The seder officially begins with a physical act: lighting the candles.  In Jewish tradition, lighting candles and saying a blessing over them marks a time of transition, from the day that is ending to the one that is beginning, from ordinary time to sacred time.  Lighting the candles is an important part of our Passover celebration because their flickering light reminds us of the importance of keeping the fragile flame of freedom alive in the world.

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Yom Tov.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with laws and commanded us to light the festival lights.

As we light the festival candles, we acknowledge that as they brighten our Passover table, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds brighten our days.

Here We Are

Source: Jonathan Safran Foer

Hineni. Here we are, gathered to celebrate the oldest continuously practiced ritual in the Western world, to retell what is arguably the best known of all stories, to take part in the most widely practiced Jewish holiday. Here we are as last year, and as we hope to be next year. Here we are, as night descends in succession over all of the Jews of the world, with a book in front of us.

Jews have a special relationship with books. In the absence of a stable homeland, Jews have made their home in books, and the Haggadah has been translated more widely, and reprinted more often, than any other Jewish book. It is not a work of history or philosophy, not a prayer book, user’s manual, timeline, poem, or palimpsest – and yet it is all of these things. The Torah is the foundational text for Jewish law, but the Haggadah is our book of living memory. We are not merely telling a story here. We are being called to a radical act of empathy. Here we are, embarking on an ancient, perennial attempt to give human life – our lives – dignity.

Here we are: Individuals remembering a shared past in pursuit of a shared destiny. The seder is a protest against despair. The universe might appear deaf to our fears and hopes, but we are not – so we gather, and share them, and pass them down. We have been waiting for this moment for thousands of years – more than one hundred generations of Jews have been here as we are – and we will continue to wait for it. And we will not wait idly.

All Jewish celebrations, from holidays to weddings, include wine as a symbol of our joy – not to mention a practical way to increase that joy. The seder starts with wine and then gives us three more opportunities to refill our cup and drink.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who chose us from all peoples and languages, and sanctified us with commandments, and lovingly gave to us special times for happiness, holidays and this time of celebrating the Holiday of Matzah, the time of liberation, reading our sacred stories, and remembering the Exodus from Egypt. For you chose us and sanctified us among all peoples. And you have given us joyful holidays. We praise God, who sanctifies the people of Israel and the holidays.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם
 שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶּה

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam,
she-hechiyanu v’key’manu v’higiyanu lazman hazeh.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything,
who has kept us alive, raised us up, and brought us to this happy moment.

Drink the first glass of wine!

This symbolic washing of the hands recalls the story of Miriam's Well. Legend tells us that this well followed Miriam, sister of Moses, through the desert, sustaining the Jews in their wanderings. Filled with mayim chayim, waters of life, the well was a source of strength and renewal to all who drew from it. One drink from its waters was said to alert the heart, mind and soul, and make the meaning of Torah become alive.

As we prepare to wash our hands, we must remember that...many in the United States and around the world do not have access to clean water. Clean water is not a privilege; it is a basic human right. One in ten people currently lack access to clean water. That’s nearly 1 billion people in the world without clean, safe drinking water. Almost 3.5 million people die every year because of inadequate water supply.

We symbolize the uplifting of cleansed hands by raising hands into the air. 

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?

By breaking bread and setting it aside:
[Someone at each table: Break the middle matzah or other bread of the poor in two. Put the larger piece aside, leaving the smaller on the plate. Uncover the remaining piece of bread, lift up the dish and say:]
This is the pressed-down bread of the oppressed that our forebears ate in the Tight and Narrow Land (Mitzrayim, Egypt, where the Israelites were enslaved), and this [lift up some other bread of the poor—tortilla, flatbread, etc.] is the bread of the oppressed today. Let all who are hungry eat, and all who are in need come and celebrate the Passover.
[Put the matzah and bread back, covered, on the plate. Then lift the larger piece and say the following.]

