Passover Day 7 – 5783
Ex. 13:17 – 15:26 and Num. 28:19-25 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

We have spent the past seven days retelling the story of the Exodus from Egypt. Now as Pesach reaches its conclusion we read about “what happened next.” 

And it happened when Pharoah sent the people off that God did not lead them by way of the land of the Philistines though it was close, for God thought, “Lest the people regret when they see battle and go back to Egypt.” And God turned the people round by way of the wilderness of the Sea of Reeds, and the Israelites went up armed from the land of Egypt. And Moses took the bones of Joseph with him, for he had solemnly made the sons of Israel swear, saying, “God will surely single you out, and you shall take up my bones with you from here.”  [Ex. 13:17-19] 

This short passage is packed with detail. It explains God’s decision not to lead the people by the straight road: a coastal route that was heavily guarded. Yet, the text also details that the people left Egypt well-armed. If the Israelites were well armed, why would God send them away from conflict? There is no contradiction here. God knew that the Israelites/former slaves were ill prepared. No matter how well-armed they might have been, they did not know how to defend themselves, and possibly, had no faith in their own abilities to do so. To send them towards conflict would have set them up for immediate failure. 

This seems to be a sensible, practical approach. The same could be said for most of the rest of this section of Torah, which describes the practical considerations of the first stages of our journey. 

Why then, do the next two verses focus on Moses personally exhuming the bones of Joseph and taking them out of Egypt?  

One possible answer was to fulfill an oath, which is what the Torah offers as a surface explanation. In the book of Genesis, Joseph makes his brothers swear at his death bed that his bones would one day be brought out of Egypt to the Promised Land. At that time, he foretold a time when “God surely remembers you and takes you out of this land.” [Gen. 50:24] While nobody had assimilated more into Egyptian culture than Joseph, he still understood that our future was in our own land. Hundreds of years later, Moses fulfilled the promise his ancestor made, and perhaps for that reason alone, this act was worth mentioning in the text. 

There is a midrash, however, that offers a deeper rationale. It plays on the uniqueness of Moses – for he was unlike any other prophet or leader of our people. In the Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael, we read that Moses took the bones of Moses for another reason: “This is to show Moses’ wisdom and faithfulness, for while all of Israel was occupied with the riches [taken from Egypt], Moses alone took care of Joseph’s bones.” [Mekhilta de R. Ishmael, B’Shallach 1] In other words, in addition to fulfilling his oath, Moses was teaching us that material wealth will not sustain us over time. What will sustain us is memory. We need to remember and honor our ancestors, and through them the values of our tradition. Only then will we not only survive but endure as a people. 

Pesach is about remembering not only what happened so long ago, but also that the Promise continues until this day. And as we count the Omer, we are also reminded of the future two which that Promise leads. It is not enough for us to sit around our seder tables in relative comfort. With all the noise in the world around us, and in our very lives, we must remember that we are Jews, and that we are called to a higher purpose. 

Passover Day 1 – 5783
Exodus 12:21-51, Numbers 28:16-25 

Rabbi Baht Yameem Weiss 

On Rosh Chodesh Nisan, I was driving home from work, and I looked up at the sky and saw a beautiful crescent moon. It was striking.  I remarked to myself how cool it is that both Judaism and Islam follow the lunar calendar.  Ramadan had just begun, and the Hebrew month of Nisan was beginning, the month that holds one of our most important and observed holidays, Passover.   Yikes, I thought-a crescent moon—Passover is only two weeks away!  

We know that Passover starts on the 15th of Nisan—right in the middle of the month but when does it end? How many days does Passover last? Is it seven days or eight days long? We hear conflicting views.  The answer is, it depends.  It depends on which tradition you follow. 

In the Torah we read in Exodus: 

Ex. 12:15 Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread; on the very first day you shall remove leaven from your houses, for whoever eats leavened bread from the first day to the seventh day, that person shall be cut off from Israel.  

Numbers 28: 17 

On the fifteen day of this month, a festival [begins] you shall eat unleavened bread for seven days. 

According to the Torah, we eat Matzah and celebrate Passover for seven days, but of course, Judaism always makes things more complicated than they first appear   Personally, after seven days, of matzah, I have had enough!  

But the reason for the creation of an eight day is interesting. Just as when I was caught by the beauty of that crescent moon, I find great spirituality in Judaism’s connection to nature.  Back when the months of the Jewish calendar was determined by the observations of the new moon, eyewitnesses would bring their testimony to the rabbinical court in Jerusalem and the court would sanctify the new month based on this testimony.  Since a lunar month is about 29 ½ days, a Hebrew month can last 29 or 30 days.  So, the court then had to get the world out to the rest of the Jewish world about which day had been declared the first day of the month, so that everyone could observe the holidays on the same days.    When this method didn’t appear to be trustworthy, the rabbis started sending messengers to the outlying Jewish communities to deliver the message in person.  Locations within two weeks of travel in Jerusalem had no problem knowing when the month began because Passover begins on the 15th day of the month and there would be plenty of time to get the message.   On the other hand, in faraway Diaspora communities it could take longer to get the message.  As a safeguard, the rabbis started observing yom tov (the holiday when we refrain from work—the first and seventh day) for two days so that one of the days would be the correct date for the holiday. Yom Tom was now not just the first and seventh day as mentioned in the Torah, but an eight day was added, and Passover became an eight-day holiday outside of Israel. 

