Temple Emanu-El

Shabbat Sermon—Tibet and Us—Shabbat haGadol
Rabbi Jonathan Miller
Temple Emanu-El
Birmingham, Alabama
April 11, 2008 / 7 Nisan 5768

This Shabbat is not quite Shabbat haGadol, the great Sabbath. Shabbat haGadol is the Sabbath before Peasach. We have another week to chow down the chametz that lingers in our refrigerators, freezers, and pantries. It is quite literally a race to the finish line. Next week is truly Shabbat haGadol. But then, next week, we'll be working like demons to prepare our homes and our tables for our Seders. And since I don't expect a big crowd next week, I will deliver my Shabbat haGadol sermon tonight.

Traditionally, there are only two Shabbatot when the rabbi would deliver a sermon. One was Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Repentance between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. During this Shabbat, the rabbi would preach about the importance of making repentance for one's sins. This was his High Holiday sermon, so to speak. And on Shabbat haGadol, the rabbi would exhort his congregation to fill all the mitzvot relevant to Passover. And there are a lot of them. Ironically, in today's world, these two Shabbatot are the least attended by our folks. Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, many folks feel that they have had enough synagogue for the time being. And the Shabbat haGadol, the Shabbat before Pesach our people are in a frenzy to get everything ready. So on this Shabbat, I am going to fool you. I am going to pretend as though this Shabbat were actually Shabbat haGadol, the great Sabbath. And like my spiritual ancestors who preceded me, I will use this opportunity to exhort you to observe Passover to its fullest extent.

But first, permit me to change gears and talk about something else.

Have you been watching the path of the Olympic torch, and its travails as it wends its way across the continents? Oy, what a mess! Apparently this torch, which is meant to be a symbol of so many good and hopeful things, has turned into an albatross for the Chinese and for the International Olympic Committee. (By the way, the International Olympic Committee seems to leave behind a mess wherever it goes. Who are these folks? It would seem to me over the years that its members have had to take an IQ test, and score under 80, to have a shot at being on the committee.) So this torch, which is meant to symbolize freedom, hope, sportsmanship, and fairness seems to bring out -- believe it or not -- all those people who yearn for freedom, hope, sportsmanship, and fairness. And they are all screaming at the runners and clamoring to extinguish the torch on behalf of those who yearn for freedom, hope, sportsmanship, and fairness. Oy, what a mess!

It seems that after decades of occupation, the poor and hapless Tibetans have finally made it to the world stage. The Tibetans practice a peaceful and nonviolent form of religion, which is a rarity in our world today. Since 1951, they have been occupied by the Chinese. The Chinese have a heavy-handed way of dealing with human rights. They have isolated the Tibetans, settled many of their own people from the east into Tibet, set up a puppet leadership in Tibet, and have worked fairly assiduously to diminish and, some would say, obliterate Tibetan culture. And now that the Olympics are coming to Beijing this summer, the Tibetans have used this opportunity as a way to highlight their grievances and suffering before the world.

I am not an expert in any way on Tibet or the Tibetan’s suffering. I haven't read much or seen much about Tibet. I have never been there. That is probably the way the Chinese overlords would like it to be. (I did once eat in a Tibetan restaurant in Madison, Wisconsin. And once, in a big meeting, I heard the Dalai Lama speak. It was pretty cool. I didn't really understand him very well, but I did hear him speak. These are my only Tibetan bona fides.) But I am sympathetic to the Tibetans. I am sympathetic to the underdogs. I am sympathetic to those who fight for their religious freedom. I am sympathetic to those who struggle against being assimilated into the larger culture. That is because I am a Jew. The Chinese, who I'm sure our nice people individually, seem as a government to be thuggish and blunt and sometimes even brutal in the way they treat their citizens, and particularly their minorities.

So I kind of shake my head and watch with bemusement as the Olympic torch evokes protests for the Tibetan cause. I don't really have a strong opinion about this, but there is something ironic, amusing, and exciting to see this symbol of hope and unity, which was meant to highlight the glory of Chinese achievement now be used to highlight the underside of this government’s harsh and repressive human rights policy.

