Hand made two panel matzah cover. 20.5” x 22” cotton dyed with cochineal and indigo, hand sewn opposite a patchwork of cyanotype printed on cotton with vintage shibori indigo dyes on linen and cotton.

About the piece:
וְגֵ֖ר לֹ֣א תִלְחָ֑ץ וְאַתֶּ֗ם יְדַעְתֶּם֙ אֶת־נֶ֣פֶשׁ הַגֵּ֔ר כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃
שמות כ״ג:ט׳

You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt. Exodus 23:9׳

The Jewish sages noted that while the Torah commands us to love our neighbor in only a single instance, it commands us to love the stranger THIRTY SEVEN times! If ever we were meant to heed to a message from the Torah, this one is easy to decode.

And how might we justify spending two nights and seven days every single year until forever remembering this ancient tale? If it is seen as only a story told for the sake of its telling without consideration as to how this story of our ancestors is analogues to the moment— we miss everything.

On Passover each year, we tell the same story in theory but we may not always play the same part in the narrative.
We must actively ask,
“In this moment who is in need of deliverance?”
“Who is in need of a plague to wake them up?”
“What is the sea to part and how is that sea parted?”

We are not always the Israelites. The true meaning of the Passover story is to be forever capable of being able to see ourselves in strangers and them in us. That muscle can atrophy, and so we are here again. Hopefully challenging ourselves to hold many different emotions, and to move toward action as a result. Looking forward and over your shoulder is tricky work to do. And still.

You were strangers. We were all strangers.

.גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם