Corona virus has changed so many things. During these challenging times it seems that this year's Pesach is no exception. For many of us, Pesach will be different without certain family members around the table. With that said, perhaps the different night that awaits us also holds the potential to help us deepen our understanding of freedom.
Our rabbis discussed, as appears in the Hagada, our relationship with Pesach and with freedom in the following way:
In every generation one needs to see one's self as if they have left Egypt themselves.
It seems that in this statement our rabbis our telling us just how different Pesach is from other nights and other holidays. During other holidays we remember the past. We try to imagine what occurred in the past and by doing so we create a memory in the present. During Pesach we partake in a different endeavor. When telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt around the Seder table we focus not on the past but on the present. We do not use our minds to return to historical events, rather, we use the perspective given to us through the Exodus from Egypt in order to look at the present in a new way. On Pesach, we look at ourselves as if we had left Egypt right now.
But this year is different from previous years, and as we approach Pesach, the way we approach this Seder night is very different from the ways we have approached all other Seder nights. This year, during these challenging times, some of us might be asking ourselves – During this pandemic, are experiences of liberation and salvation relevant? Under these circumstances, is it even possible to feel free?
I want to relate to this important question through an insight introduced to me by my friend Dr. Chezi Cohen, an insight that will help us orient ourselves in a new way towards the arduous times the world is facing. The Ben Ish Chai, in his drashot, discussess a distinction made by the "Yitav Lev" (Rabbi Yekutiel Yehuda Teitlbaum) between two phrases that, at first glance, seem similar to one another: "Ovrei Drachim" and "Holchei Drachim". When praying on Yom Kippur, the High Priest asks that God "not heed the prayers of Ovrei Drachim" who ask that God hold back rainfall when the world is in need of rain. The Ben Ish Chai offers a close reading of this text and suggests that the High Priest is intentionally relating to "Ovrei Drachim" (passers-by) and not "Holchei Drachim" (travelers). Ovrei Drachim are people who see the path only as something functional, something used in order to get from point A to point B. For Ovrei Drachim the path itself is of little importance. If it was possible the Ovrei Drachim would forgo the journey because, in their eyes, what is important is attainment of the goal of reaching their desired destination. Often, Ovrei Drachim see the unexpected surprises stumbled upon on the journey as a nuisance that hinders them from attaining their goal. Holchei Drachim are different from Ovrei Drachim. Holchei Drachim understand that the path is important in and of itself. Sometimes the process is as important, if not more important, than the reaching one's goal. As opposed to Ovrei Drachim, Holchei Drachim see surprises stumbled upon on the journey as challenges and opportunities. Sometimes these surprises even turn out to be more important than the destination. Holchei Drachim listen to the here and now and they believe that if Divine Providence placed a hindrance, obstacle or crisis in their path - these have the potential to become a springboard for growth. Sometimes these hindrances even serve as the catalyst for the birth of unexpected things that are new and refreshing.
As we approach Pesach this year we must adopt the approach of "Holchei Drachim" and have the courage to pause and ask ourselves: What can we learn from the surprising path that we, along with all Jews and all of humanity, have stumbled upon? How are we supposed to celebrate Pesach – "the time of our freedom" – amidst these unexpected historical circumstances?
Chazal chose to name Pesach "the time of our freedom (cheruteinu)" despite the fact that the Hebrew word "cherut" is not mentioned in the Torah. The idea of freedom is central in both Jewish and Non-Jewish thought. Much has been written about freedom throughout the centuries and the Biblical verse – Let my people go – has spread as a motto throughout the world. Chazal's choice to name Passover "the time of our freedom" invites us to bring new existential meaning to this concept, from within each new reality we encounter, no matter the circumstances. The meaning we bring and affix to the circumstances of the present is new and fresh, but it is rooted, or is at least in dialogue with, the story of the exodus from Egypt.
One of the new meanings that feels especially relevant this Pesach is – a sense of humility. It seems that this global pandemic is driving us to arrive at Passover 2020 with more humility. Over the past decades a feeling of omnipotence has infused our culture. Many people today stand before nature and its threats and feel that they are in control. Life expectancy (in developed countries) has doubled. The extent of infant mortality has diminished significantly. Many viruses have been eradicated. These advancements, along with so many others, have led us to believe and to feel that science is capable of dealing with any challenge that nature puts in its path. We have seen tremendous progress in so many areas. Space exploration, communications technology, and artificial intelligence are only a few examples of the amazing achievements made by scientists.
