Passover articles

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Rabbi Jessica Lowenthal

Over the past many years, I have noticed an interesting trend in Passover Seders. There are dozens of supplemental seder materials that focus on issues outside of the traditional story. 

I have inserts for labor justice, LGBTQIA+ rights, women’s rights, prison reform, and the list goes on. The traditional story of slavery to freedom of course resonates with all of these causes, and it makes perfect sense to incorporate modern issues into what many see as an ancient story that our people have fully moved past. 

I have long been somewhat uncomfortable with using these supplements. They are beautifully done, with important information and facts that we should absolutely be aware of, but it has always bothered me that, instead of adding this to the existing ritual, the materials often supplant the traditional story. Not many families are holding 3-4 hour long seders these days, and fitting everything in under 2 hours requires some sacrifice. But why is the sacrifice the Jewish struggle?

I am concerned that so many of us living in America over the last few decades have felt so secure and safe that the Passover story no longer resonates as an important memory to uphold. It feels like many have said, consciously or unconsciously, "yes, we all know about slavery in Egypt and now we are free, but that was 'so long ago,' and did it even really happen? We should focus on real people who are in need of freedom and stop focusing so much on our distant past."

To some degree, I agree that we have come to a place of privilege in America and there are many people who are suffering much more than us today. The mistake, I believe, is thinking that this is permanent. That now that we are accepted in America, that we are able to achieve so many of our dreams, that we will never be in a place of persecution again. 

There have been many times in our history that the Jewish community felt safe and secure, where we were thriving. However, each of those periods ended in some type of trauma, exile, or persecution. Even after hundreds of good years in Spain, Poland, and the Middle East, eventually something happened and our communities had to flee. For those who have studied Jewish history, this is a given. We measure the Jewish experience in centuries, not decades. But for the majority of American Jews, it is not a part of their picture.

I pray that this year, after seeing such a dramatic increase in antisemitism not only in America but the broader world as well, that we refocus our seder to really tell our own story and understand the reason we have repeated our warnings over and over. Nothing is permanent, and everything can change quickly. 

The rest of the year, I agree, we should focus on those who are in the struggle for freedom right now. As Jews, it is imperative that we stand for those who cannot stand up for themselves. But on Passover, may we take a few hours to focus on our own story and struggle, and heed the warnings our thousands of years of history have taught us?

 Rabbi Jessica Lowenthal is the Rabbi and Education Director at  Temple Beth Shalom of Melrose. 

   By Arnon Z. Shorr

This month, as part of a year-long fellowship with the Jewish Writers’ Initiative (JWI) aimed at incubating Jewish-themed screenplays, I joined a group of screenwriters in Israel to explore Israel’s vibrant entertainment industry.

    In recent decades, Israel has made its mark on global entertainment, with series like 'In Treatment,' 'Homeland,' 'Euphoria,' and 'Your Honor' showcasing the country's knack for universally relatable storytelling.

When the JWI Screenwriters Lab was planned last year, our week in Israel was meant to give us an opportunity to interface with some of the creators of these shows, to learn a bit about what makes these Israeli stories uniquely universal. Our visit, shadowed by the outbreak of war, shifted our discussions with Israeli creators towards the immediate relevance and reception of their work in this extremely difficult time.

   Content creators shared their struggle to align their work with the needs of the Israeli audience. Veteran producer Chilik Michaeli told us about how his hard-hitting series, “The Stronghold”, set during the Yom Kippur War, was pulled off the broadcast schedule during the early days of the war. There were plenty of war stories on TV already. Itai Raicher, head-writer of the SNL-like hit, “Eretz Nehederet”, shared some of the tough questions his team faced when they prepared to return to the air three weeks after the war began. Are Israelis ready to laugh? Is it an appropriate time for satire?

 On the business end of the industry, producers and studio heads who rely on Israel’s global audience reported a sudden and dramatic cooling of interest in Israeli content from international buyers. One producer, during his preparations to come to the US for the Sundance Film Festival, was contacted by friends in major US entertainment companies. They advised him not to bother with the trip. “No one will buy an Israeli show these days.” Without international buyers, Israeli studios and producers face a difficult and uncertain future for their new content.

