On a Seder
(April 20, 2011) My friend’s Seder last night. Always, as in years past, sharing tradition with close friends is a moving experience and the question-and-explanation structure works well in gentile-majority groups like this one (speaking as one of the goyim). But the very adapted Haggadah he had us using this year struck me in the profound immediacy it lent the ceremony. Some came from a recitation of modern plagues, our political characterization of the four children, the abundance of contemporary parallels drawn through the course of the recitation. But the depth of the connection arose out of a focus on Israel, “not a place of inevitable return,” but as a state of mind and being. A spiritual destination. Egypt not just as an historical moment of oppression but as the symbol of everything globally and personally that prevents arrival at that long-sought harmony. Which is really what it should be about. The moment that I kept returning to today was the preparation of the Elijah cup. We passed the glass around, each pouring in some of our wine with a humble wish for the year ahead to bring us all closer to Yerushaláyim: a little more compassion, a little more bravery, a little more responsibility, a little more mindfulness, a little more peace.