Why do we break this bread in two? Because if we hold on to the whole loaf for ourselves, it remains the bread of oppression. If we break it in order to share it, it becomes the bread of freedom.

In the world today, there are still some who are so pressed-down that they have not even this bread of oppression to eat. There are so many who are hungry that they cannot all come and eat with us tonight. Therefore we say to them, we set aside this bread as a reminder that we owe you justice and a share of the earth's fruitfulness, and that we will work to make the sharing real.

In the same way, if we human beings try to gobble up all the abundance of the world and leave nothing for the other forms of life to eat and breathe and drink, the abundance withers away into the death of many life-forms and despair for ourselves.

If we renew the earth's abundance for other life-forms besides ourselves, the earth will flourish and all beings will have enough to eat. Share your bread with the hungry, says YHWH, the Breath of Life.

This year we share in a world of greed and war, but we pledge to work during this coming year so that we can share and celebrate in a world at 

peace.

[Resume taking turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]

Passover is the celebration of life. The story of the Jewish people is truly a triumph of life. Against the odds of history, the Jewish people have done more than survive - we have adapted creatively to each new time, each new place, from the birth of our people to the present day.

Even though death has pursued us relentlessly, time and time again, we have chosen to live. During the many centuries of the Jewish experience, memories of destruction are tempered by the knowledge that the world can also be good.

We have endured slavery and humiliation. We have also enjoyed freedom and power. Darkness has been balanced by light.

Our forebears traveled the Earth in search of the safety and liberty they knew must exist. We have learned to endure. We have learned to progress.

We are proud survivors. We celebrate our good fortune and seek the advancement of all.

Leader:

One of the customs of the seder is the asking of questions - questions about what the ritual actions of the seder mean. The Passover tradition involves the youngest children asking - actually singing - about these matters in a song we call "The Four Questions." 

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.

The Torah describes four children who ask questions about the Exodus. Tradition teaches that these verses refer to four different types of children.

The wise child asks, “What are the laws that God has commanded us?”
The parent should answer by instructing the child in the laws of Passover, starting from the beginning and ending with the laws of the Afikomen.

The wicked child asks, “What does this Passover service mean to you?”
The parent should answer, “It is because of what God did for me when I came out of Egypt. Specifically ‘me’ and not ‘you.’ If you had been there (with your attitude), you wouldn’t have been redeemed.”

The simple child asks, “What is this Seder service?”
The parent should answer, “With a mighty hand God brought us out of Egypt.
Therefore, we commemorate that event tonight through this Seder.”

And then there is child who does not know how to ask.
The parent should begin a discussion with that child based on the verse:
“And you shall tell your child on that day, ‘We commemorate Passover tonight because of what God did for us when we went out of Egypt.’”

“People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating we seek to be amused or entertained. Celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation. To be entertained is a passive state--it is to receive pleasure afforded by an amusing act or a spectacle.... Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one's actions. ― Abraham Joshua Heschel

This is what every Seder is about. Celebration of freedom, expressing reverence, appreciation, and confronting who we were and who we have become.

NARRATOR 1 (10 LINES)
NARRATOR 2 (13 LINES)
PHARAOH (15 LINES)
SLAVE (2 LINES)
HERALD (1 LINE)
MOSES (8 LINES)
GOD (7 LINES)
PHARAOH’S SON (2 LINES)
AARON (12 LINES)
SHEEP (2 LINES)
YOCHEVED (1 LINE)
PRINCESS (4 LINES)
PRINCESS’S ATTENDANT (4 LINES)
MIRIAM (4 LINES)

NARRATOR 1: The story of Moses and the Exodus from Egypt has been told thousands of times. It’s a reminder to the Jewish people that once we were slaves in Egypt, but now we are free. And so, this year, as in years before, generation upon generation, we tell the story of Passover. Now, I invite you to relax and listen to this tale. We begin in Pharaoh’s Palace.

PHARAOH: Yes, I’ll have more grapes. This morning I took a tour of all of my new pyramids and I’m totally exhausted.

