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Rabbi Amalia shares this Passover blog, exploring Passover’s enduring appeal, the transformative magic of a shared meal, and how the paschal lamb or korban pesach echoes in today’s Passover celebrations (even if every household doesn’t eat a whole lamb these days).
For many Jewish people, the holiday of Passover or Pesach, which begins this year on the evening of April 12th, is a time when people gather ‘round the table for an evening of food and ritual. Seder nights may include well-worn routines and long-running traditions, awkward or strained family dynamics, and schmoozes with beloveds seen only once or twice a year. Or, perhaps your seder is one of found family, chosen loved ones who have come together to celebrate freedom and explore the meaning of liberation together.
I’ve always been struck by – and I choose this word carefully – the volume of celebration that accompanies Passover. A holiday without challah? As a certified-bread lover and baker, I am surprised that the holiday of matzah, aka the driest and crunchiest of crackers, is the most practiced holiday for American Jews.
But, maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, every year, no matter who is sitting around the seder table, I notice a magical moment when we go from a disparate crew of cherished friends, semi-friendly acquaintances, and complete strangers, to a tight-knit group, lustily singing, laughing, and conversing through seder night. Together, we become a household.
So, what makes this night different from all other nights? How do we end up around a seder table year after year? To answer this question, let’s go back to the moment before the Israelites leave Egypt. God says to Moshe (Moses):
Exodus 12:3-4
דַּבְּרוּ אֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַת יִשְׂרָאֵל לֵאמֹר בֶּעָשֹׂר לַחֹדֶשׁ הַזֶּה וְיִקְחוּ לָהֶם אִישׁ שֶׂה לְבֵית־אָבֹת שֶׂה לַבָּיִת׃
Speak to the community leadership of Israel and say that on the tenth of this month each of them shall take a lamb to a family, a lamb to a household.
וְאִם־יִמְעַט הַבַּיִת מִהְיוֹת מִשֶּׂה וְלָקַח הוּא וּשְׁכֵנוֹ הַקָּרֹב אֶל־בֵּיתוֹ בְּמִכְסַת נְפָשֹׁת אִישׁ לְפִי אׇכְלוֹ תָּכֹסּוּ עַל־הַשֶּׂה׃
But if the household is too small for a lamb, let it share one with a neighbor who dwells nearby, in proportion to the number of persons: you shall contribute for the lamb according to what each household will eat.
The korban pesach, the paschal lamb, was the cornerstone of Passover ritual. During the times of the ancient temple, the korban pesach was wrapped up in the Hillel sandwich, a tasty treat of matzah, lettuce, and lamb. The lamb was supposed to be entirely consumed at the seder, with any leftovers burnt in the morning.
As Exodus illuminates, every Israelite was commanded to take part in eating the korban pesach. In effect, this is a law that requires community – and a community willing to welcome in the impoverished, or those without a household of their own.
According to Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, “[t]he birth of the chesed community – of a nation within which people unite, care for each other, share what they possess—is symbolized by the korban Pesach, the paschal sacrifice. God did not need the korban Pesach; God had no interest in the sacrifice. God simply wanted the people—slaves who had just come out of the house of bondage—to emerge from their isolation into the chesed community, where the little that man has is too much for himself, where whatever he possesses transcends his ability to enjoy.”
The korban pesach was the first moment that the Israelites came together as a community: inviting a neighbor, extended family, and the ancient Israelite version of problematic Uncle Mort to sit and partake in a meal together. Not quite free and not still enslaved, this meal was the start of the journey.
I think we feel the reverberations of the korban pesach today. While the practice of bringing a lamb to sacrifice on seder night ended with the destruction of the second temple, the practice of coming together in community to eat, connect, and care for each other has lasted. In the words of Marge Piercy: “one Jew is not a Jew, but we are a people together, plural, joined” (The Art of Blessing the Day, 1999).
So, why is this night different from all other nights? Out of all Jewish holidays, why is Passover the most celebrated by individual Jews? Because on seder night, we choose to be a people, choosing to gather together, showing up to tell the story of our first moments of community.
This year, may we join together on seder night, driven by the urge to be in a chesed community together, where we care for those who are hungry, those who may never have sat at a seder table before, and those we have known for our whole lives, intent on weaving together every individual into the whole.
May the fullness of our bellies post-seder be as nourishing as the fullness of our hearts post-gathering.
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