Matzah is the paradox
at the heart of Passover.
At the center of our Passover feast,
this poor bread, lechem oni, scatters crumbs everywhere.
We place it among mounds of food:
poverty in the midst of plenty.
Now who among us has seen that?
Surely God called us out of Egypt
For something better.
Last week someone said to me, “Rabbi, did you know there are people who say the Exodus never happened?” It’s a question I often get about this time of year.
The question comes up because the Exodus is the narrative that forms the bedrock of the Jewish story. We have a holiday, Passover, just to transmit that story. And yet it is a story for which there is no outside evidence at all. No archaeologist has been able to find an inscription or the remains of a camp, or anything.
So we cannot prove that the Exodus happened exactly as the Bible described it.
This does not trouble me in the least. For one thing, why would anyone but us have recorded it? It was an embarrassment to the Egyptians. It was not an important event to anyone but Hebrews and Egyptians. It was the story of the Jews, as experienced by the Jews.
Every family has those stories. My grandmother told stories about my family coming from Ireland. After she died I tried to document her account. What I learned was that the events described in her stories were the events as experienced by Bridget and Peter Carroll, my ancestors. They were the ones who left a starving land in one of the infamous “coffin ships” to come to America. I cannot prove their stories, because they did not keep the name of the ship. The only traceable thing they kept was the name of the cruel landlord, Mahon, and they kept that as “the dirtiest word in the Gaelic language.”
Their stories told who they were. The stories told about brave people who left a starving land, who took a big risk to come to a place where they could live with dignity. The stories told about a group of families who loved one another so much that they traveled in a group and settled together on rocky land near Dickson, Tennessee.
Just so, the Jewish story of Exodus is a story of a people who lived in slavery, but who felt that they were destined for freedom. They were destined to leave behind the mightiest king on earth, and to never forget that they were once miserable slaves. Their experiences on that journey could not be described in natural terms: they could only be described in the language of miracle. And today, still, their descendants – we! – are called, by their God and by our tradition, to remain awake to the miracles all around us, and to value freedom and human dignity above security or comfort.
That’s the story I believe.
After I posted Passover Vocabulary 101, my friend Ely Zimmerman offered some great suggestions, and I thought of more words and phrases a newcomer to Passover might want to know. Here’s a new list (if you think of more, leave me a comment and I’ll add 103 to the blog!)
קנאַידעל – (NAY-dle) Knaidel or kneydel is a matzah ball. That is, it’s a dumpling made of matzah meal and eggs, usually served in chicken broth. It’s also yummy. (Yiddish)
אפיקומן – (af-ee-KO-men) Afikomen is a piece of broken matzah, eaten at the end of the Passover meal. It is the last thing consumed. Often, if there are children present, the afikomen is hidden from them and a prize is given as “ransom” to the child who finds it. The seder cannot be finished until the afikomen is eaten.
מא נשתנה הלילה הזה – (Ma nish-ta-NAH ha-LYE-lah ha-ZEH) – Ma nishtanah halailah hazeh is the beginning of the part of the seder called “The Four Questions.” It means, “How is tonight different?” Many things in the seder are done in odd ways in order to get the participants to ask questions or to stimulate curiosity.
אליהו – (ee-LYE-jah or EH-li-AH-hu) Elijah is the name of a prophet during the reign of King Ahab of Israel. According to the Bible, he did not die but was taken up into heaven on a fiery chariot. (2 Kings 2:9) Since Elijah’s mysterious disappearance, legends have circulated that he sometimes visits Jews, and that someday he will come to announce the arrival of a messiah. Towards the end of the seder, we open a door just a bit, in case Elijah might visit our home.
חרוסת – (cha-RO-set or cha-RO-sis) Charoset is a mixture of chopped apples, chopped nuts, and a little wine (and sometimes other things, too) that we eat at Passover. It is a reminder of the mortar that the Hebrew used to make bricks. It is also a sweet taste to contrast with the bitter herbs.
געפילטע פיש – (geh-FILL-teh FISH) Gefilte Fish is traditional Passover and Shabbat food among Ashkenazi Jews. It’s usually served as balls of poached ground fish, and eaten with horseradish. (Yiddish)
מרור – (mah-ROAR) – Maror is a bitter herb, which we are commanded to eat at Passover. Often horseradish is served as maror; sometimes romaine lettuce or celery are used.
Every Jewish holiday has at least a few Hebrew words connected with it that baffle newcomers and outsiders. Here are some of the Hebrew words that might puzzle you during Passover. (Note: I have two pronunciations for most, because there are two kinds of Hebrew. Don’t worry about it, just know that you might hear either one.)