   But not everyone is pessimistic. No one we spoke with on our trip is quitting the industry. Everyone has ideas for the shows and films they want to work on next. Some are optimistic that the chilled market will thaw over time. Others are doing what Israel seems to do best: innovating to meet the challenges of the day.

    After a packed week of meetings, I returned to my home in the Boston suburbs inspired by the passion I saw in the industry. Israeli film and TV creators are all fueled by a desire to entertain the world – a world that seems disinterested or even hostile to them.  This may seem irrational, but it is also uniquely Israeli. Perhaps that passion is the secret to their success?

Arnon Z. Shorr is a filmmaker, screenwriter and author. He is a 2023-24 fellow of the Jewish Writers’ Initiative Screenwriting Lab. He lives and writes in a sleepy town outside Boston. For more about Arnon, visit www.arnonshorr.com. For more about JWI, visit www.jwinitiative.com.

By Seth Speigel

We are heading into Passover, the sacred holiday celebrating our freedom from bondage in Egypt and ultimately, the delivery from G-d of our Ten Commandments. At Passover Seders all over the globe and all through millennia, four questions are asked.

For this year's Passover, here are four questions Jews might wish to ask themselves:

1) Is Israel safer the longer it puts up roadblocks to a Palestinians state in Fatah-governed areas?

Safety is of paramount importance to the Jewish people. Throughout our existence, it has been threatened. Perhaps now is the time to consider a peaceful, separate, two state solution with both sides living independently and equally. This ideal has been advanced by President Joe Biden and other world leaders. Given the war torn, traumatic state that Israel now finds itself in, can we  begin to work toward it?

2) Do the West Bank settlements really make Israel safer?

Settlers have committed regular acts of violence against West Bank civilians since before October 7. Their actions have been condemned by the US and other countries who have imposed travel bans and financial freezing of assets. Is it time to think about living in harmony and stopping the encroachment upon the West Bank?

3) Why is the response to October 7 vastly different than the proven response to Munich in 1972?

After the horrific taking of Israeli hostages at the 1972 Olympics, Israel targeted the ranking members of the group responsible; it did not go on a long, heavy-handed, broad military campaign.

No Israeli teams have been taken hostage since then.

4) Do those in power in Israel hate Palestinians more than they love Israel?

Think about it. We all love Israel and want Israel to be a safe and secure Jewish state.

How about focusing on that instead of proactively preparing for attacks and incursions and expecting a constant state of war?

Instead, we might want to ponder the words of our eminent Jewish leader Albert Einstein, who said:

"You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war. The very prevention of war requires more faith, courage, and resolution than are needed to prepare for war. We must all do our share, that we may be equal to the task of peace."

Perhaps, difficult as it is, we might wish to put more of a focus on prevention and less on preparing.

These questions are about who we are and where we need to go. We might wish to deeply reflect on them this Passover.

Seth Speigel, an M.B.A  and historian, lives in New Hampshire.

By Mauricio Karchmer

My name is Mauricio Karchmer. I grew up in Mexico City. My grandparents moved there from Lithuania and Poland in the 1930’s, just before Hitler’s shadow spread across Europe. Growing up I attended a Jewish school, enjoyed playing soccer representing the JCC all over Mexico City, and celebrated the Sabbath with my family on Friday nights. Unlike my grandparents who left their countries of birth to escape antisemitism, in Mexico, I never felt threatened or even self-conscious because I was Jewish.

In the 1980’s I relocated to Cambridge to study for a master’s degree at Harvard. I went on to Hebrew University in Jerusalem, to obtain my PhD in computer science. On graduating, I became an assistant professor at MIT, left that role for a position in private industry, and finally returned to MIT in 2019 as a lecturer. I was thrilled to be back. Over 65% of students from each MIT undergraduate class enrolled in my Introduction to Algorithms class. For me it was a dream job, but this past December 13th I submitted my resignation.

