The Passover Seder is one of the most recognized and widely practiced of Jewish rituals, yet had our ancestors visited one of these modern-day celebrations, they would be baffled. Not only does our modern Seder wildly diverge from the Passover of old: during antiquity itself the holiday underwent radical changes.

As the centralized Israelite state took shape about 3,000 years ago, the religion of the people varied from place to place and took variegated forms, hints of which we can see in the Bible, virtually the only historical narrative we have of this period. Among the different folk beliefs and frankly polytheistic practices these proto-Israelites practiced, the springtime rites seem to have had special status. Two of these rituals would later become subsumed by Passover: Pesach and Hag Hamatzot.

Pesach

Pesach was a pastoral apotropaic ritual, that is: its purpose is to ward off evil. It was carried out by the semi-nomadic segment of Israelite society that subsisted on livestock. Spring was a critical time of the year for them, a time of lambing and a sign that soon they would have to migrate to find a summer pasture for their flock.

In order to protect their flocks, and families, from the dangers ahead, they would slaughter their flock’s newest addition as an offering, either a lamb or a kid, followed by a family feast.

The Origin of Matzah

Hag Hamatzot, on the other hand, was celebrated by the settled segment of Israelite society, who lived in villages and who drew their subsistence from farming. For them too spring was crucial, meaning the start of the harvest, of the cereals on which they depended.

Of the cereals grown by the ancient Israelites in this period, the first grain to be ready for harvest was barley. Although this made for inferior bread, it was highly prized: not rarely, by the spring harvest, the last year’s stores had been already depleted and hunger took grip of the land.

This new bread would have been unleavened, as the leavening used at the time was a portion of dough set aside from the last batch of bread. But this would have been unavailable due to the gap created by the empty stores. Add to this the fact that barley flour hardly rises anyway, and that the baking techniques of the time would have made even the superior bread made of wheat flour flat and hard, and you’ve got matzah.

Still, when hungry even matzah is a cause for celebration and one could imagine that the communal threshing grounds were filled with joy, cheer, and jubilation.

Shabbat Candles

May the festival lights we now kindle,

Inspire us to use our powers

To heal and not to harm,

To help and not to hinder,

To bless and not to curse,

To serve You, O God of freedom.

This blessing can be recited as we light the candles to begin the Passover Seder and to celebrate the arrival of spring:

Blessed is the light in the world.
Blessed is the light within humanity.
Blessed is the light of Passover.

Barukh ha-or ba-olam
Barukh ha-or ba-adam
Barukh ha-ror ba-Pesakh

(If this blessing is different or new to you: Judaism is a constantly evolving conversation, practice, and identity. This text has been used by tens of thousands of Jews over the past fifty years.)

I breathe in and take in this light and its warmth and comfort. I breathe out and release the tension that has collected in my body and spirit. I acknowledge this transition into sacred time and the peace and rest it brings. I pray for that peace and rest to linger, past this moment, and to integrate itself into our daily lives. I am thankful for the presence of my loved ones, both those who are here physically and those who are here spiritually. May our hearts be open to recieve this light and may its warmth bring us closer. 

Passover is a holiday with many different themes.  This breadth ensures that no two seders will ever be exactly alike and encourages each of us to engage equally, whether this is the first or hundredth seder you’ve attended.  It also challenges each of us to connect to the seder on a personal, individual level.  The themes offered are just a sampling, what other themes are you drawn to?

Redemption: In the Exodus story, the Jews were redeemed physically from slavery. While Pesach is "z'man heyruteinu," the season of our freedom, it is also a festival that speaks of spiritual redemption. Jews were freed from mental as well as physical slavery.  It was as a physically and spiritually free people that the Jewish nation prepared to receive the Torah on Mt. Sinai.  The seder also includes many allusions to a future messianic redemption. One of the clearest symbols is the Cup of Elijah placed on every seder table. Contained within the salvation from Egypt are the seeds of future redemption, as the Torah states, "This same night is a night of watching unto the Lord for all the children of Israel throughout their generations" (Exodus 12:42).

Creation:  Passover is known by several names in Hebrew, including Chag HaAviv, holiday of the spring.  Pesach celebrates spring, rebirth, and renewal, symbolized by the green “ karpas ” and the egg on the seder plate.  It is also a time of “beginning,” as exemplified by the first grain harvest and the birth of Israel as a nation.  Also, Nissan, this Hebrew month, was traditionally seen as the first month of the Jewish year.

Education:  Four different times in the Torah, the Jews are commanded to repeat the story of the Passover (Exodus 12:26, 13:8, 14; Deuteronomy 6:20).  The seder is centered around teaching the story of the exodus from Egypt.  In fact, Haggadah means “the telling.”  Two of the most important readings address education head on: the four questions and the four sons.  The first encourages even the youngest children to begin asking questions, while the latter instructs us how to respond to different learning styles.  Even at a seder without children present, the night takes on an educational feel.  Thought provoking questions and supportive debate are encouraged. 