פסח – PEH-sach or PAY-sach. Pesach means Passover, the seven day holiday at which we remember the Exodus from Egypt and eat matzah.
מצה – MAT-sah or MAT-zo. Matzah is flat bread. It has no leavening whatsoever.
כשר לפסח – ka-SHER l’PEH-sach or KO-sher l’PAY-sach – Kosher l’Pesach food is suitable to eat during Passover. That means it has no Chametz. Speaking of which:
חמץ – chah-MEYTZ or CHAH-metz – This is a tricky one. Some will definit chametz as “leavening,” but that is not quite correct. The definition is “flour (rye, oat, spelt, wheat, or barley) that may have gotten wet at some time.” So all baked goods, pasta, etc are chametz, and we remove them from the house before Passover. Beer and whiskey are chametz, too.
סדר – SEH-der – The seder is the ritual meal with which we celebrate Passover. “Seder” means “order” and we call the meal that because things happen in a particular order. That order appears in the …
הגדה – ha-gah-DAH or ha-GAH-dah. The Haggadah is the script for the Passover seder. It is an ancient method for learning about the story of the Jews’ deliverance from Egypt, and for experiencing that deliverance as if we, too, were there.
What other Hebrew words do you hear at Passover? Suggest some, and I will put them in another post!
• Readers kindly responded, and here is Passover Vocabulary 102!
WordPress, the outfit that makes it possible for me to post this blog, also provides me with data about the Google searches that lead people here. Today one caught my eye and urges me to write: “how to have a seder alone.”
Jews generally celebrate everything in community. There are even some things we can’t do properly without a certain number of persons present: say the Kaddish prayer, chant from the Torah, or get married, to name just a few. While there is no rule against reading through the Haggadah alone, “Seder” suggests a group of people around a table, telling the Exodus story together. It was designed by the ancient rabbis as an opportunity to learn and share with other Jews. Yet sometimes circumstances are such that it just isn’t possible to gather with friends for a seder. Here are some thoughts for dealing with Passover solo.
1. IT’S OK TO ASK. In Western culture, it is generally considered impolite to “invite myself over” to someone’s house, especially for a meal. Passover meals are one of the exceptions to this rule. If you are going to be in a city but don’t know any of the Jews there, call a local Jewish institution (synagogue, the Federation) and tell them that you are alone for Passover and need somewhere to go for seder. Often they can provide a lead to a household where they look forward to keeping the mitzvah of a new person at the table. It’s a mitzvah for them, and a community for you, and you’ll almost certainly make some Jewish friends. Good all around! It is also ok, if you are a single in a Jewish community, to let others know that you don’t have a seder invitation. If you are a guest at someone’s seder table, be sure to read Seven Ways to be a Great Seder Guest.
2. COMMUNITY SEDERS. Many Jewish communities offer a second night seder at synagogues or a hotel for which guests sign up and pay a fee. My own community, Temple Sinai of Oakland, is offering such a seder this year (if you are going to be in the San Francisco Bay Area, you can sign up via this link.) Again, call local Jewish institutions and ask! This can be a more comfortable option if you feel shy about going to a seder at someone’s home.
3. TECHNOLOGY. If there is a group in another place with whom you have had the seder in the past, but you’ve relocated, what about Skype? Talk to your friends about setting up a computer near the table, so you can schmooze with the Jews, too. If Skype is too much tech for you, consider a phone connection via a speakerphone on the distant table. No, it is not traditional or even halakhic, but it will provide an important connection on the holiday. Last year a number of Jews, including rabbis, found ways to use technology to enhance the seder, according to this Wall Street Journal article.
4. INVITE NON-JEWISH FRIENDS. OK, so you are in the middle of nowhere, no Jews around, and Skyping with old friends is not an option. What about getting some matzah, getting out the Haggadah, and inviting some Gentile friends over to share the story of the Exodus?
5. SEDER SOLO. If none of the above will work for you, the real necessities for your seder are some matzah, some wine or grape juice, and a copy of the Haggadah. If you have no Haggadah, a Bible will do. Read the story. Eat unleavened bread. And then begin to make plans for next year, either in Jerusalem, or with some friends.
For an idea how to navigate a seder and not feel so alone, read For a Very Hard Year: The Movie Seder.
