Inviting the Uninvited

Pesach

by Rabbi Avi Billet


I remember the first time I taught a class about Passover to a group of Jewish adults of very mixed Jewish backgrounds, and I mentioned that the Korban Pesach ritual (Paschal Lamb offering) that was so essential to the holiday of Pesach in Temple times could only be eaten by Jews who believe in God, and that the males of said populace had to b circumcised.

 In fact, so closely is the Korban Pesach related to Bris Milah (circumcision) that they are the only two mitzvot in the Torah that, when not fulfilled, carry with them the punishment of “karet” (Biblically prescribed excision from the Jewish people – a punishment carried out by God).

 I was unprepared for the reaction. “You mean a non-Jew cannot participate in the Seder?”

 One who googles the phrase “how to run a Passover Seder” must put much care into what one clicks, because a number of the top search hits will point to Christian websites dedicated to teaching people of their faith how to run an authentic Seder. So it’s not just Jews who have non-Jewish friends who need to be concerned, but non-Jews themselves! And with even the President of the United States hosting Seders over the past few years, it clearly is an important concern and consideration.

 I assured the questioner that as we don’t have a Temple now and no Korban Pesach, we don’t adhere to such a restriction, because the meat that we eat, while delicious, is not the required lamb that has limitations on who may eat it. And while I don’t know what goes on at too many Seders other than those that I’ve experienced, I hope that all Seders do an adequate job of focusing on the concept of the Israelites’ switch from slavery to freedom, the role God played in bringing that goal about, and a hope that the freedom we speak of metaphorically can be experienced for the Jewish people again when anti-Semitism is eliminated from the world. This is a message that needs to be spread widely and clearly.

 One of the themes of the Seder is the number four. Four questions, four sons, fours cups of wine. I once heard Rabbi Kenneth Hain of Congregation Beth Sholom in Lawrence ask the question, “Why three matzahs? Shouldn’t we have four matzahs?”

 There is a tradition that each matzah represents a different kind of Jew – the Kohen, the Levite, and the Israelite. Rabbi Hain suggested the 4th matzah, the one that doesn’t make it to the table, represents the Jew that is so far removed from Judaism, this Jew doesn’t even make it to the Seder.

 It should come as no surprise that Bris Milah and the Passover Seder are the two most widely practiced Jewish rites. I highly doubt it is because of the karet-connection I mentioned earlier. But it is telling that they share this and so many other connections: the significance of blood, the concept of a covenant, a tribute to Elijah the Prophet, how you can’t do one without the other, etc. These connections give a strong indication that most Jews do make it to a Seder of some kind, and that not too many Jews who affiliate are missing. 

But what do we do about the missing Jew – the 4th matzah?

 First of all, I hope that all those who are bringing non-Jewish guests to their Seders have plenty of seats filled by Jews who might not otherwise attend one. As for those of us who are not inviting non-Jews to our Seder, are we doing our part to fulfill the words of “Ha Lachma Anya” – “let all those who seek come and eat, and all those who need come and do Pesach”? We live in a world when it is increasingly harder to invite people we do not know. We can’t simply invite strangers off the street without an introduction, or without having someone vouch for them. It is a terrible reality of the times in which we live.

 But if there are people we know, people in our offices, or people we have connections with, who might not have a Seder to attend, perhaps we can reach out and invite them for the first Seder, and give them a little taste of how we celebrate and commemorate our collective journey from slavery to freedom.

 Who knows? Perhaps this gesture will be the first positive one the invited may have had in a while. And maybe, next year, we need not be concerned that this person is the 4th matzah, the Jew who doesn’t even make it to the Seder.

The Covenant of Circumcision

Lekh Lekha

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Over the last seven months, circumcision has appeared as a regular conversation topic in media outlets. Between metzitzah discussions, European nations becoming enlightened about circumcision and banning it (historians note that all that has changed in Europe is that European anti-Semitism now comes in the guise of liberalism – to save the babies!), and the pro v anti circumcision debate which continues to rage on in the blogosphere, there is no shortage of topics to be covered.