Patterns of Four: Throughout the seder, you may notice the number four being repeated in many guises.  This is based on the verse in Exodus that states, "I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and I will deliver you from their bondage, and I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments, and I will take you to Me for a people, and I will be to you a God…" (Exodus 6:6-7).  Among many other patterns of four at the seder, we drink four cups of wine, ask four questions, and speak about four types of children.

Tonight, we gather around the Seder table to recount the ancient Israelites’ miraculous transformation from slavery to freedom. May this first cup of wine rouse each of us to the injustice that persists in our world today. May we recognize our own capacity to make a difference and commit ourselves to building a better world.

Question for Discussion:

What injustices are you awakening to this year—either in your own community or around the world?

Humanist Wine Blessing

B'rucha ha-Aretz, B'rucha ha-Shemesh, Baruch ha-Geshem.

Ha-Boreem P'ri ha-Gafen.

Blessed are the earth, the sun, and the rain.

Which bring forth the fruit of the vine.

Active Feminine Language Wine Blessing

Nevareich et Eyn haChayim, ruach haOlam, boreit p’ri haGafen

Let us bless the source of life, spirit of all worlds, creator of the fruit of the vine

Traditional Masculine Language Wine Blessing

Baruch atah Adonai eloheinu melech haOlam, borei p’ri haGafen

Blessed are you, YHVH our God, ruler of all worlds, creator of the fruit of the vine

Feminine Language Mitzvah Blessing

Brucha aht Yah shekhinah ruach haOlam asher kideshatnu b’mitzvotecha v’tzivatnu: ___________________

Blessed are you YHVH, sheltering presence, spirit of all worlds, who made us kadosh with your mitzvot and directed us to:_______________________

On Passover we celebrate our redemption from slavery and revel in our freedom. We gather around the Seder table with our loved ones, telling stories of our people's miraculous passage from Egypt to Sinai, to the Promised Land. At this time of rejoicing, we also remember the great responsibility that freedom creates to harness the power of our privilege on behalf of the oppressed and marginalized. As we recite the prayers over the first cup of wine, let us also pray for and work towards the moment when all human beings will celebrate their liberation in comfort and plenty.

In joy and celebration, we come together at this seder.

Brukhim ha-adama ha-shemesh v’ha-geshem shehborim pre hagafen. Blessed are the earth, the sun, and the rains that bring forth the fruit of the wine. 

“Gratitude is the moral memory of mankind. If every grateful action were suddenly eliminated, society would crumble.” – Georg Simmel

Gratitude and happiness are intertwined and for good reason. It is no coincidence that positive psychology practitioners and happiness experts state that in order to increase your contentment in life you need to boost your level of gratitude.

One of the leading researchers in gratitude is Dr. Robert Emmons. He has brought gratitude into the forefront by demonstrating how simple acts of gratitude can have a gigantic impact on well-being and happiness. Emmons argues that gratitude is more than feeling good.

“It goes beyond the pleasant feeling because it implores people to share their joyful experiences with others. So in this sense gratitude is not about receiving, but it entails a large component of giving as well” (2007).

Emmons and other positive psychology practitioners such as Martin Seligman believe the positive effects of gratitude can’t be overstated.

“Gratitude can make your life happier and more satisfying. When we feel gratitude, we benefit from the pleasant memory of a positive event in our life. Also, when we express our gratitude to others, we strengthen our relationship with them” (Seligman, 2012).

You can never be too grateful. When you take for granted the people and things you have in your life, instead of being grateful for them, you are missing out on an opportunity to live a healthier and happier life.

You are also ignoring the strength of social connection that gratitude creates. Not only will practicing gratitude benefit you psychologically and socially, but physically you will feel better as well.

Like anything else in life the benefits of gratitude can be cultivated through concentrated practice. There are a multitude of exercises at your disposal that will sustain your desire to manifest more gratitude into your life. And therefore, more well-being and contentment.

Passover, like many of our holidays, combines the celebration of an event from our Jewish memory with a recognition of the cycles of nature. As we remember the liberation from Egypt, we also recognize the stirrings of spring and rebirth happening in the world around us. The symbols on our table bring together elements of both kinds of celebration.

We now take a vegetable, representing our joy at the dawning of spring after our long, cold winter. Most families use a green vegetable, such as parsley or celery, but some families from Eastern Europe have a tradition of using a boiled potato since greens were hard to come by at Passover time. Whatever symbol of spring and sustenance we’re using, we now dip it into salt water, a symbol of the tears our ancestors shed as slaves. Before we eat it, we recite a short blessing:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruits of the earth.

We look forward to spring and the reawakening of flowers and greenery. They haven’t been lost, just buried beneath the snow, getting ready for reappearance just when we most needed them.

-

We all have aspects of ourselves that sometimes get buried under the stresses of our busy lives. What has this winter taught us? What elements of our own lives do we hope to revive this spring?

No prayer is recited before we break the middle matzah on our Seder plate. This is a silent, reflective act.

For we recognize that, like the broken matzah, we are incomplete, with prayers yet to be fulfilled, promises still to be redeemed.

We hide part of this broken matzah and hope it will be found by the end our Seder meal.

