Making Meaning

Our Framework- Four Glasses of Wine

by Susan Weinberg

As Passover approaches we began our exploration of brokenness by considering Jewish rituals that might incorporate breakage. We had previously discussed the breaking of the glass at a Jewish wedding. While more contemporary meanings have been ascribed to this it is actually based on commemorating the destruction of the temple. As I write that, I realize that it is the first time I’ve thought of the fact that the word commemorating implies community, we Co-memorate, we remember as a community. Hold that thought, we will come back to it. 

 

Other examples that were suggested including the tearing of a ribbon as a proxy for clothing destruction at a funeral, breaking of routine with a shiva, fasting and then breaking the fast, and the act of circumcision. We talked of tearing apart challah (breaking bread), breaking down a sukkah and the breaking of a marriage through a get. We also talked of the memory of brokenness that is commemorated at Yom HaShoah and the relationship that yahrzeit holds to memory of brokenness. It is in the act of remembering that we create wholeness. Memory is inextricably tied to both brokenness and wholeness, it is the connective tissue.

 

Dead Sea Scroll Fragments

Breakage creates fragments. Recently there was a discovery of Dead Sea scroll fragments dating back 1900 years. We try to reassemble the pieces of our history. Memory too comes in fragments, each connecting to another, but gaps separate them as well. Memory softens the rough edges of some of those we remember and it allows us to reassemble history with perhaps deeper meaning.

Breaking is also associated with laws as we are commanded to cut off the edges of fields for the poor to glean. Sometimes we require a level of wholeness to proceed such as with a minyan. On a larger scale we talked of the diaspora which broke the Jewish people across nations and how we are reunited through common rituals, if not geography. 

 

The Exodus itself represented breakage with the parting of the Red Sea. That in turn led us to salt which breaks things down and simultaneously preserves them, turning cucumbers into pickles. And so, we passed through the Red Sea and arrived at Passover and the breaking of the afikomen.

 

Remember that co-memorating? Passover is a perfect example of how we remember as a community. The Haggadah is based on oral tradition and it invites elaboration, midrash. We are given a framework, four glasses of wine, and we are invited to step into the story with our Pesach gathering, to fill in the framework. That is the work of midrash.

 

Meryll introduced the role of past, present and future in how we consider the story on which Passover is based. The past is slavery and we commemorate it through the symbolic elements of the meal and with story. The present represents a celebration of freedom. We recline and savor a bounty of food. In the future lies redemption and we do this through the act of remembering. We give charity, we gather food for those less fortunate and we are reminded that we were slaves and are now charged with taking care of those in need.

 

We turned our attention to the breaking of the afikomen and what it signified to us. Particularly in these unusual times, does it convey a new meaning? It is a pause in the seder, preceded by yachatz, washing of hands. Then we break the matzah in parts, some say half, others note that one portion is smaller. The smaller piece remains and the larger portion is hidden. Later the children go in search of the hidden portion and their reward for its discovery.

 

We discussed the increased attention on hand washing during this time of covid and the association of each section of the matzah with knowledge. The small perhaps representing what we know or think we know, often the uncertainty of our knowledge, especially in this time of covid. The larger piece represents more complete knowledge in the future, what we are to discover. Children are important to the seder, whether it is in asking the four questions or  in the discovery of the afikomen. We all have played different roles throughout the seders of our lifetime, once children ourselves. What is broken off is not lost, so long as our children remember. The search, memory and ultimate fullness are all connected.

 

Connectivity seemed to be a theme that many of us discussed. As we face a global pandemic, we appreciate our interrelation to the wholeness of humanity and the need to join together for the benefit of all. Ironically there is a paradox in that we often divide to define who we are, and who we are not. Some group discussions moved from family trees to how trees are connected and communicate through their roots, supporting each other by sending nutrients to those in distress. Trees have a symbiotic relationship with people, exchanging oxygen and carbon dioxide, so are an apt metaphor for connectivity.

 

We left Egypt in haste. We left our home and broke the bonds of slavery, just as we now break matzah, goodbye home, goodbye slavery. In the seder we reintegrate community, we come home as a people. The eating of matzah brings us back physically. The finding of the afikomen by that next generation allows us to continue to transform our home, to keep it alive for the future.

Making It Our Own

I just returned from a trip to the West Coast where I had an opportunity to visit the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco. With Passover approaching, they had a timely exhibition on the beautiful Haggadah illustrations of Arthur Szyk. Szyk created his Haggadah in the 1930s as Hitler came to power and often incorporated imagery related to the troubled state of the Jews of Europe. His work represented the preservation of the Pesach story, but adapted to the times in which he lived.

My return to the Artists' Lab picked up on that exploration with another dive into the Haggadah. To set the stage our facilitator Meryll Page shared several stories with us to illustrate the assumptions that we carry that may not be universal. She related a story of a local rabbi who was a chaplain in Morocco in the 1950s. When Passover was approaching the local people offered to cook a Pesach meal for them. All they needed to do was to share the recipes. Their assumptions were obviously not universal. They ended up with gefilte fish floating in the matzo ball soup.

The Pesach story has been handed down to us and with its passage through time incorporates issues that modern day eyes may find challenging. The assumptions that may have been the norm in earlier times may no longer be as shared by today's world. We were asked to consider how we approach parts of the story that may be repugnant to us. For example plagues were visited upon the Egyptians, plagues that ultimately destroyed their first-born child. How can we rejoice in that destruction? 

