Here is a text version of my sermon from 4/13/19 –
It may be hard to believe, but one week from today seder #1 will already be over. This coming Friday night Jews around the world will gather with family and friends, recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt, eat their matzah and maror, drink their wine, and celebrate their freedom. The seder is a series wonderful rituals, from the symbolic foods that we eat, to the four questions that we ask, to the story of the five rabbis in B’nei Barak that we tell.
Were you to ask me what my favorite moment in the seder is it would be hard for me to choose, but if you pressed me I would probably say the moment when we welcome Elijah the Prophet to our seder table. I have vivid memories from my childhood of intently staring at Elijah’s cup after the opening of the door, always astonished when somehow, seemingly by magic, the wine filled kiddish cup set aside for the Prophet began to shake. It wasn’t until I was around the age of bar mitzvah that I learned the cup shook because my Uncle Marvin would bump the edge of the table with his thigh.
At our seders I try to recreate that sense of mystery for the young children who are with us, although our niece Lily, now 9, long ago learned about the thigh bumping trick. And the truth is my interest in Elijah and my fascination with the idea of the Prophet coming to the seder has stayed with me all these years. Elijah’s arrival at the seder is a turning point in the ritual, redirecting us from the past we’ve been remembering – the Exodus events, the plagues, the experience of slavery – and pointing us to the future, the potential of a messianic era when pain and suffering will no longer be a part of the human experience.
The old joke is how does Elijah manage to get to all of those seders? He must use the same Uber driver as Santa Clause. But the truth is Elijah appears in the course of the Jewish year at three liturgical moments – the seder is one – what are the other two? One is havdallah, and those of you who have come for Saturday evening services know that at the end of havdallah it is traditional to sing the song we’ll sing about Elijah at our seders – Eliyahu HaNavi! So Elijah’s presence is invoked at every havdallah ceremony. And when else? The bris! According to tradition Elijah is present at every bris, and if you’ve been to a bris recently you may remember that just before the circumcision the baby is placed in a special chair, referred to as Kisai Shel Eliyahu – the Chair of Elijah.
The question is why does Elijah appear at these three moments, what is it that they have in common, and the answer is each is a moment of transition. On Pesah we transition from slavery to freedom. At havdallah we transition from the end of Shabbat to the work day week. And at the bris the baby transitions from being outside of the covenant to being on the inside. And Elijah is the symbolic figure of transition in Judaism, because Elijah, according to the tradition, is the one who will announce the coming of the messiah, and that will be the ultimate transition.
But if Elijah is the figure of transition in the tradition, he is also a symbol of resolution. I imagine you know that the Talmud is filled with debate after debate, about just about anything you could imagine under the sun, from dates to rituals to the meaning of biblical text. And sometimes, in the course of talmudic discourse, the debate is left without any kind of resolution, without any kind of decision being made as to which opinion is right and which is wrong. When that happens in the Talmud – when there is an unresolved dispute – you will often find the following word written at the end of the debate: Teiku. That is actually an acronym in Hebrew – ת – י – ק – ו and those letters stand for Tishbi – Yitareitz – Kushiyot – u’Ba’ayot – which means: the Tishabite will resolve the talmudic debates and other problems. Who is the Tishabaite? Who is the Tishbi? Elijah! And the tradition believes that when that day comes, and Elijah arrives to announce the Messiah’s imminence, he will also resolve all of those talmudic debates, telling us which opinion was right, and which one was wrong.
That idea of Elijah as the one who resolves debates and fixes problems also has something to do with Passover. If you were following along with Ben’s chanting of this morning’s haftara, special for this Shabbat, Shabbat Hagadol, the Shabbat before Passover, you may have noticed that in the last lines of the text Elijah is mentioned. Here are the verses: “Behold I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the great, awe filled day. והישיב לב אבות על בנים ולב בנים על אבותם – and he will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents.”
In other words, Elijah, at least according to this text, will be the reconciler, the one who restores broken relationships in families, who heals the rifts that all too often develop over time between us and those we love. And so we need Elijah to appear, not only on the night of the seder, but also on this Shabbat, almost a week before Passover, because we know when the holiday comes our family will be gathering. And we know how painful it is to sit at the seder table with someone with whom we feel distant. Or how even more painful it is to sit at the seder table without someone who should be there, because of some old, unresolved dispute.
But it is here where I would differ with the tradition. Don’t wait for Elijah to come to resolve those disagreements and divisions. In the seders of my childhood Elijah’s cup moved not because the great Prophet had arrived and somehow sipped the wine. Instead, as I learned when I got older – that cup was shaking because of human action. So it is in our own lives and our own families. When we want to heal a division – in our world, in our families, even in our own hearts – we are the ones who must, to use the words of this morning’s haftara, heishiv lev – we are the ones who must turn our hearts. That internal turning is the only thing I know of that can lead to the external actions – the call, the conversation, the apology, the decision – that can make the difference between the world we live in now, and the world we want to live in one day.
May Passover this year bring that spirit into our hearts and into our world –