For we recognize that parts of ourselves are yet unknown. We are still discovering what makes us whole.

We hide the larger of the two parts of the matzah.

For we recognize that more is hidden than revealed.

Together: With the generations that have come before us, and with one another, our search begins.

We've all just named individually a place of mitzrayim — a place of constriction — in our own personal lives. We've named a place that we want to break, and, in breaking, create the open space for transformation.

This is scary work. It can be overwhelming, and it can make us feel alone. As we transition into the story of Exodus, we remind ourselves that we're here in community. We commit to our own individual healing not just for ourselves, but for each other; not just with ourselves, but with each other.

Through sharing our brokenness, we make community. Individual and collective liberation: these are not two separate processes. It is one journey.

As all good term papers do, we start with the main idea:

ּעֲבָדִים הָיִינוּ הָיִינו. עַתָּה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין  

Avadim hayinu hayinu. Ata b’nei chorin.

We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Now we are free.

We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and God took us from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. Had God not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then even today we and our children and our grandchildren would still be slaves. Even if we were all wise, knowledgeable scholars and Torah experts, we would still be obligated to tell the story of the exodus from Egypt.

In Hebrew, the word for Egypt is “Mitzraim,” which literally means “narrow place.”

In each of our lives, there are times when we feel caught in a “narrow place”—trapped by fear, anger, or hopelessness. But rather than despair, we can praise and be thankful for the moments of expansiveness and possibility.

What is one way that you wish for more openness, either in your own life or in society?

The formal telling of the story of Passover is framed as a discussion with lots of questions and answers. The tradition that the youngest person asks the questions reflects the centrality of involving everyone in the seder. The rabbis who created the set format for the seder gave us the Four Questions to help break the ice in case no one had their own questions. Asking questions is a core tradition in Jewish life. If everyone at your seder is around the same age, perhaps the person with the least seder experience can ask them – or everyone can sing them all together.

מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילות

Ma nishtana halaila hazeh mikol haleilot?

Why is this night different from all other nights?

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכלין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה  הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלּוֹ מצה  

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin chameitz u-matzah. Halaila hazeh kulo matzah.

On all other nights we eat both leavened bread and matzah.
Tonight we only eat matzah.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin shi’ar yirakot haleila hazeh maror.

On all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables,
but tonight we eat bitter herbs.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָֽנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּֽעַם אחָת  הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעמים

Shebichol haleilot ain anu matbilin afilu pa-am echat. Halaila hazeh shtei fi-amim.

On all other nights we aren’t expected to dip our vegetables one time.
Tonight we do it twice.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין.  :הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּֽנוּ מְסֻבין

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin bein yoshvin uvein m’subin. Halaila hazeh kulanu m’subin.

On all other nights we eat either sitting normally or reclining.
Tonight we recline.

By Rabbi Janet Marder
 

There they were at the Seder table, as they always are. Between the first cup and the second cup, right in the middle of the telling of the tale, they made their appearance, right on schedule. First was the wise child, the one who seems to have all the answers; sober, sensible and responsible in everything he does. “We knew the end was coming,” said the wise child. “Mom had a long life, a good life. Her time had come. We wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer. To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”

Next to the wise child sat the wicked child – the rasha, we call him, a word which could just as easily be translated “the angry one, the one who is rebellious, defiant, alienated.” The rashawas full of emotions that made everyone else at the table uncomfortable. “I’m furious,” he says. “I want to smash something or tear someone apart. How could my wife get cancer at her age? Young women aren’t supposed to die.” It’s no good putting your arm around therasha. He takes offense if you try to console him. Rage and resentment radiate from him like an open flame – it is hard to be close to him.

A little ways away sits the simple child, overcome by grief. Her throat aches; tears spill from her eyes; she feels lost and alone. “I miss my daddy,” she says. “I loved him. I need him.”

And over in a corner is the one too devastated to say anything at all. The unthinkable has happened to her. She’s in shock. She walks around in a kind of daze. Half the time she doesn’t know where she is, or what she’s doing. She can barely force herself to get out of bed. Sometimes she stays there all day long.

Four children at the Passover table – four human responses to the death of someone we love. One has found some peace; one, like Amitai Etzioni, is angry; one simply grieves and yearns; one, suffering unbearable loss, has nothing to say. Each year, at Pesach, we revisit them in the Haggadah. Each year, all four are invited to our Seder. All of them are welcome. All of them are honored. We don’t try to change them. We don’t try to move them along or force them to progress. We don’t try to make the other three into the wise child. They all remain themselves.

If the Seder were a lecture hall it would deliver facts and answers, resolving all doubt and confusion. If the Seder were a hospital it would dispense bandages and medicine, promising to take away pain. The Seder is neither of these. It’s a conversation. It’s a place for questions and stories, for open doors and open-ended discussions. If you come to the Seder table angry or sad or quiet nobody will force you to be different. You’re welcomed into the circle as you are. There’s hot chicken soup with matzah balls; there is singing; there are rituals and traditions; you are with family.

