Alcohol plays an important role in nearly every special occasion in Jewish life, from Friday night kiddush to Purim revelry, from bris ceremonies to weddings. Wine in particular is used to celebrate because it “gladdens the hearts of men,” (Psalm 104:15) and therefore allows us to fulfill the mitzvah to rejoice in Shabbat and the holidays Hashem has given us.

For some of us, however, drinking wine or other alcoholic beverages isn’t an expression of joy, but of desperation. For some Jews who struggle with alcohol use, drinking four cups of wine at the seder could be as dangerous as someone in recovery from an eating disorder attempting to fast on Yom Kippur. Many Jews, whatever their relationship to alcohol, choose to replace Passover wine with grape juice or some other beverage for their health, safety, or sobriety, or because they simply don’t like wine.

The Shulchan Aruch, the first definitive code of Jewish law, writes that “one who doesn’t drink wine because it hurts him, or because he hates it, must force himself to drink in order to fulfill the mitzvah.” Not only is this halacha in violation of piku’ach nefesh, the principle that saving a life or preventing harm takes precedence over nearly all other mitzvot, it completely misses the point of the ritual. The four cups of wine are symbols of our liberation. To force someone to drink when they can’t or don’t want to is to deny their body autonomy. This halacha desecrates a symbol of freedom by turning it into a tool of oppression. 

If alcohol use is a Jew’s personal Mitzrayim, we must help them free themselves by providing a supportive environment where they can participate in the seder on their own terms without judgment. To pressure them into drinking is to put a stumbling block before them on their road to liberation. For those of us who do consume alcohol, let us drink the four cups of wine not merely out of obligation, but because we want to drink. And for those of us who don’t drink, let us rejoice in not drinking. 

We are obligated to gladden all the members of our households on Pesach, but not all of them will benefit from wine. The rabbis of the Talmud understood that the four cups are not necessary for those who don’t enjoy them. The sages originally taught that men, women and children are all obligated to drink wine. Rabbi Yehuda disputed this. “Why give children wine?” he asked, “they do not enjoy it.”

Instead, the Talmud recommends we follow in the footsteps of Rabbi Akiva, who gave children nuts and toasted grains to nosh on at the seder, to increase their joy, to keep them awake, and to stimulate their curiosity. These practices of joy, consciousness, and curiosity have revolutionary potential. If we are to abolish prisons and police, we must unlearn what we think we know about harm and justice and be willing to listen with curiosity, observe mindfully, and joyfully envision a better world.

For this reason, people who struggle with alcohol may want to nosh on nuts, candy, and other tasty snacks throughout the seder in addition to drinking four cups of grape juice. Some might understandably resent being treated like children and find this idea patronizing. Others might take comfort in the fact that on Pesach it is as if we are all children, for even if all of us were ‘wise, understanding elders’ we’d still be required to ask the four questions and tell the story anew. In a very real way, the seder is supposed to fill us all with childlike wonder, the same wonder the Children of Israel felt when they left Mitzrayim. So if mindfully snacking whets your appetite for learning, aderaba, by all means do so. 

If no one at your seder has a nut allergy (please check beforehand) you might want to put out a bowl of nuts for people to nosh on. Eat these with the kavanah of joyful curiosity, and consider meditating on the verse, “I went down to the nut garden, to look at the sprouts in the valley, to see if the vine had budded, if the pomegranates were in bloom.” (Song of Songs 6:11) Even if things seem hopeless and recovery feels out of reach, it’s worth checking every once in a while to see if possibility is in bloom.

(Before eating walnuts say:)
.בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָעֵץ.
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borey p’ree ha-eytz.
Blessed are You, creator of the fruits of the tree.

Another text to meditate on is this line by Jewish philosopher Solomon ibn Gabriel, an 11th century precursor to the Serenity Prayer: “The beginning of understanding is knowing the difference between what is and what cannot be, then consoling ourselves of what is not in our control.” When the task of abolition feels impossible, may we be granted the wisdom of knowing what is and is not within our control, and console ourselves by always doing what is possible.  
 


haggadah Section: Introduction
Source: Min Ha-Meitzar: An Abolitionist Haggadah from the Narrow Place by Noraa Kaplan