FOUR QUESTIONS … AND PASSOVER

Tomorrow night, Saturday, a question will be asked by the youngest child present at dinner:
“Why is this night different from other nights?”

The child asks the same question that has been asked for centuries by Jewish people in times of despair, in times of joy, in times of knowing, in times of unknowing.   Tomorrow night is very special for adherents of the Jewish faith as it is when the celebration of Passover begins.  And it begins with a Seder – a special meal – with various rituals like the question: “Why is this night different from other nights?”  “Ma nishtanah ha-laylah ha-ze mi kol ha-leylot?” 

The same child asks the Four Questions which emerge from that first question.
Then each of the answers to those questions explains why things are done differently that night:
* Why is there no leavened bread, only matzoh (unleavened flatbread)? 
* Why are only bitter herbs eaten this night?   
* Why are the vegetables dipped twice, not once, in salt water? 
* Why is eating done, reclining on one elbow?

Each year on Passover, the same answers come.
* Matzoh – because there was no time for the dough to rise
* Bitter herbs – as a reminder of the bitterness of slavery
* Vegetables dipped in twice – as a reminder of tears shed
* Eating while reclining on one elbow – to symbolize freedom.

While I am not of the Jewish faith, I have often been intrigued by this tradition and wondered if Passover can offer lessons to people of other faiths – to those of no particular religious faith.  And, if so, what could those lessons be?” 
And over time, some answers began to emerge.

First – we can learn to ask questions.   

I love the tradition of having a child begin the Passover Seder with a question.  Children love to ask questions (oh wow, do they ever!), but as we grow older, many stop asking questions and take what others believe to be their truth.   Not asking questions has sometimes led to broken relationships, illness, political uncertainty and war.
Why don’t we ask more questions?  Curiosity is a wonderful attribute!

When I had questions of the teachers at the church my family attended, I heard the same response, over and over again:  “All answers are in our books.  Look – the answers are there.”  I did look, over and over, but I didn’t see answers.  What I saw, was more questions.  But every time I had a question, the response was the same – year after year, after year. 

When I was fifteen, I spoke with my parents, telling them that I wanted to leave that church.  “Why?” they asked.  I told them that not only wasn’t I finding the answers I was seeking in the two books that undergirded that faith, I was not being allowed to question – at all. 

My parents told me in later years that when they heard me say that I believed I had been given a brain to use, and that because I wasn’t allowed to question anything in the church beyond what was in one of the two official books, I was refusing a gift (my intellect) and I couldn’t believe God wanted me to refuse that gift but use it and ask questions and more questions, after talking it over, they agreed, and I was given permission to leave that church – and religion.  Even though my mother continued as a leader in that church for many years afterward, neither she nor my father expected me to be part of it.  How blessed I was to have them both as parents – parents who invited conversation — who let me “think for myself.”

I have never stopped asking questions.  I hope I never will.   My sense of curiosity and of asking questions has led me on an exciting – and challenging – journey.   I ask questions about religion, history, the Bible, politics, God, the environment, the war in Ukraine, the situation in the Middle East, the situation in the United States, and now here in Canada as well as in Panama and Greenland.   

And,  I ask questions of  myself.    I ask questions to political leaders, religious leaders, social media journalists. Sometimes I get answers.  Sometimes my questions lead me to more questions.  And sometimes, my questions lead me to answers.   But without the questions …

So, I love the Passover tradition of having a child ask the question.

Second – we can learn to face life’s challenges. 

The Christian Season of Lent and the Jewish observance of Passover speak of people long ago who faced challenges.  As difficult as they were then, those challenges were profound teachers.   

Today, each of us faces challenges in our lives.   As difficult as they are for us, they too can be profound teachers.   
Facing challenge is not always easy, but it can be a profound way to learn about life, ourselves, God, this world where we live.

Third – we can learn to take action.

The Israelites left Egypt in such haste that they could not wait for their bread dough to rise, so they took action with the dough they had, and created unleavened bread – the matzoh – which sustained them.  Action!   The life and story of Jesus in Christian belief, is a motivator of action of a literal understanding of ‘love of neighbour’ by those who followed the man Jesus.  That story continues to motivate people today into ‘love of neighbour’  … in advocacy, action and justice-seeking.

© June Maffin
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