It is not something that I wanted to do. I am a computer scientist and have never been politically active. I believe that universities are places for enhancing knowledge, exchanging ideas, and encouraging free and open debates. For some time, however, I have observed a growing intolerance for diversity of thought on our campus. This past October 7th, the curtain was pulled back and the full scope of the dangerous orthodoxy infecting MIT, and other American campuses, became apparent.

Jewish and Israeli students compose about 6% of MIT’s student body, down from a much larger percentage just a few decades ago. Many of them knew people who had been killed, maimed or kidnapped that day. As Jews, we all felt victimized by those events, but my heart broke for the students as they absorbed the horror of what had befallen their families, friends and country. To my amazement, however, it quickly became apparent that many fellow students, faculty, and even campus administrators, not only struggled to condemn the atrocities perpetrated against Israeli citizens. They actively applauded them.

On October 8th, while the IDF was still battling terrorists inside Israel, a student group that dubs itself the Committee Against Apartheid, issued an invitation to the entire student body to a “Victory is Ours” rally. Students started circulating images on social media, glorifying the murder of friends and families of Israeli and Jewish students. Protests calling for the destruction of the state of Israel started to sweep through the campus. An office that supports internships in Israel was occupied, forcing some staff to retreat behind locked doors. Then a message appeared online offering an $800 bounty for information that would help identify an Israeli student, who joined a counterprotest. Later, an anonymous post revealed the students name and stated: “Zionism and Israel are the scourge of humanity. His head should be crushed wherever you find him.” The student was forced to go into hiding.

These actions were a direct assault on a center of learning purportedly dedicated to supporting a humane and welcoming place for all members of its community. This made the response of university leadership all the more troubling. MIT security repeatedly failed to enforce campus regulations, enabling the continued harassment of Jewish students. I sent numerous letters to the president, chancellor, DEI head and others asking for action, but these were ignored. Subsequently, I learned that one of MIT’s DEI officers was lending support to the October 7th massacre on social media. The same was true for many members of the faculty, who actively supported, and continue to support, the claims and tactics of student protesters.

Then came the catastrophic testimony of President Kornbluth before the United States Congress, in which she and the Presidents of Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania could not find the words with which to acknowledge that calls for the genocide of the Jewish people are antisemitic. 

What really broke my heart, however, was to learn that some of my students, including one of my former teaching assistants, were among the participants and leaders of the Committee Against Apartheid, which was actively promoting the genocide of Jews. They were talking about me and my family.

I knew that I could no longer participate in the education of students who one day may use their MIT diploma to advance and spread a hateful ideology that foments antisemitism. So, I responded in the only way I felt I could. I resigned and announced my decision in a post on LinkedIn. The following week, I wrote an essay detailing my story for The Free Press. The response surprised me. My LinkedIn account exploded with messages from people around the world, who applauded my action. I was also gratified to receive many offers to teach at other Schools.

In thinking about my next position, I knew it would be important that it be at a university with a clear mission and a well-defined set of values. I was deeply impressed by Yeshiva University’s adherence to timeless Jewish moral values: truth, life, humanity, compassion, and redemption. These values align with humanistic values and resonate with me, even as a secular Jew. I decided to accept their offer for a visiting faculty position. There I hope to encourage a generation of students to become the leaders this country truly needs.

Just six months ago, I could not have imagined leaving MIT to teach at an orthodox Jewish institution. In the months since my resignation, I have tried to make sense of the pogrom of October 7th and subsequent events, and I came to realize that remaining at MIT would have meant tolerating what is intolerable for me. I have changed and found my voice and a more urgent need to advocate for Israel and to fight antisemitism, especially in American campuses. I now feel free - perhaps for the first time in decades - to speak my truth.

This has been my journey to freedom!

Mauricio Karchmer gave his testimonial at the AJC New England Diplomats Seder on March 24 at Temple Emanuel, Newton. 

