March 2013

More than 68 percent of Jewish Americans over the age of 18, according to a survey conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute in 2012, celebrate a Passover seder. The percentage is a little lower for Jews in the 18–39 age bracket, but I have to hope that that is partially due to school schedules (having seders on Monday and Tuesday night this year can’t help the numbers). The statistics are similar for unaffiliated Jews. What is the draw? Religious dictate aside, I suggest it has more to do with community, memory, and “ordering” our life’s priorities, if only for a small window of time.

Each year I look forward to the family and friends who gather at my seder and form a community of souls who care about each other and the values that promote tikkun olam, repair of the world. But I also look forward to the unseen attendees at my table-my memories. These memories are some of my favorite guests. Setting the table with my mother’s silver and remembering the seders she made when she was alive, using the Kiddush cup from my wedding that has graced my table for almost 43 years, and the wine–soaked crayon matzah covers my children made decades ago when they were in preschool, are all memories that bring me contentment.

When I travel around the country talking about the stories and history surrounding our culinary heritage, I often notice some teary-eyed participants in the audience, especially after I talk about Passover. I know better than to assume my talk has bored them to tears! It is the memories that are evoked in their hearts that elicit this response. Memories of the recipes–the smell of the chicken soup wafting through the house at grandma’s-and the seders that dad conducted–always trying to include everyone with a speaking part and never stigmatizing the same person with the role of the wicked son (unless it was the family joke to call upon the same person every year!)–and memories of the people with whom they shared the seder in their youth. These thoughts hold an important place in their minds and hearts. And these memories draw us together in an unseen way to fulfill our duties to celebrate Passover and our redemption from slavery.

Seder means “order,” and it can refer to more than the order of the rituals in the Haggadah. Setting your table to facilitate the flow of the seder can create order out of the chaos of 20-40 people trying to dip parsley in salt water! I often joke that more wine is spilled on tablecloths knocking down wine glasses while passing the salt water or charoset, than by inebriated participants accidently tipping their glasses. Some people shorten their seders and leave out parts of the Haggadah (I think Rabbi Tarfon often is the first to go!) so that the service won’t be too long. That is sad because the stories and singing that are part of the ceremony create lasting memories.

Instead of shortening the content, how about eliminating all of the passing and sharing of the Passover symbols? To do this, I set my table with a plate and bowl on each dinner plate, pushed to center left. The bowl contains salt water and the hard–boiled egg. Let older children pour the water into the bowls from a pitcher or glass measuring cup (don’t worry water doesn’t stain), and let younger children go to each bowl with a salt shaker and shake salt three times into the water. These activities involve the children, get them out of the kitchen, and even teach math; counting to three at 24 place settings is a great learning tool! If the eggs don’t look smooth and beautiful or if you want better flavored eggs (like Sephardi egg soup), then I suggest you use an egg slicer. Go to each place setting and slice the egg before it is added to the salt water. See, if you have three children in the family you have already involved them in the process, kept them away from the busy kitchen, and created memories for them.

Although I place extra bowls of charoset on the table, each place setting – on the plate next to the bowl – gets its own dollop of charoset, piece of bitter herb, and a sprig of whatever green I am using (the current trend is fashionable arugula, but I still love parsley – again, memory). These items are readily available so that NOTHING needs to be passed around the table and I have eliminated at least 20 minutes from the seder without leaving out any Haggadah ritual. I suspect, long after I am gone, that my children will set the table the same way because of memory and not necessarily for efficiency.

More than 20 years ago, I started a family tradition that is doable both in your home and in your synagogue, if you have a community seder. Every year I distribute an indelible marker to my guests and have them sign their names and the year on one designated tablecloth. I later embroider the signatures (use a fine line pen or your task will be enormous!). The names evoke memories in me. Oma Grande’s name is here – and her potato kugel, too – even if she is no longer with us. I look at Leslie’s signature when she was 8, Tanya’s signature the first time she attended our seder, and the next generation with their new spouses’ signatures added as well. These are memories of my personal community.

