By Rabbi Mark GlickmanOf the many Haggadot in my library, one of my favorites was created by the Israeli artist, David Moss. It is a magnificent treasure, replete with gold-leaf overlays, papercuts, moveable pages, drawings made up of microscopic Hebrew lettering and much more.
But my favorite page of all is the Haggadah’s rendering of “B’chol dor vador […]. In every generation, each person must see themselves as if they had made the exodus from Egypt.” The two-page spread is arranged like a checkerboard, with pictures of various Jews throughout Jewish history alternating with small oval mirrors. Looking at the page, therefore, you see an array of Jews from different times and places, each of whom is to see him or herself as having come out of Egypt, and at the same time, you see in mosaic the picture of another individual who is supposed to see him or herself the same way – you!
It’s a page with powerful lessons, and many of them are essential to the Passover Seder. For example, the Seder urges us to see ourselves. Its liturgy is far more than a recollection of history, it’s a present-day text, as well. For as we read of what happened to our ancestors, we remember that we, too, are unredeemed, and we, too, need to figure out how we’re going to put all that “enslaves” us behind so that we can get to the promised land. Doing so takes reflection; it demands introspection; it calls upon us to really take a good look at ourselves. Almost as if we were looking into a mirror.
Furthermore, the text calls upon us to do this reflection “b’chol dor vador, in every generation.” As we project ourselves into Jewish history this Pesach, we’ll be doing just what Jews have been doing for centuries. And, God willing, we’ll also be doing the same thing Jews will be doing many centuries from now. These old words – not to mention the values they embody and the truths they teach – connect us with our people over vast spans of time and space. Our grandparents read these words, and our great-grandparents, too. Uttering them is thus an act of eternity for us. And with our help, it will continue to be – in every generation.
Finally, it’s important to remember that the Haggadah doesn’t call us to remember that we were slaves in Egypt, nor does it ask us to remember wandering through the wilderness. Instead, it says that we should remember that we “went out” from Egypt. It asks us, in other words, to remember the transition, the transformation.
Even when things get really bad, in other words, and even when they seem hopeless, transformation is possible. In an era of ongoing illness, terrifying war, and growing polarization, the lesson is particularly timely.
When I look at the little mirrors on the page of my Moss Haggadah, I think about all these lessons – reflection, continuity, and transformation. And if I think about them hard enough, I’m sure they’ll be able to carry me through until next Pesach even as they help me live out the important lessons they teach.
Rabbi Mark Glickman
President’s message
Pesach, 5782
This year’s Passover season is a particularly busy on in our family.
We have the usual stresses of Passover meal cooking (I do most of the it in our family) and seder preparation (as our kids get older, we incorporate more complicated passages), as well as the new stress of Zoom call setup since my family is spread out across borders and time zones. This year I’m also helping our Board navigate a gradual return to in-person services while monitoring COVID closely, and working on regular Temple business while setting up a leadership transition since my two years are almost up.
In addition to all of that, my mother-in-law is selling and moving from the home she’s lived in for over 30 years, and we’re helping her get ready. In this market, her house sold more quickly than expected, and she has less than a month to pack up – or say goodbye to – a lifetime’s worth of meaningful things and their attendant memories. And for me, helping her move is helping provide meaning for my Passover season.
Helping sort and pack, sell and donate, while also cooking, keeping an eye on a pandemic, and doing regular work, reminds me a lot of the Passover story. The Israelites in Egypt also had a very short time to gather their belongings, sorting through what was valuable and what could be sold or given away, and prepare for a new life. And somehow, in the middle of all that, they finished their daily work as slaves, cooked and ate a nice meal, and hoped that the Angel of Death passing outside wouldn’t cross the threshold of their home.
Of course, we today have an advantage the Israelites didn’t have. They had heard stories of a promised land, but had never seen it. We, on the other hand, know where we’re going – that sanctuary with the bright kippot on 47 Avenue SW in Britannia. In fact, in-person services have resumed, and while you can still attend through Zoom or StreamSpot, each week the number of people attending service in person (masked and vaccinated) grows. We’re able to do more with the video projectors and screens we’ve installed over the last year, as well as the more-accessible automatic doors. Post-service onegs and luncheons have resumed – hopefully for good, though we’re being very careful and watchful.
We’re even already working to improve our “promised land” in a lot of ways. We’re undertaking a major project to replace our aging boiler with a more modern and energy-efficient system. We’re discussing the addition of solar panels to further bring down our operating costs while doing our part to save the planet. And we’re adding new security features – including a standing security committee – to help keep congregants safe.
And, of course, our programming continues, with lots of opportunities for education at all ages, social events, and social action projects to help our tikkun olam efforts. There are all sorts of ways through Temple to create Jewish meaning for yourself.
Like our forebears, we’re living in a stressful time, with a lot of upheaval and change – not to mention concerns for safety. But as we can see from the Pesach story, that’s nothing new for us. We can take from our forebears’ story the knowledge that there are good times ahead. Some of this stress is good stress, and I look forward to sharing the calmer days with you.
President