We are instructed to help this child by telling the story of when the Jews went forth from Egypt.An open and honest conversation about mental health starts with us. From the child who doesn't know how to ask, we learn accountability and our role in ending the cone of silence around mental health.

For those who don't know where to start, we can begin the conversation. Almost all of us are the child who does not know how to ask at some point in our lives. There are so many reasons we may not know how to ask a question: We don’t have the vocabulary, we don’t know there is a question to ask, or perhaps we aren’t feeling comfortable and safe enough yet.

Let's face it; we don't learn how to talk about mental health in school.

We live in a world with a lot of shame and stigma around mental health disorders, substance abuse and even things as "simple" as depression. The child who does not know how to ask doesn't yet have the language to share what's going on for them, because we have not provided it to them yet. And this is where every Jewish person can have a role.

When we are willing to stand up and share our experiences, to be open and vulnerable, and to start the conversation, we make space for everyone else to share. We send the clear message they are not alone and are supported by our communities. And they also give us the opportunity to enact the Jewish value of kol Yisrael arevim zeh la eh (All Jews are responsible for one another) and tikkim olam (repairing the world).

Our story starts in ancient times, with Abraham, the first person to have the idea that maybe all those little statues his contemporaries worshiped as gods were just statues. The idea of one God, invisible and all-powerful, inspired him to leave his family and begin a new people in Canaan, the land that would one day bear his grandson Jacob’s adopted name, Israel.

God had made a promise to Abraham that his family would become a great nation, but this promise came with a frightening vision of the troubles along the way: “Your descendants will dwell for a time in a land that is not their own, and they will be enslaved and afflicted for four hundred years; however, I will punish the nation that enslaved them, and afterwards they shall leave with great wealth."

Raise the glass of wine and say:

וְהִיא שֶׁעָמְדָה לַאֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ וְלָֽנוּ

V’hi she-amda l’avoteinu v’lanu.

This promise has sustained our ancestors and us.

For not only one enemy has risen against us to annihilate us, but in every generation there are those who rise against us. But God saves us from those who seek to harm us.

The glass of wine is put down.

In the years our ancestors lived in Egypt, our numbers grew, and soon the family of Jacob became the People of Israel. Pharaoh and the leaders of Egypt grew alarmed by this great nation growing within their borders, so they enslaved us. We were forced to perform hard labor, perhaps even building pyramids. The Egyptians feared that even as slaves, the Israelites might grow strong and rebel. So Pharaoh decreed that Israelite baby boys should be drowned, to prevent the Israelites from overthrowing those who had enslaved them.

But God heard the cries of the Israelites. And God brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand and outstretched arm, with great awe, miraculous signs and wonders. God brought us out not by angel or messenger, but through God’s own intervention. 

Pharaoh and Moses Go To A Conflict Counselor

by Dave Cowen

Conflict Counselor
So what brings you two in today?

Pharaoh
Honestly, things have been pretty rough.

Conflict Counselor
Moses, would you say that’s true?

Moses
I’d say it’s been rough but it doesn’t have to be anymore.

Pharaoh
I just don’t understand, you really don’t want to be my slaves anymore?

Moses
No, we don’t.

Conflict Counselor
Pharaoh, what does it feel like to hear Moses say he and his people don’t want to be your slaves anymore?

Pharaoh
You know, it really hurts. I feel like we’ve done some beautiful things together. I mean, we couldn’t have built these pyramids if you weren’t our slaves. And those pyramids wouldn’t be a wonder of the world for years to come if it wasn’t for what we built together.

Moses
But now it’s time for us to go.

Pharaoh
But I think there’s so much more we could still be and do together. We could keep building wonders of the world. We could build a Great Wall or a Hanging Gardens. We could build a Great Library. There’s a site in Alexandria that I think would be perfect for a Great Library.

Moses
But me and my people don’t want to do those things. We want to go to our homeland of Israel

Pharaoh
Ugh. This homeland. Always with this homeland. You think life’s going to be so much better in this magical homeland? Well, I doubt it.

Moses
It’s got to be better than this.

Conflict Counselor
Moses, what happens for you when Pharaoh disregards your wish to go to Israel?

Moses
It’s more what happens to him. G-d’s going to keep plaguing him and his people.

Pharaoh
It’s the worst. First the water turned to blood. Then there were frogs and locusts. And so many other things. So many things.

Moses
And yet you keep resisting what He’s telling you, which is that our relationship is over.

Conflict Counselor
Why do you keep resisting, Pharaoh?

Pharaoh
My heart, it just feels hardened.

Conflict Counselor
Why do you think that is?

Pharaoh
Well, I think I saw Moses’s relatives Jacob and Joseph getting along so well with my Dad, the previous Pharaoh, all those years, and honestly, I feel jealous. Like, why can’t I have that with the Jews, too?

Conflict Counselor
And yet, you have the exact opposite.

Pharaoh
It’s true.

Conflict Counselor
Sometimes the best way to love someone is to let them go, Pharaoh.

Moses
This is your last chance. You saw what G-d just did to the first born.

Conflict Counselor
So what will you do, Pharaoh, will you let Moses and his people go?