What does this have to do with Shabbat haGadol? The plight of the Tibetans seems in some ways to echo the Passover story. The Passover story is so compelling to the human condition because it is the first time in history that the cause of the weak was championed by the powerful. The Passover story echoes in the human heart because it tells us that human beings can overcome powerful institutions. The Passover story resounds in the human psyche because it puts the God of the universe on the side of the weak and defenseless. The Passover story is the quintessential prototype of liberation from bondage and from cruelty and from hopelessness and from despair. If the Israelite slaves could, with the help of God overcome Pharaoh, the most powerful and despotic ruler the world had ever known, then any group of downtrodden slaves could overcome their taskmasters. The Passover story is so compelling because it places justice over power, freedom over subjugation, and the rights of each human being over the interests of those who claim to rule over them.

Passover and our liberation from Egypt so long ago has become the prototype for every freedom fighter, for all those who have stood up to demand justice and human dignity. Without the Passover story in human history, there would be no Christianity or Islam or the offshoots of these religions, which all claim that the God of the universe is a God who cares for justice and considers the small and powerless people to be as worthy of His consideration as the great and powerful people. Without the Passover story in human history, there would be no United States of America, founded under the premise that all people are created equal and that all are “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Without the Passover story, African-Americans would still be slaves today. Without the Passover story in human history, we would still be bound as slaves to serve the economic interests of the powerful. Without the Passover story in human history, there would be no concept of human rights and social justice. We would have continued along as it always was: the powerful can grind the humanity out of human beings.

Passover is the first story of human liberation. God's blessing to Israel in the days of Pharaoh has become a blessing to all humanity. Isn't that what the Torah said from the very beginning when Abraham's progeny were promised that they would be a “great” nation and a blessing to all humanity? We might have thought that “great” should have described our numbers. But numerically, we have been infinitesimally insignificant to the human race. We might have thought that “great” should describe our character. But in all humility, we know that we, too, possess all the human foibles and deficiencies that every other human being has. We are no greater than anyone else. And if we achieve greatness in our lives or in our generation, it is only because of our willingness to work hard and sacrifice to make the world better. This is not some God-given gift. Rather it is the result of our own human strivings and aspirations. So what does “great” mean?

“Great” means that we have a mission to the world to show the world that there is a supreme power beyond the power of Pharaoh's, Kings, and governments. “Great” means that by our example that we show the South Africans, the Zimbabweans, the Tibetans, the Darfuris, the North Koreans, the Cubans, and the Soviets, that the power of the universe is a liberating power; that the power of the universe can overcome each and every despot. It began with Pharaoh. And now that story continues as the Olympic torch wends its way across the continents.

But my friends, there is one more element that makes this story so compelling for us and for all who seek freedom and liberation. Isn't it remarkable that the Passover story still echoes in the human heart? Wouldn't you think that some other national liberation movement would have replaced us? Perhaps the world would have found it easier to tell the story of more recently enslaved people who found their way to freedom? Perhaps the world would have found it easier to tell the story of a people more numerous than our small band of Jews? But instead, it is the Passover story that remains the universal story of liberation. And I want to tell you why.

The reason that we have stuck fast to our liberation story from Egypt, and the reason that it echoes in the spirit of all human beings, is the way we tell our story. We tell our story at our Seder table. We tell our story by the foods we eat. We tell our story with the matzah sandwiches we eat at work or at school. We tell the story by the rituals of cleaning out the freezer, the refrigerator, and the pantry. We tell our story by the anticipation and the hard work and the effort we make to relive our liberation year after year. For us, as Jews, we are not simply sitting around the fireplace telling a story about what happened a long long time ago. Our rituals and our adherence to our Jewish tradition during this time of year help us relive our redemption year after year. The chametz gets old. We throw it out. But the story remains forever young.

We don't eat matzah and refrain from eating pizza, pasta, and pierogies for seven days because we prefer matzah and no longer like pizza, pasta or pierogies. Matzoh is still the bread of affliction, as all of us who keep Passover know full well. We adhere to our tradition because it keeps the story forever young and forever vibrant. And if we can keep the Passover story a living story, all those who are subjected to others today and in the future can have hope. If we keep our Passover rituals and customs, the story remains alive. It is not so much what God did for us in those days. That is not the reason we go through all the fuss. Rather, the Haggadah tells us that it is what God does in our day, to bring us liberation--that this is the reason for the matzah, the Seder, and all the care and love that we bring to the table throughout these seven days. It is because God has redeemed us and liberated us in days long gone by, and because God redeems us and liberates us today. And even that is not enough. It is because God will redeem us and liberate us in the days to come—we are sure of that and we have assured the world of that. So we sit down at our Seders to tell our stories, and because we do, all the oppressed of the world, even the Tibetans, have a chance.

Shabbat Shalom

Back