Passover Reflections: On Fortuitousness and Inclusiveness
Most recently, while scrolling through my Facebook feed, I saw that a good friend of mine posted a link to “A Prayer for Eating Chametz on Passover” from the Holocaust.
For those unfamiliar with the faith, Passover is a time during which Jews abstain from eating “chametz,” or leavened foods. Of course, during the Holocaust, Jews in concentration camps had no other option. As such, rabbis in these camps wrote down prayers to break the laws of Passover because of the basic need to live. The scroll that survives from the camp at Bergen Belsen is an especially poignant reminder of a number of things.
On the night of Passover, in the camp, these Jews were forced to eat their meager ration of bread or starve to death. This is quite a contrast from the Seder I experienced last night, reciting from the Haggadah with family all around, talking into the night about the issues of the day.
It is important, on this holiday, to revere the way in which many cleaved to their faith in the darkest of times. When I first read the prayer my friend had posted, I thought, “How in those times of existential crisis did the Jews still feel compelled to offer up explanation of their eating chametz?” The prayer notes that we are compelled to live by the commandments, not die by them; the very notion is rattling.
Many times, we complain about the trivial matters of the day. If the air conditioning does not work properly in my apartment, you can be sure I will be upset. If a printer runs out of ink and I cannot submit a hard copy of an assignment on time, rest assured it could ruin my morning. Reading the prayer puts things into perspective.
I am, then, particularly troubled by recent developments at the National Union of Students in the United Kingdom. Students at the NUS Conference applauded motions not to commemorate the Holocaust, as doing so would not be “inclusive.” The arguments from the other side were as they usually are, noting that commemoration would “prioritize” one genocide over another and “marginalize” certain groups.
The solution to this dilemma is not to commemorate less; it is to commemorate more. Let us never forget genocide in Tibet or Rwanda, but let us also remember that the Holocaust resulted in the deaths of over six million Jews, along with many others. To advocate against a day of remembrance for this horrible tragedy is simply unacceptable.
I stop short of blaming anti-semitism, and I empathize with those who feel as though their own narratives have taken a backseat in history textbooks, but I cannot in good conscience read the prayer that my friend posted yesterday and then listen to individuals applaud not commemorating their struggle in the interest of inclusiveness.
It seems to me that these are the same individuals who protested the “ALS Ice Bucket Challenge” because other important diseases and conditions were not also considered. They would just as soon ignore that the viral phenomenon raised over $100 million for ALS research on the grounds that it was not “inclusive” enough. They make the perfect the enemy of the good.
Surrounded by family and friends on this Passover, I reflect on how fortunate I am to not have to recite the prayer that my fellow Jews did in 1944, in Bergen Belsen. I also reflect on how our desire to unilaterally impose inclusiveness can actually have an overall negative effect in some instances. The Holocaust happened within the last century, in a world very similar to the one in which we live today; we must not ever forget its happening.
On this Passover holiday, may you recognize how lucky you are to be able to get tired of matzah after a week. Indeed, many wished they had such a luxury.
