The thought of looking forward to a celebratory Seder — with family or friends or one’s community — seems a distant memory, laughable in the current Covid crisis. Yet celebrate we must. For we are still liberated from the slavery in Egypt, which had prevented our political, cultural and spiritual development; and we are still grateful to God, who took us out from the unimaginable horrors of slavery.
How are we to approach this year’s Passover Seder with enough joy and appreciation of our historic redemption, when most of us feel un-liberated, “slaves” to social distancing and not yet free enough to properly enjoy the Pesach holiday? Let me suggest both a framework for thinking about the meaning of liberation and practical endeavours that substantiate this approach.
Liberation might be described as a negative experience, a release from something unbearable. For example, the liberation from Egyptian slavery, from an abusive relationship or from an unpleasant work environment. This definition of liberation means that the experience does not determine a future, but simply releases us from a past.
Freedom on the other hand might be defined as a positive experience — the possibility of opportunity, the freedom to do something. For example, the freedom to marry, the freedom to pursue a particular career or the freedom to study. This definition of freedom means that whatever our past, our future need not be determined by it. Within this context of freedom, we can choose how to live out our lives — we are, as it were, free agents to act according to our own wishes.
Now of course, life is not that simple — we live and function within the historical, cultural, social, political, financial and, more recently, medical constraints of our individual and national situation. Although we still live in a democratic and ostensibly free society, we are obligated to adhere to the rule of law which restricts how we behave.
Pesach is a festival of memory — it is about remembering the past in order to create a better future. It is about the imparting of memories through storytelling and, in ordinary times, in sharing that story with as many family and friends, colleagues and community newcomers, as possible.
The memory of our own slavery, its pain and redemption should not just inspire us spiritually, but rouse us into action. So, what should we do? I have several suggestions that are couched in Nelson’s Mandela’s notion that “to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others”.
Moses himself lived the life of an “other”— he was not quite Jew nor Egyptian. He was born into a Jewish family and was saved by two midwives (Shifra and Puah). He was cast into the river by his mother (Yocheved), watched by his sister (Miriam) only to be rescued downriver by Pharaoh’s compassionate daughter (Batya) to be brought up as an Egyptian prince.
Later, when Moses kills an Egyptian taskmaster for striking a Jew: “He turned this way and that and, seeing no man [ish] about, he struck down the Egyptian and hid him in the sand’ (Exodus 2: 12). Some note (and thank you to my daughter Avigail for pointing this out) that until now, there had been no significant “man” in his life — he had been saved, nurtured and reared only by women, themselves rendered historically as “the other”. Arguably, he had taken on this complex and vulnerable identity, of not-quite-Jew, not-quite-Egyptian, female-reared “otherness”.
This fundamental story of our national identity is read and reread every Pesach night, but each and every day we pray with reference to the Exodus from Egypt — thus, each and every day it should have an impact on how we behave.
In Deutoronomy (10:19) we are commanded, “And, love the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt”, an obligation not just to be kind or to give a listening ear — but to love them. Unsurprisingly, my to-do list for the liberated and the free is to work towards this goal.
Firstly, we are free to study — use this opportunity to learn something new about Pesach, buy a Hagaddah with commentary and read it before Seder night. And then learn something about the needs of other communities desperate to be liberated. Through the knowing and remembering of your own story make space for hearing someone else’s story.
Secondly, we are free to help others. The opportunities that have arisen during lockdown reflect not only the dire straits in which some families find themselves, but the stepping up of ordinary people to lend a hand. Find your local foodbank and offer your help. Contact your local synagogue and ask what needs delivering, who needs a phone call. The late Rabbi Lord Sacks said, “Freedom is won by making space for the people not like us”, so be sure to do something to relieve the plight of others.
Lastly, this year, more than ever, remember that even if you are alone, you are obligated to recite the story of the Exodus to yourself — and this halachah reflects the importance of every individual’s acknowledgment of liberation and freedom to celebrate.
Dr Simmonds is a research fellow at the London School of Jewish Studies
