Maror is when we dip the bitter herb in the charoset and eat it, contemplating those we have lost, those who are suffering. During this Seder we have asked you to mine the stories of the Jewish people to look for metaphors and to contemplate what they mean in terms of today's injustice. There is rarely a shortage of bitterness on any given Passover, particularly this year as corona upends the world: from the people of Gaza and Iran, to those putting their lives at risk on the frontlines of this crisis.

But there's also something else, and that's the way in which bitterness, sharpness, particularly mixed with the sweetness of the charoset, is meant to wake us up. To the freedom, the laughter, the joy and justice that comes with liberation. In other words, we may think of the maror as the lacuna between oppression and liberation, when one tips into the other. 

In versions of the maror prayer, we recite: "Blessed are You, mysterious G-d, trancender of time, who has sanctified us with Their commandments and has commanded us on the eating of maror."

"Transcender of time." No, we aren't hopping in a time machine bestowed to us by G-d. We are finding in G-d and ourselves the moment when the mundane becomes magical, when we are spurred forward to change our circumstances, making one moment into the next. 

And so, "Brukha at Shekhina eloheinu ru'akh ha'olam kidshatnu bmitzovoteiha vitzivatnu al achilat maror."


haggadah Section: Maror