Pharaoh
OK, Fine, fine, whatever, fine, OK, sure.

Conflict Counselor
That didn’t sound very sure.

Pharaoh
I’m sure. I am. I’m sure. Just go. Just go.

Conflict Counselor

And you won’t change your mind?

Pharaoh
As of this moment. As of this moment, I can promise I won’t change my mind.

Conflict Counselor
Moses, what would happen if Pharaoh changes his mind again?

Moses
I don’t know. But I don’t think he wants to find out.

Pharaoh
So this concludes our counseling?

Conflict Counselor
I guess it does. If you think this is a real sea change for you, Pharaoh. Do you agree, Pharaoh, that this a real sea change for you?

Pharaoh
I believe it is.

Conflict Counselor
Do you agree, Moses?

Moses
We’ll see what happens to the sea.

Ancient Plague: Blood
Modern Plague:Upheaval and Oppression in Home Countries

Ancient Plague: Frogs
Modern Plague: Poor Access to Education

Ancient Plague: Lice
Modern Plague:Language Access Barriers

Ancient Plague: Wild Beasts
Modern Plague:Wage Theft

Ancient Plague: Pestilence
Modern Plague:Unemployment

Ancient Plague: Boils
Modern Plague:Fear of Law Enforcement

Ancient Plague: Hail
Modern Plague:Housing Obstacles

Ancient Plague: Locusts
Modern Plague:Racism and Racial Profiling

Ancient Plague: Darkness
Modern Plague:Inability to Secure Documentation
 

Ancient Plague: Slaying of the Firstborn
Modern Plague:Separation of Families
 

As we rejoice at our deliverance from slavery, we acknowledge that our freedom was hard-earned. We regret that our freedom came at the cost of the Egyptians’ suffering, for we are all human beings made in the image of God. We pour out a drop of wine for each of the plagues as we recite them.

Dip a finger or a spoon into your wine glass for a drop for each plague.

These are the ten plagues which God brought down on the Egyptians:

Blood | dam | דָּם

Frogs | tzfardeiya |  צְפַרְדֵּֽעַ

Lice | kinim | כִּנִּים

Beasts | arov | עָרוֹב

Cattle disease | dever | דֶּֽבֶר

Boils | sh’chin | שְׁחִין

Hail | barad | בָּרָד

Locusts | arbeh | אַרְבֶּה

Darkness | choshech | חֹֽשֶׁךְ

Death of the Firstborn | makat b’chorot | מַכַּת בְּכוֹרוֹת

The Egyptians needed ten plagues because after each one they were able to come up with excuses and explanations rather than change their behavior. Could we be making the same mistakes? Make up your own list. What are the plagues in your life? What are the plagues in our world today? What behaviors do we need to change to fix them? 

The traditional haggadah speaks of Ten Plagues by which God accomplished our liberation from Egypt. Tonight, we enumerate plagues of psychiatric conditions, which hinder our sense of wholeness, health, and freedom. For each one, our cup of joy is diminished by one drop:

ANXIETY

EATING DISORDERS

IMPULSIVITY

MEDICATIONS

STIGMA

DEPRESSION

FEAR OF DISAPPROVAL

LOSS

MOOD SWINGS

YEARS OF THERAPY

And some say:

LOW SELF-ESTEEM

OBSESSIVE-COMPULSION

PARANOIA

GRANDIOSITY

DISASSOCIATION

ISOLATION

MELANCHOLY

HOPEFULNESS

PSYCHOSIS

SUICIDAL IDEATION

At the seder we say/sing that:

If we had been brought out of Egypt, Dayenu

If we had received Torah, Dayenu

If we had received Manna, Dayenu

Etc.

Dayenu means “it would have been enough.” The idea is to be grateful for what one has; to count our blessings. Think of dayenu as a template for gratitude. 

But think, too, about how actually it is to enough to be satisfied when there is still suffering and oppression. Some say “lo dayenu,” meaning, “it is not enough.” 

When we are free and others are not, lo dayenu

We work to find the balance between being grateful for what is right with our lives and with the world, and also striving for more that fulfills us and more that increases justice in the world. 

From Marti Keller:

DAH YAY NU “ It would have been enough.”

Everyone Join in Song ( we will just sing the Chorus)

EE-LOO HO-TSI AH-NOO

HO-TSI AH-NOO MEE-MITS-RAY-YEEM

HO-TSI AH-NOO MEE MITS-RA-YEEM

DAH YAY-NOO.

DAH-DAH YAY-NOO, DAH DAH YAY-NOO

DAH DAH YAY-NOO, DAH=YAY NOO DAH YAY NOO

Dayenu- the recognition of and giving of blessings of life, no matter what trials. No matter what we have been given to work with.

It is after the telling of the parting of the Sea of Reeds and the Egyptian army has been turned back, after Miriam, Moses' sister, dances as she crosses over the shallow river bed that the Dayenu is sung. We are told that the Dayenu is a blessing is for all that led to the deliverance of the Jewish people. The traditional Dayenu has 15 verses, shaped and modified over the centuries:15 different thanks and praises.

Dayenu. Dayenu. Dayenu.