By Denise J. Karlin

The First Amendment to the US Constitution states:

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Since October 7, 2023, with the rise of antisemitic incidents in the US, there have been movements to curtail what some view as antisemitic, or hate, speech, especially on college campuses. This is a complex issue, with many moving parts to it. This article will serve as an overview as to where the American legal system stands regarding antisemitic speech, especially on college and university campuses.

The first thing to keep in mind is that the First Amendment’s prohibition against the restriction of freedom of speech only applies to the government and not private entities. However, the Supreme Court has interpreted the definition of “Congress” in the text of the First Amendment broadly. It also applies to state and local government, the federal Executive and Judicial branches, and, most importantly, for the purposes of this article, to private entities receiving federal funds. Most colleges and universities receive some sort of federal funding and, therefore, it is a settled legal principle that the First Amendment does apply to actions restricting speech taken by institutions of higher education.

The second thing to keep in mind is that there is no legal definition of “hate speech.”  While many jurisdictions have passed laws regarding “hate crimes,” those laws involve specific actions, such as the defacing of property or physical assault, and are not directed to speech only. As it has been said by many, there is no legal definition of hate speech, there is just speech you hate.

Given those parameters, this article will look at what Courts have said about when it is proper to restrict speech and how this applies to various incidents occurring on college campuses.

Just because speech is offensive or hateful does not mean that is prohibited. Over the years, the Supreme Court has set forth criteria that define speech that is NOT protected by the First Amendment.

These parameters, are outlined in the Feb., 2023 article “Is hate speech protected by the First Amendment?” by David Hudson of the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression as: Incitement to imminent lawless action (incitement); Speech that threatens serious bodily harm (true threats); or Speech that causes an immediate breach of the peace (fighting words).

Over the years, the Supreme Court and lower courts have interpreted these exceptions quite narrowly.

For example, in 1969, the Ku Klux Klan was allowed to hold a public cross burning and display signs advocating generalized violence toward Black and Jewish people; in 1977 the Nazi party was allowed to hold a parade while carrying swastikas and antisemitic signs in Skokie, a Chicago suburb with a large Jewish population, many of whom were Holocaust survivors; and in 2011, the Westboro Baptist Church was allowed to picket the funeral of a soldier while carrying signs like “Thank God for dead soldiers” and “God hates fags.” In these seminal cases, the Court found that the language did not fall within a limited exception to First Amendment protection.

Since the unjustified, heinous, and horrific attacks coordinated and perpetrated by Hamas on Oct. 7, there have been many pro-Palestinian protests held on college and university campuses. Many of the signs carried by the protesters espouse sentiments which some, but certainly not all, would find as antisemitic. Such signs include statements such as “From the River to the Sea, Palestine must be Free,” which some, but not all, interpret as antisemitic. A number of lawsuits filed by Jewish students against major colleges and universities such as Harvard, MIT, Columbia, and U.C. Berkeley have sought damages because these institutions have allowed students to be put in fear when they are exposed various pro-Palestinian demonstrations.

However, if one analyzes the history of the Supreme Court decisions over the years, one must realize that these lawsuits will ultimately fail, as any restriction on such protests must according to law be found to be unconstitutional.

Denise J. Karlin, a retired attorney living in Brookline, is a graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School. 