Traditionally, Jews spend the month after Purim preparing for Passover. A lot of the holiday is in the preparation: the seder and the week that follows are the fruit of what we’ve put in the month before. I thought it might be helpful to look at the various ways we prepare for Passover. If this is your first year observing Passover, don’t try to do everything at once. Choose one or two, and get all that you can out of them.
1. HOUSE CLEANING. Yes, literal house cleaning! For more on this, and a sane way to approach it in the spirit of learning something (as opposed to merely making yourself exhausted and crazy) here’s an article I wrote last year. One of the things about the physical cleaning is that you can pursue it while you think about some of the more brain-intensive possibilities below.
2. PONDERING A PERSONAL PASSOVER. Passover is the festival of telling the story about “deliverance from Egypt.” If you are truly to experience deliverance, it helps to notice from what you need deliverance. Spend some time, between now and Passover, thinking about your own personal Egypt(s). The name for Egypt in Hebrew is “Mitzrayim,” which also means “a narrow place, a tight spot.” Questions to ask myself: Where in my life am I stuck? To what am I a slave? In what parts of my life am I Pharaoh? Do I depend on the slavery of others? What would freedom look like, in any of these cases? What would freedom cost? What is freedom worth?
3. PLANNING FOR SEDER. Notice that I don’t say “planning A seder.” I covered that last year in the post, “Seven Things to Do to Make Your First Passover Seder a Success.” The question is, what am I going to do about attending seder this year? Participation at seder is not optional: Jews are supposed to be at a seder the first night of Passover (in some understandings, the first two nights of Passover.) This does NOT mean that each of us have to host a seder, however. Now is the time to make seder plans, to touch base with the family with whom you always have seder (are we observing together this year?) or to make your own list of guests, or to find out what’s available to you. If you are reading this and thinking, “But I don’t know anyone!” then you need to get busy. Phone your synagogue and tell them that you need a seder invitation (yes, this is perfectly OK, if you belong to a synagogue.) OR phone almost any local Jewish organization and ask them to point you to a seder you can attend for a fee. If this makes you feel incredibly anxious, watch for upcoming posts on this blog about being a seder novice with “nowhere to go.” I’m going to write about it.
4. PLANNING FOR THE WEEK. When I was first learning about Passover, I got so excited about the cleaning and the meal, I forgot that Passover goes on for a whole week. Plan what you will eat during that time: lots of matzah? Special recipes? Or use the time to “renew your diet” by moving away from processed foods and spending a week eating fresh fruits and vegetables? If you are going to buy special products for Passover, now is the time to buy them (and to find them in the store.)
5. PONDERING CHAMETZ. Another thing to think about, as Passover approaches, is chametz. It’s what we clean out of the house (see the link in #1 above.) Technically speaking, chametz is any product of the five grains (wheat, barley, rye, oats, spelt) that may have gotten wet. (What? you say, I thought it had something to do with leaven? And the answer to that, is that in Bible times, leaven was all by sourdough method: if grain got wet, sometimes it got infected with yeast and swelled.) In pondering chametz, the questions are: what in my life is crummy? What has gotten swelled up, out of proportion? What is stale? And now that I’ve identified those things, what am I going to do about them?
6. TZEDAKAH. Tzedakah is the Jewish term for charitable giving, which we are commanded to do. At Passover, the story reminds me of slaves and refugees, both of which the present world has in miserable quantity. This is a great time to give tzedakah to relieve their suffering. This, too, takes planning!
So, enjoy your planning! Get all the “juice” out of this fruitful time of the Jewish year!
I have noticed in the past few days that suddenly lots of people are looking to Google for help preparing for Passover.
I will see the Jewish future tonight,
around a seder table:
children, young people, and adults
with mikveh water still behind the ears,
telling the story to the fogies, the regulars.
They will be shy at first
because there are Professionals at the table
but if we play it right
they will seize the story from our hands.
They will cast it, laughing,
beyond our reach, and we will pretend
that we don’t know what Judaism is coming to.
Secretly we will gloat
because the stories will not stop here.
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This post is part of the Blogging the Exodus project. A group of rabbis are blogging from the 1st of Nisan to the beginning of Passover on Passover topics. My sincere thanks to Rabbi Phyllis Sommer, the imabima, for instigating and publicizing this effort. If you want to discover some great rabbinic blogs, or some interesting things to ponder as you clean up the chometz, you can locate these blogs via the Twitter hashtag #BlogExodus
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“This is probably a stupid question…”
That line prefaces a good half of the question asked in my Intro classes. Students say it and pause, looking at me for the go-ahead, and then after I nod reassurance, they ask. It often precedes a really good question, either something basic that should be answered in the class, or my favorite kind of question, something that opens up a good discussion.