SLAVE: Yes, your highness. I must tell you that as a slave, we are really doing a fine job at building those pyramids. Carrying bricks is just the discipline that my fourteen sons need.

PHARAOH: Fourteen? Did you say fourteen sons?

SLAVE: Indeed I did, your most fabulousness.

PHARAOH: Leave my quarters. I’ve gotta think. This could be bad...really bad. I mean, I love having these Hebrew slaves, but there are just SO many of them! They are not Egyptians, and as shocking as it might be, I don’t think they even like me. What if there’s a war and they join my enemies and fight against me? I am going to try to find a way to decrease this Jewish-Hebrew slave population.

HERALD: Hear ye, hear ye. It is hereby decreed by Pharaoh, ruler of the land of Egypt, that any son born to a Jew is to be drowned in the Sea of Reeds.

ALL: NOOOOOOO!!!!!

NARRATOR 2: Our story continues at the banks of the Nile River, where we meet Yocheved, a Jewish woman with a newborn son.

YOCHEVED: (distraught) Oh no! Did you hear about Pharaoh’s awful decree? I knew he was mean, but now he’s killing our babies?! I need to hide my beautiful baby boy.

NARRATOR 2: So Yocheved wove a basket of reeds, which is another word for long bamboo-like sticks, put her son into it and hid it in the tall grass by the river. She then sent her young daughter Miriam to hide nearby and keep watch. The Pharaoh’s daughter, who was a princess, eventually came down to the water to bathe and heard cries coming from the river.

PRINCESS: What is this?

PRINCESS’S ATTENDANT: It appears to be a baby, your highness.

PRINCESS: A baby?

PRINCESS’S ATTENDANT: Why, yes, your highness.

NARRATOR 2: She pulled the baby out of the water.

PRINCESS: Oh, it must be one of those Jewish babies that my dad, the Pharaoh, wants to kill. But look at this little guy. He seems so beautiful and innocent. I know, I’ll take him home and raise him as my son. He will love me and respect me as his mother.

PRINCESS’S ATTENDANT: As you wish.

MIRIAM: (as she comes out of her hiding place) Excuse me, your majesty, but would you like me to call a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby, so that your attendant can continue to tend to you instead of being distracted by the baby?

PRINCESS: Good idea. I hadn’t thought of that. All right, your Hebrew woman may nurse my child, and when he is old enough to walk, she shall bring him to the palace for me to raise. I am going to name him “Moses,” which means “drawn from the water.”

PRINCESS’S ATTENDANT: Whatever you say, your majesty.

NARRATOR 1: And so Yocheved’s son, Moses, grew up as the Pharaoh’s adopted grandson, with all the riches and prestige that such a position entailed. But when he was young, Yocheved told Moses that he was Jewish, so he always had great compassion for the Hebrew slaves. One day, he came upon an Egyptian guard beating an old Jewish slave. Moses got so angry that he killed the guard. Of course, by doing so he was breaking the law. He feared the consequences, so he ran away ran away from the palace into the desert, and became a shepherd. That where we pick up the story now.

SHEEP: Baaaa

NARRATOR 2: One fine morning, one of Moses’s sheep strayed a bit from the path.

SHEEP: I said, “Baaaa!”

NARRATOR 2: Moses followed the sheep and came across a burning bush. It was the craziest thing. This green bush was on fire, but instead of burning up and getting all crinkled and then black, it stayed green. This was, of course, a miracle. It was God, getting Moses’s attention so that he could talk to him. It worked.

GOD: Moses! Moses!

MOSES: Here I am.

GOD: I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. I have seen the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry. I have come to deliver them out of the hands of the Egyptians, and to bring them out of that place unto a good land, flowing with milk and honey. Now, Moses, I need you to go back to Pharaoh and tell him to let the Jews go free and then you will need to lead the Jews out of Egypt.

NARRATOR 1: It’s important to know that Moses stuttered whenever he spoke, so he was always nervous to speak in public.

