Pesach 5781 | March 2021
Rabbi Eryn London
Class of 2017
L’shana Ha-Ba’ah B’Yerushalayim!
Next Year in Jerusalem.
Next Year in person.
Next Year with the people I love.
Throughout the seder, we are reliving the leaving of Egypt. Reliving a time when we and our community, and all of our ancestors, together experienced something great, overwhelming, and all-consuming.
We are meant to see ourselves as if we had left Egypt:
Imagining building bricks. The heat of the sun on our bodies. The sand and dirt under our fingernails. The smell of cement, mixed with dirt, water, and some spices that happened to waft over.
Imagining living in the fear of what might happen next. Never knowing what new rules might come to be. Never knowing when we might be treated more harshly.
Imagining mourning the loss of loved ones, but not being able to fully mourn. Holding that sadness and grief and anger. Wondering who will be next and when, and will we have a chance to be with them, hold their hand, or hug them one more time.
Imagining trying to take care of our neighbours and friends to the best of our ability. Knowing that we are all struggling right now, that there still must be a way to be compassionate. Trying to alleviate suffering to the best of our ability.
Imagining just getting by day by day, taking it one day at a time because more than that is too overwhelming.
However, the seder does not end there. Like the Israelites, we are also able to leave Egypt; we are also able to remember that experience as well.
Remembering the slight joy that we might have felt, watching as our enslavers suffered, while also feeling empathy for their sadness, anger, and fear.
Remembering the fear and confusion as things started to change – how the world as we knew it was no longer. Simultaneously wishing for the world to be like the ‘before time’ and hoping that it will be different, better. Knowing that although our ancestors had wisdom, some of it no longer fits and we must be on our own and discover a new way.
Remembering what it was like to pack our bags, to be ready to go at any moment. To hold onto that anticipation. Thinking about what were our essential items. What were the things that helped each of us in Egypt, what were the things that needed to stay there, and what did we need to take to the new place.
Remembering the cold of the night. The stars in the sky. The energy from the people around us.
Remembering the joy to be free, but also the fear of not knowing what it means to be free. The fear of what it means to be able to do whatever I want, when I want. To not stay in one place. To move about freely.
Remembering the worry that it might happen again. What if we have to go back to that time? What if that time happens to our children or our children’s children or generations down the line? How will they survive? Will they be strong enough? Will too many of them watch people they love die? Will they have to feel pain?
Remembering the awe and joy of crossing the sea. The realisation that a huge miracle just happened. The tears running down our faces. The joy of hugging each other. The wanting to tell the world that this happened.
Although it is not always easy to be hopeful for the future, the words are there: ‘Le’shana Ha-Ba’ah B’Yerushalayim’ - Next year in Jerusalem.
This Pesach, may we be able to travel back in time and forward to the future – to a future of hope, a future of a better world, a future full of health and wellbeing.
L’shana Ha-Ba’ah B’Yerushalayim!
Next Year in Jerusalem.
Next Year in person.
Next Year with the people I love.
