A first encounter at a Passover seder left this Capetonian enriched by the experience.

By Tim Flack

This year, I found myself at a Passover Seder table for the first time in my life. I hadn’t planned on it. A kind friend asked if I had ever been to one – not being Jewish – and when I said no, she quietly arranged for me to attend the annual Seder at the Gardens Shul.

I knew that the Gardens Shul – also known as the Great Synagogue – had been established in 1841, making it the oldest Jewish congregation in South Africa.

I went alone, and to be honest, I was nervous. I had never been to a synagogue before. I went through the necessary security checks and felt completely out of place. I’m a big guy in a white kippah sruga (knitted yarmulke/skullcap) and a star of David on it, (I picked this kippah because I’m an unashamed Zionist, but that’s another story) with a yellow ribbon pinned to my shirt and a full Japanese tattoo sleeve. I knew I stood out.

I made my way up the stairs to the Seder Hall and sat at the first table I saw with open seats. There were two couples sitting there, around my age, and they welcomed me warmly. Just as I sat down, my blood sugar dropped sharply. I’m diabetic, so I explained what was happening. Someone quickly handed me grape juice and some water, and I managed to stabilize. That small act of kindness set the tone for the entire evening.

The Seder was led by Rabbi Osher, and I listened and took part in a tradition that has been observed for more than 3,000 years. I was quietly taking it all in and trying my best to follow, we had gotten to the 4 sons, someone leaned over during the reading and said something that stopped me in my tracks. They said, “You’re the Fifth Son.” I didn’t know what that meant entirely, I do now.

If you know the Passover Haggadah, you’ll know it speaks of four sons. The wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who does not know how to ask. But there is also a powerful teaching from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson. He spoke of a Fifth Son, the one who is not at the table at all.

He may be disconnected, unaffiliated, uncertain if he belongs, or unaware there’s even a place for him. The Rebbe taught that it is not enough to engage with those already present. That there is a responsibility to reach out to those who are absent, to find the Fifth Son and bring him in, regardless of background or circumstance. It is an act of inclusion, of compassion, and of spiritual responsibility.

That night, I was that son. Not because I was missing, but because someone made sure I was invited. It truly was special.

Rabbi Osher and his wife introduced themselves to me and were incredibly welcoming. So was everyone else I met. There was no suspicion. No hesitation. Just warmth and generosity. I came in quietly, and I left quietly, but I will never forget being welcomed into something so meaningful and sacred.

To the couples that allowed me to sit with them, thank you for making me feel like I belonged. To the Gardens Shul community, thank you for allowing me to be part of such an important tradition.

I may have slipped in and out of the room quietly. But I will always stand with the Jewish people. Your story, your values, and your courage have left a mark on me.

You have a friend in me. Always.

*Feature picture: The Garden Shul in Cape Town, South Africa with Table Mountain to the right.

About the writer:

Tim Flack is the CEO and Head of Comms and Public Relations and founder of Flack Partners PR, a boutique public relations firm in Cape Town, South Africa. Tim specialises in providing tailored communication strategies for businesses in the political, safety and security, and small business fields.

While the mission of Lay of the Land (LotL) is to provide a wide and diverse perspective of affairs in Israel, the Middle East and the Jewish world, the opinions, beliefs and viewpoints expressed by its various writers are not necessarily ones of the owners and management of LOTL but of the writers themselves.  LotL endeavours to the best of its ability to credit the use of all known photographs to the photographer and/or owner of such photographs (0&EO)