Page 7 - Harlem Pesach Companion 2021

Message from Based in Harlem

By Erica Frankel, Co-Founder

As a child, I was fascinated by the seder’s cup of wine for
Elijah much the same way my friends were fascinated by the
cookies and nog they set out for Santa in December. On seder
night, we would pour a goblet for the ancient prophet and open
the front door. We hoped he might visit our table as a harbinger
of future redemption on an evening when we read stories and
sang songs recalling our people’s redemption from slavery in
Egypt. “Don’t worry,” my parents would tease, “you’ll see in
the morning that Elijah came and that the wine is gone.”

And indeed, in the morning the cup of wine would be drained. Whether my father
swigged it after we’d gone to bed, or let it drain down the sink, or if indeed Elijah had
visited — I was none the wiser. But the cup symbolized for me earnest optimism — that
redemption may indeed come if only we set a place for it at the table.

As an adult, I have taken this lesson to heart. Each year we are accustomed to welcoming
a couple dozen folks to our seder table, inspired both by the Haggadah’s injunction to “let
all who are hungry come and eat,” and by the idea that Elijah only comes if you make
space for them. And so each year we put out the call, to longtime friends, to friends of
friends, and even to strangers (or as we prefer to call them, “soon-to-be-friends”) here in
Harlem. This openhearted invitation extends to our most immediate neighbors too, and
we regularly invite folks of all persuasions who live in our apartment building to stop by
throughout the night for wine and seder festivities.

Then one year, our own Elijah showed up at the door.

It was late into the evening, after we’d finished the meal, and we had reached the part of
the seder when we are instructed to pour Elijah’s cup and open the front door,
symbolically making space for the prophet to enter. We passed a goblet around, inviting
each of our guests to contribute a bit of wine. As they did, we asked them to share a
commitment they had to help build a better world in the year to come. “How will we each
commit to welcoming the stranger?” we asked, and guests shared meaningful reflections
on justice and liberation in our time. As the cup flowed over, I brought a crew of four or
five of our guests to the door of our apartment. With haggadahs in tow, we prepared to

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