Drash for SHabbat Chol Hamo'ed Pesach

It’s Still Not about Me

Rabbi Don Levy

In case you hadn’t yet figured it out, I’m a big fan of Pesach.  It’s my favourite Jewish festival of the year.  Oh, they’re all wonderful occasions…but Pesach just resonates with me deeper than any of the others.  I take delight in sharing Seder with you, with any other Jews, and with any gentiles as well.  I like the relaxed nature of the setting.  Of being seated at a table with friends and family.  It is to me far more affective than having you sit in the temple sanctuary to observe an elaborate service.  I use the verb ‘observe’ deliberately.  For those who are not directly involved in the ritual at any given time, it is at least likely that they are only observing.  But in the Passover Seder, because it is more participatory and interactive, the door is open to imbibe some of Pesach’s most profound messages.

                This, notwithstanding what I said from this pulpit last Shabbat.  That I fear that for some of us, the message is lost in the details.  That’s a universal pitfall.  As I pointed out last week, it is easy, to allow oneself to get lost in the details.  Easier, and often less painful, than to absorb the true messages of Pesach and contemplate them.  And the fact that the ‘performance’ of the Seder takes some time, often discourages us from really thinking about the messages in the Haggadah text while it’s happening.

                For that reason, thank God we have this Shabbat, Shabbat Chol Hamo’ed Pesach.  Here, the Torah reading presents some of the text of the Haggadah for us to hear in a different kind of atmosphere.  Because we do need to hear it, and contemplate it, without those Four Questions echoing in our heads.  You know the Four Burning Questions, of which I speak:  When do we eat?  When do we eat?  When do we eat?  And finally:  When do we eat?

                 So today, we can really think about Exodus 13:8:  You shall tell your child on that day; it is because of what Adonai did for me when I went free from Egypt.

                Remember the response given to the Rasha, the evil child, in the Haggadah?  It is this verse, with emphasis on me and I:  It is because of what Adonai did for me when I went free from Egypt.  We read it that way, with that emphasis, for a reason.  It is because the difference between a good person and an evil person – at least in this example – is being able to personally identify with events for which one was not physically present.  This, in contrast to thinking that it has no connection to oneself.  Because the one who can’t see that connection, cannot see himself as a player in the ever-unfolding saga of the Jewish people.  To him, all this Seder pomp is just a fixation on some events in the ancient past.  Events which might or might not have actually happened.  But in any case, it has nothing to do with him, to his ‘me.’

                Really, this is the most important lesson of Jewish life – not just the Seder.  It’s not about me, it’s about the People Israel.  Say you skip coming to shul on a Friday night or a Saturday morning, or both, for whatever reason.  You’re tired.  You want to watch American Idol.  It’s too nice a day outside and you want to go sailing.  Now I can make the case that it will benefit you to attend the service and observe Shabbat.  But the real loss if you do not come is to the community as a whole.  The more Jews who show up, the more affirmation each one of us feels in coming.  The more intellectual exchange about the day’s message or anything else that’s on people’s minds.  The more we feel our prayers are real because we hear the collective voices rising heavenward.

                I can hear the protests forming in some of your heads.  Oh, no…the Rabbi is on the ‘it’s not about me’ soapbox again.  Guilty.  Because it’s still not about me.  Or you, singular.  It’s about us.  And it will always be.  Pesach is one more special occasion of the year to hear this message and take it to heart.

                I can’t over-emphasise this point.  At some point in the game, at some time, what I want has to be suborned to what is good for the community.  What I think is the right answer, if the majority of members of the community don’t agree, is not going to carry the day.  Except in matters of ethical behaviour, the course of the community needs to be decided by the thrust of what the community considers to be its norms.  That is, with reference to what our Tradition teaches and what is required by the law of the land.

                It is my prayer that this community will recognise this principle.  It is my prayer that this community will operate according to this principle.  We’re not there yet.  Until we do get there, forgive me for pounding very simple messages – such as this one – again and again.  Until we master the basics, there’s no point in talking about advanced concepts.  That’s why the Rabbis ruled that nobody who had not mastered basic Torah should delve in Kabbalah or any other mysticism.  One needs to be grounded in the basics before taking off on flights of fancy.  In high school, you didn’t tackle physics until you had first mastered biology and chemistry.  You didn’t try your hand at trigonometry until you had mastered algebra.  A professional driver does not try his hand at guiding one of those ‘road trains’ through the outback until he can safely drive a single tractor-trailer.  It’s all just plain common sense.

                It’s simple in theory but difficult to put into effect.  It’s not about me.  But our community celebrations and observances, including the Passover Seder, provide us with constant reinforcement of this principle.  May we learn to see, and appreciate the forest.  May we learn, and live according to, this important principle.  Shabbat shalom, and Mo’adim Lesimcha.