вЂњIf you really wanted to get into Harvard, you would be smarter if you really wanted to be an American citizen, you wouldnвЂ™t have been born in El Salvador.вЂќ Meanwhile the вЂњswallows,вЂќ those who use their privilege as wings to sail above it all, mock those stuck down below: вЂњIf you really wanted to live in a reasonable house, you would just work harder,вЂќ they chide. They pointed out that one might as well blame the countless masses who come into the world as вЂњcalvesвЂќ вЂ“ the poor, people of color, Palestinians, the dispossessed of Central America or Syria, Muslims and those lacking вЂњproperвЂќ documentation in the United States, and so many others вЂ“ for not having the gumption to soar above the oppression which pins them to the earth. The calf is criticized for being a calf, blamed for not becoming something that it canвЂ™t become. The song, the dissenters argued, is a blatant example of blaming the victim. As much as it may want to fly, calves donвЂ™t sprout wings.

As much as the calf may dread the fate that awaits it when the wagon reaches market, as much as it would rather be soaring to freedom, its hooves will remain firmly planted on the ground. How can you blame a calf for being a calf, some protested? What kind of privileged arrogance is it to tell the calf to be like a swallow and learn to fly вЂ“ because it canвЂ™t. The discussion generated by вЂњDona, DonaвЂќ was all of the above. I love the discussions that pop up at our Seders вЂ“ theyвЂ™re always plentiful, interesting, sometimes passionate, frequently provocative.

We assume the calf does not look forward to his fate, as the farmer tells it to stop complaining, for вЂњwho told you a calf to be?вЂќ The farmer, or an offstage narrator, reminds us that: Late in the order of the Seder (вЂњSederвЂќ actually means вЂњorderвЂќ), after we have re-experienced the exodus, savored our meal, and opened the door to welcome in Elijah, we sing вЂњDona, Dona.вЂќ If you donвЂ™t know the song, which was made famous by Joan Baez in the 1960s (as вЂњDonna, DonnaвЂќ) it relates the story of a farmer вЂњbound for marketвЂќ with a calf destined for the slaughter house. We all read from a Haggadah that a colleague and I compiled and have edited over many years, with additions that call attention to events of the past year that have a particular resonance with Passover as a celebration of liberation, a call to struggle, and a reminder that we are to treat the вЂњstrangersвЂќ among us with the dignity that all humans deserve since not only were we once slaves in the land of Egypt, but we remain morally compromised and metaphorically enslaved until all are free. Here, I want to talk about the Seder we hosted for many friends and family on the first night on Passover and the interesting conversation that unfolded during the gathering. The Family Seder, The Sister Haggadah (Barcelona, mid-14th-century)

Dona dona dona lyrics