The song symbol for Magid (as Deborah shows us) is miming reading a book in our hands. Do we ever! The Magid is, to me, the section of the Seder most full of meaning, most open to discussion, and very likely the section on which I spend the most time in preparation. We may cut a few corners on other sections of the Seder (as I mentioned in the Introduction), but we never skimp on the Magid!
I like to begin the Magid with a short introduction. Some examples of ideas I’ve used include:
Exodus 13:8 (“And thou shall tell thy son in that day, saying: It is because of that which the LORD did for me when I came forth out of Egypt”).
This promotes the idea that telling the story is crucial!
Baal Shem Tov (founder of the Chasidic movement in the 18th century): “Forgetfulness leads to exile, while memory is the secret of redemption”. Therefore, we celebrate Passover by teaching ourselves to become inventive storytellers and empathetic listeners. (Source – A Different Night, page 34)
In 2013, I found the following text from Rabbi Shraga Simmons which I really like:
“On Seder night, we use our gift of speech for the central part of the Haggadah; telling the Passover story. The very word ‘Pesach’ is a contraction of the words Peh Sach, meaning ‘the mouth speaks’. The Hebrew name for Pharaoh, on the other hand, is a combination of Peh Rah, meaning ‘the bad mouth’. For just as speech has the power to build, it also has the power to destroy. Gossip and slander drive apart families and communities. On Passover, we use speech to ‘build’ humanity – by communicating, connecting, and encouraging each other. We stay up long into the night, relating the story of our exodus, tasting and sharing the joy of freedom”
The one I’ve found we use the most though, is this. Our guests always like a road map, a sense of what is coming next, and this provides one:
“Four majestic acts have marked our Seder so far: sipping the holiness of the day, pouring living water over our flesh, dipping spring greens into salt water, splitting and hiding the bread of poverty and freedom. Yet these are but the prologue to the core of the Seder, which we now begin: telling the tale. We shall uncover the matzah and welcome the poor, ask the Four Questions, bring in the Four Children, and recount the epic of redemption. The true secret of Pesach, like the secret inside each one of us, emerges in the telling of our stories. The broken matzah starts our tale.” (Source – OWOF, page 22)
Ha Lachma Anya
I slide out the broken matzah from the cover so all our guests can see it, and begin the Ha Lachma Anya:
This is the bread of poverty, the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of Mitzrayim. All who are hungry, come and eat. All who are needy, come and celebrate Passover with us. Now we celebrate here. Next year may we be in the land of Israel. Now we are slaves. Next year may we be truly free.
I always point out that “This is the bread of poverty” in Hebrew is “Ha Lechem Oni”; what we just read is in Aramaic, the common language at the time of the first Seders. That is why I always ask that we read the translation of Ha Lachma Anya together in English, the common language in our country today. After all, what good is an invitation like this if no one who hears it can understand it?
We like to discuss the ideas presented in Ha Lachma Anya: the invitation, “all who are hungry…all who are needy”, “this year we are slaves”. Sometimes I tell the story I found once of Myer Levy, a Union soldier who found himself patrolling a town in Virginia on Passover. As he turned up a street, he spied a little boy sitting outside, eating a piece of matzah. At last, a fellow Jew! When he jovially asked the boy for a piece, the child fled indoors screaming “Mama, come quick! There’s a damn Yankee Jew here!” The child’s mother raced outside – and promptly invited the soldier to join their Seder.
There are MANY good texts on these ideas. I will share just a couple here. Others that I’ve used may be found in the appendix:
“All who are hungry – come and eat. All who are needy – come and join the Passover celebration. It’s hard to believe that as you’re reciting this on Passover night, a crowd of homeless people will be hanging outside your door. Or that if you say it loud enough there’s going to be a rush into your house. So, what does the Haggadah mean?
The message is that we cannot have true personal freedom unless we care about other people – both their physical and spiritual needs. That’s why the Haggadah says ‘All who are hungry…all who are needy…” Don’t these two things sound similar? The first one refers to physical hunger – if you’re hungry come have a bite. The second is spiritual – if you have any kind of need, join us.
Why is caring about other people so crucial to our own sense of freedom? Because we cannot get out of our ego unless we care about other people. A person has to get outside himself and realize that the welfare of others is part of his own happiness and freedom.” (Souce – “Hungry and Needy” by Rabbi Tom Meyer at aish.com)
I’m pretty sure we take care of the physical hunger at our Seder – we have plenty of food and it’s always good! As for the spiritual hunger? Well, I’d like to think we do a good job here as well.
