Last Day Pesach 5771 Rabbi Aaron Goldstein 25 April 2011

The chanting of shirat ha’yam, the song of the sea at this time in our annual cycle, concludes Pesach, Season of our Liberation, in triumph. Yet we are reminded of the cost of freedom.

“Pesach is replete with examples of the tension between rejoicing at the suffering and death of those who persecute us and yet feeling sorrow that human life is being tormented and destroyed. Thus in one section of the Haggadah, the Rabbis elaborate on the number of plagues that befell the Egyptians, raising it from 10 to 250 – but there is also the custom of taking out one drop for each of the ten plagues so that our cup is not full because of suffering. Similarly, apart from the first day of Pesach, we recite only a partial Hallel. This tradition seems to be teaching us that while it is only human to rejoice at the downfall of an enemy, such rejoicing must be qualified by awareness of the suffering – necessary perhaps, but suffering nonetheless – of our foes.

This tension is best captured in comparing the exultant shirat ha’yam recited by the Israelites after the drowning of the Egyptians with the following midrash:

At that moment of the crossing, the ministering angels wanted to sing praises to God. But God silenced them, saying: “My children are drowning in the sea and you want to sing before Me!”

Our tradition assumes that all the Israelites gained their freedom. We are living through what has become known as the ‘Arab Spring.’ One fears that it may continue long into summer and the ramifications certainly beyond. We already know of the innocents who have been killed at the hand of despots and their armies and also those killed in the euphemistically known, ‘friendly fire.’ I am sure that it was not only the Egyptians who died in the sea of reeds but also Israelites and others who sought to escape Egyptian bondage, whose lives became metaphorically, stuck in the mud, or who had already died in bondage.

As well as the prolific themes of liberation, redemption and freedom, of the coming of Spring, birth and renewal, we have this underlying, mainly unspoken theme that acknowledges mortality. On the first day of Pesach, traditional Jews add in a prayer for tal, for dew, in the additional service. Sephardi Jews include from Pesach, in the second paragraph of the Amidah, “morid ha-tal – You cause the dew to descend.” includes the prayer for tal, for dew. For the crops to survive the dry summer of hot climates, dew was needed. Without crops, mortality would be a real question.

At our Seder nights, we celebrate being together as family and friends. In our services we feel at one with our Community and with God. Yet we might also be aware of those who once took their place at our Seder table, those who have died recently or further in the past.

It is often to the Psalms that Jews have turned for inspiration and strength in the face of challenges placed in our path, in life and at times of death and mourning. Psalm 144 has traditionally been used for its supposed magical power, in the event of an injured hand. We will use one verse from it in a few moments as part of our Yizkor Service and which is also used in Funeral services.

However, in its entirety, it encompasses all the travails of life: Whether those travails have been experiencing war first-hand, or whether the battles of life have not been so directly existential but have nonetheless caused acute pain, physically, mentally or spiritually. It also reminds us of the responsibility that we have when other lives are placed in our hand. It recalls our mortality and our desire for God to intervene, to use all God’s biblical might to protect us and, yes, to remove harm, whether their source natural, industrial or directly human. May this Psalm and our Yizkor Service comfort us as we remember the pain of life and death. May they leave us with the knowledge that life will bring future challenges but that we have hope in our future. A future that through our efforts, walking hand-in-hand with our family, friends, community and God, will ultimately be redeemed. May we leave this Sanctuary, able to appreciate the Spring, the birth, the renewal of this Season of our Liberation.

V’hi no’am Adonai Eloheinu aleinu, uma’asei yadeinu con-nah. Oma’asei yadeinu con-neihu. Let Your favour, Eternal One, our God, rest upon us, and may our work have lasting value. O, may the work of our hands endure.

Blessed is the Eternal One, my rock,
Who trains my hands for battle,
My fingers for warfare;
My faithful one, my fortress
My haven and my deliverer,
My shield, in whom I take shelter,
Who makes people subject to me.

What are we, Eternal One, that You take note of us;
What is our worth, that You consider us?
We are like a breath, our days are as a passing shadow.
Eternal One, bend Your sky and come down;
Touch the mountains and they will smoke.
Make lightening flash and scatter them;
Shoot Your arrows and rout them.
Reach Your hand down from on high;
Rescue me, save me from the mighty waters,
From the hands of strangers,
Whose mouths speak lies,
And whose oaths are false.

O God, I will sing You a new song,
Sing a hymn to You with a ten-stringed harp,
To You who gives victory to kings,
Who rescued Your servant David from the deadly sword.
Rescue me, save me from the hands of the stranger,
Whose mouths speak lies,
And whose oaths are false.

For our sons are like saplings,
Well tended in their youth;
Our daughters are like cornerstones
Trimmed to give shape to a palace.
Out storehouses are full,
Supplying produce of all kinds;
Our flocks number thousands,
Even myriads, in our fields;
Our cattle are well cared for.

There is no breaching and no sortie,
And no wailing in our streets.

Happy the people who have it so;
Happy the people whose God is the Eternal One.

Amen.