Imagine being unaffiliated with a religious institution, and seeking out a seder to attend. A young college student – a single worker transferred to a new city – an elderly person with no family nearby–they may come to the seder and see that their name will be embroidered on one of the tablecloths. A sense of connection is established, and maybe, just maybe, that person will feel more welcomed and become an active part of the synagogue. Who knows?

When we were children, many of us were relegated to the “children’s table,” the card table at the end of the dining room. Oh, how we couldn’t wait until we were old enough to be seated at the “big” table. Little did we realize that when we got there, those people who had an indelible affect on our lives would probably not be sitting with us. Our memories of them, and maybe their signatures, would be with us at the table.

With every song we sing, every morsel of food we consume from our family recipes, and every discussion we initiate around the seder table, we generate new memories. While we recite the story about our liberation in the past, we are creating traditions and engaging the next group of children at the card table to carry on for generations to come.

Eat in good health!

Tina D. Wasserman isa member of Temple Emanu-El in Dallas. Her Passover recipes for Mina de Maza (Matzah Pie) and Tri-colored Gefilte Loaf are included in her cookbook, Entrée to Judaism (URJ Press).

More than 68 percent of Jewish Americans over the age of 18, according to a survey conducted by the Public Religion Research Institute in 2012, celebrate a Passover seder. The percentage is a little lower for Jews in the 18–39 age bracket, but I have to hope that that is partially due to school schedules (having seders on Monday and Tuesday night this year can’t help the numbers). The statistics are similar for unaffiliated Jews. What is the draw? Religious dictate aside, I suggest it has more to do with community, memory, and “ordering” our life’s priorities, if only for a small window of time.

Each year I look forward to the family and friends who gather at my seder and form a community of souls who care about each other and the values that promote tikkun olam, repair of the world. But I also look forward to the unseen attendees at my table-my memories. These memories are some of my favorite guests. Setting the table with my mother’s silver and remembering the seders she made when she was alive, using the Kiddush cup from my wedding that has graced my table for almost 43 years, and the wine–soaked crayon matzah covers my children made decades ago when they were in preschool, are all memories that bring me contentment.

When I travel around the country talking about the stories and history surrounding our culinary heritage, I often notice some teary-eyed participants in the audience, especially after I talk about Passover. I know better than to assume my talk has bored them to tears! It is the memories that are evoked in their hearts that elicit this response. Memories of the recipes–the smell of the chicken soup wafting through the house at grandma’s-and the seders that dad conducted–always trying to include everyone with a speaking part and never stigmatizing the same person with the role of the wicked son (unless it was the family joke to call upon the same person every year!)–and memories of the people with whom they shared the seder in their youth. These thoughts hold an important place in their minds and hearts. And these memories draw us together in an unseen way to fulfill our duties to celebrate Passover and our redemption from slavery.

Seder means “order,” and it can refer to more than the order of the rituals in the Haggadah. Setting your table to facilitate the flow of the seder can create order out of the chaos of 20-40 people trying to dip parsley in salt water! I often joke that more wine is spilled on tablecloths knocking down wine glasses while passing the salt water or charoset, than by inebriated participants accidently tipping their glasses. Some people shorten their seders and leave out parts of the Haggadah (I think Rabbi Tarfon often is the first to go!) so that the service won’t be too long. That is sad because the stories and singing that are part of the ceremony create lasting memories.

Instead of shortening the content, how about eliminating all of the passing and sharing of the Passover symbols? To do this, I set my table with a plate and bowl on each dinner plate, pushed to center left. The bowl contains salt water and the hard–boiled egg. Let older children pour the water into the bowls from a pitcher or glass measuring cup (don’t worry water doesn’t stain), and let younger children go to each bowl with a salt shaker and shake salt three times into the water. These activities involve the children, get them out of the kitchen, and even teach math; counting to three at 24 place settings is a great learning tool! If the eggs don’t look smooth and beautiful or if you want better flavored eggs (like Sephardi egg soup), then I suggest you use an egg slicer. Go to each place setting and slice the egg before it is added to the salt water. See, if you have three children in the family you have already involved them in the process, kept them away from the busy kitchen, and created memories for them.

