A Christian at Passover

Source: First Thigs

R. R. Reno April 10, 2025 /R. R. Reno is editor of First Things./

My first experience of Passover came the spring after our wedding. My wife is Jewish, and she signed us up for the Yale Hillel Seder, a large affair of one hundred or more participants. I was at that stage of life almost always hungry. That evening in the spring of 1987, I could think of little other than the meal that only comes after the long march through the Passover liturgy: various blessings of wine, ritual symbols elaborated upon, and the Haggadah (literally, the “telling”), which recounts the story of the Exodus in an extensive, indirect, and roundabout way. (Needless to say, I was starving toward the end.)

In subsequent years, my wife and I—and in due time, our children—participated in Passover Seders of many different types. Progressive Jews often prefer a liturgy that skips the indirection of the traditional approach and recounts the story of the Exodus as told in the Book of Exodus. Into that story, many Seder books interpolate snippets from feminist tracts and Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches, playing up the notion that Judaism is aligned with projects of political liberation. Count me among those less than satisfied with this approach. As my wife likes to say, when it comes to Passover, I’m a Maxwell House Gentile—a reference to the free Seder booklets that once came with each purchased can of coffee, and which feature the traditional Haggadah.

The traditional version was formulated by the rabbis after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in A.D. 70. This catastrophic event in the history of the Jewish people put an end to the ritual sacrifice of lambs at the Temple under the supervision of priests. In its place, a family-based order of service was developed. The central element, the Haggadah, was keyed to Deuteronomy 26:5–9.

The setting within Deuteronomy for these few short verses is important. They come at the end of a long series of commandments that elaborate a way of life in accord with the Ten Commandments, which are restated in Deuteronomy 5. A commandment to remember is the leitmotif throughout these chapters. The theme of remembrance takes an important theological turn just before we get to Deuteronomy 26 and the scaffolding for the Passover Haggadah.

In Deuteronomy 25:17, we read: “Remember what Amalek did to you on the way as you came out of Egypt.” Amalek, mentioned in Genesis 36:16 as one of the chiefs of the sons of Esau, is more a metaphysical force than a biblical character. He is the protean enemy of the Israelites, embodying the genocidal threat. Perhaps the rabbis looked to this portion of Scripture for their development of a Passover ritual because of the extreme measures taken by the Romans, which sought to destroy the foundations of Judaism.

But the subsequent verses shift registers. “Remember what Amalek did to you” is followed by the commandment to put him out of our minds. “When the LORD your God gives you rest from your enemies,” we go on to read, “you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven.” This commandment to stop remembering is then underscored with a paradoxical “you shall not forget [the imperative of blotting out remembrance of Amalek].” It is as if God were saying, “Forces of the greatest evil assail you, but as you receive my redemption, do not forget to forget those evil forces!”

It is very hard to escape the evils suffered, the wrongs done. They bear upon us, especially death, the seemingly inescapable specter that haunts us all. But God has greater power, incalculably greater power. In his triumph over sin and death, he will help us forget. Divine assistance in remembering to forget underlies Isaiah 65:17: “For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind.” The same work of God in the service of fulfilling the commandment to erase the memory of Amalek informs Revelation 21:4: “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are known as Days of Awe. God is the bountiful Creator and merciful Judge. These High Holy days culminate with severe fasting and breast-beating penance. Their spirit is that of Psalm 8:4—“Who am I that you are mindful of me,” a spirit that makes God’s lovingkindness all the more astounding.

Passover is a Festival of Joy, a literal feast. The Seder encourages the fulfillment of the commandment to blot out the memory of Amalek. Yes, Pharaoh enslaved the Israelites, seeking their destruction. Yes, the Romans destroyed the Temple. Yes, the Jewish people have been persecuted. But that’s not the end of the story. The Haggadah is punctuated with affirmations of God’s deliverance, his “mighty hand and outstretched arm.” The spirit of this holiday is Psalm 84:1: “How lovely is thy dwelling place, O LORD of hosts!”

Passover often falls within Holy Week. It can be spiritually jarring to attend services on Good Friday and then go home to a Passover Seder. But the correspondence of Passover with the gathering storm of evil that will break upon the Incarnate Lord is fitting, for the Festival of Joy celebrates the resurrection of Israel from the dead. My participation offers me a foretaste of Easter.