Earlier this spring, I sat at the Seder table--as I know many of you did--and read the ancient Aramaic words, Ha lachma anya, "this is the bread of affliction." The verse goes on, giving words to our intentions, inviting all who are hungry to come and eat.

When I was a child, this verse was manifest in the number of guests at our Passover table. There was often an intern from my father's office. As I got older, my uncle brought a Methodist minister friend. And when my sister and I were in college, the table swelled with 18-to-20-somethings. As an adult, I have often had the opportunity to include young professionals with no nearby relatives or acquaintances visiting Washington for spring break. I know that many of you opened your tables similarly this spring.

At Temple Micah, we want you to take this idea one step further. Recently, you received installments of the "Omer Project." This year, the seven-week study and reflection guide focused on hunger. We would like to encourage you to keep those who are hungry in your thoughts.

More than this, we'd like you to try to stand in their shoes for a short time, by trying to eat on the equivalent of a food stamp budget. For one week, think about eating on three dollars per person per day. Let us know your thoughts at omerproject@templemicah.org.

Some people look at the ha lachma anya paragraph in the Haggadah as being solely about physical hunger. The second part of the verse reads, "All who are in need, let them come celebrate Pesach." This part of the liturgy leads me to read the paragraph as a directive for acceptance.

I've been thinking a lot about acceptance lately. A few months ago, while speaking at a conference sponsored by the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice, I met the Rev. Cedric Harmon, associate pastor of City of Refuge DC, a church currently meeting in Lanham. He described the philosophy of his church as one of radical inclusion. I found the idea captivating.

Radical inclusion is a phrase often used by people who were once outsiders. They hope to attract people who feel as though they're perpetually on the periphery into a wide array of communal settings. In Christian churches, the term is used as a sign of welcome to members of groups that have historically been not merely unwelcome, but in some circumstances, publicly condemned.

In publicity for the Rev. Harmon's church, the ideal is expressed as follows:

It is (our) goal to create a place where all may feel free to worship, serve, and grow spiritually--without regard to race, ethnicity, social class, age, gender/gender identity or affectional orientation. We will create a safe place for all persons to flourish.

This philosophy came back into fashion via Protestant churches over the last 30 years, but Judaism has always had a tradition of radical inclusion.

In Genesis, Abraham and Sarah are known for their hospitality. Their tent is said to have been open on all sides so that no matter who came, no matter from which direction they approached, Abraham and Sarah would be ready to greet them. In Exodus 23:9, we read, "You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt."

But, of course, it's not enough to ensure that someone isn't oppressed.

In Leviticus 19:34, we read, "The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as a citizen among you; you shall love the stranger as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am Adonai your God."

Our tradition teaches that it's not enough to have a neutral position, to tolerate people who are different than us. To make sure we do nothing to harm them, we have to love them.

But we must go even further than that. A blessing on seeing odd-looking people or animals ends with the words, mishaneh habriyot--"who creates different creatures." We are commanded to recognize difference with gratitude, to celebrate it with blessing.

Each of us has had the experience of being different. As a community, we feel the pain of having been left at the margins. In our tradition, we move from Passover to Shavuot, from slavery to redemption. Take to heart that redemption will only come when we strive for a community where there are no prerequisites for participation, where all who choose to pray or learn or simply be will have a safe space in which to flourish.