Rabbi's Chayva's Chat

There was a time when rabbis had rivals. The rivals were not cantors - the rabbi and the cantor had different roles, and so did not compete. No, the rabbi’s rival was the maggid, the storyteller. The maggid would travel from town to town, telling all sorts of stories: Torah stories, folk tales, parables… Anything that could be Jewishly meaningful. The rabbis tried to give clever interpretations and authoritative legal judgments (typical of rabbis, right?). The maggids, though, would capture people’s imaginations and leave them with stories to tell over and over again. In other words, they were more popular.

It’s not surprising, therefore, that Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl (1730-1797) wrote, “God should have started the Torah with commandments! So why did God adorn it with the telling of stories?” He is referring to how there is no obviously halachic (legal) material in the beginning of Torah, all the way through Exodus 12 - it’s all stories, which, as Rabbi Nachum sees it, “adorn” the more important halachic material that comes later. But, of course, he answers his own question: “The idea is that it is a commandment upon us to ‘tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt.’” God did start the Torah with a commandment: to tell our story. Because stories are what help us remember, see the world differently, and make meaning in our lives.

We begin the maggid, the storytelling of the Passover seder, with the statement, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” We learn two things from this introduction. First, our story is not one to be told in a vacuum. We should share it with each other much like one would share a meal. Second, as Leah Solomon teaches in this year’s Hartman Institute Haggadah Supplement, “Just when we might be most inclined to focus inward, the Haggadah reminds us of the link between remembering our own suffering and our obligation to care about all who are suffering.” The haggadah does not say, “Let all hungry Jews come and eat.” It says, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” It doesn’t say, “Invite those who agree with you.” Invite everyone in.

When I reach this point in the seder each year, I regret not thinking about it in advance. At its most literal interpretation, how can I invite hungry people into my home after the meal has already started? I invite you to take this opportunity to think about who or what you can invite into your seder this year. Who can come together around this story, even when other opinions or life circumstances might divide us? 

After all, on Passover, it’s all about the maggid.