For the past week, the Jewish community at the College has joined Jews around the world in celebrating the holiday of Passover, or Pesach in Hebrew. The holiday, which has just concluded, commemorates the Exodus to freedom of our ancestors, the ancient Israelites, from generations of slavery in Egypt. This story has shaped how Jews have understood ourselves for millenia: We have integrated the remembrance of that Exodus into our yearly, weekly, and even daily religious practice. Jews have celebrated Passover for centuries, sitting down for a Seder meal on the first (and often second) night of the holiday, telling the story of our departure from servitude as we eat matza (unleavened bread) and maror (bitter herbs), have a festive meal, and refrain from eating leavened items for the week.

Yet, this year feels different — is different.

It is not a simple time for Jews to mark our people’s memory of becoming free and to attempt to live out that experience in our bodies, relationships, and communities. For over six months, war has been raging in Gaza, Israeli hostages are still in captivity, and Gazan civilians are living amidst violence and death. And now, closer to home, American college campuses have burst into the headlines in very challenging ways. 

As human beings, whenever we feel stressed or threatened, we naturally  turn inward: toward familiar ideas or frames of reference and away from opinions that we don’t agree with. While this can soothe us momentarily, it ultimately does not give room for the fullness of human experience. The fundamental religious message of Passover is about becoming free: not just from outside forces, but also from constriction, from the ideas that hold us back, from limitations placed on us by outsiders and ourselves. To do that with integrity requires tenderness, a willingness to embrace complexity, and space for others.

Right before the Passover holiday began, I received an email that included a framing for Passover by AdirChai Haberman-Browns, an Israeli-American peace activist who recently completed a tour of North American Jewish communities. It is based on the Four Questions and Four Children: core elements of the Seder, that involve questions asked by the youngest child at the Seder, and four archetypal children who come to the ritual meal. In his framing, Haberman-Browns invites Seder participants to adopt the identities of four people involved in this conflict. He specifically chose identities that may be more difficult for a single person to relate to in these past months — an Israeli hostage, a Palestinian civilian in Gaza, a ceasefire activist in North America, and an Israeli soldier.

Talk about challenging.

Haberman-Browns invites us to go through these four questions, and to discuss them in small groups. 

What are the person’s emotions? What are their needs? What challenges do they face? What biases do they encounter, such as antisemitism, Islamophobia, or racism?

He encourages people to make an effort to put personal identities and views aside, and to cultivate a space for newness and change. I found it to be a provocative exercise to engage with as I prepared for Seder, as it forced me to get out of my own particular viewpoint and adopt the perspective of others. It wasn’t easy. Days after I first attempted the exercise, it still isn’t easy. But it reminds me of the importance of trying to expand our perspectives, doing work that stretches our hearts and our minds, and to help us have more compassion for those for whom it might be hard for us to relate right now. 

Traditionally, Seder night is imagined to be a time when we receive the complete, overwhelming gift of freedom: Divine energy flows in its most powerful expression without our need to do anything at all. It is considered a time of renewal and of love. That energy continues to flow throughout the Passover holiday and into the days that follow. Regardless of our particular religious identity or affiliation, I pray that each of us receives the blessings that we need and that we can open ourselves more deeply to others in our community, in our circles of care, and to those with whom we disagree, as we seek to build our relationships and look after each other in this difficult time.

Rabbi Seth Wax is the College’s Jewish Chaplain.