Karpas: A Passover Lesson on Freedom, Perspective, and Moving Forward from Tragedy

Passover is a time for great spiritual insight and growth. The sheer number of rituals involved with the holiday of Passover are so numerous and meaningful that it boggles my mind every year that the holiday arrives. Passover is also a time for asking questions and even singing questions in the song Ma Nishtanah (מה נשתנה). In the song Ma Nishtanah, there are four questions.  I would like to use the third question as a springboard for today's blog entry:

מה נשתנה? שבכל הלילות אין אנו מטבילין אפילו פעם אחת. הלילה הזה שתי פעמים

How is tonight different from other nights? On all other nights, we do not dip our vegetables even once. On this night, we dip them twice. 

The Talmud (Pesachim 114b) says that we should dip this vegetable, known as karpas (כרפס), twice so there is something noticeable for the children. Rabbi Yoel Sirkes, who was also known as the Bach (ב״ח), was a prominent Rabbi in early 17th-century Poland. R. Sirkes' take on it was both an expression of freedom since from his view, free people dip beforehand to increase their appetite (presumedly because free people could better afford more food). These traditional explanations leave something wanting. Couldn't we eat something else to express freedom? If it's to pique the children's interest, why not have something different each year? Why don't we eat more than some green leaves before the meal? An even better question: why eat karpas at all? To answer that last question, I came across a few explanations:

1. The most common traditional responses is that the salt water in which we dip the karpas is to symbolize the tears that the Israelites shed while in slavery. This is to teach a few lessons, particularly on how we handle difficult times. We can look back and re-victimize ourselves again by adding onto the suffering. Alternatively, we can look back and learn from the past so we can make a better future since we better know our strengths and weaknesses. In short, the rough times have a role to play. I can say that from my personal experience that although my rough times were quite rough, they were also the moments that truly defined me.
2. Karpas can symbolize the bounty of the springtime harvest. Interestingly enough, if you reverse the three-letter root in the Hebrew, you get the Hebrew word for "hard labor" (פרך). What can this teach? That life is typically a mixed bag, and that joy comes hand in hand with difficulty.
3. With the act of blessing and eating the karpas, we acknowledge G-d's role in creating something as seemingly mundane as a green vegetable that grew from the ground. As R. Shraga Simmons states that the purpose of dipping the karpas into the salt water is that even something seemingly bitter is "ultimately for the best." I don't believe in the Jewish concept of "this too is for the good" (גם זו לטובה). What I will say is that when we focus on the details, we can find reasons to be grateful. Take the karpas: if we marvel at how the vegetable grew or how through a complex supply chain, the karpas ended up on your table for consumption, or even how food prices have decreased over the years. The Hebrew phrase for gratitude is hakarat hatov, which literally means "to recognize the good." It does not mean we ignore the bad or look at the world through rose-colored glasses, but also be ever mindful of the good that exists in the world. To be able to view the world in more ways and creative ways is a form of liberation. 
4. What is interesting is that the Exodus passage does not mention כרפס. Even more interesting is that the only time that the word כרפס is used in the Tanach (Hebrew Scriptures) is in the Book of Esther (1:6). In that context, the word כרפס means "fine linen." Even when looking at the Talmud (Megillah 12a), the Rabbis only recognize the word to mean "fine linen." Going off of Rashi's commentary on Genesis 37:3, twelfth century Talmudist Rabbenu Manoach connects the Esther story to the Joseph story. It's a long story, but essentially, the mentioning of karpas in Esther is similar to the technicolor dream coat that Joseph wore. In summation, we are supposed to look back to remember what the origin of the Israelites being enslaved was in the first place: baseless hatred (שנאת חינם). To understand our past and how to do better in the future, we have to understand how we arrived. That means taking a look at our past, a past that is bound to have at least some bitterness. We shouldn't dwell in the past, but if we do not bother to even look at our past and examine it in earnest, we do not learn and we do not grow.
5. Another interpretation is based on the nature of vegetables themselves (Slovie Jungreis-Wolff). Vegetables grow in the dark ground. We never know if that little seed will sprout into something more. Similar to the seed, the Israelites grew out of the depths of slavery in a land of idolatry. The Jews grew out of a very dark moment. It's a lesson that we also learn on Chanukah, which is that out of darkness can come light. Much like a plant having the best chance to grow is to give it water, sunlight, and healthy soil, we have to give ourselves the condition to best succeed. 

There are a few themes running through these traditional interpretations. One is that we cannot ignore our past: we have to tackle it head-on. However, if we are to grow, we cannot wallow in our past, either. We have to learn from our past and move forward. In order to do so, we need to cultivate the best circumstances under which we can grow. I don't know your obstacles and suffering, whether they are past or current. Some things seem insurmountable. I'm not going to give anyone the "G-d doesn't give us anything we can handle" because I don't like hearing that myself. I don't think everything will be pollyannish or perfect because it won't. What I can tell you is that we have more control than we think, a point which I brought up on Purim. According to research on happiness, the average person has control over 40 percent of their happiness. Only 10 percent is our circumstances! Much like people tend to their garden so the plants can grow, we can tend to our own well-being in a way where we can flourish. Free will is daunting. It means we are responsible for our choices. It was daunting for the Israelites when then they left the land of Egypt. It was so daunting that they wanted to go back to slavery (e.g., Exodus 14:12). However, that is the point. Free will is daunting. Exerting greater control over our lives can be daunting because it is easier to give into slavery than to be free. That is the main theme of Passover: G-d freed us so we could exercise our free will, which also means we are free to live our lives. While the free will was granted, what we do with it is not handed to us. How we respond to tragedy, even when we don't have any control of the tragedy that is inflicted upon us, is a choice. How we choose to view the good in this world is a choice. The path we make for ourselves is not "set in stone." In short, how we respond to outcomes and how we live is a choice, not a destiny or inevitability. What choices will you make with your freedom to make for a better tomorrow?