And suddenly, in the spring of 2020, the entire human race is dealing with one problem. It is as if the whole world stepped on the brakes and came to a sudden and screeching halt. Today, scientists stand confused in front of one mysterious virus and no one yet knows for certain what the future holds. On Yom Kippur we reflected upon our limited human nature as opposed to God's omniscience and stated that "we are like wise people without any knowledge." When uttering those words six months ago it did not occur to us that we would bear witness to anything like this pandemic. Suddenly the words - "Man comes from dust and his end is dust. He is similar to broken clay" – adopt a meaning that is existential and shockingly real.
Before this crisis we perceived our surroundings as secure. Now that perception is cracking, and those new cracks are deepening our awareness of the fragility of our lives as human beings. We stand humbly before the Master of the Universe and realize: "You are King, existent and living God." This crisis invites us to reexamine our value system as we reflect upon what is essential in our lives and what is of secondary importance. Thought about in this way, this crisis can help us to refashion our lives in a way that is more ethical and more precise.
As "Holchei Drachim" we choose to see this pandemic as part of a process. However, the question still remains – How are we to see ourselves as leaving Egypt this year? How can we relate to the idea of "the time of our freedom" this Pesach while the entire world is fighting the Corona virus?
The French Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas wrote a lot about the difficulty of experiencing real freedom during our times. According to my understanding of him, Levinas is describing the modern world as a world that was conquered by science and therefore is devoid of the element of surprise. All new and astounding phenomena are immediately perceived through scientific tools and are explained through these tools in a rational manner. Everything can be anticipated, and everything can be understood to an extent that seems almost deterministic. This leads man to lose his sense of freedom and of his own free choice. Modern man is imprisoned, according to Levinas, in a world that is structured, planned and organized. This world closes in on him from every direction. In response to this predicament Levinas offers a way in which one can refine one's experience of freedom – consciousness. Levinas states that when man is conscious of the danger of losing his experience of freedom and he chooses to fight for his own freedom – in that moment he tastes freedom itself. This deep understanding of freedom might shed light on our rabbis' statement: "In every generation one needs to see one's self as if they have left Egypt themselves." Every year, we must attempt to renew our experience of freedom within ourselves, an experience that characterizes man who was created in the image of God.
Currently, our world is in upheaval and the unexpected is occurring right before our eyes. Maybe it is now that an opportunity is being created for us to experience freedom in a new way. In a chaotic world there is more room for amazement and for awe. Maybe now there is more room for us to experience what Yaakov Avinu experienced years ago when he said - "How awesome is this place" - and for us to proclaim like he did - "Indeed God is present in this place and I did not know" (Breishit, ch. 28). The secure and familiar world around us has cracked, and perhaps these new cracks and fissures can make possible an experience of freedom in our encounter with God.
I think that our unique experience of freedom this year can be expressed in a new and original way even in the practical and personal aspects of Seder night. For most of us, Seder night this year will be challenging. We will sit around a table without our grandparents, or without our children and grandchildren. Some of us might even need to hold the Seder alone. There is no doubt that there will be a level of sadness added to this year's Seder without all of our loved ones around the table, but perhaps there is a challenge and an invitation here for a new and unique experience of freedom. During normal times we limit ourselves to stay within the safe frameworks with which we are familiar. We repeat the customs, melodies and tastes that together create the experience of the Seder night that is most recognizable. This year, within our different circumstances, we have an opportunity to shape our Seder night in new ways. This is an opportunity to release ourselves from old conventions and create new customs and sing new melodies. This is an opportunity to bear our own fruit and discover new flavors. In order to experience a meaningful Seder night, we will need to have the courage to decide for ourselves – How do we envision our own Seder table? What is really important to us? And maybe, this new encounter with ourselves will expand and enrich our experience of Pesach, adding new flavors to our experience of freedom.
[The English version of this drasha was translated and edited by David Lester.]
