The Hearts of Children: A Great Sabbath
Shabbat HaGadol Sermon 5786
Rabbi Sam Cohon, Congregation Beit Simcha, Tucson, AZ
A story. For my radio show and podcast, Too Jewish with Rabbi Sam Cohon and Friends, I always try to find new Jewish musical cuts to play, especially around holidays. One year recently I found a remarkable English language version of the Chad Gadyo sung by actor and musician Jack Black. It goes kind of like this: Then came a cat and ate the kid, that father bought for 2 zuzim, Chad Gadyo, only weirder and with a certain extremely crazy energy.
Jack Black is Jewish of course, and a famous actor and musician—he starred in movies like School of Rock, High Fidelity, and the Jumanji series, among many other comedies that required someone stocky, Jewish, brilliant, and crazier-seeming than Seth Rogen. He is also half of the rock duo Tenacious D. So, Jack Black recording Chad Gadyo is fun, a celebrity Jewish guy doing a Seder song with real innovative flair—if in slightly garbled Aramaic pronunciation at times.
The rest of the story is this. I have a friend, Rabbi Joe Black, a past guest of Too Jewish, who is a Jewish music recording star—remember, that’s Jewish recording star, which means not giving up the day job because you can’t make a living at that. He composed the music for the prayer we sing near the beginning of services, “May it be beautiful”, among many other pieces. Rabbi Joe Black was also the rabbi of a big congregation in Denver, Colorado, and he and his wife visited us in Tucson not long ago. Anyway, when I played the Jack Black song for my wife Sophie she commented that she was surprised that a rabbi like Joe had garbled the pronunciation of the Aramaic a few times. Then she asked how that song would have sounded if Jack Black had sung it.
But of course, Jack Black had sung it! Sophie thought that Rabbi Joe Black did the recording, not Jack Black… Which I immediately texted to Rabbi Joe Black. Who laughed, by text. You might say, I have it all there in black and white. Sorry…
Anyway, Chad Gadyo and Jack Black—and Joe Black—aside, we are approaching the freedom festival, the great holiday of Passover, now just five days away, which means this Sabbath is Shabbat HaGadol, literally the Great Sabbath preceding Passover. Pesach is perhaps the most observed of all Jewish holidays, and it is certainly ideologically central to Judaism: the Exodus from Egypt and the theme of liberation from oppression is at the heart of our understanding of how the world should be and has inspired countless movements for freedom around the world throughout history.
This Sabbath before Passover is also a big Shabbat because it marks a time of preparation for a holiday that requires lots of getting ready: removing the leavening from our homes, doing a thorough spring cleaning, and then cooking and prepping all the food for the Seder and the week of Passover. So, a Shabbat Ha,Gadol indeed, a big Sabbath in every way.
However, the name for this day comes not solely because it’s the Shabbat prior to Pesach, but from the words of a special Haftarah, the selection from the prophets, chanted during the Torah service. This prophecy comes from a man called Malachi, who is known as the last prophet in Jewish tradition, the author of the final book in the middle section of the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible. According to Judaism, Malachi—which means “my servant,” and is likely a description of his function, rather than his actual name—was the last person to receive direct communication from God commanding him to address the Jews.
Malachi lived in the 5th century BCE, about 2400 years ago, when the Temple in Jerusalem had been rebuilt but religious motivation was waning. As Rabbi Gunther Plaut put it in his commentary, “Malachi describes a priesthood forgetful of its duties, a Temple that is underfunded because the people have lost interest, and a society in which Jewish men divorce their Jewish wives to marry out of the faith.”
In other words, a time in some ways much like our own.
In the special Haftarah chanted on this Great Shabbat, Malachi seeks to inspire the people of Israel to return to God and to worship, to connect again with their powerful ancient tradition. He tells them, “For you who revere My name, a sun of righteousness will rise with healing on its wings… Remember the Torah of Moses, My servant, the ritual and practical laws I commanded him at Mt. Horev for all Israel.” And then he concludes, “Here, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and awesome day of the Lord, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the hearts of children to their parents.” In ritual tradition, part of that sentence is repeated, the coming of the great and awesome day, HaGadol v’HaNora.