One rabbi has said that it is a Zen Koan in the midst of a bible story. Even before we are freed, we are given enough, we are given what we need. In the story of the Exodus, even before we are given the tablets of laws, we are given enough, we are given what we need. Even before we cross into the Promised Land, even if we never reach it, we are given what we need.

The story of the Exodus, the Passover myth, the Dayenu blessings, remind us of the difference between freedom—being released from captivity or slavery from being physically bound or imprisoned—and true liberation from all the emotional and social oppressions that keep us captive. The kind of liberation that finally frees us from just surviving, the most superficial safety, and allows for the kind of salvation and redemption that in freeing us, frees the whole world…

As one Passover Hagadaah urges us- we can sing Dah Yay Nu to celebrate each step we take toward liberation as if it were enough and then start on the next step. We can say today, though, these gifts are not enough unless we apply these lessons to our daily lives. The freedom struggle continues and there are many wrongs we must right before we are fully satisfied. *

Full liberation for all.

Passover Haggadah Congregation Kol Chaim 1999

Matza, or unleavened bread, is one of the staples of the Passover seder. But what can matza teach us? Use this extended meditation by Rabbi Jay Michaelson to explore how matza can instruct us in conscious, embodied living.

Jewish law requires that a surprisingly large amount of matzamaror, and matza/maror "sandwich" be eaten during the Passover seder. Most observance of this mitzvah falls into one of two categories: ignoring the legal requirements, or wolfing down huge sheets of unleavened bread in a mixture of piety and masochism.

I think that these size requirements, though, are really demanding that we eat enough matza and maror to notice it. Thus, I recommend turning the practice into an eating meditation.

Let's focus on the matza . You might begin with a contemplation of the matza itself, using the four worlds as a guiding map.

On the level of asiyah (action, materiality, body), feel the matza itself, its weight, the way it feels in your hand. Notice if any sensations arise in the body: salivation, perhaps. Then move to the level of yetzirah (formation, emotion, heart): notice what the large piece of matza evokes in your heart. Are you looking forward to eating it? Dreading it? Worrying about your digestion? Maybe you're remembering -- perhaps very subtly -- seders past, when you sat with your parents and schemed around the Afikoman. Maybe you're feeling, at this moment, some of the love, or trepidation, or confusion, of the seder where you are. Try to feel these emotions in the body, as events of the body, and see them for what they are: simultaneously evanescent and essential.

On the level of briyah (creation, thought, mind), I invite you to consider all that went into the production of this matza. How many people -- the farmers growing the grain, the bakers, the mashgiach (supervisor of the kosher status of the food), the truck drivers -- were involved in bringing it to your table? Think about the ingredients of the matza , along the lines of Thich Nhat Hanh's "Interbeing": the matza depends on wheat which depends on rain which depends on clouds. Without the cloud, there is no matza . Or, the matza depends on a baker whose life depends on a myriad of causes and coincidences. Let your mind expand the matza beyond the sheet in your hand, to as many causes in the universe as you care to imagine. Know that everything we hold, everything we see, is part of a web of life.

Finally, on the level of atzilut (emanation, spirit, soul), allow yourself to ask: if the matza is really just a node on this "web of life," what is it, really? What is "matza" about matza ? What is "you" about you? Everything we are, and everything we see, is really a cause or condition of something else, fleeting, empty of separateness, and unable to satisfy us on a permanent basis. Consider, too, the context of this matza -- its symbolism, and how the bread of slaves became the bread of freedom, due only to the context of its creation.

Okay, you can eat.

As you eat, work again through these four worlds. Notice the physical sensation of the matza in your mouth. Experiment with not swallowing anything that hasn't been thoroughly mashed up and liquified (this can take a while with matza ...), and see how that feels. Emotionally, do you feel connected? Resentful? Curious? Nostalgic? Try to call the mind back, when it wanders, to this moment, eating this food, as Jews have done for three thousand years.

On the intellectual level, consider the matza in the light of the four elements, which, while not scientifically descriptive of reality, do describe our experience remarkably well. Can you taste the earth-element in the matza? How about fire -- necessary to bake it, perhaps evinced by some burn marks, and also, in some systems of thought, necessary to digest it as well? Notice how your mouth releases water to help chew the dry food. And observe that, even in unleavened bread, there are small pockets of air. Really, our experience of the matza is really an experience of its constituent parts. There is never a moment at which we experience "matza" -- it's always an experience of an ingredient, which is itself actually an experience of particular chemical properties. On our phenomenal level, we experience matza . But if there really is an Infinite Being, who is eating and what is being eaten?

Sometimes we leap right into the historical, legal, and cultural aspects of the matza and maror. This is alright, but if you think about it, they're all on the intellectual plane, with only small tinges of the spiritual and emotional. What about our bodies, our hearts, and our souls? Eating matza is one of many embodied practices within the Jewish tradition; it connects us to the Earth and draws our attention to the cyclicality and the linearity of our lived experience. So I invite you to use mindfulness to enliven your seder, not by distraction, but by attention. Take as long as you need; the gefilte fish won't spoil, and neither will the salty egg. This act of eating connects you to generations of godwrestlers. If you pay enough attention to it, you might taste the Oneness they encountered all those years ago, one Egyptian night, rushing into freedom.

