This was my bulletin article for April 2012.
We
learn in the Haggadah: B’chol dor va-dor
... in every generation each of us must feel as though we were personally
taken out of Egypt. I was in Egypt; I know what it is to be a stranger in a
foreign land. I was there; I remember.
I hear
women spoken about in harsh, denigrating and abusive language. I read about
Israeli women’s faces being edited out of photographs or being forced to sit in
buses segregated by gender (lest men not be able to control their urges). I am
aware of health care and judicial disparities in the US and around the world
based on gender. And I speak up because I know what it felt like to stand with
Miriam and the women at the Sea of Reeds, loudly proclaiming God’s praise,
refusing to take a back seat to Moses and the men. I was there; I remember.
When my
beloved Israel is threatened existentially by evil regimes whose stated vows
are the destruction of my Jewish homeland, I speak out. When I hear
anti-Semitism in the carefully couched words of those who support boycotts,
divestments and sanctions against Israel, I speak out. I was in Tel Aviv on the
5th of Iyar 5708, May 14th, 1948, the day of Israel’s independence. I was
there; I remember.
I
support unions because I remember the working conditions at the Triangle
Shirtwaist Factory on March 25, 1911, the day unsafe working conditions caused
the the factory to burn, causing the deaths of 146 garment workers, most of
whom were recent Jewish and Italian immigrant women aged sixteen to
twenty-three. There is still a lot to be done to safeguard workers’ conditions,
and I speak out because I was there. I remember.
I hear
American politicians one-up each other about how their religious beliefs should
be the basis of American laws. I read about the people whose lives are
threatened around the world because religious majorities declare their versions
of religion to be the only true ones. When American communities try to outlaw
Jewish ritual circumcision for boys, I speak out. I hear and see, and I
remember the Inquisition. I was there; I remember.
I hear
the right to voice political opinions descend into libel, slander and
hate-filled rhetoric, all for the sake of advertising dollars. I speak out
because so few people were willing to do so on my behalf back in the day. I was
with Esther in Shushan. I was there; I remember.
When
politicians rant about the supposed elitism of college-educated people who want
that same opportunity for future generations, I remember the time not so long
ago when Jews were denied entry into American colleges helped create a public
college system in New York City that allowed me to receive a high-quality
college education at an affordable cost. I was there; I remember.
B’chol dor va-dor ... It has been thousands of
years, and I still believe that I was personally taken out of Egypt.
May
this Passover be a year of personal liberation from Egypt for you and your
loved ones.
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