Food of the Free, Bread of the Brave?

My family uses a Haggadah, a prayer book, for Passover titled “Passover Haggadah for American Families.” We have used it since I was born and long before that, and I had never, until this year, taken the time to look at the front cover. Now, it will come as no surprise that I know by heart that page 19 is the part where it says “let’s eat.” Most young Jews know that page pretty intimately.

Having said that, I spent most of my seder contemplating why it was that an American family would have its very own book. What makes this book different from all other books? (Are you picking up what I’m laying down here?)

The story of Passover, though, is unavoidably an American story. Or maybe America is based upon the Pesach ideal. We were once slaves to another ruling body, one that did not appreciate us and limited our rights. We were delivered by the might of our wills, the faith of our hearts, and the good graces of God. When we fled, or, in the case of America, declared our independence, we were not let go without a fight. Yet, when the smoke cleared, it was both the Jews and the Americans who stood victorious.

It is a challenge for anyone to define themselves. Am I a Jew American, or an American Jew? Where do family ties come into play?

We fight so hard for our freedom, and my family’s haggadah further emphasizes the importance of Passover. Every year, we are commanded to sit around the table and appreciate just what it means to be free. We as Americans are blessed with this freedom on a daily basis, and we can so easily take it for granted. As American Jews, who have twice as many opportunities to lose that freedom, we must be ever so much more grateful for it, so that it never goes to waste.

I was very much debating whether or not it was worth it to me to keep kosher for Passover this year. It isn’t easy to be in college and make a consciously Jewish eating decision. Even with the accommodations at Hillel, it can be hard. But sitting around the table with my family, I thought about the fact that one day my own son or daughter is going to go to college and be faced with the same choice. And if we let the chain of appreciation and dedication to our faith stop at any one generation, we are selling our children short on the opportunity to be able to soak in the glory of liberty, the blessing of freedom, and the hardship of learning what it costs to be free.

While a week without bread isn’t exactly the bitterness of slavery, it is an act of making the mundane holy, the meaningless spiritual, and the benign inspirational. And it is a way to appreciate just what it means to be an American and to be Jewish, which is a special duality that I cherish.