The Universal Appeal of the Passover Story:
Survival, Liberation, and the
Search for a “Promised Land”
BY DR. NURIT ISRAELI
When the grandchildren were young,
we used to enact the Passover story
to make it meaningful to them. Using
costumes and props, we went back to ancient
Egypt. Ben, the oldest, became Moses – with a
map to guide him through the desert, a compass
to help him determine directions, binoculars to
see what’s ahead, and a flashlight to illuminate
dark nights. Ella, his twin sister, was a beautiful
and oh-so-kind Pharaoh’s daughter, who managed
to successfully rescue baby Moses (we had a
baby Moses doll tucked in a small straw basket).
Alec, their younger sibling, was a powerful King
Pharaoh. “Let my people go, please,” Ben/Moses
used to politely but emphatically plead. “No!”
Alec/Pharaoh used to forcefully respond. It took
time (and some plagues) to convince Pharaoh to
change his mind, but he eventually did, and all
were happy…
Spring is holiday time. Spring traditions are
celebrated around the world: Passover, Easter,
Holi, the Chinese Spring Festival, and more.
Both Passover and Easter converge in resounding
messages of redemption and hope.
For me, the story of Passover has universal
appeal, its relevance transcending specific time,
place, or circumstance. After all, hasn’t each of
us, at one point or another, wandered through
some sort of “Desert” in search of a “Promised
Land”? Haven’t we all looked, in one way or
another, for ways to free ourselves from some
type of “Egypt,” external or internal, yearning
for relief?
The Haggadah states that every individual, in
every generation, should feel as though he or
she has been enslaved in Egypt and redeemed
from Egypt. In Hebrew, the word “Egypt” is
“Mitzraim” (from the root “tzar” meaning
“narrow”), literally meaning “from the narrows,”
or “out of trouble” (“mitzara”). Some
interpretations of the Haggadah suggest that
“Mitzraim” is not just a place on the map, where
a narrow strait blocks the way between two
seas and where misfortunes were reportedly
encountered by our ancestors. “Mitzraim” is
also a place in each of us: the difficult hurdles
we need to overcome in order to keep going.
Passover may be viewed as a tribute to our
struggles, personal and collective, to liberate
ourselves. “Avadim Hayinu” – “we were
slaves”... We struggled to free ourselves from
slavery and oppression. Memorializing our
struggles provides an opportunity to understand,
advocate for, and honor ALL people who are
struggling for any form of freedom. The Exodus
story of liberation reminds us to oppose any
manifestation of persecution by the Pharaohs
of our generation. It reminds us to reflect on
our own responsibility in protecting the rights
of others.
In years past, when I planned Seder celebrations
in our home, I liked to step out of the
Haggadah to allow each participant to focus on
ways he or she had experienced oppression or
liberation, as well as on ways he or she could
promote human rights even in the smallest ways.
The Haggadah is a collage of different stories
told in different voices. Its essence is to remember
and retell (In Hebrew, “Haggadah” means
“telling”). The Seder is richer when participants
get a chance to share their personal stories,
offer examples of injustices they experienced,
tell what they did to overcome, bring a quote
or a poem that inspired them, address their
own family histories of Exodus. In the words
of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg:
“On Passover, Jews are commanded to tell
the story of Exodus and to see ourselves as
having lived through that story, so that we may
better learn how to live our lives today.”
Passover occurs in the spring. After a long
winter, the cold days give way to warmth and
light and we see renewal in nature. Spring is a
season of discovery, emergence, rebirth, renewal.
In celebrating Passover, nature and history are
intertwined. Perhaps living through the harshness
of winter enhances our appreciation of the
sweetness of spring…
Passover is also a holiday of gratitude: for
survival, for liberation, for our power to endure,
for being passed over by the angel of death, for
the fulfillment of promises, for the birth of new
dreams, for the realization that no winter can
last forever. One of my favorite Haggadah songs
is “Dayenu,” which means “it would have sufficed,”
or, “we would have been satisfied.” It
is a song of gratitude. “Dayenu” implies being
thankful for what we do have, for being alive,
for what can still be, for being able to share our
holidays and our lives with the people we love.
For my parents, entering the “Promised Land”
meant literally emigrating from Poland to the
land where they longed to find safety, justice,
and peace. I vividly remember tears shed at
Seders during the post-WWII years. The sight
of the Seder table reminded my parents and
their contemporaries of the families they sorely
missed, the families they left behind most of
which perished during the Holocaust.
In their post-holocaust, war-saturated world,
the dream became survival – passing the torch of
life to the next generations. Using my father’s last
words in the album he titled “Roots,” in which
he documented our family history and which
he dedicated to his grandchildren: “I end my
story hopeful that the chain will continue.”
If my father could have seen us celebrating,
from wherever he is in the universe of souls, he
would have been kvelling (“kvelling” in Yiddish
means “to be delighted”) and telling my mother
excitedly: “Look at all of them, gathered around
a beautiful holiday table. This IS the Promised
Land! See? Grandparents, parents, children,
grandchildren, and friends – free to celebrate
holidays their way, free to carve their paths,
free to live and to love. Dayenu! The torch has
passed! In spite of all the losses, the chain goes
on… Our grandchildren and great-grandchildren
thrive… They have expanded the little
that had been left of our family… They work
to make this world a better place… Are things
perfect? No! Is the world they live in on its best
behavior? No! But here they all are – free to
dream up a better future, free to continue the
efforts to promote Tikkun Olam…” (“Tikkun
Olam,” a Hebrew phrase, means “repair of the
world”).
“May they all be safe and healthy,” my mother
would have responded, nodding in agreement
and making sure everyone’s plate was full…
“Lechaim kinderlach” (“kinderlach” –
Yiddish for “children”),” my parents would
have said in unison, if only they could. “Happy
Holiday to each and every one of you. Keep
the flame burning!”
May your Passover, or your Easter, or your
other celebrations of the season be spirited and
meaningful! Let us use the holidays to reflect
on the ills that still plague our world and seek
justice for those who are still oppressed. May
troubles (well, most of them) pass-over us, and
may our cups overflow with blessings...
26 NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER ¢ April 2020