During the Passover Seder (dinner), a fun part is that children race through the house looking for the Afikomen - a portion of matzah. The winner gets a prize. Although, at any Seder I have been to, every child receives a gift of some sort. The Passover Seder, which is the retelling of the exodus from Egypt, along with various commandments, parables, blessings, and songs, is actually meant to be for children. However, children, under Jewish law, do not have any obligations. Adults are obligated to tell the story. The reason that it is often boring, if you do find it boring, is because the adults end up just reading it word for word, salivating at the smells of brisket and potato kugel.
In Israel this year and in the diaspora Jewish community, there is a pall on the Seder as there are possibly 25 living hostages in chains in Gaza, starving, unable to breathe, with possibly days, maybe weeks left to live. “Let my people go” is not the cry of the ancients, but rather our cry for the last five hundred and fifty three days since the horrors of October 7. Rachel Goldberg-Polin, the mother of the brutally slain American-Israeli hostage Hersch Goldberg Polin, said recently the question that we must ask at our seders is, “Why are [the hostages] still there?”
At the Passover Seder children ask the four questions and then the adults answer them with the story of the Exodus from Egypt. But the answer to Ms. Goldberg-Polin’s question begs more questions: where are the 2025 versions of Moses, Aaron and Miriam? Where are humble leaders who will risk saving the lives of their people instead of their careers? In addition, where are Mussas, Haruns and Maryams? Where are the leaders who can influence Hamas to end this war right now?
While these questions are legitimate and important, along with others, I would argue that tonight we must focus on our own ancestral narrative heroes. There is no story like the story of the Exodus.
And yes, that last plague, the most horrible, is one that we wince at. It’s the one that when a child asks, “Did that really happen?” we might say, “It’s a metaphor,” or something like that or “Why don’t you have some grape juice?” If you’re at a table of adults, perhaps you might want to talk about Gaza. With children, the choice is ours.
With children, though, remember to finish the story. Leave Egypt with unleavened bread. Cross the Red Sea.
We are not our stories, but our values are defined by how we teach our children about them. We are living in difficult times. Spend tonight talking about the narrative about escaping from slavery. How you do so will shape your children much more so than your rant on instagram about the latest political mishap. (I should know!) The tragedies, inequalities, and incompetent men & women will be there after Seder. Tonight, give your children Moses: an imperfect, but humble, and dedicated leader. Give your children the belief that they too can change the world. One day, we will need them to.