MOSES: B-b-but why should… I mean, why, why should I be the one t-t-to lead m-m-my people?

GOD: Fear not – I will be with you.

MOSES: Whah-what shhhould I t-t-t-ell the p-p-people?

GOD: Just tell the Children of Israel, also known as the Jews, also now known as the slaves, that they need to listen to you, because you speak for me. Tell them to leave their homes and everything they have always known and follow you to the wilderness.

MOSES: That is c-c-c-c-crazy. They’ll n-never l-listen and besides, I am s-s-s-s-s-low of s-s-s-p-p-peech and s-s-s-s-low of t-t-tongue.

GOD: You’re right, it will not be easy. I forgot to mention Pharaoh is not going to simply agree to let his slaves go free. He will take some convincing, and it will not be pretty.

MOSES: Puh-puh-puh-please send s-s-s-someone else…

GOD: Your brother Aaron speaks well, right? He will have to help. I will only speak to you, but you can tell Aaron what I said, and he can be the one who speaks to Pharaoh and the people.

NARRATOR 2: And so Moses and Aaron went to the people of Israel and convinced them that God had spoken to Moses. Then they went to see Pharaoh at the palace.

AARON: Pharaoh, we are here to demand, in the name of our all-powerful and all-knowing God, that you release the Hebrew people from bondage.

PHARAOH: LOL. That is really amusing, guys. So, Moses, back after all of these years to bring shame on your own house and your own grandfather?

AARON: You cared for my brother for many years. At one time, he loved you as a grandfather. But he is the son of a Hebrew slave. If you love him, you will let his people go.

PHARAOH’S YOUNG SON: Moses! I missed you! (Looks at Aaron.) Hey, who are you?

AARON: I am Aaron, Moses’s brother.

PHARAOH’S YOUNG SON: I thought I was his brother!

AARON: Pharaoh, if you do not release the Hebrews, Egypt will be smitten with a greater plague than it has ever before seen.

PHARAOH: There is no way I am going to do that! I don’t know this God you are talking about, and I will not let your people go. Now get out of my palace!

NARRATOR 1: To punish Pharaoh for his refusal to let the Jews go, God turned the water of the Nile to blood. It was horrible. Everyone needs fresh water to live, and instead of water, the entire river ran red with blood. Pharaoh was furious, and he called Moses and Aaron back to the palace.

PHARAOH: OK, this is horrible! The Nile River has turned to blood, and it’s your fault! Everyone is freaking out. Maybe your God is powerful after all. If I let your people go, will he turn the river back to water?

AARON: Yes, of course. We don’t want to harm your people, we just want to leave and be free.

PHARAOH: Fine, then go.

NARRATOR 2: So Aaron and Moses left the palace and told the Jewish people to start getting ready for their journey. But then…

PHARAOH: Get Moses and Aaron back here!

AARON: Yes, Pharaoh? We were just leaving.

PHARAOH: Not so fast. I realized that when you go I will have no one to build my pyramids. So I have hardened my heart and changed my mind. You need to stay.

MOSES: B-b-b-ut Pharaoh, m-m-m-ore terrible things will happen to the Egyptian people if you do not let us go!

PHARAOH: I will take my chances. Now get out of my palace, and tell the Jews to get back to work!

NARRATOR 2: Soon, Egypt was overrun with another of God’s plagues… frogs. Wherever you looked, there were frogs all over the land. As you can imagine, it was awful. So Pharaoh called Moses and Aaron back to the palace and told them he would now allow the Jews to leave Egypt. But when they were ready to leave, Pharaoh changed his mind again. This happened every time!

NARRATOR 1: The next plague God sent was lice....people and animals all got lice. Then flies everywhere. Then cattle disease...so all the cows got sick and died, then boils… terrible blisters on everyone… then hail fell from the sky – big pieces of hail, as big as ping-pong balls. Then locusts, which ate the plants, including all of the crops.