I think I understand it. Nobody wants to look stupid, but if you’re the first to say it, it lowers the risk. It also generally gets reassurance from a teacher, and most of us like to be reassured and told that something we’re doing in class is good. And granted, Judaism is intimidating to people who perceive themselves as outsiders or ignorant.
One way I reassure students is to tell them that Jews ask questions. It’s what we do, whether we are the most sophisticated Talmudist or the most rebellious fourteen year old. We celebrate questions, and put them at the center of the Passover seder, one of the holiest events in our year. The writers of the Haggadah were so concerned that we ask questions that they put four (or is it really one?) of them into the text, to model the behavior of questioning.
One good question to ask ourselves is, am I asking enough questions?
HOW ARE YOU? is a question we ask, and generally it is assumed to be the social equivalent of white noise. But how often do we ask it again, with real concern?
WHAT CAN I DO? is a good question to ask myself when I see something wrong happening before my eyes. Am I accepting something I should not accept? One of the big problems connected with bullying is that too few people question hurtful behavior. We can ask that question to another person, too: what kind of help do you want from me?
WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS? is a fine question to ask when someone brings you information you do not need (e.g. gossip). Listening to information about others that we do not need to know is lashon harah [evil speech] just as much as being the informant.
WHAT ASSUMPTIONS AM I MAKING? Am I asking myself questions about the assumptions I make? Why do I assume that one person walking towards me on the sidewalk is more of a threat than the other people? Is an article of clothing or a tattoo or a way of dressing a reason to be suspicious in this situation?
There are also the grand three questions for editing out improper speech: IS IT TRUE? IS IT KIND? IS IT NECESSARY?
And then there is the grand old question of activists everywhere: DOES IT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY?
What questions would you like people to ask more often? What questions do you not ask often enough?
Is there any new question you plan to ask at your Seder this year?
Plagues.
I’ve heard many interesting drashot on the plagues, but to me the unifying factor of all plagues is that they are chaotic. In the Creation narrative, the world is tohu vavohu, “formless and void,” some translations say, but fundamentally, chaos. God hovers over it all, and speaks, and by speaking, separates dark from light, one thing from another, until the world is organized and peaceful.
Now, in Exodus 8 and 9, here come the plagues: water turns to blood, frogs swarm out of the Nile, then die and stink. The dust that is everywhere turns to lice, tormenting man and beast, followed by flies, which bite and swarm and carry filth everywhere. Then disease: first the cattle begin to die of anthrax and hoof-and-mouth disease, and their meat and milk are no longer good, then human beings are struck with boils that erupt everywhere on their skin. The sky goes crazy, raining hailstones that cut the crops to shreds, and locusts gobble up everything that’s left. Then the sun and moon fail, and the chaos seems complete: all is dark, itchy, sticky, dis-eased, and there is nothing decent to eat or drink. And then the human promise of a future is erased: firstborn children die. Tohu vavohu: Creation is unmade and all is chaos.
I read those passages in Exodus 8 and 9, and I think of all the suffering people and animals. Pharaoh and the Hebrew God have their confrontation, and I am angry at both of them. They are like politicians talking about eggs and omelettes. “You have to break a few eggs, etc.” — NO. I understand that I am supposed to root for God, and cheer, and I just can’t bring myself to do it.
In a bad year, on a bad news day, we can feel the chaos all around. Two days ago a crazy man shot and killed seven people at a little college in the city of Oakland. I’ve been involved in a conversation on my local Patch.com site (San Leandro) about the fact that little San Leandro seems to be in the midst of a plague of violent crime that has become so commonplace it doesn’t even make the news. People are angry. We feel helpless. We feel like Egyptians.
What are we to do? I keep thinking of the line from the Mishnah: In a place where there are no human beings, be a human being. (Pirkei Avot 2:6) In the midst of the mess, whoever made it, we have only our humanity, our ability to connect to other suffering beings.
So let’s reach out. Let’s talk. Let’s touch. Let’s quit fantasizing about how great the world would be without plagues and instead, reach across the mess to one another. I don’t know how else we can navigate, in a time of plague. We have the example of God in Creation: the power of words.
Somewhere in there, we seek holiness.
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This post is part of the Blogging the Exodus project. A group of rabbis are blogging from the 1st of Nisan to the beginning of Passover on Passover topics. If you want to discover some great rabbinic blogs, or some interesting things to ponder as you clean up the chometz, you can locate those blogs via the Twitter hashtag #BlogExodus.
