The afikomen is one of the most important parts of the Passover seder. Jewish law says the seder is not complete until everyone tastes a piece of it. Furthermore, we are not supposed to eat anything else after the afikomen. Its taste should linger until the next day and carry us into the Passover week. But I feel bad for the afikomen. It comes from good lineage but ends up playing second fiddle. At the outset of the seder, we uncover the three matzot, remove the middle one and break it in two. We return one half to the table where it plays a lead role. We point to it, lift it, bless it, eat it, and make the Hillel sandwich with it. We wrap the other half in a shmattah and it becomes the afikomen. Somebody sneaks it from the table and hides it for the entertainment of the children. Most of the adults, however, don’t even think about it and the afikomen becomes lost forever. One of our staff members told me that she just found last year’s afikomen still hidden in her laundry room. She threw it out.
Our tradition has offered many interpretations for matzah. One teaches that the three matzot represent the Jewish community: Cohen, Levi, and Yisrael. The broken matzah reminds us that we – both communally and individually – are not yet whole. We have a missing piece that has been wrapped up, put away, and forgotten. Well, this year I aim to find that lost half and I think you should too. I am not talking about the piece of matzah abandoned between the washer and dryer. I mean to recover those lost parts of our heritage and identity that we wrapped up and forgot. This year, let afikomen symbolize two things we seem to have forgotten: the heritage of our immigrant ancestors and our relationship with the state of Israel.
At the turn of the twentieth century my great grandfather, Michael Garber, came to the United States from Russia. His whole family - wife and children - had been wiped out in the Ukraine. I don't know how they died exactly, but I know he came here to find a new life. I also don’t know much about him because I never met him. He died even before my mother was born and nobody really told stories about him. I don’t even think we have a picture of him. Long ago, he was broken off from our story and our identity. We wrapped him up and put him away and we stopped thinking about him. We didn’t do this purposefully. It happened because we achieved his dream so completely. Our family has came so far from his origins and immigration that he became the afikomen to our broken matzah. I am only the third generation down from him. I am now married with two of my own children. While I am not rich by American standards, I do pretty well. I live in Red Bank, New Jersey, a town with Tiffany’s and a half dozen sushi bars, two cars in my driveway, good health care, and the ability to filled up my tank with record-high gasoline. I imagine my great grandfather would be happily amazed to see how we live given what happened to his family.But for all that difference, I’m only three steps away from him. I suddenly remember that I have a broken and lost other half that must be remembered and found. I never think of myself as anything but a deeply rooted, native son of America. But this year, I promise to remember and acknowledge the debt of gratitude that my family owes this country. We have lived in safety and abundance and health. We should remember that our lot was not always so good. This year, I promise to remember not only that my ancient ancestors were freed from Egypt but that my great grandfather found redemption in America. This year I’m finding the afikomen and keeping my obligation to ensure the promise and the legacy of this place.
This year, I will also think of the afikomen as Israel. Exactly 60 years ago, Passover fell on the calendar just like this year. The Jewish year 5708 was a leap year and so Passover fell in mid-April. It was 1948. Just like every single seder that had ever been held, we ended that Passover with the words “Next year in Jerusalem.” The stage was set for erev Shabbat, 5 Iyar - May 14, 1948, when David Ben Gurion declared the independence of the state of Israel. Our people had dreamed of this for almost 2,000 years. We had just barely come out of the death camps of Europe and the dream came true. This year we celebrate Passover on the eve of Israel’s 60th year of Independence. For many of us, Israel has become a lost or hidden heritage. Many studies indicate that we no more see ourselves connected to Israel than we see ourselves connected to China. In fact, we may feel more bound to China than Israel. Israel has come so far that Ben Gurion would barely recognize it today. He would be happily amazed to see what the state has become. But both the hope and the fear that characterized Israel’s founding and early years have given way to a sense of distance, anger, and apathy. We have gotten used to terrorism and violence against Jews in the Land of Israel. We
have forgotten that just five years ago a wave of Palestinian suicide bombers included one that killed 28 people at a Passover seder in Netanya. We have lost our sense of outrage at the hail of rockets falling daily on Sderot. We have forgotten about Gilad Shalit, Ehud Goldwasser, and Eldad Regev, whose chairs will be empty again at their family seders this year (add this special prayer for them at your seder). I returned to Israel last year with my family and I will go again this year and I will go again next year and the year after that. I plan to be in Israel every year that I can for the rest of my life. Someday, I think I may even live there and truly call it home. But for now, I promise that I will not cover up my connection to Israel, forget it, or abandon it like a lost piece of matzah. I hope you'll find that connection as well.Afikomen must be found and shared with everyone for the seder to be complete. Find the stories of your ancestors in this country and share them. Find your way to Israel and share its importance with the world.
L’shanah Habaah B’yerushalayim. Next Year In Jerusalem.
No comments:
Post a Comment