blogs/rabbi-huberman

The chametz we carry in our souls

My job as a rabbi isn't always to encourage congregants to be more observant. In fact, there have been times when I've encouraged some in our congregation to "take their foot off the gas."

Sounds a bit crazy, I know. 

There's just a week left before the first Passover Seder, a time when families tend to focus most on the physical, the practical, the tangible regulations. 

What food should we serve? Who should we seat next to whom - or not? Is this item kosher or not? Which parts of the Haggadah should we skip?

Most of all, I receive a lot of questions about cleaning homes in preparation for Passover: changing dishes; searching out crumbs and other traces of leaven. 

All of these preparations are important. They remind us that Passover is about new beginnings, as we celebrate the coming of spring -- and embrace our treasured friends and family members.

Yet, our tradition also teaches, that the goal of Passover is more than the fulfillment of a series of fixed rituals and practices. It also involves the journey of the human spirit.

Often when I ask a child why we celebrate Passover, they reply, "Because the Jewish people did not have enough time to let their bread rise when they left Egypt." It's a wonderful answer. 

Yet it is also our responsibility as Jewish parents and grandparents to make it about something more. Pesach is, of course, about the remembrance of bondage and the celebration of freedom, but it's not only about that: it's also about freedom within every corner of human existence. 

Our Sages taught that "There can be no freedom for us until there is freedom for everyone." 

It's one thing to praise God for our liberation from Egypt, but our journey cannot stop there. Passover is Judaism's designated time to pass the tradition of care, compassion and social justice to the next generation. 

Our Torah tells us that Passover is about slavery. We need to reflect upon not only Judaism's historic enslavement, but the real persistence of slavery today. 

Every day, thousands of the most vulnerable and impoverished human beings around the world are bought, sold, or held hostage by unscrupulous entrepreneurs. Many are sold into slavery and prostitution. 

Passover is also about re-considering ancient definitions. Who are today's slaves? What devices or habits are we slaves to? How many of our fellow human beings are enslaved to addictions and obsessions? How can we amend our attitudes and provide systems of support?

Friends, we are witnessing an unprecedented period in our history. High school students are leading a movement to protect the lives of not only children but all citizens of this country. 

As we speak, five young members of our congregation and our Hebrew school principal are in Washington participating in the March for Our Lives, aimed at abolishing weapons whose sole purpose is to cause mass murder. 

Tomorrow morning, after I complete my morning Shabbatprayers, I will be participating in the Glen Cove March for Our Lives. In the words of Rabbi Abraham Heschel, "I will pray with my feet." 

Last year, a niece who works as a nurse asked me if she was failing Judaism by spending Passover in Kenya, administering vaccines to children. I told her that I could not think of a more authentic and meaningful way to embrace freedom, and to honor Pesach. 

So, amidst all of the physical preparations involved with the observance of Passover, we must also ask ourselves whether we are truly embracing the spiritual meaning of the holiday. 

Preparations towards this epic Jewish holiday, involve not just removing the physical crumbs from our floors, and the presence of yeast from our pantries, but clearing of leaven from our souls: our need to win every debate instead of learning from every interaction; our need to prize grudges over understanding; our need to amass "evidence" against others -- even loved ones -- instead of seeking reconciliation.

This is the spiritual bloat we carry with us; this is what we need to expel from our souls. 

In ancient times, it was traditional for rabbis to speak to their congregations only twice a year: once between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and the other this coming Shabbat, also known as Shabbat HaGadol, the Great Shabbat. 

Rabbis were so concerned that congregants were missing the true meaning of Pesach that they exited their study halls and encouraged their followers to parallel their physical pursuits with preparations of the soul. 

They asked, "In advance of gathering your friends and family around the Seder table, what bloat do you need to let go of? What are the issues of pride and stubbornness which you need to flatten, like that piece of Matzah?" 

In many ways, that is the deeper, more spiritual meaning of Passover. It is a reminder that Passover takes work, as we balance the themes of bitter and sweet, freedom and slavery, internal and external. 

It is a reminder at our Pesach tables, to not only tell the story or the Exodus, but also to sensitize ourselves towards today's plagues: intolerance, poverty, hunger, racism, and the eroding environment-just to name a few. 

This is this time of the year that we remember the Seders of our youth, and the gentle and loving lessons which were transmitted to us. We remember the smells, the sounds, the songs, the laughter and the voices of those who walk this earth no more.

In so doing, we must also ask ourselves: How can we make Passover more relevant to new generations? 

It is not vital that recite every word of the Haggadah. It is far more important to acknowledge and act upon our responsibility to transmit the values which Pesachembraces. 

Let us consider what readings, both Jewish and non-Jewish, we can add to the Seder. What messages can we promote? What action can we take? What are the antidotes we can support to combat today's plagues? 

Perhaps most of all, let us remember that at the Seder table, when that cousin or uncle assumes a contrary political or social position, how to flatten our souls and embrace a more important principle: Shalom Ba'it -- peace within our homes.

A speaker this past weekend at a conference I attended noted: "Each of us needs to consider how to be less right, and more kind." 

That is the chametz -- the leaven -- that we need to work on. 

It is a key message to consider in our preparations for Passover, as we observe this week's special Sabbath. 

How can we be kinder? How can we be more understanding? How can we be patient with the imperfection of others?

How can we rid ourselves of the chametz of the soul? 

How can we be truly free? 

Shabbat shalom, v'kol tuv. 

Rabbi Irwin Huberman