Elephants on the Seder Plate

  

It’s going to be a crowded Seder Plate; elephants aplenty.

 

What follows is drawn from a superb article by Rabbi Mishael Zion available here https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/how-do-we-celebrate-seder-with-the-elephant-in-the-room/  (those of us who know the Different Night Haggadah, he is the son of its lead author, Noam).

 

Rabbi Zion wrote about the elephants that will be at his own family Seder, and at the Sedarim of so many of those he has been teaching this year.

‘I travelled,’ wrote Rabbi Zion, ‘from Israel to Boston for four days of pre-Passover teaching. Everyone seemed to be asking different versions of the same question: “How can I celebrate freedom when there are hostages still in Gazaa?,” “My daughter has told us that she won’t come to the seder if we mention Israel. What should I do?” or “I want to do seder with my parents in New Jersey, but I can’t go if my Trump-supporting cousins are there.” Back in Israel,’ Rabbi Zion continued, ‘families are dreading gathering around the seder table with relatives who don’t share their views on the war in Gaza or differ greatly in their opinions about Israeli politicians or government decisions.’

At first glance, Rabbi Zion doesn’t seem to be listing different versions of the same question, but rather radically different questions. The different reports are certainly driven by different pains, fears and, even loves. But Rabbi Zion has to be right, they have to be seen as the same question.

 

The question is – “How can we do this together?”

 

At this point in the life of the Israeli State, in this current global geo-political climate, in a world where our opinions and emotions and even our brain chemistry is being drawn into positions of difference and radical opposition, this is the elephant; “How can we do this together?”

 

Rabbi Zion considers the place of the Wicked Child, still invited to the Seder, still afforded a place in the Haggadah. “The text of the Four Children,” he writes, “invites us to recognize that each child responds differently to the story of our people.” 

He then shares an insight into the Haggadah which was, for me, new.

“But what of the parental response? It is commonly understood that the Haggadah tells us to hit the wicked child’s teeth for betraying the Jewish collective. But a careful reading reveals that the Haggadah does not say הכה את שיניו – hit his teeth. Rather, the Hebrew text says הקהה את שיניו – blunt his teeth, take the bite out.

“How do we take the bite out of sharp, morally misguided or offensive questions? Under every sharp question asked by a family member lies a legitimate concern or a shared value. Recognizing the shared value takes the edge off.”

It’s a remarkable suggestion. What if we canonise, even celebrate, the questions that seem to us unacceptable? What if we could accept the question that could drive us to a sharp response were we to be at any other table on any other night, and certainly if we were to be sat scrolling through the algorithmically curated social media feeds of our lives, and instead take the sharpness away; recognising the legitimate concern or shared value?

Can we meet one another across a Seder plate, even with an elephant – or four - in the room?

I hope so, for that is the only way in which healing, and freedom, will come.