 Reform Jews and Jews in the land of Israel observe Passover for seven days, following the biblical commandment.  But outside of Israel the two-day (eight day) custom remained.  Nowadays we use a mathematical calendar so the practical reasoning for the extra day doesn’t apply. However, The Babylonian Talmud (Betziah 4b) advised Diaspora Jews to maintain minhag avoteichem, the custom of our ancestors and to continue the practice.  

This explains the discrepancy and why many Reform Jews grew up, like I did, only having one night of Seder, not two.  It is interesting to understand the reasoning behind the seven verses eight-day observance so that each of us can make an educated decision about how long we want to observe.   

Personally, I find it a challenge to refrain from eating bread for the seven days, especially with young children whose diet mostly consists of mac and cheese and breaded chicken.  Thank goodness for Kosher l’Pesach chicken nuggets (yay for matzo meal).  But in all seriousness, I keep seven days of Passover because it makes me feel connected to the Torah—as these are the words we read-for seven days we observe. I know when Passover begins and when it is time for it to end.  I think it’s important for Reform Jews to feel justified and proud of a seventh day observance and important for us to know that we are, indeed following the Torah in its strictest form. 

This year I know it can be especially difficult to keep Passover on spring break when people are traveling. I remember going on many family vacations with a box of matzah in hand. I even remember eating matzah in Istanbul…and maybe hiding it under that table because we weren’t sure how people would react.  Today, I proudly travel with my box of matzah or just enjoy eating lots of salad 😊.   Passover is a spiritual and religious cleanse for me that helps me remove the “chametz”- the leven that weighs me down.  Not only do we clean the bread out of our home, but we also try to organize our space, and take less heaviness into the days ahead. I try my best to let go of all that doesn’t serve my well-being.   

May Passover be a time of freedom for each of you—for the Jewish people, for all people, both physically and emotionally.  

 Chag Sameach!  

Tzav (Shabbat HaGadol) 5783
Lev. 6:1 – 8:36 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

It is easy for contemporary Jews to get lost in the descriptions of the various sacrifices found in the opening chapters of the book of Leviticus. While the act of offering sacrifices may seem foreign to us, the underlying principles still resonate. A clue may be found in the structure of the first two parshiyot. Last week, in VaYikra, we learned about four different sacrifices brought by individual Israelites. This week, in Tzav, we spend a great deal of time with the details of the most well know offering, the olah, which was made only by the priests. Then, almost as a footnote, we get a final personal offering permitted to the Israelite individual: the todah (thanksgiving or gratitude) offering. (Lev. 7:12) 

Rabbi Amy Scheinerman wonders why the todah offering is not listed with the other four personal offerings in last week’s parasha. She looks to Rashi for the answer, who taught that the four sacrifices from last week are brought by “one who experienced a personal miracle.” Rashi also offered specific examples: surviving dangerous travel by land or sea, being released from jail, and recovering from a serious illness. Today, we still acknowledge these “personal miracles” by offering a special prayer called gomeil instead of offering sacrifices. Even if travel is not as dangerous as it once was, we offer thanks for surviving a real or potential risk.  

So, what makes the todah offering different? Rabbi Scheinerman writes:  

Perhaps this is to awaken our consciousness to the silent, unnoticed miracles we experience every day, the ones that the Nisim B’chol Yom bring to consciousness: we didn’t wake up ill, blind, or unable to walk; we have sufficient food for our needs; our loved ones are healthy; we have a job; we make it to work without incident or accident – whichever of these pertain to our lives. These comprise a different sort of miracle, yet no less important, and no less worthy of our gratitude.1 

I very much appreciate her interpretation of the todah offering, and hope she is correct. It is human nature to pay more attention to the dramatic events of our lives, and to focus our gratitude on the “big things.” Yet, I find it far more meaningful to refocus our gratitude on the myriad “little things” of life. One of the most beautiful aspects of the Modeh Ani prayer, which we offer when first we wake, is that it reminds us that each day is not a given, but a gift: “I offer thanks to You, ever-living Sovereign, that You have restored my soul to me in mercy. How great is Your trust.”2 

We no longer offer the todah sacrifice. However, we can still fill our days with many todah moments; instead of focusing only on unmet or unrealistic expectations, we can recognize our good fortune and express our gratitude heavenward. Such is the Jewish approach to cultivating happiness.