A
large part of holiday observance is remembering events that happened in the
past – leaving Egypt, defeating Haman, defeating the Greeks. And then we eat, of course, but even
the eating is connected to the remembering.
This
morning I want to talk a little bit about how we remember. Because the way we remember has an
impact on us. We can remember the
past in ways that make us stuck in the past. Or we can remember the past in ways that help us face the
present.
Forgive
me if I spend a few minutes talking about Passover before I turn our attention
to Hanukkah. If nothing else, they
belong in the same sermon because the two most widely observed rituals among
American Jews are the Passover Seder and the lighting of Hanukkah candles.
Passover
commemorates the Exodus from Egypt and how do we remember our time in Egypt and
our leaving Egypt?
I
recently heard a lecture about this by Micha Goodman, a Senior Fellow at the
Hartman Institute. He identified
two models for how we remember Egypt – one which gets us stuck in the past and
one which helps us face the present.
The
first is represented by King Josiah.
He was the 7th century BCE ruler of the southern kingdom of
Judah who uncovered a book that had been lost and started a whole revival that
brought back the “old-time” religion.
Passover apparently hadn’t been observed for generations and, among
other things, he revived Passover.
He
heard through the ancient grapevine that Pharaoh was going to be passing
through with an army on his way to fight the Assyrians.
As
described in the Book of Kings, Josiah went out to meet him and fight him. And he got killed.
The
Book of Chronicles adds another detail:
Pharoah sees King Josiah all ready to fight and says to him, ?מה לי ולך “Mah li
v’lach?” As if to say, “What are
you doing? I didn’t come to fight
you. I’m just passing
through. This isn’t your war!”
What
was going on? According to Micha
Goodman, King Josiah was remembering Egypt and the Exodus from Egypt in the
most literal way. In order to
remember the story authentically, he figured, he had to defeat Pharaoh just like Moses
defeated Pharaoh.
He
remembered the past but got stuck in the past. This was a new Pharaoh who wasn’t interested in fighting or
even subjugating the kingom of Judah.
He fought the wrong battle.
And it cost him his life and, shortly thereafter, the Kingdom of Judah
began to crumble and collapse.
By
contrast, Moses tells the children of Israel, when you are about to enter the
land, don’t oppress the stranger, כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים ki
gerim heyitem b’eretz mitzryaim.
Don’t oppress slaves וזכרת כי עבד היית בארץ מצרים v’zacharta ki
eved hayita b’eretz mitzayim – remember that you were slaves in the land of
Egypt.
This
is a whole different approach to remembering. And by the way, it’s Moses delivering the message, the one
who actually fought Pharaoh, who says that what it means to remember Egypt is
not so much to keep fighting with Pharaoh, but to have your experience in Egypt
inform your sensitivity as you begin to establish a society in the promised
land.
Moses’s
way of remembering, unlike Josiah’s, did not get the people stuck in the
past. It prepared them to face the
present and also to prepare for the future of a society based on tzedek, on
justice.
We’re
in the midst of Hanukkah. We can
focus on oil and we can focus on our victory over the Greeks.
But
if we see Greeks around every corner, if we are fighting against secular life
as the enemy, if we never allow that ancient animosities can subside, then we are
going the way of King Josiah and becoming slaves to the past.
Some
old enemies are still enemies, but we have to know the difference.
If
we are to follow the model of Moses our teacher, rather than King Josiah, how
might our memory of the Hanukkah story impact the way we face the present?
First,
we should remember the experience of being persecuted based on religious
beliefs.
Moses
was aiming his remarks toward a generation who didn’t actually experience the
slavery. The ones who were going
to enter the promised land weren’t the ones who were slaves. But he appealed to a collective,
intergenerational memory.
And
I’m doing that too. Together in
this room are people who grew up in the US, in Europe, in Iran and Iraq, in
Cuba, in South America, many of whom experienced persecution to one degree or
another.
When
Yazidis and Christians are being persecuted in Syria and elsewhere in the
Middle East, Jews need to care and speak up.
To
remember the Hanukkah story the Moses way is to consider our negative
experience and to try to prevent it from recurring to us and occurring to
anybody else.
Not
getting stuck in the past at all, but rather, facing the present more humanely.
Second,
we should remember that our ancestors living in Jerusalem and Modii’n under the
Greeks were trying to figure out how much of the good parts of the surrounding
culture to absorb. Exercise
is good. Philosophy can be
good. There was a range in those
days from those Jews who completely shunned any adoption whatsoever of Greek
culture to those who went for it whole hog, so to speak. Changed their names, their dress, their
eating habits and even, in some instances, tried to disguise their
circumcision.
Full
isolation to full assimilation and everything in between.
And
so remembering the Hanukkah story can also be about asking ourselves the
following question today: How do
we take the best that American culture has to offer and the best that Jewish
tradition has to offer? Where do we
draw OUR lines?
These
are questions that I discussed with the parents of our Nitzanim, kindergarten
families this past Sunday. I asked
them to reflect on the places where they grew up, what it was like to be Jewish
there, why they chose GN to raise their kids, what are the benefits and
challenges of raising Jewish children in GN.
All
with a nod toward Hanukkah, the holiday which challenges us to think about
religious boundaries and identity IF we remember the Moses way, not the King
Josiah way.
We
can remember the past and get stuck in the past. We can remember the past and live mindfully in the present.
That’s
true of holidays. That’s true of
life. How many of us remember our
childhoods in ways that paralyze us so that we can never transcend old traumas
and old fears?
For
a person to mature, for a nation to mature, he or she has to learn how to
remember.
I
say to each of us, on this festival of lights, let’s remember the pain of
religious persecution, experienced directly or through transmission, so that we
can denounce persecution directed toward us and others.
Let’s
remember the challenge of bearing an ancient tradition in a modern context so
that we can enjoy the most fruitful synthesis of the two.
We
were slaves in Egypt. But we don’t
have to be slaves to the past. Not
when our tradition provides us with creative ways to live today and to prepare
for a brighter tomorrow.
Originally delivered at
Temple Israel of Great Neck on Shabbat Hanukkah, December 20, 2014
Wise words, Rabbi, and well put, as always.
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