Judaism
Parashah of the week: Ki Tavo
“My father was a fugitive Aramean” Deuteronomy 26:15
September 20, 2024 10:46
“My father was a fugitive Aramean” Deuteronomy 26:15
September 20, 2024 10:46The stories we tell ourselves and repeat to our children shape our identity, for they become the prism through which we see the world. One of the best examples is the short declaration which the Israelites were to recite when they brought their first fruits to the Temple, starting with the words: Arami oved avi – “My father was a fugitive Aramean”.
These words are familiar to us, because we read them every year at the Pesach Seder. This is odd, because our portion does not connect the declaration to Pesach. What is more there is some uncertainty regarding the precise meaning of the words and the identity of “my father”.
The plain meaning identifies “my father” as Abraham who came from Aram. The Pesach Haggadah, however, interprets the words as meaning “An Aramean sought to destroy my father”, (Arami as the subject, avi as the direct object, and oved as a participle of the verb “to destroy”), thus identifying “my father” as Jacob, who was pursued by his father-in-law Laban, the Aramean.
It is not clear why this declaration from Parashat Ki Tavo became the basis of the Pesach Haggadah and not the Exodus story as described in the Book of Exodus.
One reason may be because the declaration presents our history in the form of a memory, thus making it applicable for every generation. It is not merely a story of what happened once a long time ago, it is a memory which pertains to everyone who reads it, in fulfilment of the injunction that “in every generation each and every one should regard themselves as if they personally had left Egypt”. This is the only Torah text which accomplishes that sense of personal ownership of the story.
The sentence “My father was a fugitive Aramean” acknowledges that we are a transient people, even, perhaps particularly, in our own country. Whether we see ourselves as descendent from a fugitive who was taken in by strangers, or someone pursued by those who sought to kill us – we are always Ivri’im – those from the other side.
It should remind us that whatever successes we might achieve in life, it should never lead to a sense of entitlement and power, but rather a greater sense of responsibility and care for others and gratitude for what we have got.