By Yosef Rodrigues, Ph.D.
To better understand the importance of the Pesach festival, I decided to draw upon the teachings of Jewish texts such as the Talmud, Midrash, Mishnah, and Zohar. These sacred texts will help us delve deeper into Pesach's spiritual essence and enrich our experience. Let’s unpack these teachings together as we journey through them and celebrate this festival with empathy and understanding.
The Talmud is an invaluable source of information when it comes to understanding the observance of Pesach. The Tractate Pessachim explores various aspects of the holiday, offering intricate insights into topics such as the laws of chametz (leavened bread) and the procedures of the Seder. The passage below provides a wealth of information, shedding light on the nuances of the observance and helping followers gain a deeper understanding of the holiday's significance.
“Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says: 'The Torah stated: ‘"And they shall eat the flesh in this night, roast with fire, and unleavened bread; with bitter herbs, they shall eat it.'" (Exodus 12:8) 
"What does 'with bitter herbs' mean? If the Israelites made the bitter herbs into a sauce and dipped the Passover offering, they have fulfilled their obligation.”
These verses showcase the Talmud’s exceptional focus on even the minutest of details when interpreting the laws and customs associated with Pesach. It emphasizes fulfilling the mitzvot (commandments) with the utmost precision and intentionality so that the highest standards of Jewish law and tradition may carry them out. The Talmudic sages believed that one could cultivate a more profound spiritual mindfulness and reverence for the holiday’s sense by being attentive to every detail of the Pesach observance.
While the festival is primarily associated with the story of Exodus, in addition to the traditional narrative, there is a vast collection of interpretive narratives and teachings in the Midrashic literature. These imaginative insights delve markedly into the spiritual dimensions of Pesach and offer a unique perspective on the festival. One such example can be found in Tanhuma Bo 6, which features a fascinating passage that sheds light on the holiday’s spiritual implications:
“When Israel was redeemed from Egypt, they were redeemed not on the merit of their righteousness but on the merit of the Passover offering, as it is said, ‘And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you.’" (Exodus 12:13)
This passage in question highlights the remarkable transformative power of the Passover offering, which served as an essential conduit for divine redemption during the Exodus of the Israelites from Egypt. It also emphasizes the importance of trust and faith in G-d’s deliverance, as the Israelites had to rely solely on G-d’s protection and guidance to be saved from the oppression and tyranny of Pharaoh and his army. 
Yet, it underscores the importance of the Passover offering as a symbol of the Israelites’ unwavering faith and devotion to the Creator, who had vowed to free them from bondage and lead them to the Promised Land. Overall, the Midrashic text provides valuable insights into the spiritual and theological impact of the Passover gift and its enduring legacy as a testament to the power of faith and divine redemption.
To ensure that these traditions are upheld, Jewish oral law has been documented in the Mishnah, considered the foundational text of Judaism. Therefore, these manuscripts serve as an invaluable resource for those seeking to uphold the traditions of Pesach. It offers guidance on the preparation of the home, the foods that should be consumed, and the order in which the Seder meal should be conducted. 
One of the most notable passages from Pessachim 10:5 compromises specific instructions on how to consume the Afikoman, a piece of matzah that is eaten during the Seder meal:
“These are the things that must be said on Passover: On the first day of Passover, one recites, ‘On the first day there shall be a holy convocation for you....’ (Leviticus 23:7) On the second day, one recites, ‘You shall bring a sheaf of the first fruits of your harvest to the priest....’" (Leviticus 23:10)
This Mishnaic excerpt serves as a poignant reminder of the deep-seated importance of Pesach, underscoring the crucial role that the recitation of specific Torah passages plays in reinforcing the bond between ritual observance and textual heritage.
Lastly, the Zohar, a foundational text of Jewish mysticism (Kabbalah), provides us with profound insights into the spiritual symbolism of the holiday. In Zohar II:188b, the text conveys a message beyond the surface level. The following passage comprises a detailed examination of the holiday's spiritual meaning, providing us with the following:
“The lamb represents faith, for faith is called a lamb, as it is written: ‘He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.’” (Zohar II:188b)
This piece unveils the transcendent worth of the Passover lamb, identifying it as a symbol of faith and spiritual transformation, echoing the theme of redemption central to the Pesach narrative. Thus, by exploring these teachings, we can better appreciate the holiday’s rich history and timeless wisdom.
As we traverse these unfathomable Jewish writings of Talmud, Midrash, Mishnah, and the Zohar, we gain a deeper understanding of the spiritual essence of Pesach. Each text, from the Talmud’s meticulous legal discussions to the Midrash’s imaginative narratives or from the Mishnah’s practical guidance to the Zohar’s mystical teachings, contributes to our appreciation of Pesach’s profound influence on Jewish tradition. 
Celebrating Pesach each year gives us the strength to draw upon the wisdom of these holy scripts, imbuing the holiday with depth, substance, and spiritual resonance. By doing so, we ensure that its timeless message of liberation and redemption continues to inspire and uplift us and future generations.  