“This year we are slaves. What can these words mean? We are slaves because yesterday our people were in slavery, and memory makes yesterday real for us. We are slaves because today there are still people in chains around the world and no one can be truly free while others are in chains. We are slaves because freedom means more than broken chains. Where there is poverty and hunger and homelessness, there is no freedom; where there is prejudice and bigotry and discrimination, there is no freedom; where there is violence and torture and war, there is no freedom. And when each of us is less than he or she might be, we are not free, not yet. And who, this year, can be deaf to the continuing oppression of the downtrodden, who can be blind to the burdens and the rigors that are now to be added to the most vulnerable in our midst? If these things be so, who among us can say that he or she is truly free?” (Source – Leonard Fein, founder of MAZON, A Jewish Response to Hunger, 1985)
This is powerful, and universal in that it doesn’t mention any specific events or causes which might have caused it to become dated. Unfortunately, it will probably continue to be applicable throughout my lifetime. Maybe Deborah will see a time when this isn’t true.
The Four Questions
It’s time to pour the second cup of wine/grape juice for those who need it (I’ve noticed that for some of our guests, the four cups are more like the four sips…of course, there was one Seder when one guest (who shall remain nameless) single-handedly drank us out of nearly all the wine we had on the table and forced an unexpected trip to Royal Liquors before the second Seder…but fortunately, that is the exception rather than the rule!) While this second cup is being poured, I slide the broken matzah back into the cover, and that means we are ready for the Four Questions!
A few years ago, I attended a fascinating study session on the Four Questions. I don’t remember if this was at Beth David or at one of the Jewbilee/Feast of Jewish Learning events that are held at various JCCs, but the talk itself (with the help of some great handouts) stuck with me. The two main takeaways of this session were how the Four Questions have changed over time (one of the questions used to be “on all other nights we eat meats that are roasted, stewed or boiled, why on this night do we eat only roasted?”) and the fact that, according to the Mishnah, these Four Questions that we see in our Haggadot today are NOT the questions that children were originally supposed to ask but only examples that the Seder leader would use to prompt a child if the child could not come up with his or her own spontaneous questions! The Talmud tells a story of Rabbi Abaye (one of the great sages of the 4th Century) as a child, who was at a Seder and saw a tray-like table being removed prior to the meal. When he asked why this table was being removed, the Seder leader responded “You have exempted us from saying the Mah Nishtanah!” Because Abaye asked his own spontaneous question! The article which contains this story (“Passover for the Early Rabbis by David Arnow, found in My People’s Passover Haggadah, vol. 1), suggests that the current Four Questions, beloved as they are, are a prescribed recitation; that we’ve lost some of the spontaneity that marked the earliest Seders. Since this study session, I have paraphrased some of this lesson before the Four Questions, tying it back to the request we always make as we welcome people to our Seder – to ask questions! Here’s another reason to do so – maybe we can restore some of that early spontaneity!
Another very good introduction to the Four Questions that I have used often is:
“Why were the Rabbis so insistent that the Exodus story open with a spontaneous question? First of all, one can view this as an educational device. Teachers know that if they can just get their students to pay attention, get their minds working on something they find interesting, then the teachers have gone a long way towards creating an openness to learning new things. The Rabbis wanted to remind the leaders of the Seder not just to focus on the story – but first to make sure to have an active, attentive audience. For a slave mentality, like when we were in Mitzrayim, nothing is “different” – all tasks are part of the same meaningless arbitrariness. There is no point in asking if no one answers, no place for questions in a world where the master’s arbitrary criteria are the ultimate justification for the way things are. In beginning the Seder with genuine (not rote) questions, the Rabbis show that we not only tell the story of freedom, but we act like free people.” (Source – paraphrased from “A Key to Freedom”, A Different Night, page 43)
We usually follow tradition and ask the youngest person present (who knows Hebrew, of course) to do the Four Questions; we ask someone else to then read them in English:
Why is this night different from all other nights:
1. In that, on all other nights, we eat leavened bread (chametz) and matzah; on this night, only matzah?
2. In that, on all other nights, we eat other vegetables; on this night, a bitter vegetable (maror)?
3. In that, on all other nights, we do not dip even once; on this night, twice (greens in salt water, maror in charoset)?
4. In that, on all other nights, we eat either sitting upright or reclining; on this night, all of us recline?
Speaking of spontaneity, if you have younger children at the Seder (or even if you don’t!), you could insert the Dr. Seuss version of the Four Questions here. We tried this a year or two ago and it was a BIG hit! Here are the first couple of lines; you will find it in full in the appendix:
“Why is it only on Passover night we never know how to do anything right? We don’t eat our meals in the regular ways, the way that we do on all other days.”
I found these Dr. Seuss Four Questions in the Seder Supplemental Readings, 5772 at www.jewishfreeware.org . I do not know who put it together.
We spend a few moments talking about how the Haggadah does not answer these questions directly. A couple of good texts I’ve found that deal with this are:
“Why are these questions not answered directly?
1) Questioning is a sign of freedom, proof that we are free to satisfy our intellectual curiosity
2) The simplest question can have many answers, sometimes complex or contradictory ones. To see everything as matzah or maror, good or bad, is to be enslaved to simplicity.
3) The Haggadah challenges us to ask ourselves if we are asking the right questions.
4) To accept the fact that not every question has an answer!
