Every year we sit at the Passover Seder table and ask: what changed?  How is this night different from all other nights?  There are 4 traditional questions, all having to do with the customs of this night.  In the new Passover Israeli Haggadah that I just purchased, there is a story about the famous physicist Isador Rabi who “blames” his mother for making him a scientist.  Instead of asking like every other mother, when her child comes back from school “what did you learn today?” she used to say “did you ask a good question today?”  It is the question you ask that leads to finding many more questions to ask.  His questions led to him discover microwaves.  I remember at one of our previous, long-ago Seders I found the Afikomen, the half Matza without which the meal cannot end, and you ask or bargain for some reward in order to give it up. I asked for a Microwave, and was delighted when my husband agreed immediately.  He left the table, went downstairs and brought me a microwave generator!  Not exactly what I had in mind.  This year an 8-year-old boy at our Seder asked for a time machine.  I am curious to see what will transpire.  Indeed, some questions have many answers and you need to decide which one to follow.  Some do not have any answers at all, or you need to ask some more.  These days we have many more questions than answers.  Perhaps this is the normal state of affairs, but it feels different.  It feels like things have changed.

One of the changes I detect is that people seem to feel less secure. People walk differently; they are more vigilant.  Their movements seem more hurried, and their gaze wanders as if checking for danger.  The sound of airplanes, very frequent around here, is already part of the background noise.  It is the silence and stillness that are alarming. Our amygdala is constantly transmitting “danger,” so we are on constant alert.  Therefore, stress levels are rising, and with the temperatures rising as well in recent days, patience, which is not exactly a cultural characteristic in the middle east, is wearing thin.

Another major change is the mood. Every year before the Passover holiday there is a hustle and bustle of people purchasing new clothes, kitchenware, food and beverages, and tons of cleaning materials.  I noticed myself as well that my traditional cleaning frenzy was lacking enthusiasm.  There was no sound of rugs being beaten on balconies facing the streets; there are no piles of discards around the recycling bins.  There is a slowdown in the air, as if these mundane things are no longer top priority.  What matters is the captives.  What matters is the soldiers.  Family members will be missed at each and every Seder table.  In every home there is an extra chair for a missing person, or an extra cup of wine, or a sign reminding participants that some of our national family members are missing from the table.

I remember the first time we placed an empty chair at our table.  That was the time of the campaign for Russian Jews to be freed.  In the late 60’s Soviet Jews were denied permission to emigrate (primarily to Israel) by the authorities of the Soviet Union.  These Jews (also known as Refuseniks) were supported by people all over the world.  Again, the issue was freedom.

Freedom to live without fear.  Freedom to live without oppression and totalitarian rule.  Freedom to create and explore.  Freedom to ask questions.  It took over 10 years for the gates to open wide – over a million people left the Soviet Union and enriched Israel, the United States, Canada, and other countries.

We do not have 10 years to wait for the freedom to live without fear.  We cannot wait to have our remaining 133 hostages released: young and old, men and women.  We do not have time to wait for our soldiers to come home safely without being wounded or in caskets.  It has been too long already, and the changes we see are reflecting the impatience and the agitated feeling that time is running out for us to feel free again and able to breathe the perfumed air of the blooming trees.  As much as climate change has affected nature, and we feel the heat wave now, we have also had a lot of blessed rain.  Nature has not changed that much.  The spring flowers cover the fields, the almond trees were in full blossom, perfuming the air, and the Redbuds are creating a carpet of pink petals on the sidewalks.

I am pining to feel freedom, to be able to inhale deeply the fragrance of nature.  I am ready to welcome the sounds of birdcalls and the ability to walk the trails without having to carry a weapon.  To welcome people on the street and get a smile and a greeting.  To pause and chat with a neighbour, to travel safely on the roads and to trust my amygdala to warn me only of the danger of tripping on a rock.  I want to live in a world where there are many stories and you are free to ask questions. Milan Kundera, the Czech writer, claims that the stupidity of people is caused by the fact that they have answers for everything.  The wisdom of stories stems from the fact that they have a question for everything.  Totalitarian regimes are based on answers, and do not allow for questions.  Even in the free world people prefer to judge rather than understand with compassion; they prefer to answer instead of question.  My hope is that we go on asking, exploring so that we can listen to the stories – those stories that teach us to look at the world as a question.