Yosef Rodrigues Ph.D. is the Director of the Portuguese Language  Center Camões, I.P. at UMass Boston. He is a faculty member at  Boston College and UMass Boston and the author of the Portuguese  book “À Luz da Kabbalah” (publ. Guerra & Paz)

By Rabbi Jonathan Hausman

The holiday of Passover which will soon he upon us (Monday eve, April 22), above and beyond all else, is a celebration of human freedom. Man's ability to choose freely among various courses of action is the basis of moral responsibility, without which there could he no group life.

Human freedom, however, runs head-on into the religious belief that G-d possesses foreknowledge. If G-d knows what is going to happen, if the outcome is already a certifiable fact, then the future is perforce determined. But, if that is the case, how can man he conceived of as free. Actually, preserving a belief in human freedom is even a problem for the non-believer. After all, a cornerstone of scientific method is the principle of causality which affirms that every phenomenon is the consequence of an antecedent cause. Since people are part of nature, their existence and conduct must also he the result of multitudinous prior factors which determine who they are and what they do today. Hence, it is plausible to conclude that free will is an illusion.

But, the absence of free will releases man from accountability for his actions. If we have no control over what we do, the murderer and the thief do not deserve either rebuke or punishment; since they, too, were merely carrying out predestined enterprises. It doesn't take a genius to realize that the rejection of free will would play havoc with a society's capacity to maintain law and order by imposing rewards and punishments where and when they were deserved by its members.

Many efforts have been made to resolve the dichotomy between free will and determinism. Some scientists, for example, point out that scientific laws are merely statistical averages, incapable of predicting how any single member of a group may react. Thus, a mortality table may with accuracy foretell how many people per thousand will die of cancer in a given year; however, it cannot establish with certainty whether A or B will he in that group. Along the same lines, physicists cite Heisenberg’s “principle of indeterminacy” which affirms that one cannot predict the path of any atom, but only that of the mass.

The unalterable fact is that we human beings constantly experience both freedom and determinism. Reconciling the two poses a serious paradox. A paradox, however, is not a contradiction. A contradiction exists when you have two opposing statements at least one of which cannot he true. A paradox involves two opposing statements, both of which are true, although we may not he able to harmonize them at our present stage of knowledge and understanding. Rabbi Akiva, the great 2nd century sage, expressed this paradox very effectively when he wrote:

“All is foreseen; yet, freedom is given.” Samuel Johnson addressed the dilemma in his own way when he declared “with regard to freedom of the will, all philosophy is against it and all experience is for it.”

Freedom and determinism are forever interacting upon each other. Whenever a person resolves to carry out a certain action, whether positive or negative, he ignites a series of events which render him more likely to achieve the objective he has set for himself; hence, his freedom becomes a tool for determining his fate. Quite similarly, the Spanish-Jewish master Moses Maimonides interpreted the Talmudic statement "The reward of a good deed is a good deed" to mean that every time we carry out a meritorious action we are thereby predisposed to perform another meritorious action. Hence, reciprocal stimulation characterizes the perennially creative tension between freedom and determinism.

No sensible and knowledgeable individual can ignore the impact of heredity and environment upon human behavior. Neither can he shunt aside the insights of Sigmund Freud regarding the role of the irrational and the subconscious. Economic factors can likewise constitute a pivotal force in determining a person's actions. The preservation of human dignity requires, nevertheless, that after all these variables are taken into consideration, we continue to believe that there is a range, however narrow, within which a man is free to make his own decisions for which he remains responsible. It is that freedom which makes human beings the special creatures they are and which makes Passover a holiday worth celebrating.

