The Struggle for Freedom in Times of Fear

I mostly remember the experience of fear.

Fear of calling the attention of the security forces.
Fear of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Fear of being discovered with the wrong reading material.
Fear of being mistaken for someone they were after.
Fear of being in the address book of someone who had been arrested or “disappeared.”

That was Argentina under military dictatorship, when I was in my early 20s.

Though the present circumstances here are nowhere near that, the government’s authoritarianism is rapidly expanding, and threats and intimidation are already the order of the day. In the name of fighting antisemitism, protest and dissent are being severely punished, and free speech and academic freedom are being suppressed. Foreign students and activists have been arrested. Universities, law firms, and other institutions are under attack—some have already capitulated. I watched the video of the arrest of a Turkish graduate student at Tufts University, it is chilling. The scene is reminiscent of Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union, Argentina in the late ’70s, and other dictatorships, including present-day Russia.

Many in the Jewish community have given their hearty endorsement to the government’s measures. It is their understanding that this is what combating antisemitism requires. But even if we find these activists’ ideas and actions disagreeable–or even hateful–the intimidation tactics, the suppression of free speech, and the undermining of democracy will ultimately come back to haunt us. Surveillance, silence, intimidation—these are the tools of tyranny, and they will not protect us. Antisemitism must certainly be fought, but presently antisemitism and the Jewish community are being exploited for the sake of advancing an authoritarian agenda. As many have already warned, the Jewish community will be the first to pay the price of ultranationalism and repression.

As we prepare to sit at the seder table this Pesah, there is a foreboding feeling that freedom is very much at stake in our country. I hope we will be reminded during this festival that it is courage, moral clarity, civic responsibility, and solidarity that will preserve our freedoms and our democracy. Tyrants count on our fear to divide and isolate us. What they hope to achieve is that each person will be for themselves alone, concerned only with their own safety and wellbeing.

We saw that very clearly in Argentina in those days. People used to say that there was an 11th commandment: “Don’t get involved!” Out of terror, social solidarity collapsed, people minded their own business, looked the other way and stayed silent.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik offers a profound insight on the ritual of the Pesah sacrifice, which is symbolized by the roasted bone on the Seder plate. The Pesah offering could not be eaten by an individual, it had to be shared, only a group could eat it. 

“The ceremonial of the Passover meal, centered around the paschal lamb, aims at the emergence of the new hesed (love, kindness) community—for hesed is the characteristic mark of the free person. The bondsman is not spiritually capable of joining the hesed community; he is too much concerned with himself, too insecure, too fearful regarding the morrow, too humiliated to think of someone else, too frightened and too meek… The birth of the hesed community—of a nation within which people unite, give things away, care for each other, share what they possess—is symbolized by the Pesah offering. God did not need the Pesah offering, God had no interest in the sacrifice. God simply wanted the people—slaves who had just come out of the house of bondage—to emerge from their isolation and insane self-centeredness into the hesed community…”

“A new fellowship was formed around the paschal lamb, a new community sprang into existence… The slave suddenly realizes that the little he has saved up for himself, a single lamb, is too much for him. The slave spontaneously does something he would never have believed he was capable of doing: he knocks on the door of his neighbor, whom he had never noticed, inviting him to share the lamb with him and eat together. No wonder our Seder commences with the declaration, ‘Ha lahma anya, this is the bread of poverty…’ What unites people partaking together of a common meal? Not the physical act of eating, but a sense of solidarity and sympathy.”

(Festival of Freedom: Essays on Pesah and the Haggadah by Joseph Dov Soloveitchik, edited by Joel B. Wolowelsky and Reuven Ziegler).

True freedom begins when fear, isolation, and self-centeredness no longer govern us, when we reach beyond ourselves in hesed—with generosity, compassion, and solidarity.

The seder teaches us that freedom is not found in the safety of isolation, but in taking the risk of connecting and getting involved.

So what does it mean for us at this moment?

It means standing up not only for the safety of Jews, but for others and for the principles that have always guaranteed our safety: democracy, free speech, the rule of law, due process. It means refusing to allow fear to rule over us. It means joining others in solidarity, getting involved, pushing back and speaking out; and never trading the soul of democracy for the illusion of security.

We are not only called to tell the story of our liberation but to live out its values—especially when it is hard. And this year, it is definitely getting harder.

This Pesah, may our celebration help us uncover moral clarity, courage, and solidarity. We–and our country–need it more than ever before.

Shabbat shalom and hag sameah,

Rabbi Roly Matalon