Although I place extra bowls of charoset on the table, each place setting – on the plate next to the bowl – gets its own dollop of charoset, piece of bitter herb, and a sprig of whatever green I am using (the current trend is fashionable arugula, but I still love parsley – again, memory). These items are readily available so that NOTHING needs to be passed around the table and I have eliminated at least 20 minutes from the seder without leaving out any Haggadah ritual. I suspect, long after I am gone, that my children will set the table the same way because of memory and not necessarily for efficiency.

More than 20 years ago, I started a family tradition that is doable both in your home and in your synagogue, if you have a community seder. Every year I distribute an indelible marker to my guests and have them sign their names and the year on one designated tablecloth. I later embroider the signatures (use a fine line pen or your task will be enormous!). The names evoke memories in me. Oma Grande’s name is here – and her potato kugel, too – even if she is no longer with us. I look at Leslie’s signature when she was 8, Tanya’s signature the first time she attended our seder, and the next generation with their new spouses’ signatures added as well. These are memories of my personal community.

Imagine being unaffiliated with a religious institution, and seeking out a seder to attend. A young college student – a single worker transferred to a new city – an elderly person with no family nearby–they may come to the seder and see that their name will be embroidered on one of the tablecloths. A sense of connection is established, and maybe, just maybe, that person will feel more welcomed and become an active part of the synagogue. Who knows?

When we were children, many of us were relegated to the “children’s table,” the card table at the end of the dining room. Oh, how we couldn’t wait until we were old enough to be seated at the “big” table. Little did we realize that when we got there, those people who had an indelible affect on our lives would probably not be sitting with us. Our memories of them, and maybe their signatures, would be with us at the table.

With every song we sing, every morsel of food we consume from our family recipes, and every discussion we initiate around the seder table, we generate new memories. While we recite the story about our liberation in the past, we are creating traditions and engaging the next group of children at the card table to carry on for generations to come.

Eat in good health!

Tina D. Wasserman isa member of Temple Emanu-El in Dallas. Her Passover recipes for Mina de Maza (Matzah Pie) and Tri-colored Gefilte Loaf are included in her cookbook, Entrée to Judaism (URJ Press).

After repeatedly bouncing off the seemingly impenetrable wall of the arcane, exceedingly accurate and lengthily described laws that open the third book of Torah, Vayikra/Leviticus, it is not difficult to understand why legions of rabbis and learned teachers flee from dissertations thereon. And to develop a Zionist theme from the sacrifices, much less a Reform Zionist theme, only adds to the assignment. This is not to say that there is much in Leviticus on which to develop sermons, drashot, etc., just not so much in these verses. Blood, yes, a variety of sacrifices without blood, yes; but those little side ventures that prompt discussion just are not there in the opening chapters of Vayikra.

Upon further reflection, however, and such matters as devrei tora require much further reflection, there is the glimmer of a theme, even a Zionist one, coupled with the teaching of a late beloved, teacher, Rabbi and friend. The aim is to tie the two together by the end into a synthesis that is rational, Reform and Zionist.

Vayikra:

Adonai called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting saying, ‘Speak to the Israelite people, and say to them:

When any of you presents an offering of cattle to Adonai he shall choose his offering from the herd or from among the flock. (Lev. 1:1-1:2)

From there the text goes into the most minute detail about a bunch of sacrifices that are no longer practiced, and cannot be, lacking a Temple in Jerusalem. So, maspic/enough. We go to the Haftarah for help but find none.

But, there was something, a teaching of a friend and mentor, Rabbi Larry, “Jake” Jackofsky z”l, that came to mind. Jake used to teach that the opening of Leviticus, Vayikra, was the only place in Torah where God calls to Moses, “And He called to Moses”… We are used to the rubric of “And Adonai said, or spoke, to Moshe saying, speak to bnai Israel and….” Here we get a simple, “And He called…”

One device the rabbis have been known to employ in difficult circumstances is to look elsewhere in the text. Ah hah!! Of course. If we just go back a few verses to the conclusion of last week’s portion and its detailed description of the construction and decoration of the Mishkan the transition to Vayikra is made easier. In the preceding portion the Mishkan is completed and the pillars of cloud and fire are established as directional signals. Then the Spirit of God enters and is ready to take the relationship to the next level.

