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Rabbinic Insights: Memory Banks

San Diego Jewish Times, April 7, 2006

By Rabbi Wayne Dosick

Not long ago, I officiated at the funeral of an old, old friend, who died much, much too young.

At the shiva house, people began telling stories of this woman's life. Her second son (one of three beautiful children) who is now in his late 30s, with a family of his own, recalled that when he was in 6th or 7th grade, all the boys in his class from school decided to run away from home.

He said that all the guys gathered at the school playground about 5 o'clock one Saturday afternoon. They all had their backpacks filled with their "stuff” — all their precious possessions that they were taking with them. To bolster their resolve, with great bravado, they talked about how terrible things were at home — how nagging, and miserable, aloof, and unsympathetic their parents were to them. This litany of complaints went on for several minutes, as the young boys gathered up their courage to actually begin their journey running away from home.

Our friend who was telling this story then said, "You know, I listened to all my friends talk about how terrible it was for them at home, and how awful their parents were, and I thought to myself, 'It's not like that for me. My family is actually pretty okay. My older brother and little sister can be a pain sometimes, but, basically, they are good kids. And, my parents are pretty nice, most of the time. They treat me pretty well. And even when they nag, and they're not cool, I know that they love me.' So, I decide not to run away from home. There was not really anything to run away from."

His dear mother could not hear this story in her backyard here on Earth, but she surely heard it from the Heavenly realms, where she was at the right hand of God, receiving the rest and the reward she so richly deserves. What naches! Here was her kid, who loved her enough — not just in mourning for his deceased mother, but when she was alive — that he did not run away from home with his young friends.

We create memory banks for our children in the ordinary and the everyday, and we create memory banks for our children at moments of high significance and celebration.

The festival of Pesach — which in one form or another is the most observed of all Jewish holidays — is the perfect time to fill our children with rich and wonderful memories.

When you gather around your seder table, you create memories of the warmth of family and friendships. When you recite the centuries-old words and participate in the ancient rituals, you create Jewish memories. It does not matter if your children who come to seder are six or sixty — and indeed, for the sixty-year olds, the newly created memories become richer than ever, as the time for creating those memories around that table with those people grows shorter.

When your young children join you in creating new "traditions" and new memories, you seed and nourish the memories that will delight and sustain them when they are grown up — and when they begin the process all over again with their children.

The memory bank that you create for your children is their "permanent record." It is your history and your posterity. It is their inheritance and their destiny.

And yet, as family centered, as child centered as Passover is, we don't want to infantilize it. We don't want Pesach to be "just for the children."

The haggadah relates that Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon were sitting at the seder in B'nai Brak. Their conversations and stories and discussions were so intense that they talked all night, until their students came and said, "Our teachers, it is daybreak — time to recite the morning S'hma."

The text does not say that there were children present; if they were, they had all already gone to bed, or had fallen asleep at the table. But, if there were children present, the part of the seder that centered around them was long, long over when the sages stayed up all night talking. It was adult time; it was time for important, "grown-up" issues.

There are many in our midst who will be having seder this year without any children present. So, I want to invite you to imitate the sages of the haggadah, and make your seder into an adult seder. Certainly you will want to read some of the words and do some of the rituals that the haggadah proscribes. But you do not have to replicate all the parts of the haggadah that are child-centered, that lead the children to ask and be answered, so that they can learn of the holiday and its observance.

Instead you can have a real "adult seder." You can discuss the ideas that the haggadah raises, because Pesach is rich with real issues of human existence: slavery and freedom, freedom and responsibility, light and dark, good and evil, right and wrong.

Some say that the sages of the haggadah were discussing the dire political situation of their day, and garnering wisdom from the political situation of the ancient Hebrews. You can do the same. You can talk about war and peace, the qualities of leadership, hardened hearts, the ills that plague us, and the plagues that come our way — or that we induce. You can talk about cause and effect, means justifying ends — or not. You can talk about the alluring sweetness of imprisonment, and of breaking the barriers. You can talk about the "narrow places," and about the "puffed up" egos that need be broken. You can talk about the end to discrimination and intolerance. You can talk about God's role in your life and the life of your people and your world. You can talk about miracles.

 "Pesach isn't just for kids." Pesach is for everyone who cares about the human condition. And there are many, many ways to observe and celebrate.

 And to your seder this year — whatever kind of seder you make or attend — I invite you to add this prayer for anchoring in miracles.

We need miracles so very, very much. So, please say this prayer. Let grace and blessings rain upon us.

 Let grace and blessings reign within us.

 Let grace and blessing emanate from our Beings.

 A gutten Pesach, a zissen Pesach, my friends. Good Yontif. Good Pesach.

.Rabbi Wayne Dosick, Ph.D., the spiritual guide of the Elijah Minyan, an adjunct professor at the University of San Diego and the Director of the 17: Spiritually Healing Children's Emotional Wounds. He is the award-winning author of six critically acclaimed books, including Golden Rules; Living Judaism; and Soul Judaism: Dancing with God into a New Era.