Exodus revisited

Dear friends,

Again, I find myself overdue on writing an update. There are simply not enough hours in the day here. I will try to convey some of the little things that occurred in the past month and a half, with a focus on Passover. I am also working on another update about the political situation here, both in terms of Israeli elections and the Palestinian situation. Look out for that by the end of the month.

In this issue:

1. Petra
2. Purim
3. Parents
4. Passover: This year, from Cairo to Jerusalem

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1. Petra

Thousands of years ago, in what is today southern Jordan, the Nabatean people built their capital into an area fortified by natural rock formations. The city, Petra, is now known for its breathtaking views and exquisite facades carved into the soft stone (see photoblog). Petra was later occupied by Romans and Crusaders, before being lost to all but the local Bedouins. I traveled there with some friends in mid-March not only to see these sights, but to add the Jordanian stamp to my passport’s collection. While southern Jordan was distinguishable than Egypt in many ways, there were elements that brought back memories. In Jordan, just as in Egypt, make sure you have the correct amount of money when making a purchase. No one is willing to make change.

2. Purim

The Jewish holiday of Purim also took place in mid-March. The festival celebrates the legendary victory of the Persian Jews of Shushan over an evil plot by the adviser to King Ahashuarus, Haman, to hang the entire Jewish community. The plot is foiled when Queen Esther, who is a Jew, finds out about the plan from her Uncle Mordechai and informs the King, who in turn decides to hang Haman instead for his treachery.

Purim is like the Jewish Halloween, as it is traditional to dress up as not only characters from the story, but also in any other costume imaginable. In addition, many people follow a tradition that encourages the consumption of alcohol to the point that it is hard to distinguish between Mordechai and Haman, the protagonist and antagonist of the legend. So, keeping with tradition, the streets of Jerusalem were filled with drunken youths dressed outrageous costumes, singing songs and recounting the (supposed) triumph of the Jews of Persia over Haman’s evil plan.


3. Parents

At the end of last month, my parents led a trip to Israel that consisted mainly of members of my congregation, as well as several extended family members from both sides of the tree. The entire week was wonderful. Whether it was learning about the ruins of Caesarea, hiking in the Dan nature reserve or exploring the markets of the Old City of Jerusalem, it was a reunion full of good times, funny stories and great food. For my father, who also spent his entire junior year at Hebrew University, Jerusalem was a nostalgic experience. When I gave my parents a tour of the campus, he could not get over how much it had changed. For my mother, this was not only an opportunity to see how I live in Jerusalem, but also to open her brother Bobby’s eyes to the land that until March, had existed only in pictures and stories.

4. Passover: This year, from Cairo to Jerusalem

We conclude our Passover Seder—our Passover feast—every year with the words, “Next year in Jerusalem,” and for 20 years, I said those words, hoping that one day they would come true. For me, of course, they were truer than I expected. My journey this year retraced the steps of our story from Egypt to the Land of Milk and Honey, from Israelite to Jew, and from slavery to freedom.

Whether or not the epic exodus from Egypt actually took place is certainly in question. It is hard to imagine hundreds of thousands of people wandering for 40 years in the desert and leaving no remains. Perhaps it is merely, in the words of one of my fellow Seder participants this year, a “ridiculous fantasy” meant to bring us together for a special holiday. Either way, its story is an important one. Liberation is a broad theme, and one can connect it to far more than the story of the exodus. When we say that we were slaves in the land of Egypt, it reminds us to remember those that are still enslaved, not only by other people, but by hunger, poverty and unjust societal constraints. It teaches us to help others break their own shackles of slavery, wherever we may find it. The theme, not merely the story, is what makes this holiday so meaningful.

Though this Passover was my first in Israel, I decided that I needed to make a little exodus of my own and return to Cairo. I left on the second full day of Passover for the land in which our story begins. You can refer to my pictures for the details of my “homecoming” of sorts. In short, the trip was fantastic. I traveled with a great group of guys and did all the nostalgic things I wanted to do. I miss elements of Cairo, but this trip also reminded me of the things I thankfully do not have to put up with in Israel.

