“Mom, Who Killed Jesus?”

by Rabbi Laura Sheinkopf

 

Among the top ten things you do not want to hear coming out of your Jewish child’s mouth is, "Mom, who killed Jesus?"  I will always remember the moment I heard those words.  They came from my then five-year old son as he was sitting at the kitchen table in our home in Austin, TX.  It was the week of Passover, which coincides with Easter, and because we do not eat pasta or bread or anything with a grain that has risen, he was eating the staple of the Passover diet: a hard-boiled egg. It was actually the millionth hard-boiled egg of the day, and as I stood there at the sink, my back to him, peeling potatoes I was worrying about his cholesterol level and asking myself if that was something you should be concerned about in a five year.  And then, out of the blue I heard from behind me, "Mom, who killed Jesus?"

And just like that the potato peeler came to an abrupt halt and my mind flooded with assumptions about the impetus for such a question.  Had my son just given definitive evidence that raising a Jewish kid in the Lone Star State was in fact a perilous endeavor?  Had he heard the “Jews killed Jesus” line on the playground?  When we moved down here, there were jokes made about the potential hazards of raising Jewish kids in the Texas.  I think my Grandmother said a few things and maybe a classmate but I had never experienced any bold-faced anti-Semitic comments.  But I guess that little voice of concern about so many things was not to far from my consciousness because in thirty seconds I went from worrying about his cholesterol to worrying that someone had given the standard “Jews killed Jesus” remark within earshot of my child.  Did the kosher for Passover lunch I had packed stirred some question in the lunchroom?  Was there bullying on the playground or an ignorant comment made by a teacher or a parent?  My mind raced with the sinister possibilities and I nearly blurted out “Who told you that Jews killed Jesus?”  I am proud to report, however, that somehow I managed to remain composed.  I turned around, retrieved my gut from the floor, and in one of my best performances as the “Calm Mother” said in as matter of fact tone as I could muster, “the Romans.”

He was sitting at the table, gazing the hard-boiled egg in the palm of his hand and looking genuinely puzzled.  Finally, he said, "But, um, uh did they like, throw eggs at him when he was on the cross or something?" Ahhh, suddenly, it all made sense.  He was referring to the confetti filled eggs that the kids throw on Easter called cascarones.  We had never seen this Mexican custom before moving to Austin, but just that day he had been to two different parties where they were distributed to the children who ran around flinging them at each other.  Now, I did remember wondering about these when I saw them at the “Spring Fling” party at his school.  But then, that was the “Spring Fling” party so I figured it was in keeping with the theme.  Truthfully, I took note and then promptly forgot to ask about them.  I was probably onto worrying about cholesterol levels during Passover.  My son, however, was left mulling it over, trying to understand the custom in lite of what he had experienced only the night before at our Passover Seder.   

At a Seder meal, various foods symbolize different aspects of the story.  We eat Matzah because the Jews had no time to let the bread rise before their hasty departure from Egypt.  We eat bitter herbs (horseradish) to recall the bitterness of slavery and the list goes on.  He knew that food was part of the story with Judaism so he figured the same was true for Easter, which he had recently learned revolved around the crucifixion of Jesus.  Having these two major holidays back to back made for a pretty puzzling 24 hours for a five year old and he was merely trying to understand something new by comparing it to something he did know.  

What I like most about the Seder is that it revolves around questions.  That’s why the whole thing takes so long and probably why you drink four glasses of wine throughout.  Question and answer is the format for a Seder as it is in Jewish law code.  The difference is that we make a meal out of the question and answer custom of Passover and because all people, regardless of age, knowledge or intellectual maturity are included in this discussion we use everything available to make the point.  We sing, tell stories and we use food as we attempt to reach a broad audience.  On Passover, children are the focal point and they are not only permitted but are actually required to ask questions.  So why is it that we adults often feel ashamed of our ignorance.  Often both Jews and non-Jews will preface their questions to me as a rabbi with, “I know I should know this but….” But if Passover teaches us anything, it is that there should never be any shame in asking.

 

Because Easter remained on the lunar calendar it always coincides with Passover.  The juxtaposition of these two traditions has historically led to some pretty uncomfortable moments in the history of Christian-Jewish relations, but it need not.  Regardless of the past, we now live in a time and place where the questions raised by our overlapping religious traditions are opportunities not only for building relationships but also for deepening the meaning we find in our own tradition.  Questions are the building blocks of a Jewish life and as such our tradition is built to embrace divergent viewpoints and to withstand unresolved questions.  For me, Passover’s most salient message is that we do not need to have all of the answers in order to celebrate the freedom to ask the questions.  And be it Passover or any other time, my experience with the cascarones proved to me once and for all, that when it comes to parenting, asking is just as important as answering.

 

Rabbi Laura Sheinkopf is a Reform Rabbi with degrees in Comparative Religion and Jewish studies from Columbia University & Hebrew Union College.  She is a freelance writer, teacher, and a media strategist living in Houston, TX with her two children.  The views expressed in this post are her own and do not necessarily reflect those of Interfaith Houston.