Over time we have created adaptations that seek to acknowledge that discomfort. As we count off the plagues, we dip our finger in the wine and spill a drop. This reminds us that our cup of joy is not complete because people had to die for our freedom. 

The Seder has developed in response to such issues. Each of us can make it our own. Meryll noted that there are five approaches that are often taken when we encounter a conflict with modern day sensibilities.

1 Study the word more.
2 Think of alternatives. For example there are actually two beginnings, one which deals with physical slavery and one which addresses spiritual slavery.
3 Replace something real with symbol. Today we use a lamb bone instead of slaughtering a lamb.
4 Avoid it. We don't paint blood on our door posts.
5 Make it child friendly.

In the spirit of adaptation, Anat led us in an exercise to add two additional commandments to the original ten. The exercise was inspired by a section of a poem by Yehuda Amichai that begins with My Father Was a God and Didn't Know It (#4 of My Parent's Motel). We debated the meaning of the additional commandments in the poem. Our translation differed slightly from this link with #11 Thou shall not change and #12 Thou must surely change. I understand this to mean one is to preserve the essence of who one is, but continue to grow and develop in response to one's environment, an interpretation quite consistent with our treatment of the Pesach story.

So what were our additions? Caring for the environment loomed large as well as kindness and not being passive or silent in the face of injustice. There were fewer "thou shalt nots", reflecting a call to action, less focus on sins of commission, more on those of omission. One spoke to me personally in encompassing all of the issues we raised, "Seek out and treat all of creation with an eye to its divine origins".

As we concluded our exploration of adaption, Anat shared a site with us created by Madonna on the theme of freedom. The focus is especially timely with Pesach approaching as its purpose is to encourage creative expressions that bring attention to human rights violations.

 To view information on lab artists and lab discussion links and handouts, please go to theJewish Artists' Laboratory website.

*The Jewish Artists’ Laboratory is an arts initiative through the Sabes Jewish Community Center featuring 25 artists exploring the theme of Light through study and art making. The project is funded through The Covenant Foundation and similar projects are being done in both Milwaukee and Madison. Artists explore how the theme of Light is relevant to Jews and non-Jews, to religious and non-religious, to the community and to the individual, to the artist and the non-artist.

A Plague of Darkness

With Pesach fast approaching, our focus in the Artists' Lab was on how darkness is dealt with in the Passover story. But first we began our session with a song based on a phrase about light; Yom Zeh l'Israel orah v'simchah, Shabbat m'nuhah. This day for Israel is joyous and blessed with light, happiness and Shabbat rest.

Rabbi Davis often uses song to mark the beginning and end of a discussion and I found myself wondering if the ability to carry a tune is a rabbinical requirement. Fortunately I don't aspire to such.  Having sung of light in a happy context, we then turned our attention to its opposite, darkness, specifically the plague of darkness visited upon the Egyptians as a prelude to the release of the Israelites (Exodus. 10:21). 

What does the plague of darkness represent to us? we were asked. "Fear, the unknown, hopelessness, a violation of the laws of nature (darkness during day) " we responded. This evolved into a discussion of our experiences with darkness, some which were quite unusual. One of our group recalled eating at a restaurant in Israel at which the wait staff was blind and the meal was served in darkness. A light code of sorts was enforced with a guest asked to remove his glow in the dark watch.

We discussed how darkness makes one appreciate its antithesis. But darkness is not always a negative. When one is in the womb, we float in darkness. It is light that shocks us upon the moment of birth. And in a world without artificial light, the phases of the moon were especially important for a full moon allowed one to see.

Coming back to the plague of darkness we were asked to imagine the response of the Egyptians when the power of their sun god was extinguished by darkness. The rabbi shared the relevant passages from the Torah together with excerpts of medieval commentary.

The interpretations sometimes grew out of disparate translations of words. Rashi argued that the verb in a key passage came from the word meaning "to grope" as in "you shall grope at noon as a blind man gropes in the dark (Deuteronomy 28:29)" arguing for a thick darkness, one of mass. Still other interpretations spoke of the darkness as a blinding light. 

Interestingly the Israelites were noted as having light in their dwelling, even as the Egyptians did not. We considered whether the term dwelling meant a home or perhaps our body, the home of our inner light.

In addition to the Egyptians, the plague of darkness also affected those Israelites who did not want to venture out of Egypt for forty years of wandering. According to the Midrash, twelve million Israelites died in the darkness.

So what are we to learn of darkness? Hiddushei haRim notes that the greatest darkness is when we fail to see another person, a failure to empathize. Yet another interpreter Even Haezel references language that states the darkness was as thick as dinars (gold coins) meaning that chasing wealth "increases selfishness and darkens the eyes".

Meryll Page then shared a Haggadah created by David Moss. As we are asked to imagine ourselves as someone who came out of Egypt, Moss assists us in this effort by embedding mirrored sections among images of Jews. Traditionally Jews have added to the Haggadah through illustration, thus illuminating it. As we learn in different ways, Passover makes use of many methods. We talk, taste and look. Our final exercise of the evening was to consider how we would add to our Passover Seder through image or text and what our message would be.

 To view information on lab artists and lab discussion links and handouts, please go to theJewish Artists' Laboratory website.

*The Jewish Artists’ Laboratory is an arts initiative through the Sabes Jewish Community Center featuring 25 artists exploring the theme of Light through study and art making. The project is funded through The Covenant Foundation and similar projects are being done in both Milwaukee and Madison. Artists explore how the theme of Light is relevant to Jews and non-Jews, to religious and non-religious, to the community and to the individual, to the artist and the non-artist.

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