Rabbi Jonathan Hausman serves Ahavath Torah Congregation in Stoughton, MA 

Richard H. Schwartz, Ph.D.
As I write this in mid-March, the war is raging in Gaza. Hence, our main focus must be on the devastation of Hamas, bringing all the hostages home safely, and reducing antisemitism. However, we should also address climate threats since they are an existential threat to the US, Israel, and entire world.
February was declared the hottest February in recorded history, making it the ninth consecutive month to break a temperature record. The last nine years were the hottest since temperature records were widely recorded. This has resulted in a substantial increase in the frequency and severity of heat waves, droughts, wildfires, storms, and floods. Climate experts are issuing increasingly dire warnings, indicating that an irreversible tipping point may soon be reached when the climate spins out of control, with disastrous consequences.

Israel is especially threatened by climate change because the hotter, drier Middle East projected by climate experts makes instability, terrorism, and war more likely. Also, a rising Mediterranean Sea could inundate the coastal plain that includes much of Israel’s population and infrastructure. 
Hence, everything possible must be done to avert a global climate catastrophe. The most essential change is a shift away from animal-based diets, for two very important reasons. First, cows and other ruminants emit methane, a greenhouse gas over 80 times as potent as CO2 per unit weight during the 10-15 years it is in the atmosphere. 

Second, forests are being destroyed to create land for grazing and growing feed crops for animals, adding to the 43 percent of the world’s ice-free land already being used for these purposes. If much of that land were reforested, much atmospheric CO2 would be sequestered, reducing it from its current very dangerous level to a  much safer one. This would help leave a habitable, healthy, environmentally sustainable world for future generations.
Many Jews commendably spend many hours getting rid of chometz before Passover. Then they partake in the seder and other meals containing much meat and other animal products, contributing substantially to climate threats. If G-d is concerned about us getting rid of every speck of chometz, G-d surely must want our diets to avoid harming our health, inflicting suffering and violence on animals, damaging the environment, and depleting our natural resources.

It is time to apply Judaism’s important teachings to our diets, demonstrating their relevance to current problems and helping shift our precious but imperiled planet onto a sustainable path. Passover, the holiday of freedom, presents a wonderful opportunity to free ourselves from personally and globally harmful and destructive eating habits. Jewish teachings advocate protecting our health, treating animals with compassion, protecting the environment,  conserving natural resources, reducing hunger, and pursuing peace.

It is easy to shift to plant-based diets today because in addition to a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, legumes, nuts, and seeds, there are now many plant-based substitutes with appearances, textures, and tastes very similar to those for meat and other animal products.

Our well-being and survival depend on this. There is no Planet B or effective Plan B.

Richard H. Schwartz, Ph.D. is Professor Emeritus at College of  Staten Island. He is the author of Vegan Revolution: Saving Our  World, Revitalizing Judaism; Judaism and Vegetarianism; and  over 250 articles at JewishVeg.org/schwartz.  

By David Bernat. Ph.D. 

Completing this column on the day between the Fast of Esther and Purim, exactly a month before Passover, has caused me to reflect on some questions and curiosities concerning the Jewish calendar.  Such reflection is timely because this year, 5784, is a leap year in the Jewish calendar, when we add a whole month. Consequently, we are out of synch with the American, originally Roman, or Julian/Gregorian calendar, so much so that Easter and Passover are nearly a month apart.

My reflections generated the following questions; What is the origin and development of our traditional Jewish calendar?  Why do we add a “leap” month? When does the Jewish year begin? Why isn’t Pesach the New Year?

What we consider to be our Jewish calendar, a Lunar calendar, set to the phases of the moon, actually originated in ancient Mesopotamia, among the Assyrians and Babylonians, located in what is present day Iraq and Syria. This calendar was in place before the Biblical period, and before the existence of the Jewish People altogether.  The 12 names of our months; Tishrei, Chesvan…Adar, Nissan, Ab, etc., are not Hebrew, they are Akkadian, the Semitic language of the ancient Mesopotamians.  For example, Tammuz is the name of a Mesopotamian god associated with sexuality, fertility, and mourning.  Jewish communities in Judea and in the diaspora would have adopted that calendar at some point during the 6th century BCE, when the Babylonians controlled most of the world as far east as the Mediterranean, and when many Jewish lived in Babylonia, and across its empire, after the exiles of 600 and 586 BCE. 