In Shemot/Exodus our people is established and forges a covenant with the Almighty. That was the ideal. Now what? The practical has to fill in and with the practical come the rules, regulations and details that circumscribe daily life, beginning with sacrifices. And we are, through Moses, called by God to service. We accept as we are able the responsibilities meted out in Leviticus. With that call, Vayikra, we, the Jewish people, have reached a watershed, it is time to begin doing rather than ideating.

For two thousand years the Jewish people dreamed of a homeland and built up an ideal and yearned for it with all the fervor we could muster. Then, in 1948, the dream was realized. We have spent the last 65, almost 66, years, as a Free People in Our Own Land, to paraphrase the Israeli national anthem, trying to work out exactly how realizing the ideal is going to work. Without delving into dangerous waters, suffice it to say there is a lesson in the current negotiations. The purpose is to form a coalition that will run the country. The coalition part is important.

Coalitions have been critical and intrinsic to Israel’s creation and survival. It took a coalition to form the Zionist movement. It took the Zionist coalition to nudge the world and the Jewish people to support the concept of the creation of the state. It took half a decade of destruction and desecration directed against the Jewish people to lend gravitas and galvanize the enough support in the United Nations to create Israel. But then Jews from 80-100 countries, regions, cultures, customs, recipes, nusach and attitudes had to reconcile their differences in a big hurry, overcome Arab hostility and world ostracism and fabricate a country and society. And our coalition held, and holds today in Israel. Coalition politics even holds in the truly arcane halls of the World Zionist Organization, which brings us to ARZA

ARZA is part of an international Reform Zionist umbrella called ARZENU. ARZENU is among the largest factions in the World Zionist Congress, certainly as disciplined as any party. ARZENU is well-positioned in the World Zionist Organization and the Jewish Agency for Israel to bring benefit to the Israel Movement for Reform Judaism and keep the Reform perspective at the table with all respect. That is the result of the coalition.

We in the Zionist movement working on behalf of the values and aspirations of Reform Judaism feel called to serve God, Israel and the Jewish people. It sounds hokey, perhaps in modern times, but we take seriously the commitment to work as part of a coalition to forge a state, maintain it against all odds and have it flourish in so many diverse and important ways. But that is modern Israel. We Reform Jews are securing our place there, helping work out the details, not of Temple Service, but of public sacrifice and constructive dialogue to insure Israel reaches the ideals of tolerance and pluralism enunciated in her Declaration of Independence. As we approach the Passover season let us not forget the importance of respect, tolerance that freedom requires in order to achieve our goals, be it as individuals, congregations, communities and Israel and her people, our people.

Bill Hess is ARZA vice chair of allocations, immediate past President of the American Zionist Movement, and a Union for Reform Judaism board member. He dedicates this piece to the memories of his teachers Jacques Torczyner and Rabbi Lawrence “Jake” Jackofsky, zichronam l’vracha.

After repeatedly bouncing off the seemingly impenetrable wall of the arcane, exceedingly accurate and lengthily described laws that open the third book of Torah, Vayikra/Leviticus, it is not difficult to understand why legions of rabbis and learned teachers flee from dissertations thereon. And to develop a Zionist theme from the sacrifices, much less a Reform Zionist theme, only adds to the assignment. This is not to say that there is much in Leviticus on which to develop sermons, drashot, etc., just not so much in these verses. Blood, yes, a variety of sacrifices without blood, yes; but those little side ventures that prompt discussion just are not there in the opening chapters of Vayikra.

Upon further reflection, however, and such matters as devrei tora require much further reflection, there is the glimmer of a theme, even a Zionist one, coupled with the teaching of a late beloved, teacher, Rabbi and friend. The aim is to tie the two together by the end into a synthesis that is rational, Reform and Zionist.