Reading Parshat Lekh Lekha this week, the parsha in which the Covenant of Circumcision is first presented in the Torah, it is a good time to reflect on what Bris Milah is and why we are so attached to it.

Dr. Jon Levenson, professor of Jewish studies at Harvard University, noted a (not) surprising phenomenon in his article, "The New Enemies of Circumcision,” in Commentary Magazine, March 2000.

“…circumcision, itself a divine commandment (mitzvah), is emblematic of the Jews' fidelity to the God who formed them as a people and gave them the Torah.

"It is hardly surprising, therefore, that even in modern times, Jews across the denominational spectrum have continued to have the procedure performed on their sons on the eighth day of life, just as the Torah prescribes. What may be more surprising is the durability of circumcision among those Jews for whom traditional theology is unacceptable. All sorts of other practices bearing the warrant of tradition--Sabbath, dietary laws, daily prayer--have fallen by the wayside, but circumcision, [ ] britmilah [ ], endures."

Levinson went on to discuss different opinions as to the prophylactic effects of circumcision, noting that they are irrelevant to the Jew who will be circumcising regardless of medical opinion. This notion was adequately noted by Herman Wouk in his "This is My God" where he wrote, “[F]or Jews circumcision … is not a detail of hygiene, [but] the seal of the pledge between Abraham and his Creator… The Jews have followed the Mosaic law with a confidence which modern medicine progressively ratifies.  The medical endorsement is not, however, the glory of Judaism.  It is a footnote."

In many Jewish circles, the question of circumcision is not a Hamletian question of "to circ or not to circ," but is merely a question of when and where. This is something the non-Jewish or the non-circumcising world, who view circumcision as barbaric, will never understand. Circumcision is a practice that has defined our people for thousands of years. We have done it openly, in secret, enjoying the support of local government or in defiance of laws against it. The practice has survived hatred, bigotry, persecution, and genocide for many reasons including those discussed in Talmud Nedarim 31b-32a (see also Shabbat 130a). It is the fulfillment of our side of the agreement of Bereshit 17, in hopes of the continued fulfillment of the promises God made to Avraham.

Many people who are anti-circumcision like to quote a passage of Maimonides from "The Guide to the Perplexed" [3.49 (118a), 609] in which Maimonides expressed how circumcision decreases physical sensitivity. But their quotation of Maimonides is always incomplete, and therefore intellectually dishonest.

In the part they don't quote, Maimonides outlines why we circumcise. Avraham was the first to recognize the power of the male "drive" and the need to have other pursuits in life [see Hilchot De'ot 3:2]. More importantly, in his day (certainly before any notion of routine circumcision that exists in the United States today), circumcision gave our people a common physical sign of our peoplehood, along with the faith that this is what God has asked of us. (Levenson addresses the fact that women do not bear a sign of the covenant - which most women I have spoken with are "just fine with that.")

The covenant forged with Avraham, in which God agreed "to be a God for you and for your children after you" [as described in Bereshit 17] is the source for declaring God's oneness.

Maimonides states unequivocally that the Torah cannot be properly fulfilled without circumcision. He shares three points of wisdom in the process of circumcising at this age: 1. Were we to leave it for the child to do when he grows older, there's a great chance that he wouldn't do it. 2. The long-term pain experienced by an older person, who will add emotional stress to the ordeal, does not compare to the when-it's-over-it's-done experience of a newborn 3. Submitting a newborn to circumcision is much easier than an older child, for whom our love only grows over time, who experiences pain differently and who might remember it.

These days, even many Muslims have switched from the older practice of circumcising at 13 or a younger age of childhood, opting for the newborn period, which is far less traumatic and entirely forgettable.      

Small groups of Jews claim "choosing not to circ is the more Jewish thing to do." Discounting the Torah is hardly "more Jewish," but those who don't "get it" will try to use any argument they can to pursue their agenda.

For us, our covenant with God is what will keep this mitzvah alive. May we merit to bring many more babies into the Covenant (though only boys bare the physical mark) as the Jewish people continue to grow in anticipation of the final Redemption.