Passover’s Message of Hope in the Aftermath of Oct. 7

October 7 has left us in trauma. We walk around doing what we need to do, trying to live the life of October 6. But we are in mourning. We cannot imagine a world different than that of October 8. In the redemptive spirit of Passover, I offer this short insight gleaned from Rabbi Akiva, the “prophet” of hope.

It happened once [on Passover] that Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon were reclining in Bnei Brak and were telling the story of the exodus from Egypt that whole night, until their students came and announced, “The time for [reciting] the morning Shema has arrived.”

This narrative of the sages gathering in Bnei Brak is found in the Haggadah immediately after it taught that “even if we are all wise, insightful sages … we are to tell the story.” On the simplest level, then, the narrative of the gathering in Bnei Brak comes to serve as a shining example of how even those who clearly know the story, nevertheless, gather to expound upon it (Malbim Haggadah). Furthermore, the gathering serves to set the high bar on just how far one must go to ideally fulfill the commandment of telling the story – i.e., “until … the time for the morning Shema has arrived” (Sacks Haggadah).

But the expression – “the time for the morning Shema has arrived” - begs us to dig deeper. If all the narrative wanted to share was the upper limit to end the Seder, it could have said as much in more simple terms: dawn.¹

Rabbi Akiva was known as the bastion of faith and optimism of his time – a time of destruction and persecution.

Indeed, the gathering in Bnei Brak is shrouded in sublime mystery. To begin, why was the gathering in Bnei Brak at, what turns out to be Rabbi Akiva’s house (Talmud, Sanhedrin 32b)? This is especially strange because Rabbi Akiva was their junior – Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was the nasi, religious head of the Jewish community, Rabbi Yehoshua was his deputy; Rabbi Tarfon was Rabbi Akiva’s first teacher and Rabbi Eliezer was an elder statesman (Sacks Haggadah). Adding to the mystery is that R. Eliezer himself is on record as exhorting all to spend their holidays at home with their own family (Sukkah 27b). Why would these community leaders leave their families to spend the entire Seder night with R. Akiva?

The answer, explains Rabbi Yehiel Epstein (Haggadah Leil Shiumurim), is because R. Akiva was known as the bastion of faith and optimism of his time – a time of destruction and persecution. Indeed, with the Temple lost, the sages were in the depths of despair and depression. The Talmud (Makkot 24a-b) describes Rabban Gamliel, along with three of our Bnei Brak seder guests, R. Elazar ben Azarya, R. Yehoshua and R. Akiva, reacting to evidence of the Temple’s destruction. The sages cry and tear the clothes in mourning, but R. Akiva smiles. The sages ask R. Akiva the meaning of his incongruous reaction, to which he explains that if we have lived to witness the prophecies of destruction, surely the prophecies of redemption will come true. The Rabbis exclaimed, “Akiva you have consoled (nechama) us!”

R. Akiva was able to smile in the face of adversity for he lived according to the belief that “whatever the All-merciful does is for the good” (Ber. 60b). He maintained this faith to his dying day when, as the Romans flayed the skin off his face, he used his last breath to say Shema (Ber. 61b). But why the Shema? What is the meaning of the Shema?

R. Shimshon Raphael Hirsh explains that the Shema – “Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Ehad” – is too wordy to simply declare that God is one – for that we could have sufficed with “Hashem Ehad – God is One.” And if we wanted to say that God acting in mercy (signified by God’s Name: Hashem) and God acting in judgment (signified by the God’s Name: Elokeinu) are both aspects of the same One God, we could have sufficed with “Hashem Elokeinu Ehad – Hashem, our God, is One.” But in saying “Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Ehad” we declare our faith that, whether we see God acting in mercy (Hashem) or acting in judgment (Elokeinu), we accept it is all coming from God’s mercy (Hashem) - “even as Elokim (Judgment), He is Hashem (Mercy)” (Hirsch, Deut. 6:4; see my “Yosef is Still Alive - A Lesson In Divine Providence”).

While we are yet in the midst of the deepest darkness, the time has come to express our faith that God’s Judgment is an expression of mercy.

It is not an easy statement of faith, and so we cover our eyes while saying its words, indicating that while we may not see how this is in our world, we accept it nonetheless. It is this statement of faith that concludes that exemplary Passover Seder in R. Akiva’s house. “The time for the morning Shema has arrived.” While we are yet in the midst of the deepest darkness, the time has come to express our faith that “even as Elokim (Judgment), He is Hashem (Mercy),” that “whatever the All-merciful does is for the good.” For, indeed, just as surely as dawn follows night, our redemption will follow dark and difficult times.

And that brings us to the present. We cannot compare the cataclysm that was the destruction of the Temple to the destruction of October 7, yet we can compare the essential feelings of despair. Just as Jews then walked around in mourning, at a loss to imagine a positive future, so do we today walk around with a heavy heart, at a loss to imagine that the much talked about “day after” holds anything positive. It is precisely here that we must remember Rabbi Akiva’s faithful optimism. We must realize that even when God relates to us in Judgment, as Elokim, He is acting mercifully, He is Hashem,” that “whatever the All-merciful does is for the good.” We must take solace (nechama) in the knowledge that if we have lived to witness the prophecies of redemption (Jer. 33:10), surely the prophecies of its completion will come true (Jer. 33:11).

But the complete materialization of the redemption, notes R. Yehuda Amital, takes time. The Talmud explains that redemption comes, “little by little, like the dawning of the day” (JM Ber. 1:1). Through the long night we must remain faithful. The time for the morning Shema has arrived.

1. Interestingly, a parallel gathering of sages in Lod phrases the same upper limit as “until the cock crowed” (Tosefta Pesachim 10:12). Both gatherings end at dawn, but one is announced by an animal, the other by humans. The contrast suggests that while the cock signals the physical arrival of the rising sun, the students refer to something more sublime.

© Mois Navon 2 www.DivreiNavon.com