Vayikra:

Adonai called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting saying, ‘Speak to the Israelite people, and say to them:

When any of you presents an offering of cattle to Adonai he shall choose his offering from the herd or from among the flock. (Lev. 1:1-1:2)

From there the text goes into the most minute detail about a bunch of sacrifices that are no longer practiced, and cannot be, lacking a Temple in Jerusalem. So, maspic/enough. We go to the Haftarah for help but find none.

But, there was something, a teaching of a friend and mentor, Rabbi Larry, “Jake” Jackofsky z”l, that came to mind. Jake used to teach that the opening of Leviticus, Vayikra, was the only place in Torah where God calls to Moses, “And He called to Moses”… We are used to the rubric of “And Adonai said, or spoke, to Moshe saying, speak to bnai Israel and….” Here we get a simple, “And He called…”

One device the rabbis have been known to employ in difficult circumstances is to look elsewhere in the text. Ah hah!! Of course. If we just go back a few verses to the conclusion of last week’s portion and its detailed description of the construction and decoration of the Mishkan the transition to Vayikra is made easier. In the preceding portion the Mishkan is completed and the pillars of cloud and fire are established as directional signals. Then the Spirit of God enters and is ready to take the relationship to the next level.

In Shemot/Exodus our people is established and forges a covenant with the Almighty. That was the ideal. Now what? The practical has to fill in and with the practical come the rules, regulations and details that circumscribe daily life, beginning with sacrifices. And we are, through Moses, called by God to service. We accept as we are able the responsibilities meted out in Leviticus. With that call, Vayikra, we, the Jewish people, have reached a watershed, it is time to begin doing rather than ideating.

For two thousand years the Jewish people dreamed of a homeland and built up an ideal and yearned for it with all the fervor we could muster. Then, in 1948, the dream was realized. We have spent the last 65, almost 66, years, as a Free People in Our Own Land, to paraphrase the Israeli national anthem, trying to work out exactly how realizing the ideal is going to work. Without delving into dangerous waters, suffice it to say there is a lesson in the current negotiations. The purpose is to form a coalition that will run the country. The coalition part is important.

Coalitions have been critical and intrinsic to Israel’s creation and survival. It took a coalition to form the Zionist movement. It took the Zionist coalition to nudge the world and the Jewish people to support the concept of the creation of the state. It took half a decade of destruction and desecration directed against the Jewish people to lend gravitas and galvanize the enough support in the United Nations to create Israel. But then Jews from 80-100 countries, regions, cultures, customs, recipes, nusach and attitudes had to reconcile their differences in a big hurry, overcome Arab hostility and world ostracism and fabricate a country and society. And our coalition held, and holds today in Israel. Coalition politics even holds in the truly arcane halls of the World Zionist Organization, which brings us to ARZA

ARZA is part of an international Reform Zionist umbrella called ARZENU. ARZENU is among the largest factions in the World Zionist Congress, certainly as disciplined as any party. ARZENU is well-positioned in the World Zionist Organization and the Jewish Agency for Israel to bring benefit to the Israel Movement for Reform Judaism and keep the Reform perspective at the table with all respect. That is the result of the coalition.

We in the Zionist movement working on behalf of the values and aspirations of Reform Judaism feel called to serve God, Israel and the Jewish people. It sounds hokey, perhaps in modern times, but we take seriously the commitment to work as part of a coalition to forge a state, maintain it against all odds and have it flourish in so many diverse and important ways. But that is modern Israel. We Reform Jews are securing our place there, helping work out the details, not of Temple Service, but of public sacrifice and constructive dialogue to insure Israel reaches the ideals of tolerance and pluralism enunciated in her Declaration of Independence. As we approach the Passover season let us not forget the importance of respect, tolerance that freedom requires in order to achieve our goals, be it as individuals, congregations, communities and Israel and her people, our people.

Bill Hess is ARZA vice chair of allocations, immediate past President of the American Zionist Movement, and a Union for Reform Judaism board member. He dedicates this piece to the memories of his teachers Jacques Torczyner and Rabbi Lawrence “Jake” Jackofsky, zichronam l’vracha.