5) When we find the answer for ourselves, we find ourselves understanding the true meaning of the Exodus.” (source – Feast of Freedom Haggadah, page 33)
I particularly like point 3 – this ties back to the spontaneity theme of the original Seders: if we don’t think these are the right questions, then what are?
“Some people say children’s questions should always be answered immediately and fully. But every child knows that doesn’t always happen. ‘Can we have a picnic tomorrow?’ ‘We’ll see.’ ‘Where do babies come from?’ ‘Inside their mommies.’
Children often give similar answers. ‘What happened in school today?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘What were you and your friend doing in your room?’ ‘Playing.’ And surely G-d doesn’t always respond to questions right away – or at least, not in the way we expect.
The Haggadah, too, responds to the Four Puzzlements in a puzzling way. It doesn’t talk about chametz and matzah, or about maror, those responses come later, just before the meal in Rabban Gamliel’s story. And it doesn’t explain dipping or reclining at all – except, as with all four questions, by telling the story of the Exodus.” (source – “On Answering the Questions”, OWOF, page 27)
This reflection always resonates with the parents and teachers at our Seder – we always seem to have plenty of each!
And so, we slide out the matzah from the cover once again, and begin to answer the Four Questions by telling the story. This is the best kind of story – one with a happy ending! “We began in degradation and ended in praise”, the Haggadah tells us. But was our degradation physical, as the Talmudic scholar Shmuel suggests? Or was it spiritual, as Rav, Shmuel’s opponent in Talmudic argument, believes? We start with the physical degradation:
Avadim Hayinu
“We were slaves” again. I attended a talk a year or two ago where the speaker (I don’t remember who this was) brought up the idea that “we were slaves” doesn’t resonate with young people today, those who have not suffered themselves, nor known anyone who lived through the Holocaust. We had a good discussion about this at the Seder following this talk! How do we vividly illustrate the idea of our enslavement? At a talk I attended by Rabbi Pressman, he gave us a handout that included a great paragraph by Rabbi Kerry Olitzky:
“Will the sensory rituals of the Seder be sufficient to remind us of the physical experience so that we can return there in our memories? What else must we do to prepare for our experience as slaves and our ultimate Redemption? All we have to do is close our eyes and we can return there, to that very place where we were enslaved, to that very time when our freedom was taken away. We do not have to go very far: as we muster the courage to look closer, we will find that the time and place is not relegated to the distant past. Nor is it across the miles to a land that was not our home. Rather, the time and place is now; the attitudes that hamper us, the feelings of disillusionment and despair that hold us prisoner, the sense of hopelessness that threatens to tie us down. The Seder comes to teach us this simple truth, as we are reminded at this point in our Seder: G-d delivered us before and G-d will deliver us again and again.” (Source – Preparing your Heart for Passover by Rabbi Kerry Olitzky)
This shows that Passover occurred and is still occurring, an idea we return to throughout the Magid.
From here, I skip ahead to address the opposite point of view: that our degradation was spiritual, not physical. (Don’t worry – we’ll return to the rabbis of Bene Barak and the Four Children). The spiritual degradation is that our ancestors were idol worshippers:
Avodah Zarah
“From the beginning our ancestors served many gods. But now the Omnipresent has brought us near to the service of the One. As the Bible tells us: ‘And Joshua spoke to all the people: ‘Thus said Adonai, G-d of Israel: ‘On the other side of the river dwelt our ancestors, from the beginning of the world – Terach the father of Abraham and the father of Nachor. They served other gods.
But I took your father Abraham and your mother Sarah away from the other side of the river, and I led them throughout the land of Canann, multiplying their seed. I gave them Isaac, to Isaac and Rebecca I gave Jacob and Esau, and I gave Esau Mount Seir to inherit. But Jacob and his sons went down to Mitzrayim.”’” (Joshua 24:2-4)
Since this paragraph mentions Terach and idols, I will sometimes tell the story we all learned in Sunday School of Abram smashing his father’s idols and then claiming the largest idol itself was responsible for the destruction. It seems appropriate.
Whether you believe that our degradation was physical or spiritual (or both), the end result is the same – as the Avadim Hayinu tells us: “G-d brought us out of there (Mitzrayim) with a strong hand and an outstretched arm”. An excellent text that I have used here (which you will find in the appendix) is “Let My People Go – Where?” by Emuna Braverman. This discusses that G-d bringing us out, physical freedom, is not enough. Passover provides the opportunity of freedom with a purpose. G-d’s words to Pharoah are not just “Let my people go” (the part everyone remembers), but “Let my people go so that they may serve Me.”
The Rabbis of Bene Barak
“There is a tale about Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, Rabbi Akiba, and Rabbi Tarfon, who were gathered in Bene Barak, telling the story about the Going-out of Mitzrayim that whole night, until their students came and said to them: ‘Rabbis, the time has come for saying the morning Shma.’”
For a long time, this story was problematic to me – I didn’t see the point being made here and more often than not, I left this out of our Seders. Or, I mentioned that, according to tradition, the rabbis studied all night and then had a meal. At our Seder, we would neither be studying all night nor waiting that long to eat! Then I came across an interpretation that I found very interesting:
“It has been suggested that these second-century scholars were not only discussing the Exodus, they were planning a rebellion against their Roman oppressors. Some say the students interrupted the rabbis to warn them that the Romans were coming. Others say that they were signaling that the time for talking was over; they must act against the tyrant.” (Source – A Family Haggadah II, page 21)
Now this was something I could use! Since then, I have included the story of the five rabbis and this interpretation in our Seders. The interpretation also provides a great discussion question at this point: “How has the story of the Exodus inspired other revolutions?”
The Four Children
I have found over the years several ways to introduce the Four Children. The first is short and sweet:
“Not only does the Torah tell us to tell the story, but it repeats this commandment four times ! Why the repetition? Well, scholars took this to mean that you should tell the story in different ways, based on the level of understanding of the listeners. From this interpretation comes the story of the Four Children: one wise, one wicked, one simple, and one who does not yet know how to ask a question.”
Sometimes I have expanded on this just a bit:
“Four children there were at the Seder, and we all take it for granted that one was wise and one was wicked, one was simple, and one did not know how to ask. But imagine that a parent declared: ‘I have four children: This one is the brain, this one the troublemaker, this one the dope and this one the silent.’ Would we let such a statement pass? Would we let a teacher get away with saying, ‘I have four students, the brilliant one, the idiot, the loudmouth, and the one who never says a word?’ What is the Haggadah getting at?
Perhaps the Haggadah deliberately provides caricatures of four types of children to teach us something about the care we must take when we answer questions. Each person at our Seder is coming from a different place. This one is older and more experienced. That one has never been to Seder before. That other one was sick and did not expect to make it to Seder, but is there. That one never learned to read Hebrew, and that one knows French.
By telling us the story of the Four Children, each with a distinct question and each with a distinct answer, the Haggadah is telling us to accept each person where they are and to begin from there. The questions that are asked must be addressed, and the questions that are not asked must be addressed.” (Source – “Answering the Four Children” by Rabbi Miriam T. Spritzer, found at MyJewishLearning.com)
Besides the examples of parents and teachers, which many of our Seder guests can relate to, the other thing I like about this text is the warning against applying labels to our children. This is a warning that I have found in many rabbinical sources I’ve read on the Four Children.
I like to make the Four Children participatory: I read the introduction, and then I ask a different guest to read the section on each child. I usually have to explain that there is no stigma involved in reading the section on the wicked child, nor am I implying anything by the choice of who I ask to read it!
The Torah alludes to four children: one wise ( chacham ), one wicked ( rasha ), one simple ( ham ), and one who does not know what to ask ( she-ei-no yo-de-a lish-ol ).
What does the Wise One say? “What are the testimonies and the statutes and the judgments which Adonai our G-d commanded you?” (Deuteronomy 6:20) You should tell this child about the laws of Passover all the way through the section of the Mishnah that says “One shall not eat any dessert (afikoman) after the paschal lamb,” understood in our day to mean, “You shall not eat anything after the afikoman.”
What does the Wicked One say? “What is this service to you?” To you – but not to her, not to him. And because these Jews remove themselves from the community, they have rejected a major principle of Jewish belief, and so you should set their teeth on edge, discomforting them, by giving them the answer found in Exodus 13:8: “Because of what Adonai did for me when I went out of Mitzrayim.” For me and not for them, for had they been there, they would not have been redeemed.
What does the Simple One say? “What is this?” and you should respond with the answer found in Exodus 13:14: “With a might hand Adonai brought us out of Mitzrayim, out of the house of slaves.”
And the One Who Does Not Know How to Ask – you must open up for this one, beginning without being asked, as it says in Exodus 13:8: “And you shall tell the story to your child on that day, ‘Because of this that Adonai did for me when I went out of Mitzrayim.’”
Before leaving the Four Children, I sometimes mention that there is a little of each of these children in all of us, and I ask those at our Seder to think of a time when you felt wise, wicked, simple, or when you were in a situation where you simply did not know what to ask. I have also occasionally brought up the fifth child:
“As different as they may be, the four sons of the Haggadah have one thing in common: whether involved, challenging, inept or indifferent, they are all present at the Seder table. They are all relating, albeit in vastly differing ways, to our annual reliving of the Exodus and our birth as a nation. The line of communication is open; the potential wise son that resides within every Jewish child is approachable.
Today, however, in our era of spiritual displacement, there also exists a fifth son: the Jew who is absent from the Seder table. He asks no questions, poses no challenges, displays no interest. For he knows nothing of the Seder, nothing of the significance of the Exodus, nothing of the revelation at Sinai at which we assumed our mission and role as Jews.
To these children of G-d we m;ust devote ourselves long before the first night of Passover. We must not forget a single Jewish child; we must invest all our engergies and resources to bringing every last fifth son to the Seder-table of Jewish life.” (Source – “There, Here and Nowhere”, based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, found at chabad.org)
This is very similar to the “Empty Chair” prayer, which you may find in the appendix; at some Seders, a chair is left empty at the table and this prayer is said in the hopes that at next year’s Seder, it will be filled.
There is always someone at our Seder (one I remember specifically was my brother-in-law Allen, when he and Mitch were still living in California) who asks about the phrase “Covenant Between the Pieces”. Pieces of what? Well, this comes from Genesis, 15:13-18. The “pieces” actually refer to the divided pieces of sacrificed animals, between which this covenant (in the second paragraph above) was made. I can hear my daughter yelling “That’s disgusting!” Some things are probably better left unexplained…
I slide the middle matzah back into the cover, and ask everyone to raise their wine glasses (reminding them that this is not for drinking, but only for the “Vehi Sheamda” prayer).
I like to read a quote after the “Vehi Sheamda” and ask our guests who said it:
“Without a doubt, no other people has endured what the Jews have been forced to endure. And, at the same time, the Jews have done more to civilize men than any other nation. They have influenced the affairs of mankind ore, and more happily than any other nation, ancient or modern.” (Source – “Price of Oppresion”, by Rabbi Shimon Apisdorf, found at aish.com)
The guesses are usually famous Israelis or Jewish public or historical figures; no one ever guesses that this was said by the second President of the U.S., John Adams, who, as far as I know, wasn’t Jewish!
On a much more serious note, following the murder of four Jews in Toulouse, France in March, 2012, Rabbi Pressman wrote a message to the congregation called “In Every Generation”, which I paraphrased at that year’s Seder:
“In every generation they rise up against us. This week’s chapter of hatred was the cold-blooded murder of four Jews in Toulouse…It helps me to realize that our ancestors who lived through all those times of enmity, oppression, and murder found hope and dignity in the Haggadah and the Seder experience. Even hidden in Spanish cellars or the basements of the besieged Warsaw ghetto, we held Seders and told the story of our liberation from bondage…we will gather around our Seder tables this Passover because despite our history of persecution, we Jews never gave up hope and faith. In fact, the Seder and the Haggadah sustained us through troubled times. This will be a sad Passover for the Jews of Toulouse, and for all of us, but when we read the Haggadah’s many words of comfort and hope, may we take them to heart. And, as Eli Wiesel counsels, ‘When we are persecuted, our response must be: We will remain Jewish – and do everything to become more Jewish.’”
Tzei ULemad (Go and Study)
This is the section of the Magid where we can really get some great discussions going! The idea here is to start with four Torah verses (Deuteronomy 26:5-8), which contain the origins of the Passover holiday, and then spend some time picking apart one of these verses, trying to decipher its meanings, and how it may be applicable today. I try to change this up every year, to pick a different verse (or perhaps a source outside these verses), and discuss it. The best way to do this is to make it as contemporary as possible, so that our guests can relate to it.
We start by reading Deuteronomy 26:5-8. Sometimes we read it all together, sometimes I ask for a volunteer:
A wandering Aramean was my father, who went down to Mitzrayim and sojourned there, few in number. And there we became a great nation, strong and numerous. But the Egyptians dealt ill with us and afflicted us, setting hard labor upon us. Yet when we cried out to Adonai, the G-d of our ancestors, Adonai heard our voice, seeing our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. Then Adonai brought us out from Mitzrayim with a strong hand and an outstretched arm; with great awe, with signs, and with wonders.
Let the discussions begin! Here are just some of the ideas we’ve batted around over the years:
Verse 5 (A wandering Aramean was my father, who went down to Mitzrayim and sojourned there, few in number. And there we became a great nation, strong and numerous.)
1) The idea that “the wandering Aramean” might refer to Laban, the father-in-law of Jacob. The Hebrew of this verse could be translated “A wandering Aramean tried to destroy my father”, which casts Laban (who deceived Jacob into marrying Leah) as the real villain of the Exodus story! (Source – “Down to Egypt” by Rabbi Shraga Simmons, found at aish.com)
Verse 6 (But the Egyptians dealt ill with us and afflicted us, setting hard labor upon us.)
1) The repeated use of “us” suggests that the Egyptians dealt with the Hebrews as a collective, not as individuals. It is always easier to hate a group than to hate an individual. If they had gotten to know us personally, perhaps they wouldn’t have been able to afflict us so.
