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By Rabbi Pablo Berman,
Comunidad Israelita de El Salvador

Translated by Inés Baum - Proofreading by Ellen Zindler

Shlomo Artzi, surely one of the most important Israeli singer-songwriters, composed a song called “Po v’ Sham”, “Here and There”. I would like to share some of its verses.

            Mistakel al hashamaim shel Jenin ve Ramat Gan,
            Mamash oto davar, gueshem po v’sham
            Po v’sham iesh kravot, akubim mi dam
            U heeb hamilchamot lo tam
            Po v’sham amatos shel hamashiaj mistobeb,
            matai inchat kbar etzlenu be ezor hachof
            Ve rega haemet vo iabo ulai
            Po v’sham ani shoel eich neda she ba?
            Im ktzat mazal, po v’sham

                        I see the sky of Jenin and Ramat-Gan
                        The same thing, it rains here, it rains there.
                        Here and there there is fighting and bloodshed
                        And pain due to wars, there’s no end to it.
                        Here and there, the messiah’s plane flies around
                        When will it land at our side, on the coast
                        Here and there, despite everything, it is possible
                        Here and there, the moon is still healthy.
                        And the moment of truth, some day it will come, here and there
                        I wonder, how will we know it has arrived?
                        We will be stronger, I have no doubt
                        We will recover and with a bit of luck,
                        Here and there, we will also find love.
                       

The messiah’s plane is flying around; we just need it to touch down. When will it land on the coast? This is the question Shlomo Artzi asks himself, and perhaps it is the same question we all ask ourselves. When will the messiah’s plane land?

We are now on Shabbat HaGadol, “the great Sabbath”, the sabbath before Pesach. The holiday of freedom. The festival of change, from slavery to freedom. We are free, we may choose, we may decide. The feast of Pesach, when we will throw our doors wide open, we will fill our glasses and wait for the arrival of the Prophet Eliahu, in Artzi’s words, rega haemet bo iabo ulai, the moment of truth will finally arrive, it surely will arrive.

Pesach is a good time; around the Seder table, parents and children, grandparents and grandchildren, all gather once again to hear about our delivery from Mitzraim. We changed slavery for freedom; a land of oppression for God’s promised land, the land where milk and honey flow. We took off Pharaoh’s slave garments, to put on the clothes of our new freedom.

This is what the high priest did at the time of the offering, Ufashat et-begadav velavash begadim acherim, “He shall [then] remove his garments and dress in other garments.” Pesach represents an opportunity to change, to take off the clothes that oppress us and start wearing the clothes of liberty. Lighter garments, free of impurities and of all the slaveries we are subject to every day, which are, by the way, plenty. Pesach is our hope for redemption; a redemption in which we only ask to be allowed to live and work, to develop in peace, to see our children grow, leave our homes early in the morning, knowing that we will be able to come back at night and embrace our children once more.

But not everyone thinks the same; some people just want to oppress. The world is full of pharaohs and riddled with “Egypts”, with hearts oppressed by hate and vengeance. However, the Seder table has always been our symbol of freedom. From yetziat mitzraim on, there were plenty of times throughout Jewish history when we were not particularly free. We have lived under cruel laws and oppressive sovereigns. We were not allowed to own land or work or live wherever we wanted. We have been persecuted and assassinated. But even during those terrible times, the Seder allowed us to feel free, to remember that degradation can turn into Glory, to see ourselves leaving Egypt behind us. The Seder table has always been our symbol of freedom, our hope that a change must come, our refuge against those who only wish to see us enslaved.

An old Chassidic story tells that the Baal Shem Tov used to go to the forest, light a fire and recite a prayer. Baal Shem Tov’s son knew the way to the forest, knew how to light a fire, but did not know the prayer. Baal Shem Tov’s grandson remembered the way to the forest, but did not know how to light a fire nor did he know the prayer. We must recover the Jewish memory; we must enrich our tradition. The Jewish family, gathered around the Pesach Seder table, constitutes a unique opportunity to ask questions, reflect, look into each other’s eyes. We must again travel along the path leading to the forest, and we must light the fire and regain our prayer. The Seder table is a good path to the forest, and listening to the voice of our children and grandchildren, as they sing manishtanah ha-laila ha-zeh, is a good way to recover the fire and light it once again.

Let us open our doors wide. The messiah’s plane is landing.

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Forwarded by Rabbi Gustavo Kraselnik, from Kol Shearith Israel Congregation, Panama.
Translated by Inés Baum and proofread by Ellen Zindler, from B’nei Israel Congregation, Costa Rica.

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