Friday Dispatch: Our Narrow Places
At one time or another, the outsider is all of us.
“The exodus from Egypt occurs in every human being, in every era, in every year, and in every day.”
~ Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
Friday greetings –
If you had seen me at our synagogue last night before the seder began, you would not have imagined that there was a time – a long time, many times – when I felt like a stranger, an outsider in communal Jewish spaces.
I arrived just a few minutes before H&K, my oldest step-daughter and her partner. I was excited to greet them. They moved to the area last summer, in part fleeing an increasingly hostile environment for LGBTQIA+ humans, in part to be close to us. This would be their first time experiencing Passover.
I remember such firsts well. But if you only met me now, you might imagine I always knew these stories, these prayers and songs, these holidays and rituals.
I gave them both a hug and we walked through the front doors. Roz, also affectionately known as “the rabbi’s mom,” and Keren, our synagogue’s executive director, were standing in the lobby next to a table with stacks of haggadot and pronoun pins.
We did a quick little tour of the building, minus the locked sanctuary, then took seats at one of the round tables set for the seder. As we sat there, other familiar faces streamed in. I got up to give and receive more hugs, proudly introducing my family members. My middle sister arrived and took a seat next to mine.
By way of welcome, our rabbi offered some deeply moving words about the holiday, about brokenness and wholeness.
Let us embrace our entire selves, including our rough edges and broken parts.
Let us remain attuned to the brokenness within us and around us.
Let us share what we might with others who experience brokenness, too.
Let us remain in solidarity with our people, our traditions, and our values.
Let us forge alliances and friendships with all people.~ Rabbi Dr. J.B. Sacks :: read more
The seder unfolded from there. We moved through the haggadah, laughed, read, dipped sprigs of parsley into salt water, recalled the tears of our ancestors, and heeded the imperative that we are not to tell the story of moving from enslavement to freedom as something that happened long ago. We are to tell the story from the vantage point of experiencing it, right now, today, in our bodies, in our own times.
In order to truly take in the meaning and message of Passover, we must really get that until all of us are free, none of us is free.
On the one hand, it’s a tall order if your life is one of relative privilege, as mine is. Without this living, real-time imperative, we might turn away from suffering and injustice. This holiday reminds and requires us to stay awake.
For me, this year’s seder also brought an appreciation for the fact that while belonging may take time and effort, welcoming new faces to the table does not, or at least should not. Our job as Jews and as good humans is to turn, open-faced and open-hearted to the person we first perceive as a stranger when they walk through the door.
I know the pain and alienation of not experiencing this. During my earliest forays into established Jewish spaces, as someone who longed for connection but had no points of reference, no background or education, my steps were shy and tentative, and I was vulnerable to how I would be received.
When no one introduced themselves to me, when I stood around feeling like an imposter, my impulse was to simply leave or at the least, not return. This certainly happened. It took fortitude to keep trying, to keep seeking out different ways in.
This scenario can play out in so many different ways in our lives. When we are part of a family – be it an immediate family of origin or a bigger family as in the Jewish people – we have a choice when someone new enters our midst. We can welcome them fully, communicating through word and action alike that we wish to know them, we wish to include them. Or we can smile politely but tersely, turn our backs, and convey they they are not one of us.
Perhaps you know this experience from some part of your journey, the experience of being the stranger. We discussed it a bit during the seder, the small group at our table, and the stories that arose were poignant.
What can be harder is to look at the times when we ourselves have acted in insular ways, favoring the familiar over the expansion, choosing to stay in our narrow places – the literal meaning of the Hebrew word for Egypt. As Lesli Koppelman Ross writes, “Like the duality in virtually all of Passover’s symbols, they work in two ways: they turn us into both slaves and oppressors, of ourselves and others. Passover leads us to question the values and attitudes we hold and which hold us to those roles.”
Oppression and ostracization occur not only on large, systemic, societal scales. They lurk within each of us. We all have the ability to include or cast out, to judge or inquire, to expand or constrict.
Sometimes, constriction is necessary, a protective mechanism. But too often, it’s a reflex that ends up hurting those in our midst who might be seeking to connect, to belong, to be seen. Every time we harden our own heart, perhaps we emulate Pharoah in some not so small way.
No human being is above brokenness – and no human being is unworthy of wholeness. What we all deserve, whether we know everyone’s name already or are stepping into a space for the first time, unsure and hesitant, is to be greeted and treated with openness, dignity, and respect.
The outsider is not a threat. The outsider is, at one time or another, all of us.
May these eight days of Passover call me to reflect on my own narrow places. May I stoop down to the ground and look closely at how the raindrops collect on the delicate daffodil petals. May I tell the story of exile and liberation not from a spatial and temporal distance, but from the perspective of this very life, this very day, this very moment.
Shabbat Shalom and love,
Jena
News and Announcements
I’m honored and excited to be part of a reading with Richard Michelson and Joy Ladin, Jewish Poets of Western Mass, during the 2023 Massachusetts Poetry Festival: May 7, 11:30am-12:30pm, Salem, MA.
✨ Check out the entire festival scheduleThanks to an Empowerment Digital Grant from the Massachusetts Capital Corporation and the Massachusetts LGBT Chamber of Commerce, I’m working with an instructional designer to create my very first evergreen e-course! Stay tuned for details.
There are THREE spots remaining in the Bagels, Belief and Belonging group! If you’d value having a space where can reflect on your own Jewish journey (whether you are Jewish or not!), I hope you’ll consider joining me.
✨ Register on my websiteJuly may seem like a long ways off, but we all know how that goes! As you look towards summer plan, how about spending a weekend hanging out in my backyard?! Together with my dear friend Miv London, we will be alternating between freewriting, guided meditation, and eating :)
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Last Word
Happy Passover, Ramadan Mubarak, and Happy Easter to all who celebrate!