Before Shabbat

As I do every year in the days leading up to Pesach, I’ve been reviewing my recipes, prepping ingredients, cooking up a storm, and delegating various side dishes to eager helpers. While I’m usually an adventurous cook who relishes trying new foods and bold flavor combinations, Pesach is the time when I find solace in the tried-and-true dishes of my childhood. I carefully retrieve my mother’s handwritten brisket recipe, now forever immortalized as a cherished digital file, and set to work. I quintuple the ingredients and multiply the sauce tenfold to feed our crew. As the brisket slowly roasts, its aroma transports me back to an idealized past, suffused with comfort and contentment. My matzah ball soup is another nod to tradition, though I’ve added a twist by preparing both vegetarian and classic schmaltz-laden versions. This year, I’m even experimenting with a few matzah balls infused with spicy Momofuku chili crunch – a daring endeavor!

Amidst the joyous feasting and celebratory atmosphere of Pesach, it’s easy to overlook the harrowing nature of the Exodus narrative. The story begins with the Israelites languishing in the depths of slavery, their spirits broken but their yearning for freedom undiminished. The Haggadah, our guidebook for the Seder, chronicles their perilous journey through hunger, fear, and uncertainty as they sought a path to liberation. With each taste of salt water, bitter herbs, and matzah – the bread of affliction – we engage our senses to internalize the memories of hardship and oppression. The journey to freedom is marked by death, darkness, and formidable challenges.

Yet the Passover story transcends any single moment in history; it is a timeless and ongoing quest for meaning, redemption, and the eternal longing for home. Along the way, we encounter daunting obstacles that make us question whether we have the strength to persevere. As Jimmy Cliff reminds us, there are many rivers to cross.

In these trying times for the Jewish people, we find ourselves grappling with immense sorrow and trepidation. The unrelenting conflict in Gaza weighs heavily on our collective conscience, and the loss of innocent Palestinian lives is a source of profound grief. We are haunted by the plight of hostages held in unspeakable cruelty, and the incursion of Iranian missiles and drones into Israeli airspace. The spectre of rising antisemitism looms large, as college campuses become hotbeds of hostility, where support for Palestinian rights often devolves into threats against Jewish students, the burning of Israeli flags, and acts of vandalism. The world seems to grow ever darker and more ominous, even as unspeakable atrocities unfold in Sudan, China, Russia, Myanmar, and India. Amidst it all, Israel remains a focal point of animus from all sides.

The reasons for this are complex and multifaceted, a topic I intend to explore further in future writings. For now, I simply wish to acknowledge the profound challenges of being a Jew in today’s world, of being subjected to venomous hatred and opprobrium from Tehran to Tel Aviv to New York City. Passover serves as a poignant reminder that our journey is far from over. Our resilience as a people, forged in the crucible of adversity, is more essential than ever. Our capacity for compassion and empathy will light the way forward as we navigate an uncertain future. We have crossed countless rivers, and there are undoubtedly more to come.

As we conclude our Seder with the age-old affirmation, “Next year in Jerusalem,” we recognize that even as we celebrate being together and sharing in the beauty of tradition, our search for peace, hope, and understanding continues. The Exodus is an ongoing story, and while we may indeed find ourselves in Jerusalem next year, for now, we must keep walking.

the Stern Gang extends our warmest wishes to the entire TBA Team for a sweet and meaningful Pesach.

José Andrés is a superstar among the world’s most successful chefs. His restaurant empire numbers over 30 establishments, from funky food trucks to a steak house, to a veggie fast-casual spot, to the Michelin 2-starred minibar in Washington DC. Chefs are typically described as headstrong and driven. Andres fits the stereotype like a practiced hand on the grip of a Japanese Global knife. He is charismatic, funny, and just plain larger than life.

 In addition to Chef Andrés’ skills in the kitchen and the boardroom, he is a philanthropist of food. Specifically, he wants to connect people in crisis and trauma with the comfort of a good, simple, warm meal. He came to believe that the role of cooks and the power of food could change the world. He formed the World Central Kitchen in 2010 and then got a crew to travel to Haiti with him after a terrible earthquake. The chef and some fabulous aid workers made hundreds of thousands of meals. They saved lives and nourished broken souls.

 Since then, WCK has arrived after natural disasters all over the world. WCK gets international aid workers and local chefs together to feed anyone who needs a meal. They do it with compassion, cooperation, and determination. The chef’s indefatigable efforts infuse every meal. The workers, the local helpers, the authorities – everyone involved – speak with admiration for the work and the goals of WCK. Andrés’ work, says the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, transcends politics.

 WCK goes to war zones, too. We know this all too well. Seven people with WCK were killed in Gaza on Monday night by the IDF. The crew had unloaded tons of food and were heading back to camp in three clearly marked cars. Our hearts break for these lives lost. Saifeddin Abutaha, Zoni Frankcom, Damian Sobol, Jacob Flinkinger, John Chapman, Jim Henderson, and James Kirby. IDF spokesmen said it was a terrible, regrettable mistake, and that there would be an investigation. Chef Andrés, angry and grief-stricken, accused the Israeli military of intentionally targeting the cars. 

 In the fog of war, terrible things happen. Orders are confused, drones go off course, tired pilots fire without getting target confirmation. Friendly fire kills soldiers on the same side. Aid workers are not properly identified. In the fog of war, people lose their way.

 This awful incident that has left seven aid workers dead has cut deeply into the souls of people all over the world.  In the aftermath of the WCK fiasco, it seems clear that Israel is lost in the fog of war. This simply should not have happened. 

The situation is stalled in Gaza. There is a lull, punctuated by occasional raids. There are only four brigades in Gaza today. But there is no hostage rescue, and hostage families are taking it to the streets. They are enraged with the Israeli government that has been so unresponsive to their pain and their plight. To quote Pete Seeger, “We’re waist deep in the Big Muddy.”

 It’s time to pause. It’s time for a cease-fire. It’s time for Israel to examine what they’re doing today and what they plan to do tomorrow. It’s time to let the fog lift to better see the situation. To alienate every friend Israel has left – and they are dropping away by the dozen – is dangerous and foolhardy. A cease-fire is not surrender. It is a voluntary strategy that must be employed to maximize humanitarian outreach to hungry, homeless Gazans. The cease-fire is not just for the sake of the Gazans. It is for Israelis and Jews everywhere.

 It’s a shanda – a shameful truth – that the deaths of approximately 13,000 Gazan children was not enough to move President Biden – or me – to speak bluntly and directly about what must happen next. It’s a shanda that it took something like the WCK to lift a corner of the fog of war to see that Israel needs to pause, to do a form of heshbon hanefesh that we typically do before Yom Kippur. An appraisal is necessary. What are we doing? What are we capable of achieving? Who will help repair the damage in Gaza? How will the hearts of the hostage families be repaired? 

 This is the time for a blunt assessment. We are waist deep in the Big Muddy.