2) “The Egyptians” dealt ill with us. Not just Pharaoh, not just the overseers – all Egyptians. They were all guilty – remember, when the waters of the Red Sea come crashing down, Pharaoh doesn’t drown, but all his troops do! “Just following orders” is not an excuse. Although, to be fair, there are hints that some of the Egyptians offered the Hebrews some of their jewelry as possible reparation, and there is evidence that some Egyptians left with them! ( This is one of my favorites, because you can bring so much in here – ordinary Germans vs. Nazis, the movie “A Few Good Men” which is about two soldiers who caused a death by “just following orders”, the two midwives who refused to follow Pharaoh’s orders to kill Hebrew children as an example we should follow, and much more! )
3) “Setting hard labor upon us”. This phrase refers back to Exodus 1:13 – “and the Egyptians made the Israelites serve ‘with rigor’”. The Hebrew word for “with rigor” is “beperach”. The Talmud suggests that the word “beperach” can be separated into “bepeh rach”, which means “with a gentle mouth”. This implies that, at first, the Egyptians didn’t force the Hebrews to work but induced them by various methods such as paying them wages, by Pharaoh hanging a gold brick on a worker’s chest as a sign of esteem. I find it interesting that the Talmud suggests that, at least at the beginning, the lot of the Hebrews may not have been as bad as we always think.
Verse 7 (Yet when we cried out to Adonai, the G-d of our ancestors, Adonai heard our voice, seeing our affliction, our toil, and our oppression.)
1) The phrase “seeing our affliction” has been interpreted as Pharaoh’s prohibition of the Israelites making love; it is this prohibition which finally gave G-d the understanding of how serious their plight was, and moved G-d to begin acting against Pharaoh.
Sources outside Deuteronomy 26:5-8
1) The first of the Ten Commandments states “I am the Lord your G-d, Who brought you forth from the Land Of Egypt, from the house of bondage.” This raises the question – why should the first commandment use the Exodus as its example? G-d created the universe and everything in it! Isn’t that a far more noteworthy accomplishment? The answer, as suggested by Ramban (Maimonides) is that the Creation was an event that had no human witnesses. Believing in the Creation so long ago requires a leap of faith. However, the Exodus was a series of events that had many witnesses. The eyewitness testimony, passed down the generations, is part of what we relive and re-experience at every Seder. (Source – “You are My Witnesses”, found at ou.org)
Besides the connection to Passover, the other reason I love using this text in Tzei Ulemad is that it references the Ten Commandments, which lets me stay connected to Deborah, even if she happens not to be at the Seder. The Ten Commandments are first mentioned in the Torah in Parashat Yitro, which was the portion Deb read at her Bat Mitzvah.
This is, of course, by no means all the ideas you may find. I refer you again to the wonderful “A Different Night” Haggadah, which has a section called “Selecting a Topic for a Symposium”, with many great suggestions!
And so, I tell our guests as we bring Tzei Ulemad to a close, “this is just a small example of the kind of Torah study that may be done at a Seder.”
But you may have noticed, I seem to have ignored Verse 8. Well, yes, but at our Seder, Verse 8 is special. It provides a link to the next section of Magid:
Then Adonai brought us out from Mitzrayim with a strong hand and an outstretched arm; with great awe, with signs, and with wonders.
We read this verse aloud, and then I read the explanation found in OWOF, page 49:
Strong hand is two words
Outstretched arm is two words
Great awe is two words
Signs is a plural, meaning at least two
Wonders is a plural, meaning at least two
I have everyone (particularly any children) add up the numbers as we read this; they add up to 10, which provides a wonderful transition into the Ten Plagues! (Well, I always thought it was a neat way to get there!)
The Ten Plagues
I begin the Ten Plagues section by talking about what we do at our Seder to remember the Ten Plagues and why. For the what, I explain that we will all read the list of plagues together, and as we do, we dip one finger into our wine glasses and let one drop for each plague fall, untasted, to our plates. As far as the why, the best explanation I have found is:
“Despite the Torah’s suggestion that all the Egyptians participated in our enslavement and thus deserved punishment ( as mentioned in one of the Tzei Ulemad ideas a couple of pages ago), we do not savor their suffering. The Talmud (Megillah 10b) tells us that as the Egyptians were flailing about in the sea, the agnels wanted to sing Halleluyah for Israel’s redemption, but G-d rebuked them: ‘How can you sing My praises when My children are drowning?!’
The Book of Proverbs cautions us: ‘Do not rejoice when your enemy falls.’ (24:17) We reduce the jubilation we might have felt over our rescue by removing from our cup of joyous wine a drop of joy untasted for each plague suffered by our oppressors.” (Source – OWOF, page 51)
It has been our practice that I read each plague in Hebrew, and then everyone else follows in English:
Occasionally I have talked a bit more about the plagues, either before we list them or right after:
“Besides the obvious explanation of the ten plagues leading to Pharaoh letting the slaves go, we can also look at them as a direct attack on the Egyptian gods: the river Nile, the sun. This could be interpreted as showing the superiority of G-d over the Egyptian gods. The plagues also remind us that we don’t really have control over our environment. It’s easy to see a link between these plagues and modern natural disasters, of which there have been far too many lately! In the book of Leviticus, 25:23, G-d commands us to respect the land because ‘…the land is Mine, you are but strangers resident with Me.’ In other words, we live in a world we didn’t create and don’t own. We’re just tenants.”
I like the strong ecological message here! If I can do it without seeming too heavy-handed, this is a good place to mention taking care of the environment!
