, here at Beth-El, many of us celebrate Purim.) It is a reminder of another of the major festivals, at the core of which stands the Revelation at Sinai. If Passover is about liberation and freedom, Shavuot speaks about commitment and the content of that commitment. Linking us is this simple count. It takes a few seconds every night. Even if you don’t come to evening minyan—and those who are saying kaddish or marking a yahrzeit would appreciate your presence, as you would if you were in their shoes--, participate by reciting the berachah, the blessing. Baruch Atah Hashem Elokaynu Melech HaOlam Asher Kidhanu B’mitsovav V’tseevanu Al Sefirat HaOmer. And then you proclaim the day. Today is day X of the Omer. Don’t have a daily prayer book handy? You need help? In addition to your Jewish calendar there is always the Homer Omer counter, as in Homer Simpson’s Omer calendar. Google Homer Omer and you will be led to the site. Simple as that.

These two passages from the Haggadah are ones that should guide us even now as we eye the conclusion of Passover. As we come to recite Yizkor and remember parents and other family members, be it siblings, or spouses, or painfully children, as well as grandparents and aunts and uncles who have entered life eternal, we remember how they lived their lives: how many of them lived out the dictates of these two passages year round. Can we do any less?