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April 2, 1999/16 Nisan 5759, Vol. 51, No. 27
Fate of one and all linked
Torah Study
RABBI ISMAR SCHORSCH
Passover 5759
In Jewish ritual, rarely is anything we do or say solely about ourselves.
At the Jewish wedding ceremony, we break a glass to recall the destruction of the Temple. During the fast of Yom Kippur, while reflecting on our personal lives, we recite in the Musaf service a poetic version of the martyrdom of rabbinic leadership at the time of the Bar Kochba rebellion against Roman rule in Palestine.
The fate of the individual is never wholly detached from the welfare of the group. Risk and meaning derive from belonging to something larger than ourselves.
The Passover seder ritual exhibits the same emotional mixture. At the end of grace after the meal, we briefly interrupt the joyful mood of the evening to bring to mind the darker side of Jewish history. Before resuming the psalms of thanksgiving, we send a child to the front door to see if the prophet Elijah might have returned to herald the dawn of messianic redemption.
While the door is open, we recite four verses asking God to avenge the suffering of our ancestors over the ages at the hands of oppressors: "Pour out your wrath upon those who do not know you and upon the governments which do not call upon your name. For they have devoured Jacob and laid waste his dwelling place" (Psalm 79:6-7; Psalm 69:2; Lamentations 3:66.).
The first coupling of redemption with revenge appeared in the Haggadah in about the year 1100 as part of the Mahzor Vitri, a massive collection of Ashkenazic prayers and halachic (Jewish law) commentary that originated in the circle of Rashi. What eventually reduced the number to four verses may be the pattern of four, which is the organizing principle for the Haggadah as it crystallized over many centuries.
We drink four cups of wine, ask four questions, speak of four sons, interpret four verses from Deuteronomy 26:5-8, perform four ritual acts prior to eating, and sing four rollicking songs to conclude the seder. It is consistent that the outburst against our enemies is cast in terms of four.
The Mahzor Vitri emerged not long after the eruption of the First Crusade in 1096, when Jews in large numbers killed themselves and their children to escape forced conversion. Some 50 years later, German Jews in Wrzburg were killed by their neighbors for allegedly murdering a Christian. This first instance of the infamous blood libel soon became the debased coinage of Christendom, attaching itself especially to the preparation of matzo for Passover. To open the door during the seder was not only to beckon Elijah, but also to check that no child's corpse had been deposited on the doorstep.
The exodus from Egypt foreshadows the final messianic upheaval. As God once devastated the Egyptians with plagues, so would God devastate our enemies at the end of days.
The playful passage in the Haggadah expanding the number of plagues that occurred in Egypt and at the Sea of Reeds from 10 to hundreds conceals a deadly purpose: the more plagues at the exodus, the more devastation when the messiah will come. Ashkenazic Jews spill drops of wine from their glasses when recounting the 10 plagues to protect themselves symbolically against their recurrence in the messianic era. The plagues should strike our enemies, not us. The association of Elijah with our fervent plea for justice underscores the messianic impulse that gave rise to the curse.
Finally, the songs at the end of the seder resonate with messianic overtones. "Adir Hu" looks forward to the rebuilding of the Temple; "Ki Lo Naeh" celebrates the uniqueness of God; and "Had Gadya" affirms God's compassionate providence. In my father's house, we closed the seder with a rousing rendition of "My Country 'Tis of Thee' " and "The Star Spangled Banner," to express gratitude to the land that had admitted him and his family as immigrants from Germany in 1940. My father knew the difference between tyranny and freedom first hand. In America, we can celebrate Passover with unadulterated joy; we can open the door for the sole purpose of welcoming Elijah.
Rabbi Ismar Schorsch is the chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. For additional commentaries on the World Wide Web, visit www.jtsa.edu/pubs/schorsch.
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