The Courage to Be Free

Do we have the courage to be free? That was the question before us as we prepared to leave Egypt 3,300 years ago, and it remains the question before us today. In fact, it may be that at no time since that first Passover in Egypt has a generation of diaspora Jews felt that question as acutely as we do now. And while it may seem that freedom should come naturally, that it should induce only joy and never provoke fear, we know from our people's experience, both then and now, that is not the case.

In fact, it was only days out of Egypt when our newly freed ancestors began to question the wisdom of being free. Perhaps it would have been better to stay in Egypt in a tightly defined place (the literal meaning of the word mitzrayim, or Egypt), rather than risk the openness of the world before them. At least in Egypt they had food, a clear knowledge of their place in the world, who was in control, and what was expected of them.

Egypt to die, before the Jewish people were ready to wear the mantle of freedom, power, and success.

Is it so different now? How often is today's Jewish conversation dominated by our own fears about the Jewish people's ability to make it in the larger world? How often do Jewish leaders express the concern that while thousands of years of anti-Semitism could not destroy the Jewish people, freedom and acceptance might? How often do we hear the yearning for a time when we agreed upon sharing a "Jewish diet," keeping a "Jewish calendar" and doing what was "expected" of us?

To be sure, no people can be successful without observing dietary values, measuring time in cycles that reflect its most deeply held beliefs, and maintaining a sense of mission and the ability to nurture its members' capacity to fulfill that mission.

What those things look like, and how the needs will be met, will vary from community to community, generation to generation. And the successes of each community and generation may not be immediately apparent to the other. In fact, that may have been part of the problem we faced in the desert and what led to waiting 40 years before we could move forward in claiming our destiny.

In the desert there was no conversation between the generations. One generation simply had to vanish for the next to take its rightful place. Perhaps we can do better, creating a living midrash among the generations, where each can learn from the other, not to convince but to genuinely appreciate the lessons that will enhance their respective Jewish journeys.

We do not need to wait for one generation to die for each to make its fullest contribution. In fact, only when we fully honor both will we reap the full value of each.

Indeed, it took 40 years, enough time for virtually every member of the generation that left Egypt to die, before the Jewish people were ready to wear the mantle of freedom, power, and success.

Continued on page 2: What do you bring to the seder table? »