{opening the door for Elijah}

Lynedoch Crescent D 430

I have read a lot of fiction featuring Jewish families, but think the first time I really had it click in my head that These Families Are Different Than Mine is when I read The Devil’s Arithmetic by Our Lady Jane Yolen, and the main character, Hannah, was opening the door for Elijah. Now, I’d heard stories about The Unseen Guest, where families pretended someone was visiting, and thus had better table manners (wouldn’t have worked in our family, let me just say), and even heard of people who left a literal table setting for a missing parent or family member or God or whomever, but I was bewildered as to why Elijah would come to dinner or drink the glass of wine poured for him.

Google pointed me in multiple directions, which reflects the multiple facets of Judaism and belief (What, you thought there’d be one reason/explanation? Can a group of Christians agree on any one facet of belief? Exactly). The consensus, if Teh Internets can be believed, seems to be this: First, the night of the original Seder came when the Jewish people were enslaved in Egypt, and it was, to put it mildly, A Bad Time. The opened door and invitation implied their trust in God’s protection from the Angel of Death. Next, Eliyahu, as Elijah is called in Hebrew, is present at other important rituals of Jewish manhood, namely, circumcisions, thus he is present this night, which celebrates belonging to God as part of the Jewish tribe. Finally, leaving a place for Elijah reminds people, as they were themselves oppressed and friendless in Egypt, to be kind to the stranger that they meet, and to set him a place. This is one of the foundational beliefs of Jewish ethical behavior.

Ideally, when Elijah comes to drink that wine, something wonderful and powerful will have brought him. And so, part of the Passover is awaiting the wonder.

Which is a wonderful reminder of how to live – with the expectation of great things.

All of this is background to a poem I’ve been reading for years – trying to capture all of the nuances and turns. It’s called April 4 – and while the date isn’t accurate for this year, the words match the tradition played out all over the world — bittersweet, maybe a little confusing, a terrible night of awe and wonder, for a people whose history with each other and with God embraces both terror and awe, and wonder.

I like that it ends with an invitation. I’ve never been to a Seder, but I feel invited into something bigger than myself.

To those who celebrate, may you have a meaningful and family-rich Pesach. May everyone feel invited to wonder.

April 4

by David Lehman

The exodus from Egypt takes place
tonight this is the bread
of affliction this the wine
like the water of the Nile turned
into blood, the first plague
visited upon Pharaoh this is
the lamb of the feast the blood
of the lamb smeared on the doorposts

my mother served the tears
of many centuries and my father
poured the wine in Elijah’s cup
that the prophet invisibly sipped
let all who are hungry join us

Click here to read the short poem in its entirety.