A year or two after I got married, my parents invited my in-laws to seder. They’d not been to a seder before. They were very polite, but you could tell seder didn’t really do anything for them and we didn’t subject them to it again. (Don’t worry. We found lots of other Jewish and non-Jewish ways to connect!)
I remembered this story when I read an article by Rabbi Ethan Tucker whose content I’ll share. You can read it in full if you like here.
“Let everyone who is hungry come in and eat” we announce at the start of our seder. This appears to be a general, universal invitation. Doesn’t it?
But in the Torah’s account of the very first Exodus meal, it’s clear that the invitation isn’t to “everyone” but to specifically Israelite people. Israelite slaves are to band into households or groups several days before the feast, agreeing who is going to be eating with whom, and then slaughter and eat accordingly. Furthermore, says the Torah, although foreigners can be circumcised and convert, without formally joining Israel they are not permitted to partake.
And the Lord said to Moses and Aaron: this is the ordinance of the Passover: no stranger shall eat of it (Exodus 12:43)
Future re-enactments of this event according to the 13th century law code Sefer HaChinuch follow this distinction too:
And because this sacrifice is to remember our freedom and our coming into the steadfast covenant with God, it is fitting that only those that have completed the faith benefit from it — and those are complete Jews; not those that have not yet come together with us in the complete covenant. (Sefer HaChinuch 14:2)
Elsewhere, the Talmud suggests whilst it is entirely appropriate to host non-Jews for Shabbat meals, it might be less desirable to invite non-Jews. There are tedious technical explanations and work-arounds for this distinction, and in practice it isn’t followed. Indeed, it’s become common to invite non-Jewish friends and family to festival meals and to seder.
But the idea behind this rule is an interesting one.
As Rabbi Tucker reminds us, at the seder everyone is instructed to view themselves as if they personally left Egypt. We reminiscence, reliving an experience that we ourselves underwent. It might feel less compelling to those who do not believe themselves to have been there .
Seder for my in-laws, I suspect, felt like coming to my parents’ home for a meal but being subjected to several hours of looking at their holiday snaps.
That’s not to say that the seder should be off-limits to non-Jews, nor that the spirit of inclusivity isn’t there in the seder. It’s just to say that sometimes it’s ok, even joyous, to be “just us” with fellow members of the tribe.
Whoever you seder with. May it be meaningful.
A bittersweet footnote. We always miss departed loved ones at the seder, but this year the entire family of Israel feels the absence of our brothers and sisters still in captivity. Do share their names and stories at your seder. All at NEMS are thinking of Itzhak Elgarat. And at NNLS we are thinking about our hostage, Naama Levy. You can find the names and faces of other hostages here.
Zahavit
Recent Comments