Bo

It was the summer of 1998 and I was driving my first-born to the airport for a 6-week Israel trip. A song came on the radio, by the band known as Green Day:

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right
I hope you had the time of your life.

A turning point in my daughter’s life, I knew that a trip to Israel would be a transformative experience in her young life. All research points to the fact that attending summer camp and travelling to Israel are indicators of a positive Jewish identity. I watched as she left my embrace and walked down the narrow hallway to embark on that trip of a lifetime. And six weeks later, after first describing her whereabouts as “near the gold domey thing” to finally, “at the Kotel praying, near the Dome of the Rock,” I knew that those 42 days were in fact, the time of her life.

Time is a measurement that we as Jews take quite seriously. Our Torah begins with the counting of time. Six days of creation and one day of Shabbat, on which God rested from God’s work. We begin each day at sundown because that story of creation ends each day with “and there was evening and there was morning.” There are days of the year when the Torah commands no work to be done, giving import to those hours of time. And we recognize God as the Eternal One, acknowledging that God’s existence goes beyond time.

In this week’s parasha, Bo, the Children of Israel are handed the first mitzvah, or commandment, given to the newly born nation of Israel, even before the Exodus from Egypt.

“This month is for you the head of the months, for you it is the first of the months.” So reads the beginning of chapter 12 of the Book of Exodus. The month that the Israelites left Egypt, which was in the spring, is to become the first month of the Hebrew calendar. Just as Shabbat anchors our Jewish existence on a weekly basis, so does Pesach anchor our Jewish year. Shabbat gives us a chance to re-create our souls on a weekly basis. And Pesach is an annual rebirth as spring is a time of newness in our natural world. The Talmudic rabbis, writers of the Kiddush, must have realized the connection between these two events as they inserted references in the bulk of the blessing:

… zikaron l’ma’aseh v’reishit.  Ki hu yom t’chilah, l’mikreh kodesh, zecher l’tziat Mitzrayim.

… as a reminder of the work of Creation.  As first among our sacred days, it recalls the Exodus from Egypt. 

The commandment to celebrate Pesach is a promise to see ourselves as if we were freed from the bondage just as the Israelites of generations past. And in actuality, the rituals that lay before us at our seder table do hold the possibility of moving from what holds us back since last Pesach and moving us forward to “L’shana haba biyerushalayim” … a look towards the future when all will be at peace.

Each year, as we turn the pages of our Jewish calendar, we look towards the holidays that set us aside from our neighbors. Next week we will celebrate Tu B’shvat, the New Year of the Trees. We look towards nature with new buds appearing on branches that shed leaves before winter, and celebrate the anticipation of spring. Tu B’shvat occurs when the moon is at its fullest, giving us light to see those buds. We measure time by the moon, just as our ancestors did throughout the centuries.

When a child is presented with a tallit as they become Bar/Bat Mitzvah, I am reminded that there are children around the world who are also uttering those same words: l’hitatef batzitzit.

The month when our ancestors become free men and women is counted as the first month of the year, the time when they emerged from their metaphorical womb, just as the buds emerge from their branches, and my daughter began her journey of a lifetime.

May each Shabbat remind us of God’s creative powers, which enabled us to leave the slavery of Egypt, the narrowness of life, in search of our Promised Land. May we become partners with the Almighty as we work for peace, and may we each find a way to say “L’shana haba biyerushalayim.” Next Year In Jerusalem.

Ken y’hi ratzon – May it be God’s will.