Reform Judaism’s deep commitment to outreach and inclusion, both of Jews–by–choice and interfaith and multi–cultural families, is a core value rooted in the historic development of our Movement. The early pioneers of liberal Judaism were broad thinkers who sought to reclaim the universal message of our biblical prophets, teaching that the Torah’s ethical ideals were meant to embrace all people. In today’s pluralistic URJ family, the Classical Reform voice continues to uphold the historic spiritual principles and distinctive worship traditions of our heritage, and seeks to express this focus in its thought and practice. In no context is this perspective more clearly reflected than in the new ways that our Movement came to understand the meaning and observance of Passover, early in its history in the 19^th century.

While the traditional interpretations of the Exodus in the Haggadah tended to emphasize the particular meaning of the story for Jews themselves, the early Reformers expanded its timeless messages and themes to proclaim a universal ideal for all humanity. They gave new significance to the ancient invitation “let all who are hungry, come and eat!” The memory of slavery and the promise of liberation became a paradigm for human history in general, with the Jewish experience broadened to serve as a symbolic hope for oppressed people everywhere. The link of ancient memory and future redemption was fundamental to the historic Haggadah text, but had previously focused on the coming arrival of the Messiah and the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem. Reform Judaism radically expanded this concept to envision a time when all men and women would be freed from every form of tyranny and suffering. The great Classical Reform hymn, “God of Might” reframed the literalist aspirations of the “Adir Hu” text that concludes the seder, replacing the previous emphasis on the rebuilding of the ancient Temple with the broader, universal hope that one day, the “chains of all who labored in thrall would be riven.”

This inclusive, accessible understanding of Passover’s meaning has special significance for those who choose to join themselves to the faith and community, history and destiny of the Jewish people…or who share that history and destiny with their loved ones. Because its story is a universal one, the Haggadah’s challenge that we should remember the Exodus as if each of us personally were redeemed from slavery in Egypt becomes a powerful way to claim this historic legacy for oneself. The liberation from previous spiritual struggle, the journey through the wilderness, and the revelatory encounter at Sinai all become a symbolic model for the individual experience of anyone whose own personal wanderings have led them to choose Judaism. The seder itself, originally conceived as a “crash course” in basic Judaism, can become an intensive review of our entire history, for either a new participant or a diverse gathering of family and friends of different faiths and backgrounds, to say nothing of those countless lifelong Jews who could use a refresher course!

A Classical Reform perspective would hold that while our liberal religious emphasis should be on the broad ethical values of Passover, the rich symbolism of its various rituals and observances also can be profoundly meaningful ways to connect and affirm these ideals. A conscious, mindful decision to avoid eating bread during Passover week offers the opportunity to reflect constantly on the contemporary implications of freedom and liberation in our daily lives. This practice also reminds us of the reality that many in our world must abstain from eating bread every day-not out of religious choice, but because of their enslavement in poverty and hunger.

All of us–those born into the Jewish community, those whose own spiritual journeys have led them to our faith, and those who share their love and lives with Jews-can accept Passover’s broad, inclusive invitation to come and eat at the table of freedom. We can all embrace the memory of oppression and liberation as our own. This great challenge is proclaimed in the opening words of the seder:

“Now in the presence of loved ones and friends, before us the emblems of festive rejoicing, we gather for our sacred celebration. With the household of Israel, our elders and young ones, linking and bonding the past with the future, we heed once again the Divine call to service…living our story that is told for all people…whose shining conclusion is yet to unfold!”

Rabbi Howard A. Berman is the Executive Director of the Society for Classical Reform Judaism. The SCRJ is the international voice of advocacy for the preservation and creative renewal of the liberal spiritual principles and the distinctive worship traditions of the Reform Jewish heritage we all share. Among the Society’s many programs throughout America and in Israel, is its current collaboration with the Central Conference of American Rabbis in the preparation of a new contemporary language revision of the beloved Union Haggadah, the historic liturgy that inspired generations of Reform Jews with a broad, inclusive interpretation of the Passover story. Please visit the SCRJ at www.renewreform.org.