And we have come to our first song! It used to be that we would leap right into the familiar three verse version of Dayenu (which I would make copies of before the Seder and provide to all the guests); over the past few years, we have started off by reading this version all together (from A Family Haggadah II, page 32):
And THEN we leap into the song:
Ilu hotzi, hotzi-anu, hotzi-anu mi-Mitzrayim,
Hotzi-anu mi-Mitzrayim, DAYENU
(Chorus)
Day-dayenu, day-dayenu, day-dayenu, dayenu, dayenu!
Ilu natan, natan lanu, natan lanu et Ha Shabbat,
Natan lanu et Ha Shabbat, DAYENU
(Chorus)
Ilu natan, natan lanu, natan lanu et Ha Torah,
Natan lanu et Ha Torah, DAYENU
(Chorus)
The singing of Dayenu can lead to talking about being appreciative, or about miracles. The best one sentence description of what Dayenu tries to convey is:
“Dayenu teaches us to switch from the mentality of always wanting more to being grateful for what we have.” (Source – A Family Haggadah II, page 33)
I have often paraphrased a couple of excellent texts: “Dayenu and Miracles” and “Unity Alone”, which you will find in the appendix. The one I like the best is:
“People often ask: ‘Why are there no miracles today? If I saw the signs and wonders of the Exodus, I too would believe’…In truth, miracles abound in our lives. The only difference between the miracles of the Exodus and the miracles of our immune system is frequency. A one-time miracle elicits our awe. A repeated or constant miracle elicits a yawn. Sadly, the more constant G-d’s miracles, the more apt we are to ignore them. In the words of Oscar Wilde: ‘Niagara Falls is nice. But the real excitement would be to see it flowing backwards.’
Do we fully appreciate the miracle of trees breathing carbon dioxide so that we can breathe oxygen? Do we recognize the miracle of a one-celled zygote becoming a human being with brain, knees, eyelashes and taste buds? Passover teaches us to love G-d for the wonder of Niagara Falls flowing forward.” (Source – “Miracles Today”, by Rabbi Shraga Simmons, found at aish.com)
Rabban Gamliel’s instructions and the symbols
We are on the home stretch of the Magid! I continue by reading the words of Rabban (Hebrew for Master or great teacher) Gamliel:
Rabban Gamliel used to say that all those who had not spoken of three words on Pesach had not fulfilled their obligation to tell the story. These are:
Pesach Matzah Maror
Or, as the On Wings of Freedom Haggadah states it: “But we must not let the story separate us from the meal.” (OWOF, page 57) Occasionally, someone will ask who Rabban Gamliel was. He was a great scholar and teacher in the 1st century C.E. He also was a member of the Sanhedrin (the legal governing body at that time) and, as I learned very recently, he was the grandson of Hillel, who we will be talking about in just a little while!
We direct everyone’s attention to the pesach, the roasted lamb shankbone on the Seder plate, but we do not raise it or even touch it. I ask for volunteers to read each of the three sections:
The Pesach which our ancestors ate while the Temple stood: for what reason is it?
For the reason that the Blessed Holy One passed over ( pasach) the houses of our ancestors in Mitzrayim, as it is said: “And you shall say, ‘It is the Passover offering for Adonai, who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Mitzrayim and smote the Egyptians but saved our houses.’ And the people bowed their heads and bent their knees in prayer.” (Exodus 12:27)
I usually mention that the key part of that first sentence “while the Temple stood”, refers to the animal sacrifices that were brought to the great Temple. Since sacrifice is no longer our custom, that is why we don’t do more than look at the roasted shankbone. I also like to remind our guests that it was the blood of a lamb that marked the doorposts of the Israelites homes, a sign to G-d to spare them. Finally, I will sometimes mention the other conclusion you can draw from that paragraph: that it is obvious that the Israelites were in a “no-smoting” zone. That’s usually good for a groan.
I raise our matzah cover before the next section:
This Matzah, this unleavened bread, that we eat, for what reason is it?
For the reason that there was not sufficient time for the dough of our ancestors to leaven when the Sovereign of all earthly sovereigns, the Blessed Holy One, was revealed to us and redeemed us, as it is said: “And they baked their dough which they brought forth out of Mitzrayim into matzah cakes (cakes of unleavened bread) which had not fermented, for having been driven out of Mitzrayim they could not tarry, and no provisions had they made for themselves.” (Exodus 12:39)
We’ll have more to say about matzah later. For now, we raise the little shallow cup from our Seder plate that contains our maror for everyone to see:
This Maror, this bitter vegetable, that we eat, for what reason is it?
