Seder Night: The Emergence of Covenantal Man Self-selecting systems, such as the manner in which many Americans choose

a vocation, have a very particular strength. Given the fact that almost no one becomes, for example, a particle physicist, because they were forced to do so, one may reasonably assume that particle physicists truly enjoy what they do. This benefits not only the physicists themselves, who will derive much pleasure and joy from spending their time thinking, experimenting, and writing about a topic regarding which they are deeply passionate, but society as well. In all likelihood, the collective performance of the deeply passionate and committed professionals will translate materially into performance. Coercive, hereditary systems, like most religious systems, including Judaism, are thus faced with a serious dilemma. Given the fact that, by definition, ones belonging to the system is not volitional, it stands to reason that many people will not enjoy certain aspects of the system, especially the restrictive ones. Lack of choice may not only result in the absence of passion, but, very often, active resentment, ultimately translating, generously speaking, into mediocrity in observance.1 While this problem is intrinsic to Judaism, it is exacerbated at the current historical moment, given the fact that other major life decisions, such as the aforementioned vocational choice, marriage partner, place of residence, are very often volitional indeed. For many, the absence of autonomy regarding the most fundamental choice of all, religious identity, in contrast with other areas, is simply too much to bear. The current possibility of assimilation, a historical anomaly, and the empirical data on the American scene of its pervasiveness, attests amply to the phenomenon outlined above. One doubts that the percentage of particle physicists who abandon their field of choice remotely approaches Jewish attrition rates. And small wonder. The halakha was not unaware of the dilemma that it confronted, and in my opinion, confronts this issue directly in the form of the Seder. The mandate that we have to envision ourselves as if we literally were taken from bondage into freedom2 is a profound thought experiment during which we are actually being asked to consider3 two The common Amish practice of rumschpringa is obviously meant to inject an element of volition into a fundamentally hereditary structure, and highlights the universal dimension of the quandary. 2 Mishna, Pesachim, Chapter 10. Cf. Medrash Tanaim and Rambam Hilkhot Chametz UMatzah Chapter 7 for their version, which diverges in three significant ways. 3 The Sages requirement that the Seder begin with questions regarding the unique (I would say, transformative), and, in certain circumstances, with one actually posing the questions to oneself,
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radically divergent modes of existence, and still more radically, to honestly confront which one offers us greater meaning; the noncovenantal experience of our lives in Egyptian bondage, or the covenantal life into which we were catapulted through the transformative process of Exodus. The Sages require us to explore this transition deeply4, on two parallel levels; we explore not only the national-political bondage of Egypt, but the spiritual desiccation of our non-covenantal experience as well. It is only through re-experiencing that unique historical moment, when we could fully appreciate the transition which we experienced from non-covenantal life to covenantal life, that we can ever fully embrace our Judaism, as if our belonging to the covenant was indeed volitional. What, then, is characteristic of non-covenantal experience? Verily, we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Human history is characterized by the diabolical urge of man to power, at the expense of inflicting terrible suffering upon his fellow. Non-covenantal experience has few winners, the mighty, the powerful, the ruthless, the Pharaohs, and many victims, the oppressed, the bereft, the aggrieved. Perhaps worse than the pervasive suffering itself is the absence of any cathartic, redemptive context for the suffering, any system of meaning through which the suffering is of any meaning. Man is left only howl into the wind as a wounded beast might, confronted mercilessly by the Camusian absurd; and the children of Israel groaned on account of the work, and they cried out.5 Further, non-covenantal man is trapped by the present. What is his relationship with the past or the future? He might be grateful for advances of the past that, in a purely utilitarian way, have made his life more pleasant. He might enjoy the study of history as an intellectual pastime. Likewise, he may entertain a vague, murky aspiration for the distant future of mankind, but he can have no fundamental relationship with beings from whom he is, by definition, totally disconnected, separated by a vast, unbridgeable chasm of time. Most importantly, non-covenantal experience is marked by profound unfairness and outrageous injustice. To whom do the spoils go? To those blessed, genetically or environmentally, with great intelligence, wealth, health, or beauty. The masses of mankind, by mathematical definition, average in their talents, abilities, and accomplishments, are largely ignored and perpetually undervalued. underscores this point. It is only a Seder if one is deeply confronting the existential issues that the transition to covenantal life actually raises, and hopefully, guiding ones children through the process. See BT Pesachim 116a. 4 Matchilin bGnut UMesaymim BShevach. Ibid. The halakha requires us to adopt both Rav and Shmuels positions. 5 Exodus 2:23

Covenantal experience, to which we were introduced at Exodus, profoundly addresses these three issues. Not only does it introduce a deity who, holds the reigns of eschatology, injecting himself upon occasion to bend both geopolitics forces and the laws of physics to His will, but even more importantly, when, inevitably, calamity and suffering strike, provides a redemptive context for experiencing that suffering, for I am with him in distress.6 Second, covenantal man is uniquely blessed with the opportunity to transcend his current historical moment, and have a deep and abiding relationship with the past and future. Given that his orientation is to the covenant, which, axiomatically, both precedes and outlasts his own ephemeral existence, he is conjoined in a metaphysical bond with those who precede him in covenant, and those who will occupy the covenantal stage subsequent to his earthly demise. Finally, the covenant injects great justice and fairness into life, averring that the Divine judgment of a persons life is proffered in a pristinely relative sense; it no longer matters, in the ultimate sense whether a person is exceptionally intelligent, wealthy, powerful, or attractive, or even, to a certain extent, what results he generated, but whether a person maximized his potential, relative to his innate abilities and environmental circumstances. Covenantal life beckons us with these sublime blessings. The unique opportunity to place ones trust in the strong hand and outstretched arm of Almighty God, to stand in moments of crisis in the presence of the Father of solace and consolation, to hold in our hands the mystical keys to rendezvous with past and future, and to have in our minds the serenity of knowing that we are, in the ultimate sense, to be judged by God alone, are the greatest fruits offered us by covenantal life. Seder night, by returning us to a historical moment when the difference between non-covenantal life and the life of the covenant was fresh and clear, and by compelling us to ask questions of each other and ourselves regarding the remarkable transformation of that evening, offers us the opportunity to fully embrace a system that is, in other respects, hereditary and non-volitional. Deep meditation on Seder night concerning the blessings which covenantal life offers us, even as it places upon us its considerable demands7, allows us to live our Judaism with a far deeper passion than that to which hereditary systems might reasonably aspire.

Psalms, 91:15 For the generation that left Egypt, it was precisely these demands, particularly in the carnal realm, which made the transition so difficult. See, for example, our Sages comment regarding the absence of certain Egyptian delicacies over which our ancestors tearfully wept, Number 11; Yoma 75a.
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