The most meaningful part of my recent Cairo excursion took place not in Cairo, but in Alexandria, an ancient city on Egypt’s Mediterranean coast. I had attempted to enter Alexandria’s only remaining synagogue last semester, but it was (ironically) forbidden for me to enter on Shabbat. This time, I was coming from Israel with three other Jewish students, and we arrived in the city on a weekday. When we exited the train, we made a bee line for the synagogue.

The 150 year old Eliyahu Hanavi Synagogue, now a historic monument in Alexandria, is protected by the government and police. We were greeted by an Egyptian caretaker who showed us into the sanctuary, and mentioned that someone from the local Jewish community would arrive soon to speak with us. As we walked around, exploring on our own, the Muslim call to prayer began and resonated within the Synagogue—an interesting juxtaposition. The caretaker motioned to the door, and told us the woman from the Jewish community had arrived.

Between the pews, an old woman slowly but deliberately worked her way towards the front of the sanctuary. Lena was her name, and she is among the last Jews in Egypt—a community that reached a height of around 80,000 people before the founding of the modern state of Israel. Gathering her strength, and her English, she welcomed us to her synagogue. She allowed us to ask her questions about the place and its history, and stood with us for a picture.

At one point, my friend Jonah and Lena were talking about attendance at the synagogue. “Thirty-five thousand people,” she said, referring to the size of the Jewish community at its height. “And now only 30. No minyan. No men.”

“No minyan in this beautiful synagogue?” Jonah asked.

Lena smiled, and paused. “This /wonderful/ synagogue.”

(A minyan means 10 men over the age of 13, the minimum number required for prayer)

After our questions, Lena told us she was very sick. Perhaps in a tradition picked up from the Coptic Christians of Egypt (as I have never seen a Jew do this before), Lena asked us to light candles for her health. She lit her own candle as well. As I watched the flames flicker, I thought about the future—a time when these candles will no longer burn in the largest and only remaining synagogue in Alexandria.

I wrote in October about my experience during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in Cairo: “…it was sad to see the future of the city’s indigenous Jewish population. All that remains of this once vibrant Jewish community is handful of elderly Jewish women that have done their best to preserve their heritage. Yet, as they eventually pass away, one by one, the Jewish population here will slowly be reduced to one consisting only of foreign students and diplomats.”

So I was fortunate enough, in two cities, to catch a glimpse of the Egyptian Jewish community, one that could be hundreds or thousands of years old, before it perished forever. These are not only the last Jews in Egypt, but the last in the Arab world. It was fitting then, when I returned to Israel, that the Jerusalem Post published a special Passover pullout section about the Jews of Egypt. It confirmed that while most fled to Israel under the rising Arab anti-Judaism of the 1950s, the few that stayed behind are among those that remain today.

Whether or not my ancestors were enslaved by the Egyptians is unimportant in the face of the condition of Jews today. We are no longer slaves. Even Lena has the freedom to call herself a Jew, attend a synagogue in an Arab country, and even leave to emigrate to Israel if she so desired. The United States of America has not chosen to confine me to a ghetto, but to leave me a free citizen, free to live, travel and worship as I please. Most of all, I left Egypt today with no wandering, and no (well, very few) questions asked. I hope the world will continue in this direction, not only for Jews but for all people, as we hear, year by year, freedom’s wondrous story.

Chag samayach and a meaningful Easter,
Josh

P.S. – A picture is worth a thousand words. I am trying to spare you the words by putting up plenty of pictures. Check them out at the Web site below.

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How to contact me:
e-mail: jeadland@brandeis.edu
AIM: joshlands
Skype: joshlands
Cell Phone: 011-972-52-598-4511
Web site (with pictures): http://joshadland.blogspot.com