Shout Out for Goodness

Like every Jewish holiday, Pesach calls on us to show hakarat ha’tov, gratitude. What could be a greater cause for gratitude than oppressed slaves gaining the freedom that neither they nor their parents nor their grandparents had known? All the miracles in Egypt, the splitting of the sea, our own freedom, gratitude upon gratitude! Although we say dayenu, it would have been enough, in fact, we got the whole package. So many reasons to be grateful!

Yet Pesach is also always a challenge for me. That’s because I am the only person on any side of my family who observes this holiday in a formal way. Yes, the families gather for two Seders, and people come from long distances to attend – this year from Boston, New York, Montreal and Regina, Saskatchewan – which tells me that it must be meaningful for them. But I am the only one who goes to synagogue on the festival, and both Seders begin at the usual dinner time, not according to the turning of the new day on the Jewish calendar, which this year happened at 8:33 pm here in Toronto.

Bev and I manage that by having a table in a room adjacent to the dining room, and when I get back from synagogue, we begin our own Seder. Family come in and out, and we continue to the end.

It’s not ideal, but it’s the kind of solution that doesn’t force anyone to capitulate to anyone else, and it does keep the family together.

The first Seder this year was held at Bev’s brother’s house. He lives in a Jewish neighbourhood, and there is a warm and welcoming synagogue about a 20-minute walk from his house that I attend on occasions like this. After the conclusion of the evening service that brought in Pesach, I walked the cold and windy streets from the synagogue to Bev’s brother’s house.

It seems that most families in that part of town were like mine in starting their Seders earlier than indicated by sunset (and Jewish law). I know that because as I walked along, I passed many houses where I could look into illuminated dining rooms where assortments of people sat around tables, candles burning, yarmulkes on some heads. Sometimes, the house would be dark, and I figured either those people were not Jewish, or they were having the Seder at someone else’s house this night.

As I walked along, unabashedly peeping into people’s dining room gatherings, it struck me that no one had drawn their curtains. The Seders were being celebrated in full view of the street. I found that remarkable. I read and hear so much concern about antisemitism these days, but at the domestic level, no one in this neighbourhood seemed concerned enough to hide their celebration of the holiday from public attention.

This gave me pause to consider. Surely there is more open antisemitism than we have encountered in many years, but despite the blaring headlines and enraged leaders, life for Jews is still very good. Very few of us are touched directly or even indirectly by the events we read about. House after house, no one felt they had to conceal their Seder behind closed curtains.

I’m glad and grateful for the organizations that rise up to counter every antisemitic incident that happens, but I’m not going to adopt their single-minded vehemence. The term the Mussar teachers use for gratitude is not usually hoda’ah, which literally means “thanks,” but rather hakarat ha’tov, which means “recognizing the good.”

Without minimizing that there are problems in the world, and a special set of problems for Jews, I’m not going to allow that to get in the way of recognizing that there are also abundant gifts and goodness that we get to enjoy in our lives. In fact, the more we invest in gratitude for what we have and the more we bring that into the center of our lives, the more each of us will thrive as people and as Jews, and the more the Jewish community will thrive. Doing that not only enriches our personal and communal life, but it is also a vibrant and effective response to antisemitism.

So let me ask you: What good do you recognize in your life right now that you feel called to shout out?