Ma nishtanah is one of the best known phrases in Judaism. Nearly every single one of us prepared to recite it when we were the youngest in our families. The questions center around concrete observations of the Pesach seder, like the unique way we recline, or the unique foods we eat, and so forth. They are geared to pique the interest of children, and add some mystery to the evening.
But there are far deeper questions that need to be asked, questions far beyond the comprehension of our little ones. In the Haggadah for a Secular Celebration of Pesach, they ask the following question: “I believe in liberation—for everyone. But why must I believe in it as a Jew? I want to believe in it as a human being. I don’t want a Jewish celebration of liberation. I just want people to be people and to be free. That’s a real question. Answer that one!” This is indeed a real question, one that is increasingly being posed by our young people, and it deserves a serious answer—which the Haggadah offers, quoting the words of the great Yiddish and secular writer Y. L. Peretz:
“Don’t assume you are fulfilling your obligation by working only for the greater entity, for so-called humanity-at-large. Humanity-at-large is an abstraction. On the world stage today are individual groups, distinct peoples, differing cultures…We too hope for a common humanity, but we shall never achieve it by destroying unique languages, or by annihilating separate peoples, or by cutting down cultures….We have not endured these thousands of years in order now to forget our way of life. We wish to continue it, so that we may later unite with the company of mankind as equal partners….Working for one’s own hearth and one’s own kinsmen does not mean relinquishing the banner of common humanity. We hope for a tomorrow in which there will be a common granary for mankind…but we also want to bring our bit of corn and wheat to this common storehouse. On the day of the great harvest we do not want our people to stand aside and weep over lost years or beg for alien bread.” (the above taken from My People’s Passover Haggadah, vol. 1, pps. 151-152).
The traditional haggadah was written at a time when living a Jewish life was a reality, not an option. It was possible to convert, of course, but doing so meant a full-scale breakdown in one’s relationships. Today, by contrast, abandoning Judaism is most certainly an option, and one that does not require a dramatic break so much as a slow fading into the backdrop of (supposedly) shared humanistic values. That these values are not as shared as one would otherwise imagine (or hope) became perfectly and sadly clear after Oct. 7, when the murder and rape and kidnapping of Jews was treated differently than would be the case with any other group.
Our abandonment by groups with whom we supposedly shared values needs to be examined and discussed, to be sure. But more important still is to remember, emphasize and embody, praise and take pride in those characteristics that make Judaism unique. It’s not just “Why is this night different from all other nights?”
It’s “Why is this people different from all other peoples?”