Forgive me for my late post. You see, like my ancestors before me, I too had an arduous exodus from Egypt. Â And although mine involved less wandering through the desert and more riding in buses through the desert–not to mention waiting in security lines, enduring a ‘random’ bag search, and withstanding a heart-stopping bomb scare–I feel, in a very specific, drastically underestimated way, their pain. Â Although that’s probably because I haven’t slept in 36 hours.
But ignoring my woeful hypocrisy for a second (I left for Egypt mere hours after wrapping up a seder dinner at my boss’s home), I had an amazing holiday gallivanting around Cairo and the Sahara Desert, and it was reinvigorating to step onto African soil once more, even if the similarities between Egypt and my one-time home–South Africa–are essentially null.
What stuck with me, though, as I explored the scene of one of Judaism’s most challenging periods was an anecdote I heard from a woman at my seder. Â Midway through the meal she told of how, at the height of the second intifada, her office received a fax from Fatah. Â The correspondence, as best I can remember, said something like the following: ‘As you celebrate your ancestors’ liberation from slavery, please remember the struggles of another people who are still fighting for their own freedom. Â Next year, may we both–Jews and Arabs–celebrate our freedom in Jerusalem. Â And may it be within a shared Jerusalem.’
The story elicited a number of responses from our diverse, albeit 100% Jewish, gathering: guffaws that reeked of sarcasm, nods of silent agreement, nervous laughter. Â For me, it revealed the true value of Pesach, shedding light on the everyday blessings that we too often take for granted, and proving to me, once again, that all anyone wants is a life of dignity and self-sufficiency.
At the height of hostility between Arabs and Jews, Fatah extended their hand in a gesture of mutual recognition and goodwill. Â Though an increasing number of their people were seeking independence through terrorist attacks, a large portion of Palestinians wanted what we all want: peace and quiet.
So, as we go forward this year, let us devote our time and energy to those still in bondage throughout the world, be it by actual chains or perhaps worse, those whose slavery is defined by debilitating market or government forces: the nation-less Palestinians, the betrayed Zimbabweans, the forgotten Haitians; refugees the world over; and the billion–the billion–people, mainly in the Global South, living on less than $1 a day.
For thousands of years, the Jewish people has survived. Â We survived Egypt, we survived the blood libels, the pogroms, the Shoah. Â This year, let the taste of the bitter herbs linger in your mouths. Â Don’t wash it out with wine and don’t ignore it. Â This year, take a stand. Â This year, work to give the multitudes their freedom.
Sam Melamed is a Masa Israel participant, participating in Career Israel, one of Masa Israel‘s 160 programs.
