I spent Passover of 2001 in Dharamsala, India, the exile
capital of Tibet. I have shared Seders with Tibetan sages andthe Dalai Lama, but a young Tibetan kitchen
worker asked a question I’m still thinking about.Peeling potatoes with my friend Donna
Mussarra, he wanted to know what the seder was about.She said, "We tell the story of the
Exodus from Egypt."
"Do you do that every year?"
"Don’t you know it by now?"
Donna laughed and said, "Well, we do it to teach the children."
The young man looked out to the main hall. "I don’t see any children
here."It was true. Most
participants were young adults, Jewish and Israeli travelers. So Donna
explained, "We do it to remember."
"Remember what? To hate the Egyptians?"
"No we don’t hate the Egyptians."
"Well I hate the Chinese." As
we davened maariv, the full moon rose over snowy mountains to
the east. That young Tibetan, and over 125,000 others, had crossed those
mountains from Chinese-controlled Tibet to freedom—and exile. Their modern
story made our ancient Exodus vivid in my mind. The Seder offers a universal
message of hope: Slavery does not last forever, freedom will overcome
Still, the young man’s question was a challenge. Why have a Seder every year? Don’t
we know it by now?
And how could I tell the young Tibetan, who had lost his home and family, that
he shouldn’t hate the Chinese? Especially when many American Jews hate and fear
Egyptians, Palestinians, or more generally, Arabs. In recent years, through our
emotional connection to Israel, we have suffered violence and the bruising of
our hopes. And we have hardened our hearts—haven’t we?—and sometimes put our
faith in violence. Yet on Passover we tell how God, not military might,
delivered us from slavery. Do we believe it? Don’t we know it by now?
We have to experience the Seder at a deeper level. The Haggadahinsists that the liberation from Egypt
occurred not just for my ancestors but for me. Pesach is not a history lesson,
but a recurring dream. It is personal. It speaks to the many times I find
myself in the same dumb tight spot—emotionally constricted, enslaved by my
stubbornness, insensitivity, arrogance, greed. I understand why our great
teachers made the connection between Mitzrayim (Egypt) and metzarim, narrowness. I feel trapped in a narrow spirit, with a hard heart and a
In this big dream of Passover, I’ve played every part. I’ve been a frustrated
slave trying to make bricks without straw. I’ve been the taskmaster whipping
the slave on. And most of all, I’ve been Pharaoh, coldly logical. As Pharaoh
said to Moses, I’ve said to my heart, "I am not aware of this God you are
If only at the moment of crisis-- the Red Sea before
me, Pharoah's chariots at my back --- I could hear a voice of strength and
wisdom, Moses responding, "Be not afraid. Stand and witness the salvation
of the Lord." Then the sea would
part before me and I would have nothing to fear.
Don’t I know the story by now?
No, not really, not deeply enough. That is why this year, I will tell it once