This is THE existential question facing any society, any group, even any family! When it comes to Jewish identity we have both the religious aspect, which for many of us is what we think of when we say “Jewish”, but we also have the ethnic aspect. The immense diversity in ethnic expressions of Jewish identity is, on the one hand, a cause to rejoice; more ways to achieve the same goal means more “wins” for our “team”. But we’re not adversaries, we are in fact, on the same team, even though a casual glance might not discern what binds us together. Coming back to the US has brought this home to me in many different ways, but none more viscerally than Pesach. I’m not talking about the many ways to retell the story, although that’s part of it. (This week’s sermon touches on what Haggadah may have meant way back when). The entire country, which, let us not forget is populated with a large number of Jewish mothers, inches that much closer to psychosis as we frenetically rid ourselves of anything made of wheat, barley, oats, spelt or rye that has touched liquid for more than 18 minutes before being completing its manufacture.
Pesach has a different minimum for observance. The rest of the year we can choose to eat or not eat, say, animals. At our Seder we have to eat matza, we have to explain matzah and maror to our children. This is not something that is bad in and of itself, but aren’t we celebrating freedom? Doesn’t that mean freedom from having to do something? That is not the way it is interpreted in the State of Israel, which had a government crisis in the last few years over a law allowing chametz into public hospitals during Pesach. Hospitals, where all of Israel’s citizens receive care, not only the Jewish ones. But Pesach requires us to get rid of all our chametz, utterly and totally, which in modern Israel means the Chief Rabbinate “sells” all the chametz to someone who is not Jewish every year just before Seder. We even developed a custom in the, pardon the language, yekke culture, of searching for the last bits of chametz with a candle, a feather and a wooden spoon which culminates in burning what is found. Fire is fun, as long as it is circumscribed and not set free to do damage. Just as it is controlled in the sacrifices described in Leviticusl
This duality: freedom but not unboundedness, fire within a clearly defined context, underlies what being a modern Jew entails. We felt it keenly as children having lunch with matzah and not bread. We didn’t get to compare who found more eggs and got more candy, no advantage over Easter the way Chanukkah has over Xmas. We had/have to contain and maintain what it feels like to be a minority. Not so in Israel, where the other extreme is approaching. While it is not illegal to sell bread and the like during the seven days of Pesach , it is illegal to display or advertise that you do. All the major supermarket chains cover up entire sections (like alcohol) with plastic sheeting labelled חמץ and there was discussion of requiring them to change their check out systems so as to recognize non-Kosher for Passover foods and not allow them to be bought during the holiday. Really, we are talking about a thing that has taken on a life of its own.
While here in the US we have a shelf, maybe one endcap dedicated to Kosher for Passover foods that is supposed to see us through this week. It’s true that fruits, vegetables, fish and meat don’t need Kosher for Passover certification, but we still feel deprived every year. There are many Orthodox people who travel to Israel to celebrate Pesach and revel in the easy availability of a huge range of food they can buy in the supermarkets. Of course, they have a much wider range, as all the legumes and pulses that are not recognized by Ashkenazi communities as permitted are consumed by the majority of Israelis who are not Ashkenazi. Again, I’m not sure this is a good thing: aren’t we supposed to be physically remembering what it feels like to be a slave and not have autonomy? To suffer or not to suffer on Pesach, should that be our question?
Chag Sameiach and Shabbat Shalom Rabbi Leah Benamy
