By Rabbi Israel Meir Lau (former Chief Rabbi of Israel)
Imagine the difference between a visit to his homeland by Julius Caesar and one by Moses.
Julius Caesar lands at Rome Airport in Italy, and he immediately senses that something is wrong. The people don't speak his language. The local religion is completely different. And Rome is no longer the cultural capital of the world. He has nothing in common with the inhabitants of his homeland.
At Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, the scene unfolds very differently. An elderly Moses steps out of the plane. He is overcome with emotion as his feet touch the soil of Israel for the first time. Having led his nation through the desert for forty years and dying there without reaching the Promised Land, Moses has finally made it.
‘Shalom’ le dice un joven maletero del aeropuerto que emigró hace poco de Argentina y que se acerca para ofrecerle ayuda. ‘Shalom’ contesta Moisés asombrado que el idioma hablado en este lugar maravillosamente moderno es el mismo que él hablaba hace miles de años.
Then he notices a group of men praying in a corner of the airport. As he approaches, he sees that each of them is wearing tefillin and a tallit. After they finish praying, Moses speaks with them and examines their religious articles. They are identical to those he commanded on Mount Sinai.
More than three thousand years separate these men. One was born in Egypt; the others in Moscow, Argentina, Ethiopia, New York, Casablanca, Bombay, Sydney, Paris, and Johannesburg. They still share the same language, faith, tradition, and worldview. Moses turns his face to Heaven and cries out:
‘¡Bendito es el Omnipotente, pues mi pueblo todavía está vivo!’
The Jewish nation has survived empire after empire of supposed persecutors. Ancient Egypt, Persia, ancient Greece, Rome—where are they now? What is the miracle of Jewish survival? It is our unified Jewish faith, history, and heritage. We have survived throughout the centuries because of the unbreakable chain of our heritage.
On the 15th of Nisan, all Jews sit together for a Passover Seder. We eat the same food, the same matzah. Some recite the entire Haggadah, others a summary, and still others sing songs.
Three thousand three hundred years is a long time to keep the same menu.