A Seder Prayer in the aftermath of the Kansas City Tragedy

Our God and God of our ancestors. 
You who watch and weep at the death of your innocent children
On this eve of Passover, as we tell our story/Your story, help us to find a safe place for our fear, our grief, our anger. 

"In every generation there are those who rise up against us."
This week ugly truth has once again raised its head. 

"In every generation we are required to view ourselves as though we, individually, went forth out of Egypt."
This week, we taste the dust and feel the degradation  of our ancestors. 

Tonight, as we gather around our tables; as we open our books and see the crumbs from seder's past spilling into our fingers; as we count the wine-stains on our pages and remember how our cup is always lessened with human suffering, help us to find perspective, strength and faith. 

We pray for the victims of violence in Overland Park and everywhere hatred bursts forth from the barrel of a gun. We hold them and their loved ones in our outstretched arms. 

There will be empty seats around our tables this year. We remember them. 
There will be old nemeses stopping by as well: uninvited, unwelcome, but part of us nonetheless - our past present and future. *(see below) 

When we open Elijah's door, who will be on the other side?  Hope? Futility? Dream or nightmare?

May our worship, our laughter, our tears and our stories bring to fruition the ancient hope of peace. May violence and hatred be drowned out in a final Halleluyah as we sing from our hearts. 

We will never be defined by brutality. We will always be defined by our vision of a better world. 

L'shanah Haba-ah B'yirushalayim. Next year in Jerusalem.   AMEN
Rabbi Joseph Black - Denver, CO


*Some say that the tradition of opening the door for Elijah has it's roots in medieval anti-semitism. The Christian leadership  of the towns required the Jews to open their doors for inspection during the seder so as to make sure that no Satanic rituals were being perfomed. Passover was always a tense time for JEws living in the midst of Christian Communities who accused them of blood libel and Christ-killing.

Gribbines- A Poem for Passover.

I wrote this poem about about 7 years ago.  It was published as part of an essay on Parashat Bo I submitted for the Men's Torah commentary (Jewish light's Press- Jeff Salkin, Ed.) I like to bring it out around Pesach time- especially if I'm making chicken soup.  Enjoy. 

Gribbenes (parashat Bo)

© Joe Black -  Pesach, 5768

This year, on Pesach, I ate my father’s food:

Gribbenes, Gehachte Leber, and Gefilte Fish*

My Doctor tells me it hardens my arteries

But I think it softens my soul.

I wonder if Pharaoh ate gribbenes?

His heart hardened, melted, hardened, melted –

Like schmaltz

Floating on the surface

With each successive reconstitution --

Thawing, cooling, thickening, slickening

Until, finally

It merges into the mixed multitude

of shredded leeks, onions, bones and flesh that gather

On the bottom of the pot.

Pharaoh, after some prodding, hardened his own heart.

It was he who chilled his veins, sinews and arteries.

It was he who refused to open his eyes to the greasy truth

That haunted him with each successive plague:

Night after sleepless night – he felt them:  

The shortness of breath

The sharp pain that radiated

From the back of his neck to the tips of his fingers…..

If only, godlike, he could have seen the blockage

If only hearing, seeing, welcoming freedom’s cry

Could somehow miraculously have melted away his stubbornness

Flowing effortlessly into the banks of the Nile.

But then, of course,

We would have no story.

Dayenu.

*  Gribbenes is rendered chicken fat.  Gehachte Leber is chopped liver, and Gefilte Fish is….Gefilte Fish…..