When we come to the end of the Passover haggadah, and it reads, "Next Year in Jerusalem," "L'shanah Haba-ah Birushala-yim," what does it mean? Before the seder table is cleared, should we click on Travelocity and pack our bags?
Or is "Next Year in Jerusalem" meant as one of those contemplative deals; a wistful kind of statement about getting back home, like Billy Joel's, "New York State of Mind"?
Many Traditional Jews view it as a messianic statement, a longing for a future time when Jerusalem and the Temple are rebuilt and the Messiah comes.
For others, "Next Year in Jerusalem" could be akin to the Spanish expression, "Manana," an indefinite time in the future when something will happen. Though, "Mañana in Jerusalem," does have a rather tentative ring.
And what if you already live in Israel or travel there often? What kind of sense does it make to close the seder with this?
For me, who has not been to Israel in over thirty years, "Next Year in Jerusalem," starts to sound like the song "Tomorrow," from "Annie," since for years the trip has seemed tantalizingly only a day away.
According to angelfire.com, there are even seder customs that dramatize the Jerusalem connection:
In preparation for dessert, "The afikoman is tied in a large napkin, given to one of the children at the Passover Seder table, and then the child slings the napkin over his or her shoulders."
The seder leader then asks: "From where have you come?" The child answers: "I have come from Egypt" The Passover Seder leader then asks: "Where are you going?" The child answers: "I am going to Jerusalem."
If you think about it, we like to say "Next Year" for all sorts of things. If you follow any kind of sport, especially baseball, which begins play this week, at the end of the season, after your team has finished last or second, we like to give ourselves a jolt of hope by saying, "Wait till next year."
But maybe hope is not the point, especially if Jerusalem is not even on your imaginary itinerary. A new book, "The Crisis of Zionism" by Peter Beinart, suggests that for some Jews, Israel may not be that big a draw. Beinart who in 2010 published a tumult-raising piece in "The New York Review of Books" titled, "The Failure of the American Jewish Establishment," says that the "harsh truth is that for many young, non-Orthodox American Jews, Israel isn't that important because being Jewish isn't that important."
And you thought "Next Year in Jerusalem" was so simple.
It can be.
This Passover, giving a date to mañana, one of my nephews is visiting Israel with his family. (At the seder's conclusion will he say as some haggadahs suggest: "Next year in a rebuilt Jerusalem"?) Also, this week word comes that one of my nieces is traveling to Israel as part of the Birthright program, a 10 day free trip to Israel that one of my sons has already taken. This summer, another nephew will be traveling with his family to Israel as part of his bar mitzvah celebration.
But what about those of us not getting on an Israel-bound flight anytime soon? Could it be that after four cups of wine, and an evening full of matzah and its derivations, that "Next Year in Jerusalem" is the haggadah's attempt at pushing us towards another travel destination?
For a temporary community of family and friends who have come together by choice for a night of retelling the going out from Egypt, "Next Year in Jerusalem," is a way to go beyond simply saying, "goodnight." About to set out on our separate journeys, it's a "reservation," a pact to return to a place of Jewish togetherness once again next year.
Edmon J. Rodman has written about making his own matzah for JTA, Jewish love music for the Jerusalem Post, yiddisheh legerdemain for the Los Angeles Jewish Journal, a Bernie Madoff Halloween mask for the Forward, and what really gets stuck in the La Brea Tar Pits for the Los Angeles Times. He has edited several Jewish population studies, and is one of the founders of the Movable Minyan, an over twenty-year-old chavura-size, independent congregation. He once designed a pop-up seder plate.In 2011 Rodman received a First Place Simon Rockower Award for "Excellence in Feature Writing" from the American Jewish Press Association."