Reform Judaism’s deep commitment to outreach and inclusion, both of Jews–by–choice and interfaith and multi–cultural families, is a core value rooted in the historic development of our Movement. The early pioneers of liberal Judaism were broad thinkers who sought to reclaim the universal message of our biblical prophets, teaching that the Torah’s ethical ideals were meant to embrace all people. In today’s pluralistic URJ family, the Classical Reform voice continues to uphold the historic spiritual principles and distinctive worship traditions of our heritage, and seeks to express this focus in its thought and practice. In no context is this perspective more clearly reflected than in the new ways that our Movement came to understand the meaning and observance of Passover, early in its history in the 19^th century.

While the traditional interpretations of the Exodus in the Haggadah tended to emphasize the particular meaning of the story for Jews themselves, the early Reformers expanded its timeless messages and themes to proclaim a universal ideal for all humanity. They gave new significance to the ancient invitation “let all who are hungry, come and eat!” The memory of slavery and the promise of liberation became a paradigm for human history in general, with the Jewish experience broadened to serve as a symbolic hope for oppressed people everywhere. The link of ancient memory and future redemption was fundamental to the historic Haggadah text, but had previously focused on the coming arrival of the Messiah and the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem. Reform Judaism radically expanded this concept to envision a time when all men and women would be freed from every form of tyranny and suffering. The great Classical Reform hymn, “God of Might” reframed the literalist aspirations of the “Adir Hu” text that concludes the seder, replacing the previous emphasis on the rebuilding of the ancient Temple with the broader, universal hope that one day, the “chains of all who labored in thrall would be riven.”

This inclusive, accessible understanding of Passover’s meaning has special significance for those who choose to join themselves to the faith and community, history and destiny of the Jewish people…or who share that history and destiny with their loved ones. Because its story is a universal one, the Haggadah’s challenge that we should remember the Exodus as if each of us personally were redeemed from slavery in Egypt becomes a powerful way to claim this historic legacy for oneself. The liberation from previous spiritual struggle, the journey through the wilderness, and the revelatory encounter at Sinai all become a symbolic model for the individual experience of anyone whose own personal wanderings have led them to choose Judaism. The seder itself, originally conceived as a “crash course” in basic Judaism, can become an intensive review of our entire history, for either a new participant or a diverse gathering of family and friends of different faiths and backgrounds, to say nothing of those countless lifelong Jews who could use a refresher course!

A Classical Reform perspective would hold that while our liberal religious emphasis should be on the broad ethical values of Passover, the rich symbolism of its various rituals and observances also can be profoundly meaningful ways to connect and affirm these ideals. A conscious, mindful decision to avoid eating bread during Passover week offers the opportunity to reflect constantly on the contemporary implications of freedom and liberation in our daily lives. This practice also reminds us of the reality that many in our world must abstain from eating bread every day-not out of religious choice, but because of their enslavement in poverty and hunger.

All of us–those born into the Jewish community, those whose own spiritual journeys have led them to our faith, and those who share their love and lives with Jews-can accept Passover’s broad, inclusive invitation to come and eat at the table of freedom. We can all embrace the memory of oppression and liberation as our own. This great challenge is proclaimed in the opening words of the seder:

“Now in the presence of loved ones and friends, before us the emblems of festive rejoicing, we gather for our sacred celebration. With the household of Israel, our elders and young ones, linking and bonding the past with the future, we heed once again the Divine call to service…living our story that is told for all people…whose shining conclusion is yet to unfold!”

Rabbi Howard A. Berman is the Executive Director of the Society for Classical Reform Judaism. The SCRJ is the international voice of advocacy for the preservation and creative renewal of the liberal spiritual principles and the distinctive worship traditions of the Reform Jewish heritage we all share. Among the Society’s many programs throughout America and in Israel, is its current collaboration with the Central Conference of American Rabbis in the preparation of a new contemporary language revision of the beloved Union Haggadah, the historic liturgy that inspired generations of Reform Jews with a broad, inclusive interpretation of the Passover story. Please visit the SCRJ at www.renewreform.org.