The story of our calendar is not so simple though. In the Tanakh, mostly written before Babylonian influence, the months were just called by number, 1st Month, 7th Month, etc.  More significantly, there is fragmentary Biblical evidence of an older calendar about which little is known.  We read that Solomon began constructing the Jerusalem Temple in the 2nd month of the year, called Ziv (1 Kings 6:1). 7 years later, the Temple was completed in month 8, Bul (1 Kings 6:37).  Eventually, when the Temple was ready for use, Solomon gathered the people to celebrate Sukkot in the 7th month, Eitanim (1 Kings 8:2). 

To complicate matters, in 1908, archaeologists unearthed, in the remains of the Biblical era city of Gezer, one of the oldest Hebrew inscriptions, dated to approximately 1000 BCE, the time of King David. It is a calendar whose months are named for seasonal harvests, e.g. “Month of Gathering,  Asif” “Month of Reaping, Katsir” “Month of Seeding, Zera” “Month of Summer Fruit, Qayitz,”  and the like.  Additionally, the Dead Sea Scrolls and other 2nd Temple period writings indicate that a 364 day solar calendar was in use by an indeterminate segment of the Jewish population.  This calendar is fascinating, and very practical, because the holidays always occur on the same day of the week, and there is no need for “intercalation.”

This last point leads to our next question; Why do we have an extra, or “leap” month?  The Jewish calendar is a lunar calendar, tied to months and phases of the moon-- full moon, half moon, new moon. Lunar cycle months are made up of 29 or 30 days and 12 of these comprise a year that is roughly 355 days long.  A solar calendar, tied to the cycles of the sun, is 365 days and is fully synchronized with the 4 seasons.  Since each year, the lunar calendar loses 10 days relative to the solar calendar, the lunar calendar also moves out of alignment with the seasons.  Because our calendar includes festivals that are tied to seasons and their harvests, the misalignment causes a problem that is resolved by “intercalation,” adding a month that brings the lunar and solar calendars back in tandem.  The Mesopotamians referenced above devised the system of intercalation that adds a 2nd Adar, and Jews adopted that practice when we began utilizing the Babylonian calendar. This year, we have 2nd Adar, or Adar Bet, during which we celebrate Purim.  It is worth noting the Muslims also use a lunar calendar, but do not intercalate. Thus, their sacred month of Ramadan, this year observed from March 10- April 9, rotates through every season. As Ramadan includes a fast from sunup to sundown, in winter the fast is short, and in summer, long and more difficult.

Now to our final matter; when do we, or should we, begin the calendar year?  The Babylonians had a New Year called Akitu which had much in common with our Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur rituals. It was observed in the spring month of Nissan.  Similarly, according to the Torah, the 1st month of the year is in the spring, during which Passover is marked (Exodus 12, Leviticus 23). Thus, in many respects, Passover was our ancestors’ New Year.  Moreover, a fall New Year is nowhere mentioned in the Bible. That said, the Gezer agricultural calendar described earlier begins the year in the fall.  At some point in antiquity, the holiday of Rosh HaShanah was instituted, and the Rabbis shifted the calendar to begin the year in the fall (see Mishnah tractate Rosh HaShanah).  We have adhered to this system ever since.   Admittedly, there is logic to beginning the year in January, when the days get longer, or in the spring, when nature renews itself, or in the fall, when the summer heat recedes and the rains nourish the earth.  Therefore, I leave you with a question…If you were in charge, when would you begin the calendar year? And, are there aspects of our Passover observance and Seder rituals that resonate as a celebration of the New Year?

However you answer the question, I wish you a Chag Sameach.

שאלו שלום ירושלים
Seek Peace for Jerusalem

David Bernat received his Ph.D. in Biblical Interpretation from  Brandeis, and much of his writing and research has centered on  Jewish ritual from antiquity to today. Bernat has held faculty  positions at Wellesley College, Hebrew College, and UMass  Amherst.