Field of Dreams- Experiencing the joy of Pesach

Do we realize how fortunate we are? Are we cognizant of the fact that, living in this time in Jewish history, it is so much easier to say, no, to sing Hallel, than it was for so many of our ancestors? Perhaps by focusing on the words of a farmer, we can appreciate the opportunity that we have, and gain something for our understanding of Pesach.

In telling over the story of the Exodus from Egypt, you would think we would make use of the text of the Sefer Shemot, the book of Exodus. Instead, as we recite the maggid section of the haggadah, we tell the story as found in the Sefer Devarim, in Parshat Ki Tavo. There, we find the story of the farmer who is bringing his first fruits, the bikkurim, to Yerushalayim. After joyously bringing his fruits up to the Mikdash, he recites a declaration, which tells the story of the Jewish people. Beginning with Yaakov Avinu’s oppression at the hands of Lavan, the farmer, in only several sentences covers the slavery of Egypt, the exodus, the arrival of the Jews in Israel, and the building of the Mikdash. Why do we choose the farmer’s words, with the very brief mention of leaving Egypt, over the more detailed story from Sefer Shemot?

For the vast majority of us, it is hard to relate to the life of a farmer. Even when we eat the food that he grows, it is so removed from his life, that we rarely give much, if any thought. to all the farmer’s toil. If we look back historically, before technology made things easier, although by no means easy, for the farmer, we see that a farmer’s life, and the life of his family, was one of great toil and worry.

Imagine the joy that the farmer felt when all the effort that he and his family expended on their farm came to fruition. Try to picture what it must have been like as he thought back to the beginning of the planting season, and all of the backbreaking labor that the whole process involved. It’s difficult, but try and taste the sweetness as he literally tasted the fruits of his labor. Who better could express the long process of Jewish history? Who else would have a better understanding of how planting with sweat, if not also tears, can lead to harvesting in joy?

If we try and appreciate the farmer’s story, perhaps we can put ourselves in his shoes as we recite the haggadah. Maybe, as we move on to Hallel, we can joyously express our thanks that we appear on the scene of Jewish history, so late in the story. If we are not yet quite at the point of bringing the bikkurim to Yerushalyaim, we are not too far off. While our ancestors literally and figuratively planted in tears, we get to experience the joy that they could only dream of, as the first fruits start to blossom on the trees. Perhaps, if we adopt this perspective at the seder, we will experience the Pesach Seder with a level of joy appropriate to our great fortune.

Understanding our children's questions- Are we paying attention?

If our students or children have questions about Judaism, we are blessed. It means they are engaged and care about their religion. It's not enough to hear their questions. We need to understand what they are asking.

Much ink has been spilled writing about the four sons in the haggadah. I would like to focus on the question of the חכם, and see what we can learn from it as teachers and parents. (The idea is based on the Ramban Al HaTorah).

The most obvious point is that we contrast the רשע with the חכם, not with the צדיק. It is important to note that child is intelligent, which is not the same thing as being righteous. We confuse the two at our own peril. Understanding the one who is asking is very important if we wish to understand what is being asked.

The חכם asks "מָה הָעֵדֹת וְהַחֻקִּים וְהַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה יְהוָֹה אֱלֹהֵינוּ אֶתְכֶם" Although his intelligence can be seen from the complexity of his question, he is not asking you to explain what the terms עֵדֹתחֻקִּים מִּשְׁפָּטִים mean. The key word in the question is אֶתְכֶם. He is asking what these laws mean to you. This son observes his parents as שומרי תורה ומצות and he himself is observant as well. He wants to know if it's worth it. He sees some friends and family members growing in observance, while others seem to be casting off a life of Torah and mitzvot. He sees his parents sacricing some luxuries to observe a Torah lifestyle. He wants them to explain why they are willing to do this. What does this mean to you? Is your halachic lifestyle meaningful? Is it real or merely a sociolological phenomena? Do you learn Daf Yomi because learning speaks to you, or is it mostly about doing what others do?

I have written before about some of the weaknesses of the Charedi educational system. One of its strengths, perhaps its biggest strength, is the ability to give over the emotional geshmak of Judaism. Through stories, songs, plays and pictures, a child in a charedi school is given an attachment to his yiddishkeit which goes way beyond the intellect. For those for whom the system works, there is a buy-in during their youth that lasts a lifetime. Even for those who don't, they rarely seem indifferent to the yiddishkeit with which they have been raised. Better a child who is angry at her religion, than one who is indifferent to it.

By contrast, most of the Torah education in Modern Orthodox schools seems to focus on the intellect. Make no mistake. I am not advocating against the importance of skills, yediot and deeper understanding. I am suggesting that those alone are not enough to make it likely that our students and children will wish to continue our lifestyle. The

חכם already knows what the words עֵדֹת חֻקִּים מִּשְׁפָּטִים mean and can give an example of each. He wants to know why he should care. She wants to understand what these ancient laws have to say to her in a modern world that increasingly does not see the value in a religious lifestyle.

It is not enough for us to show our children that we are makpid to daven, be koveiah itim L'Torah, and carefully observe Shabbos. We need to show why. Not only with words, although it can not be denied that that has some importance as well. Our children our watching the quality of our davening. Is it real, or is lip service? They see us learn, but seek to understand whether the Torah we learn speaks to us. Do we mean it when we sayכי הם חיינו ואורך ימינו? Is our Shabbos merely one of dry and punctilious observance of halacha, or does it nourish our soul? Do we sing zemiros to be yotzeh, or do we seem to be transformed through the words and melody? Our children are wise. Wise enough to know the real thing when they see it, and wise enough to recognize someone going through the motions. Which one they see in our homes and classes is entirely up to us.