What makes the seder like a pregnancy? When we are in the dark middle of the story, we must remember the future.

Imagine being the Israelites gathered together in our slave quarters on the original night of Passover. Until now, we have not known a single day of freedom—only hardship. Fourteen days ago, Moshe announced the new moon means a new month. Until now, there had been no time for us to calculate, no future that could be any different than our present. We were just slaves.

Until Moshe came back. Now we gather in our homes. After we mark our doorways with blood, we must eat our Pesach offering with bitter herbs and matzah, with our belts on and walking sticks ready.

This is the first seder. We do not do it to remember slavery. We are slaves.

God wants us to remember the future. When we are free—we will need to remember this moment before the exodus. Our exodus story will shape world history in ways we can’t possibly imagine. When we are serving God in our own land, our memory of slavery will have a meaning we cannot yet understand.

At the end of the story, we will need to remember the middle.

But here in the middle of the story—in the middle of the night—we must remember the ending.

What makes this like a pregnancy?

A pregnancy’s physical discomfort and emotional vulnerability might be unbearable for a mother who cannot remember its purpose—the tiny face not yet seen. Remembering the future gives us strength in the present.

Every seder is pregnant with a redemption not yet complete. Seder symbols focus on what it means to be in the middle of the story. Matzah is the incomplete bread, stopped in the middle before leavening. We break the middle matzah—saving it to consume by mid-night.

In the middle of the story, we’re vulnerable- which is why seders were never a solitary ritual. We must remind each other what HaShem can make possible- to imagine a future whose face is hidden. The seder, in that way, is a model for every day.

One such story: the baby boy below is soon turning one. His mother first called SHIFRA because she was being heavily pressured to abort. She was caught in a pregnancy that felt almost unbearable because she couldn’t imagine a future. “Just when I thought everything was ruined, SHIFRA gave me hope and strength to keep going. I owe you my life and my SHIFRA baby…”

When you see his face, it’s obvious his life was worth every possible effort to save even when he was in his very tiniest form. He’s loved dearly by his mother and father. He’ll be a light to our people. But when the face is hidden in the womb, it can be much harder for people to envision. That’s why they need loving kindness.

At the seder, we don’t read from the Book of Exodus. We read from the Book of Deuteronomy—specifically, from the testimonial a Jew would give when offering his first fruits at the Beit Hamikdash in Jerusalem (Temple) recounts the Exodus.

“An Aramean [sought to] destroy my forefather, and he went down to Egypt and sojourned there with a small number of people, and there, he became a great, mighty, and numerous nation. And the Egyptians treated us cruelly and afflicted us, and they imposed hard labor upon us.

So we cried out to the Lord, God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. And the Lord brought us out from Egypt with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm, with great awe, and with signs and wonders.

And He brought us to this place, and He gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the ground which You, O Lord, have given to me.” 

Last year, I looked at the faces of Eitan Horn and other beloved hostages in pictures frames at our seder table. Today they are free.

This year, our seder is pregnant with the redemptions we are still waiting for.

Pregnant with the time when Israeli children won’t need to wish their daddies were home from the fighting existential battles. Pregnant with the time when Israelis can sleep in safety without threat of sirens and when no Jew will fear antisemitism anywhere. Pregnant with the time when our Iranian brothers and sisters will be free from despotic and demonic evil.

Pregnant with the time when the healed world we pray for will finally emerge.

Until then, we’ll sing Dayenu. Thanking the Almighty for middle of the story, praying for the best that is yet to come.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)