ost of us believe in second chances. We think that people should have an opportunity to try again. In shaping social policy, for example, we are committed to the idea that felons can become rehabilitated and begin their lives again. In our schools, there are often opportunities to repeat a course or to take an exam a second time.

In antiquity, Jews who were not able to celebrate the festival at its designated time were given a “make-up day” to offer their paschal lambs and to eat them with matzah and bitter herbs. This day was called Pesach Sheni, or the “Second Passover.”

None of us ever would think of moving the date of a holiday. Dates are important. Not only is there significance to the entire people of Israel observing a celebration on the same day, but these days are also anniversaries of important events in our history.

The strange nature of Pesach Sheni has something to say to us on several levels. Our Jewish tradition is replete with second chances. Traditionally, statutory prayers can be made up after their designated time if one was delayed or had forgotten. In addition, we are taught that one can repent for previous deeds at any moment, that “the gates of repentance are always open.” Pesach Sheni reminds us that it is never too late to begin again, to repair a strained relationship, to grow, to learn or to change.

The idea of second chances also is relevant in our eagerness to help marginalized or disenfranchised Jews to participate more fully in Jewish life. Pesach Sheni challenges us to be accommodating and understanding toward those who, for whatever reasons, previously were not able to participate in central and defining experiences of our people. Some are those who were deemed “impure” by the community and, therefore, denied a full participation in Jewish life. Others are those whose “journeys” led them to the mistaken notion that meaning could be accessed more easily by traveling far from the Jewish community.

When Moses first is confronted with the reality that there are those who were unable to observe the Passover, he does not know immediately how to respond. Our initial instinct toward those in our community who feel marginalized might be quite like Moses. We may feel unsure or ambivalent about bringing them closer to us. We may feel that they excluded themselves or that their absence in times of crisis was unforgivable. However, like Moses, we are reminded that we need to be generous and gracious in giving people a chance to come back. We can strive to be less judgmental and more compassionate in our effort to create an expansive and more nurturing sense of community and to examine the systemic issues of who is and who is not welcome in our community.