I have always appreciated Malachi’s words: there will come a time when God will send Elijah the prophet, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the hearts of children to their parents, to bridge the great generation gaps and unite us across all that might otherwise divide us.
Malachi, prophesying in the 400s BCE, during the period of the Persian Empire, evokes the great, powerful, mystical hero prophet Elijah, his predecessor by some 300 years even then, saying, Hinei, Aochi sholeaich lachem et Eliyah HaNavi, lifnei bo yom Adonai, HaGadol v’haNora. “Here, I will send you Elijah the Prophet, before the great and awesome day comes, to turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents.” That beautiful sentence rings down to us through the ages. What parent has not desired a greater closeness with his or her child, certainly at one point or another? And what child has not desired greater closeness with her or his parent, certainly at some point? Elijah must be something special to effect this great reconciliation, no?
Elijah of course figures prominently in the Passover Seder, theoretically visiting each table and drinking from the special kiddush cup set aside for him. It is a beautiful, mystical moment in the later stages of the evening of Pesach: a time when we indeed can feel the closeness of reunited family at Passover.
I don’t know if your tradition for Elijah at the Seder is the same as my own family, but naturally we always have a large Elijah’s Cup, a Kos Eliyahu—or, depending on the number of Seder attendees and tables, sometimes multiple cups for Elijah. When it’s time to invite him in we dim all the lights, and have children open the door, and add remembrances: of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising nearly 80 years ago that began on the night of the first Seder; of the sacrifices made by our brothers and sisters to establish the State of Israel and defend it; of the struggles for freedom that are taking place in our world today. While the entire Seder—indeed, the whole holiday of Passover—is focused on reflecting the message of freedom by appealing to every one of the senses, and in many other intellectual and spiritual ways, it is this moment of Elijah’s cup that has perhaps the greatest emotional appeal.
There is a kind of magic that takes place, if you allow it to, with the lights dimmed and the wine of Elijah’s cup theoretically diminishing a little. At the proper time, after the Birkat HaMazon, the Grace After Meals and the third of our four cups of wine, we open the door for Elijah, sing “Eliyahu HaNavi,” among the best-known of all Jewish melodies, and invite this symbolic man to join us for a few moments.
For children, especially, by this time well fed and a bit sleepy, it is a great opportunity to draw them in for this mystical moment. Malachi’s words ring especially true today. This is the time when parents’ hearts are turned to their children, and children’s hearts are turned to their parents. It is when all of our hearts should open to those who still seek freedom, who cannot celebrate as we do at this special season.
One of my favorite stories about Passover is a Hollywood tale, and it comes from Sandy Hackett, writing about his father, the late, great comedian Buddy Hackett (“the guy with the marbles in his mouth”):
“Ever since I was a little kid, I remember Dad having an open house for Passover. Actors, fellow comics, singers, they were all there for the Seders. One thing vividly stands out in my mind. I went to open the door to let Elijah the Prophet in—and standing there was Gregory Peck. He asked me if it was too late for the service, and I said ‘No, go right in; we’re all expecting you.’”
I guess if you open the door for Elijah the Prophet and Atticus Finch comes in, you are still doing pretty well.
And of course, at our first, very successful congregational seder at Beit Simcha, the children present rushed to open the door for Elijah—and saw a rattlesnake sitting just outside the door. We chose to keep the door closed, called some animal handlers to pick up the snake, and instead of Eliyahu HaNavi we named him Eliyahu haNachash—Elijah the Snake.
We are thrilled that Wednesday night we will be able to hold a large public Seder—and we haven’t invited the snake to come back.
But what we have done, and encourage everyone to do, is to reach out to family, including those you haven’t seen for a while or may even be estranged from. And see if a bit of that magic that Elijah conjures up at the Seder can enter your own life, and help bring about that magical turning—of the hearts of parents to children and the hearts of children to parents. It is certainly worth making the effort at this Passover season, on this Shabbat HaGadol. Even if you aren’t estranged from you kids, give them a call or a video chat and wish them a Chag Sameiach. And then this will truly be a great Shabbat, and a holiday of blessing.