“We celebrate the Passover in the spring, in our month of Nisan. It is our holiday of newness, of springtime, of rebirth and freedom. However, the event toward which every year’s Passover points is the night before our fathers left Egypt, when the angel of death passed over their homes, so that, the next day, they might leave the land of their bondage for the land of Israel. Truly, our beloved countries of both Poland and Germany have become as bitter with the sounds of the suffering of Abraham’s children as Egypt of old. There are many angels of death, sent throughout the land by a modern-day pharoah, to seek and kill God’s people. We therefore celebrate the Passover now, in remembrance of that time, and in preparation for our own flight.

“When our people left Egypt with Moses, they knew not what lay before them. They knew only that they were escaping a land of death and slavery. Neither do we know what is ahead. There may well be a wilderness before us that we can see no more clearly than they when they embarked. But our God will go before us, as he went before them. And better a wilderness with God than the death camps of the Führer Pharoah.”

He paused briefly and glanced over at the baron.

“I would likewise like to invite you, our Christian friends—” and now he glanced back and toward the baron’s family and staff—“to join us in what we do. I see this not as a celebration of an event in the past, but, as it was for our fathers in Egypt, as a preparation for God to direct this new angel of death to pass over us as we leave here. We, therefore, invite you, Christians, our hosts, you who have provided for us and protected us and harbored us safe in our journey, to share with us in this Passover supper, this most sacred of our holy institutions.”

“We will be honored to do so,” said the baron where he sat.

Rabbi Wissen turned and walked to the side of the room to a flat table covered with a white linen tablecloth that he and the baron had prepared prior to the meeting. He pulled back the left side of it, revealing a large plate containing what looked to be an odd assortment of food. Beside it sat a basket of bread, a cup of wine, and a small bowl.

“Our own families are aware what this plate signifies, but I will explain it for our new friends,” he said, gesturing with a smile toward the Dortmanns and their servants.

“This is our Seder plate. As centerpiece to our meal of the paschal lamb, it helps us tell the story of Passover, and we repeat this story every year as Moses taught us—teaching our children to teach their children, so that our traditions might be preserved for all time.