Parsha Bo spontaneous reflections

It’s all about the matzah. Free myself from Egyptian slavery and awaken my inner freedom. Great days await you, out there in the desert. It’s frightening all this potential. After so many miracles and death and devastation, what will happen to us? to me? Where will I be when the chips fall, when the dust clears, when the clouds part. Will I be standing on the right side of the Nile?

It’s all about the Passover offering, the Angel of Death, the Fast of the Firstborn, the Hillel Sandwich, the four questions, the Cup of Elijah, the plagues, telling it over like it was, one generation at a time. How many will hear the story from me? Is my table full of telling the story or is my table stuck in Egypt?

It’s all about the horse radish, the hot sauce, the jalapeno peppers, the pain, the salt in my wounds. If slavery is so bitter how come this is my favorite part? I complain if it’s not hot enough, if it doesn’t burn enough, if my eyes aren’t watering well then it’s just not Passover.

It’s all about the Haggadah, the Maxwell house, revised double standard new classic edition that sits unused for generations (thank GOD) in favor of the popular ones with nice drawings and politically nice speech and the Egyptians don’t drowned they just cycle through the karma or is it the darma, and God is a She and Pharaoh is my own neurosis, and Moshe is my homeboy, and Never Again, and Never Forget, and Darfur is burning.

It’s all about Passover. I just wouldn’t be a Jew without it.

Let my people go.

Hashem, it’s time. Enough of this exile.

Let my people go.

About the author

Rabbi Yonah