Today is Yom HaShoah, a day of commemoration of the Holocaust and an opportunity to consider the relevant lessons of our complex history.
Anyone needing help with the transition from the celebration of Pesach to today's remembrance of Jewish tragedy can simply look at the pictures taken following the arson attack on the home of Governor Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania. While we thank God for the failure of that hate driven attempted mass murder, we remain shocked by the images of the charred remains of the Haggadah, Seder plate, and Yom Tov candles from the Shapiros' just-concluded family Seder. Eighty years after the Holocaust, our sense of security in America continues to be deeply shaken.
These images are exceptionally sobering to us as people of emunah, faith. Protection and security are almost assured on the leil shimurim, the Seder night commemorating God's protection of the Jews as He passed over our homes and struck the Egyptians. Even the mezuzah that adorns our doorposts and safeguards our homes year-round commemorates the security attained by the original placement on our doorposts of the blood of the Pesach offering (see Ramban Shemot 13:16). Can we allow that sense of faith and security to go up in the flames that scorched the Shapiros' Haggadah?
To the contrary. It is there that we will find the key to our survival.
Consider this: How would we have reacted to Moshe's command to offer the Pesach? The Egyptians worshipped the sheep that the Jews had been told to slaughter, prompting Moshe to reject Pharaoh's earlier proposal that the Jews worship their God in Egypt. "How can we slaughter the gods of the Egyptians before their eyes and not expect them to stone us?!" Yet Moshe was now telling the Jews to do precisely that and to not be shy about it. Instead, they were to offend Egyptian sensibilities while making themselves sitting ducks, prominently labeling their homes as targets of Egyptian anger by placing the blood of the offering on their doorposts while being confined to stay in those homes throughout the night.
We would likely have resisted. "Moshe, let's stick to plan A. Why should we risk everything, angering the Egyptians by being boldly and offensively our Jewish selves? Let's instead keep our heads down for just one more night and stay out of trouble, delaying our worship, removing our yarmulkas, and tucking in our Chai necklaces until we are safely out of the country."
Left to our own devices, we would have failed to recognize that the history of the Jewish people has demonstrated time and again that our future is jeopardized when we hide our faith and most secure when we live and worship proudly as Jews. The mezuzah we place on our doorpost is not a mystical amulet providing a magical zone of immediate security; it is a repeat of what we had to do on that first Seder night to become the eternal nation, boldly labeling our homes as Jews dedicated to the service of God, letting the world know who we are and what we believe in. And while it is certainly the case that this kind of boldness can invite immediate trouble, it remains the clearest path to the Divinely guided long-term survival of the Jewish people.
The image of the charred Haggadah is a sobering reminder that eighty years after the Holocaust vicious hatred persists even in the land of the free, but it also highlights the key to our survival. While America was experiencing a tsunami of antisemitism, the Jewish family that lived in Pennsylvania's governor's mansion proudly and publicly celebrated Passover, recalling God's miracles then and His presence now, affirming what has made the Jews outlive all those who have stood up against us to destroy us in every generation.
The Holocaust did not teach us to hide but to be strong and proud as Jews, to bring our people home to Israel, the land of Jewish destiny, and to affirm our faith in His protection of His people always.
"Inscribe these words on the doorposts of your house and on your gates so that you and your children may endure in the land that Hashem promised to your ancestors for as long as the sky endures over the land."
Sincerely,
Rabbi Moshe Hauer
Executive Vice President
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