Pesach 5785
From the Desk of Lynn Davis, Director of The Rabbi Joseph H. Gumbiner Community Action Project
Over the weekend, Jews around the world gathered with friends and family to celebrate Passover. We shared the ritual meal, or Seder, and re-told the story of our freedom from slavery and our Exodus from Egypt.
The Exodus is more than a story about escape—it’s a foundational narrative of identity that incorporates freedom from oppression, divine justice, remembering the pain of bondage, and embracing hope for a better future. It’s a story of liberation and resistance that has resonated with Jews and non-Jews throughout history. We begin the evening by affirming that merely telling the story is not enough. We’re required to interrogate this sacred narrative; to contemplate its meaning and to examine the questions it raises for us in our own day. Specifically, Passover demands that we connect the lessons of the Exodus story to the Pharaohs that arise “in every generation.”
The Haggadah (the text read during the Passover Seder) also reminds us that no one person or act freed the Israelites from Egypt. Resistance required that many people find their courage: the midwives Shifrah and Puah who rejected Pharoah’s immoral decrees; Aaron, who spoke truth to power; Miriam, sister to Aaron and Moses, who led the Israelites in song and dance as they crossed the Red Sea; and Moses himself, who confronted Pharoah and demanded that his people be freed. Nor did the Israelites leave Egypt on their own. Text tells us that they were accompanied by a mixed multitude, the erev rav – people of diverse backgrounds and ethnicities who renounced their association with an oppressive regime and found common cause with the oppressed.
This Passover, I can’t stop thinking about that mixed multitude and our very own erev rav: the members of different faith, ethnic, racial, and religious groups with whom we work in common cause, tackling the many social challenges that face our community. These are all people who are committed to creating a more just democracy, a more robust civil society, and fighting identity-based hatred in all its forms.
But that also forces me to think about where I show up, where we show up, for others. How are we showing up – loudly and explicitly – for the rights of other marginalized groups? How are we interrupting the current plagues of violence and oppression? For whom are we the erev rav?
According to the Exodus narrative, Pharaoh amasses power through fear: by dehumanizing a vulnerable group and targeting it with state violence. If we fail to name the ways this is happening in our own times, we will have not fulfilled the requirement of the Passover seder. This ritual of remembering, questioning, and renewing our commitment to justice challenges us to not get comfortable with other people’s suffering.
When we read, “In every generation, one is obligated to see oneself as though one personally came out of Egypt,” it isn’t just about history—it’s a call to empathy and action and a reminder that our liberation is inextricably linked with that of others. The Seder reminds us that liberation is a communal act, not just a personal one. As you search for solidarity around you, ask for whom you are the erev rav. What is your place in the mixed multitude fighting for others’ freedom today?