NOTZI-MATZAH

[HOLD UP THE MATZAH]

MATZAH - Why do we eat matzah?
Matzah is the symbol of our affliction and our freedom.
Legend has it that when Moses and his followers fled Egypt,
they moved so quickly that the bread they baked did not have time to rise.

However, scholars have noted that long before the Jews celebrated Passover,
Middle Eastern farmers celebrated a spring festival of unleavened bread.
This was a festival where unleavened bread was made
from the fresh barley grain newly harvested at this time of the year.

The old fermented sourdough starter was thrown out
so that last year's grain would not be mixed with this year's.
Therefore, the new season began with the eating of fresh unleavened bread - matzah.
Later on, the Jewish people incorporated this agricultural festival
into the celebration of freedom and renewal we now call Passover.

Leader:
Let us now say a blessing for the matzah.

A BLESSING FOR THE UNLEAVENED BREAD

Leader:

Notzi matzah -- lechem min ha-Aretz
K'dei she-nistapek v'nit kol kel kulanu.

Everyone:

Let us bring forth matzah - bread from the land,
So that we all may be satisfied and sustained.

Maror is supposed to represent the bitterness of slavery, and it does. But this representation more complicated than a simple “slavery = bad.”

The order of the Seder is the first clue.

We would think it should be Maror, Pesach, Matzah : slavery, sacrifice, freedom.

But it’s not.

In the Haggadah, matzah appears first, before pesach and maror.

This chronological aberration is a clue to the deeper meaning of maror. It represents the bitterness not of the generations of slavery, but of the Exodus itself, and the terrible things that happened during it: the death of the first born and the destruction of the Egyptian army in the Sea of Reeds. These events were apparently necessary to bring liberation, but they were terrible. In virtue ethics we would call them “dirty hands” actions.

The Mishna (rabbinic commentaries) conveys the message this way: As the Egyptians are drowning in the sea, the angels burst into song. God rebukes them, saying, “My creatures are perishing, and you sing hymns?”

But it’s important to note that this sentiment is entirely absent from the Torah itself. It was added much later, when the Mishna was written. And only after that did we begin spilling drops of wine from our glasses to symbolize the ten plagues.

This is why Maror comes after Pesach and Matzah – after the celebration of freedom.

It was only from the safety of freedom that we could recognize the tragedy of the tenth plague and the destruction of the army in the sea. Having just emerged from slavery, our ancestors had no room in their hearts for regret over the Egyptians’ suffering. But maror still symbolizes the bitterness of slavery, because it was generations of slavery that made us unable to respond the way we should have. Suffering and oppression can inflict moral damage and limit our repertoire of emotional responses. Moral damage is one the many bitter harms of slavery.

So this is not only an explanation of why maror is last, but why we eat it at all. It’s there to make us taste the bitterness not of what they did to us, but of what we did to them.

The Seder is often compared to a Greek symposium, but in the case of Maror, it also serves the function of a Greek tragedy. Tragedy, according to Aristotle, is the practice field of extraordinary virtue. By immersing ourselves in stories of tragic heroes facing unusual circumstances, we train our own responses to better enable us to face similar challenges. The same thing is going on at the Seder table. This is why we place ourselves personally in the Exodus, and why we say “because of what God did for me. ” Through smell and taste and narrative and emotion, we are experiencing the Exodus as if we had been there. The symbolism of the Seder rituals helps guide us through the narrative, all the while guiding us toward the virtuous emotional response.

We taste the sweetness of freedom, but not without the bitterness of what we had to do to get there. And we remind ourselves that even when we rejoice in our own liberation, we must also be mindful of its costs.

Now take a kezayit (the volume of one olive) of the maror. Dip it into the Charoset, but not so much that the bitter taste is neutralized. Recite the following blessing and then eat the maror (without reclining):

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מָרוֹר.

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al achilat maror.

Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has taught us the way of holiness through commandments, commanding us to eat the bitter herb.

THE HIDDEN SINGER

The gods are less for their love of praise.

Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing but its own wholeness, its health and ours.

It has made all things by dividing itself.

It will be whole again.

To its joy we come together --

 the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten,

the lover and the loved.

In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then,

not as the gods whose names crest in unearthly fire,

but as a little bird hidden in the leaves

who sings quietly and waits, and sings.

by Wendell Berry

The Barech section of the seder is a reminder to pause to be grateful for the meal we have eaten. Sometimes people speed through blessings to check the box of barech but let's take a special moment to be mindful. 

We are grateful for the earth that provides beauty, sustenance, and abundance. 

We are grateful for the farmers, the grocer store workers, all those who work to ensure food arrives at our table. 

We are grateful for those who prepared our food. 

We are grateful for those who share our meal and our seder.

We are grateful for those who work to ensure food access and security for all. 

We are grateful for our food, nourishing us in body and soul. 

