Sermon Preached by Rabbi Evan Moffic

Chicago Sinai Congregation

April 18, 2008

I imagine many of us in this room will be at a Passover Seder this weekend. Some may be hosting one. Why do we go to a Passover Seder? What makes us want to spend an evening reading an ancient ritual or hosting friends and family at our home?.... Tradition, food, family, memories, story... All of this true. Passover is an extraordinary time for making memories. From an anthropological view, it is also a brilliant ritual, involving all five of the senses: we see the table, smell the foods, hear the story, touch and dip the various items and taste the matzah and other foods.

I think Passover also speaks to us on a deeper level. We may even be unconscious of it. But Passover tells a powerful story that can give each of us--as Jews and as human beings-- a sense of identity and purpose. On Passover we tell what some have called the story of stories. It is the story of the journey from slavery to freedom, from Egypt to the Promised Land. It is a story of a people's self-discovery and freedom. Whether it took place exactly as described in the Bible need not diminish its resonance. It resonated for the founding fathers of America , who initially wanted the seal of the United States to be Moses leading the Israelites across the Red Sea . It resonates in our hearts, where we identify with those searching for freedom. And it can resonate in our spirits, in the way we live our lives. It can do so, I think, because the Exodus story parallels the journey that takes place inside each of us. The great twentieth-century rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik wrote about this in his essay "The Inner Transformation of Pesach Night." As he pointed out, "Although a person can participate only minimally in wonders affecting the workings of nature, such as the ten plagues or the splitting of the Red sea, a person can participate in the performance of hidden miracles within his inner personality--uplifting of the soul, repentance, cleansing of the heart, renewing of the spirit." While Passover is a time for celebration, it is also an opportunity for inner growth and change.

So what inner qualities do we strive for on Passover eve? What is the story, the cups of wine, the bitter herbs, meant to evoke within us? I believe they develop our empathy and sense of hope. Empathy is trying to understand another person. It is feeling what they feel. It is the fulfillment of what the Hagaddah tells us to do: during the Seder, it is as if we ourselves went forth from Egypt . We ourselves, not only our ancestors. When we taste the bitter herbs, we feel the pangs of slavery. When we dip the parsley in saltwater, we feel the tears running down our face. Participating in the Seder is not like attending a history lecture. It is like entering a time machine.

This empathy awakens a new sensitivity within us. When we experience slavery, we feel more keenly the cruelties of those enslaved today. That means not only physical enslavement. Political oppression is a form of enslavement. Addiction is a form of enslavement. An abusive relationship is a form of enslavement. Each of us may be enslaved in other ways: we can be enslaved to our work, to our possessions, to old habits that hurt us. When we experience the drama of slavery, we emerge more committed to addressing it in its various forms in the world around us. Indeed, the outer transformation as told in the hagaddah begets an inner transformation that, in turn, generates new outer transformations. It is a cycle that has continued for 2000 years.

What happens during the Seder should resemble what happened to the great Jewish thinker Franz Rosenzweig during another Jewish holy day, Yom Kippur. Rosenzweig was born in the late nineteenth- century Germany to an assimilated Jewish Family. He was an extraordinarily student of philosophy and on his way to an academic career. To attain a position at a top university, one had to be Christian. Like many of his relatives, Rosenzweig planned to become baptized. Yet, the logical philosopher that he was, he decided that he truly had to understand his Jewish religion before he left it. He attended Kol Nidre services. As he heard the Kol Nidre chanted, he heard the echoes of his ancestors. He began learning prayer. He began studying Jewish texts. And he ultimately rejected his academic post and devoted himself to teaching and writing about Judaism. In fact, he wrote one of the classics of Jewish thought, a book that inspired some of the future leaders of Judaism like Martin Buber entitled The Star of Redemption. He wrote it on postcards sent to his mother from the front lines of the First World War.

The possibility of transformation rests on the power of hope. Without hope in something larger, Rosenzweig would have never entered that sanctuary. Without hope, the Israelites would never have journeyed from slavery to freedom. Indeed, looked at critically, their faith in God and Moses that we celebrate on Passover seems absurd. Here they were, slaves for 400 years. Along comes a man, with a lisp, who is going to speak on their behalf before Pharaoh. He had grown up in Pharaoh's palace, but was, of late, a shepherd in the wilderness, and he is saying that God has instructed him to lead all 1.2 million of them across the desert to freedom. Yet, they had hope. So must we. The brilliance of Passover is that it evokes that hope within us. We don't sit down for any regular meal. We don't tell an every day story. We tell a story of transformation. Stories have power. They tell us who we are and where we are going. In telling this story of stories, we evoke within ourselves the ability to transform the world around us. Looking outward leads to looking inward.

Looking inward and responding to what we find is not easy or quick. But it is essential. “When I was young,” recalled a great 19th century rabbi, “I wanted to change the world. I tried, but the world did not change. So I tried to change my town, but my town did not change. Then I turned to my family, but my family did not change. Then I realized: in order to change the world, first I must change myself: and I am still trying.”  Let this coming Passover be the beginning of that change.