On the first evening of Passover, more than 100 Ukrainian refugees gathered for a seder at the Doubletree-Hilton in Warsaw, Poland. The Haggadah, the liturgical booklet that accompanies it, invites its readers to see themselves as if they had personally come out of slavery. This year, Russia made this task easier.
“We have pharaohs in neighboring countries”, Volodymyr Zelenskiy saidspeaking to the world from Ukraine.
Those here in Warsaw have left family and friends behind in places like Kyiv and Sumy. Some hope to return but do not know if they will soon. Israel and Germany are likely next stops. “Next year in Jerusalem,” the 2,000-year-old creed, remained the final word of the evening.
The past is truly never past; the story haunts. My father grew up in Pacanów, a small shtetl in south-central Poland. At the start of World War II, his family fled. They withstood the years of war in Uzbekistan. In this context, Passover 2022 marked an unforeseen homecoming – of sorts.
Back at the hotel, the reasons for personal optimism made their collective appearance. A couple spoke enthusiastically about their newborn son and his upcoming breakup. A mohel had to come from Austria. Families have also schlepped their pets. A dog – Foxy – appeared at the seder. The Internet has allowed employees of multinationals to continue working.
The seder looked typical. Without the people present, it would have been banal. The rabbi who led the service stressed that it was paramount to do your best to maintain normality. So was creating instant community and letting people know they were not alone – just like the first Passover recorded in the Book of Exodus.
In the Bible account, the holiday is a celebration of liberation, religious freedom and family. Later, the pilgrimage to Jerusalem and a flood of sacrifices marked the occasion.
After the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E., the seder and the Haggadah gradually emerged, partly as an effort to recover lost memories, but also as an expression of gratitude, grievance, and anxiety – in measures different at different times.
The text repeatedly offers thanks to the deity, and says dayeinu, “that would have been enough”. The sentiment, “if you had only got us out of Egypt and done nothing more, that would have been fine,” closely follows the literal message on the page. In practice, however, few people would like to be stuck in a desert.
Like a river, the Haggadah accumulates content. It is not a static narrative. The Crusades ravaged the Jewish communities of the Rhineland. At the beginning of the 13th century, the Haggadah came to implore God to express his wrath, the unerring request of the helpless.
During World War II, Poland and Ukraine lined with battlegrounds and killing grounds. Over three million Jews were massacred in Poland. In Ukraine, the estimate exceeds one million. Sometimes local collaborators lent a hand in the carnage.
As for Poland and Ukraine, two Slavic countries whose relations date back at least to the 14th century. Oscillating between allies and foes, they clashed between 1918 and 1919 in what became known as the Polish-Ukrainian War.
Religious and linguistic differences are also potential pain points. Parts of Ukraine, once ruled by Poland after the Union of Brest in 1596, became Catholic, tied to Rome rather than Orthodoxy. Later, in the Austro-Hungarian part of Ukraine, Polish became the language of secondary education and was considered the most “civilized” language.
Ghosts are still hovering, but not all apparitions are spooky. Necessity can override memory and shape what follows. A starting point is “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”. The facade of the Polin Museum of the History of Polish Jews is a great example.
Large Polish and Ukrainian flags now drape the exterior of the museum. The building sits on the site of the former Warsaw Ghetto, on a street named for Mordechai Anielewicz, the 24-year-old leader of the ghetto uprising against the Nazis. The message and the meaning are essential.
Likewise, the everyday has its own elegance. On Good Friday, an overflowing crowd spilled out of a church just a mile up the road from the hotel. The priest’s homily and the singing of the choir echoed through a loudspeaker.
Posters expressed their support for Ukraine. A memorial to Pope John Paul II reminds worshipers of past clashes with communism and the Soviet regime. A food truck dressed in blue and yellow stood in the parking lot of the church. Religion and patriotism matter, as do small gestures.
west is not as decadent or as shrunken as Vladimir Putin and his allies believe. There remains the fight. Enmities and historical rivalries can be set aside in the face of a common threat. A wolf at the door is a great motivator.
The Haggadah reminds the reader that adversity can forge renewed resolve. For the people of Ukraine and their refugees, let’s hope it does.
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