Miriam was a prophet and the sister of Moses who, after crossing the Sea of Reeds, led the women in song and dance with tambourines. She is described as being courageous, confident, insightful and nurturing. Is there a musician or artist today inspires you in a similar way?

We add a cup of water for Miriam, who sustained the Israelites during their years in the desert by calling forth a flowing well
 to quench their thirst. As we work to perfect our world in pursuit of the redemption promised by Elijah, we turn to Miriam's well for the sustenance 
to do this work.

Eliyahu haNavi Eliyahu haTishbi

Eliyahu, Eliyahu, Eliyahu haGiladi

Bimheirah b’yameinu, yavo eileinu

Im mashiach ben-David, Im mashiach ben-David

Elijah the prophet, the returning, the man from Gilead:

Return to us soon, in our days, with the messiah, son of David.

Miriam haNeviah oz v’zimrah b’yadah

Miriam tirkod itanu l’hagdil zimrat olam

Miriam tirkod itanu l’takein et ha’Olam

Bimheira b’yameinu hi tevi’enu

El mei ha’yeshua, el mei ha’yeshua

Miriam the prophetess, strength and song in her hand,

Miriam dance with us to increase the song of the world

Miriam dance with us to repair the world

Soon, in our days, she will bring us to the waters of redemption

Octavia Butler quote:

"All that you touch you change. All that you change, changes you. The only lasting truth is change. God is change."

NIRTZAH: NEXT YEAR IN A JUST WORLD

The traditional aspiration, “Next Year in Jerusalem,” represents a millennia-old hope for redemption. Tonight, our yearning takes the form of hope and action for a more just world.

Join us, this year, in helping achieve...

Freedom from bigotry and oppression
Equality for minorities shunned by prejudice and hatred
Respect for the aspirations and humanity of women and girls Acceptance for people persecuted for who they are or whom they love

Sustenance for communities living in hunger
Peace in societies torn by war
A safe harbor for refugees and survivors of violence
And the promise of dignity and human rights for all.

Together, with those around this Seder table and with our global family connected by our collective pursuit of justice, we pray: “Next year in a just world.” And through our actions from this Passover to the next, let us make this dream a reality.

Traditionally, the Seder is concluded with the prayer for "next year in Jerusalem." Let us conclude our Seder this year with the prayer that next year will bring us closer to liberation for all including:

Peace within ourselves and our comunity

Safe harbor for refugees and immigrants

Respect for the aspiration and humanity of women and girls

The promise of dignity and human rights for every human regardless of age, race, sexual orientation, physical or mental abilitity 

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver

Rumi, the Persian poet of the soul, understands the meaning of love in this way:

            Your task is not to seek love

            But merely to seek and find all the barriers

            That you have built against it.

            The same can be said of freedom; we build barriers against it, barriers born of fear-fear of death, fear of not having enough, fear of not being enough, fear of being happy. An antidote to these fears is gratefulness; when we cultivate our awareness of life as a gift freely given, instead of our enslavement to greed we learn the liberating power of  gratitude; we recognize our thankfulness for who we are rather than being trapped by the  compulsion to be perfect; rather than the fear of and the fixation on tomorrow, we feel the joy of the moment; we discover the capacity  to shed the chains of paralyzing guilt and embrace instead  the redeeming possibilities of gratefulness as the impetus for doing the good and the compassionate in life.      

            Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, and confusion into clarity. It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow.

At Passover, we receive a personal directive to create an inclusive and welcoming community. Even when we intend to be welcoming, many in our community still feel like strangers. The things that divide us — race, ethnicity, gender, class, religion, among others — also have the power to unite us. During the Seder, we are each meant to remember that we ourselves were once strangers in a strange land. If the Jewish community is to be a home for all, we must make room at the table and share our stories. We hope this supplement will inspire thought, conversation and action; each and every one of us can be the welcome that another needs.

This short supplement can be inserted after the Maggid or beginning of the Passover Story: "This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat; whoever is in need, let him come and conduct the Seder of Passover. This year [we are] here; next year in the land of Israel. This year [we are] slaves; next year [we will be] free people."

Leader: At the start of the Seder, Jews around the world welcome all those who want to join us at our tables, in our homes, and in our community.

Leader: We welcome Jews of all ethnic backgrounds to join us at our table;
All: There are many ways to express and celebrate Jewish traditions.

Leader: We welcome Jews of all races to join us at our table;
All: We learn and grow from many points of view.

Leader: We welcome those who have chosen Judaism to join us at our table;
All: New enthusiasm and energy revitalizes the Jewish people.

Leader: We welcome all those exploring or connected to Judaism to join us at our table;
All: A variety of experiences and understandings strengthen the Jewish people.

Leader: We welcome those of other faiths or traditions to join us at our table;
All: We know that sharing our stories will help build a future of freedom.

All: We welcome all who have ever felt like strangers to our table. Tonight we go forth together for we are all strangers in Egypt.

Optional discussion question - Share a time when you felt like an outsider but were actively welcomed into a new community or space. How did that happen? How did it make you feel?

Download here:https://globaljews.org/resources/publications/welcoming-all-an-inclusive-passover-reading/