For the reason that the Egyptians embittered ( mei-re-ru, the root of maror ) the lives of our ancestors in Mitzrayim, as it is said: “And they embittered their lives with servitude hardened in mortar and bricks, with every servitude in the field, with torment.” (Exodus 1:14)
B’chol dor v’dor – In Every Generation
By raising up these foods, eaten so long ago and remaining on our Seder table to this very night, we connect ourselves to the anguish and the ecstasy of those who first raised them up, who first transformed ordinary flatbread and an ordinary vegetable into experiences of G-d’s power to transform poverty and bitterness into freedom and courage. For:
To me, this is the heart of the Magid and of the whole Seder, really. This is what it’s all about! I tell our guests “Notice the way ‘every one of us’ is emphasized. This shows the personal connection – Passover is not just about our ancestors, not about someone remote, but about me. Our goal is to relate personally to the Passover story. All of us can think of examples in our lives or in the lives of people we know who are ‘coming out of Mitzrayim’, trying to make their lives better.”
Of course, there are many readings I have found and used over the years that illustrate the idea of liberating ourselves from our “Mitzrayim”, our own narrow, constricted place or circumstances. Here are just some the ideas we’ve discussed (there are others in the appendix):
“The idea of viewing ourselves personally as having come out of slavery is probably the reason why the name of Moses only shows up once in the entire Haggadah (and then only in passing). Talking about Moses would fix the Exodus to a particular time and a particular place; that contradicts the idea of ‘in every generation’. Plus, emphasizing Moses might give us the idea that only extraordinary individuals are capable of such changes. This, again, contradicts the main idea of ‘in every generation’ – every one of us has the power to change, to remove ourselves from the narrow, constricted places in which we find ourselves” (Source – “Where’s Moses?” by Rabbi Shlomo Yaffe, found at chabad.org)
The idea of each of us having the power to change is carried forward in a couple of other sources:
“The Talmud records that in actuality, only 20 percent of the Jewish people left Egypt. The other 80 percent did not identify strongly enough with the Jewish people’s role and goal. They were too assimilated and immersed in Egyptian society. So they stayed behind. The Haggadah is focusing us on the fact that our ancestors were among the group that had the courage and foresight to leave. It is always difficult to make changes. We may feel that freedom is too elusive, that we don’t have the drive, stamina and determination to make bold decisions. The Haggadah reminds us that we are part of the group that left. It is in our blood. We have the ability to make dramatic changes. If we so desire.” (Source – “Assimilation Then and Now”, by Rabbi Stephen Baars, found at aish.com)
Since I started using this text, I have heard some doubts expressed about the truth of the 80/20 split mentioned by Rabbi Baars. However, the idea of identifying with those who left resonates with me – no matter what percentage they were!
By far the best expression of this idea is found in an essay by writer Lesli Koppelman Ross called “Self-Liberation”, which I always include in the packet I give to each participant. Here is the last paragraph (the full essay is in the appendix):
“Passover, with its message of hope, tell us that like the Egyptian slaves, we can escape from our straits. Once they had tasted freedom with the paschal lamb, the Israelites gave up the comfort of the familiar, without concern for provisions or how they would get to or exist at their destination. They left Egypt because they believed a better life awaited them elsewhere. As Rabbi Nachman of Bratislav (18th century Hasidic leader) counseled, when you are about to leave ‘ mitzrayim ’ you should not worry about how you will manage in a new ‘place’. Anyone who does or who stops to get everything in order for the journey will never pick himself or herself up.” (Source – “Self-Liberation” by Lesli Koppelman Ross, found in Celebrate! The Complete Jewish Holiday Handbook. Also available at MyJewishLearning.com)
Conclusion of Magid
As we bring the Magid section to a close, there are a couple of reflections we can use:
“And so the divisions of the Four Children have been overcome: beyond the four different answers to the four different children lies this single answer now revealed, from Deuteronomy 6:23: ‘G-d brought us out of there, in order to bring us in.” By telling the story together, wise and wicked, simple and unable to speak, we have all acquired the merit to be redeemed. The Magid, the story of the Exodus, reunites the Jewish people.” (Source – OWOF, page 60).
This is what I mean about working to update our Seders each year – we have never used that passage at our Seder (actually, I never noticed it before). Perhaps 2014 will be the first time?
A short text that I have used is:
“We have reached the joyous climax of the Magid: the recognition that, as a result of our redemption from the physical and spiritual constrictions of Mitzrayim, we have broken through into the broad place of the realm of G-d, where the most natural thing in the world is to sing praise to our Redeemer (Source – OWOF, page 61):
When we began the story we raised the cup and covered the matzot, the bread of affliction; now, once more, in the presence of the lifted cup, we cover the matzot, for their tale is complete: they have been transformed into the bread of freedom. The raised cup reminds us of the eternal presence of the holy G-d, now in freedom as earlier in affliction.
Once again, I slide the matzah back into the cover and ask everyone to raise their cup of wine (again, reminding them this time is not for drinking) as we all join in the song of praise together:
And so, it is time to drink from the second cup, which celebrates the promise “Ve-hi-tzal-ti – I will deliver you from their service.” I ask everyone to raise their cups (if, in fact, anyone has lowered them after the song of praise) and join together:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן.
Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam borei p'ri hagafen.
Praised are You, Adonai our G-d, Monarch of time and space, creator of this fruit of the vine.
This second cup concludes the Magid.
