A time to inspire us all

Reflections on Easter and Passover

Published in the Evening Standard 13 April 2006

It’s been a frantic week on my street. In this patch of Stoke Newington, the last few days have been dedicated to the mother of all spring cleans. Our neighbours have been turning over every cushion, sweeping out every corner, wiping every surface.

It’s not that the people of N16 are uniquely obsessive about household cleanliness. Rather this area is home to London’s largest community of ultra-orthodox Jews and today is the first day of Passover. At their simplest, the rules demand no eating of bread for the eight days of the festival. But the strictest interpretation insists there be not a trace of bread or anything like it in the home: hence the intensive bout of scrubbing and sweeping. The reward came last night with the first seder, the meal which brings extended families around the table – the true Jewish equivalent of Christmas dinner.

I don’t doubt that Stoke Newington’s churches have spent the last few days doing some pretty serious preparations of their own. For this is holy week with Sunday the most sacred day of the Christian year, recalling the resurrection of Jesus. If this is a spiritually intense time for both Jews and Christians, that’s hardly a coincidence. The Easter and Passover experiences overlap: lest we forget, the Last Supper was a seder.

That gives committed Jews and Christians something in common, but what about everyone else? Of course, plenty of Londoners have their own traditions and faiths, but an even larger number will let the next few days simply pass by. For them, what’s coming is a welcome long weekend, an extra couple of days off work. If Easter registers at all, it will be in the form of the myriad chocolate bunnies and eggs that seem to sprout from the supermarket shelves a few days after Christmas.

No one objects to a spring break, but if that’s all it is, then I fear we’re missing out. For these two great festivals are powered by extraordinary stories, ones that could have meaning for everyone — even those who would never describe themselves as religious.

Start with Passover. It tells the story of the Jews emergence from slavery to freedom, from captivity in Egypt more than 3000 years ago to liberty in their own land. It is the central narrative of the Jewish people, but it is also now one of the key stories of human civilisation.

As the Chief Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, rightly pointed out on the radio this week, it was the biblical exodus black Americans recalled when they demanded their own freedom in the 1960s, singing the words of Moses: “Let my people go.”

You don’t have to be a firm believer in God to feel the power of that story. One of my fondest Passover memories is of a seder I spent some 20 years ago on a kibbutz founded by Israeli communists. As far as they were concerned they were celebrating a festival of workers’ liberation: the oppressed proletariat escaping the shackles of their masters. In their version, the Jews were rescued not by the mighty hand of God, but the mighty hand of workers’ power.

Any number of readings of the story are possible, with or without faith. Which is why I took delight sitting around the seder table with my family, including my two children, last night, retelling the story of how “we ourselves were slaves in Egypt” and then broke free. Even for someone who has doubts about God, that’s a story of hope and inspiration, one worth passing to the next generation.

The Easter narrative doesn’t carry the same personal meaning for me, but I can see its power all the same. (Indeed, a regular, if unlikely, aspect of my Passover experiences as a child were Jesus movies on the television: I had a weakness for them then and still do.) It also tells of the emergence from great suffering into a new beginning – from a death on the cross to resurrection. For Christians this is a central article of faith. But even those who are not believers can surely see the value in this story. It addresses one of the central anxieties of mankind: why is there so much suffering in the world? Easter says that suffering need not be in vain; that out of great despair, a new start is possible.

Of course, there are unappealing aspects to both narratives. I wonder what we are to make of the cruel fate that befalls the Egyptians in the Passover story, as they see their first-born sons die. And I can feel queasy at the lingering, morbid fascination with the blood and gore of the crucifixion that marks out some versions of the Easter story. But the core themes remain compelling.

Yet too many Britons are oblivious to all this, writing it off either as mumbo-jumbo or as the exclusive preserve of the “God squad.” But they are cutting themselves off from the myths that form the foundation of much of world culture.

Even if these stories don’t appeal, the way religious people mark them has something to teach the rest of us. For they have found a way to break the usual routine of work-spend-work that seems to dominate so much of contemporary life. At Easter or Passover - or Ramadan or Diwali – they step off the hamster wheel and reflect. A few days, or even a few hours, are set aside as a time not to work or shop, not to acquire more stuff, but to reflect.

This is a need that is not peculiar to people of faith: all of us need to recharge our emotional, spiritual batteries now and then. Which is why I have some sympathy for those keen to block any further extension in Sunday trading hours. Shop workers and others are fighting to keep a few hours clear of the usual stampede of work and commerce. We all have a chance to do that this weekend and we should seize it - whatever we believe.

Posted on April 13, 2006 04:05 PM

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