The Passover Seder: Experiencing Freedom in the Villages of India

It is little known amongst the global Jewish community that India has always treated its Jewish citizens with respect, and that anti-Semitism is virtually non-existent. Many of Mumbai‘s (formerly Bombay) synagogues are located in Muslim neighborhoods. Wandering past goats and vegetable carts in search of a synagogue, many a Muslim man and woman will offer directions there without a hint of tension. Hindus are equally respectful.

In Mumbai, unlike in Paris, London, Berlin, or virtually any European city, one will never see a police car parked outside of a synagogue when services are being held. No guards or Israeli officials will ask to see a visitor’s passport or inquire as to a person’s "real motivation" for attending Shabbat services. Instead, synagogues bear open gates clearly labeled with welcoming Stars of David. Streets in the vicinity of most of Mumbai’s synagogues are bustling — cars and people passing by freely — and bear no large concrete pillars whose grim purpose is to ward off terrorists.

India is a wonderful exception to the Jewish experience in much of the Diaspora. The Jewish community has always been miniscule in the context of India’s vast population. But even as a tiny minority, it has been welcomed and flourished. Historically, the only major experience of persecution the Jews of India have had was under the rule of the Portuguese, in Goa. Jewish vulnerability in this vast land is not the function of external threats or prejudice, simply a matter of struggling to ensure continuity amongst an already small community that is rapidly diminishing, as people make aliyah to Israel and seek employment in Australia, Canada, and the United States.

For those gathered in the synagogue courtyard, the mystical quality of retelling the story of Passover took over. "I found myself transported, and very much feeling that all of us sitting there were united by our historical experience as Jews," said Schimmel, who is on a three-month placement with JDC India to work on tsunami-related projects. For Schimmel, celebrating Pesach in the Konkan villages — an hour-long boat trip from Mumbai across the Arabian Sea — was befitting the holiday’s spiritual meaning and message of freedom. "There is something extraordinary about being very far from home — from all of the coordinates that center one’s life Jewishly and personally — and still, feeling utterly centered. Freedom was palpable in this village," he affirmed.

Like the magical experience of happening upon an old friend while hiking a mountaintop in a foreign country, Schimmel was warmed to find himself in good company at the small but stately synagogue, whose courtyard hosted the seder. "Synagogues always restore my sense of home," he said. "This one, beautiful and dignified despite signs of aging [dates back to 1860s], reminded me that I can never feel lost if there’s a synagogue nearby."

Two Jewish youth volunteers had helped with the preparations: setting up tables, preparing matzah from Israel for distribution to Jewish families, the endless chopping of vegetables and arranging of seder plates, each component neatly in place, awaiting the moment in which its symbolism would spring to life.

Bitter herbs were dipped in salt water, while charoset, maror, and matzah were arranged into traditional Hillel sandwiches. Participants followed the traditional Haggadah, also incorporating prayers unique to India’s B’nei Yisrael Jews. Indian charoset of dates and raisins replaced the Ashkenazi variety.

The Four Questions were sung in unison, four cups of wine filled and emptied. Women served the festival meal — vegetarian curry or chicken and rice. Impassioned renditions of ‘Ehad Mi Yodea’ and ‘Dayenu’ echoed as the children joined in, clapping and banging the table. "To me, this was the highlight and in many ways the most important part of the seder, " Schimmel shared. "Seeing the children engaged in the celebration."

Though the Haggadah tells a Jewish story — a history of the Jewish people’s delivery from enslavement in Egypt — it is also a universal human story about the quest for freedom, about immorality and suffering and oppression, and the individual and collective resilience that allows hope to triumph and good to overcome evil.

"I do not know if our Hindu and Muslim neighbors, and the man who led the call of the Muezzin that night just as our seder began, heard us as we sang ‘Lshana Habaa Beyerushalayim,’ and as we finished with Hallel, and songs of gratitude and praise celebrating Jewish freedom," offered Schimmel. "But I am certain that if they did, they, too, perceived some of the wonder and joy that we were celebrating and exclaiming. They, too, in their own very personal way, could relate to and celebrate in the context of their own lives and national histories, the achievement of freedom."