NARRATOR 2: So between the cattle disease, which ruined the meat, and the hail and locusts which wrecked the crops, Egypt was in bad shape. People were hungry. Then came the plague of darkness. The sun never rose, and people were frightened and cold. The plagues were spreading fear and sickness across Egypt.

NARRATOR 1: But the crazy thing was, after each plague, Pharaoh would call Moses and Aaron to the palace and tell them that if their God made the plague stop, the Jews could leave Egypt. So God would end the plague, and then Pharaoh would harden his heart and change his mind, keeping the Jews in bondage. It was a mess!

PHARAOH: Who is this God of yours? How is it that each of these plagues only affects the Egyptians and not the Hebrews!? Get out!

AARON: Pharaoh, our God is all-powerful! We don’t know what we can do to make you see thatyou must give in. We’re warning you now that God has told Moses what the next plague will be. He’s going to kill the firstborn of every Egyptian household, including your youngest son. Pharaoh, don’t let this happen! Let my people go!

PHARAOH: I do not know your God, and I will not let your people go. Get out of my house! GET OUT!

NARRATOR 2: God then came to Moses and instructed him to have all the Jewish people slay a lamb and smear some of its blood on the doorposts of their houses and gates. Then, when the Angel of Death flew over Egypt, he took the lives of all of the firstborn, except for those in the homes marked with blood. Pharaoh’s own son died. It was devastating. The people of Egypt were mourning. Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh yet again.

AARON: Pharaoh, the grandfather my brother once loved, we are truly sorry for your loss.

PHARAOH: Go away! Go away and leave me to my grief!

AARON: But Pharaoh, now that you have seen how powerful God is, will you let my people go?

PHARAOH: Be gone already! You and your people! You have ruined my empire.

NARRATOR 1: So Aaron and Moses left Pharaoh and went to the Jews.

AARON: Listen to me everyone! Remember this day, when you were able to leave Egypt, we were slaves and now we are going to be free and God will guide us out of here to the Promised Land.

MOSES: We m-m-m-must go fast! We must m-m-m-make food, but… but… we must go before… before… Pharaoh changes his mind again.

AARON: He won’t change his mind. Not this time.

MIRIAM: Moses, if we leave right now, the bread won’t have time to rise.

MOSES: F-f-f-forget the bread, let’s go!

NARRATOR 2: Most of the Jews went with Moses and Aaron. But some felt the whole idea of leaving their homes and going some unknown land was crazy, so they stayed in Egypt. But meanwhile…

PHARAOH: I have just let my slaves all go. This is not good for the people of Egypt. All that my forefathers have worked for will vanish if I lose the Hebrew slaves. Who will build the cities? The entire economy of Egypt will collapse. It will be the end of an empire. I WANT THEM BACK!

NARRATOR 1: So once again, Pharaoh had hardened his heart. He got his army together and went after the Jews. Because they were walking and had a lot of kids with them who were slow walkers, the Jews had only gotten a few miles away from Egypt and they were really close to the Red Sea.

MIRIAM: Look! The Egyptians are coming! They will kill us all! They will work us to death! Moses, do something!

AARON: Don’t be afraid. God has handled things for us before, and I don’t think he would have made all those plagues just to have us die at the edge of the Red Sea now.

NARRATOR 2: Then God spoke to Moses.

GOD: Moses! Lift thy rod and stretch out thy hand over the sea, and divide it; and the children of Israel shall go across the sea safely.

NARRATOR 1: It was amazing. When Moses raised his rod, the water of the sea parted, and the children of Israel walked across on the ground at the bottom of the sea. They were totally fine. But when Pharaoh’s armies followed to catch them, the waters closed in and Pharaoh’s armies were drowned.

MIRIAM: That was a miracle! We made it across the Red Sea! I don’t know what God has in store for us next, but at last, we are free!

NARRATOR 2: And Miriam took a timbrel – which is another word for a tambourine – in her hand; and all of the women went out after her with their timbrels and danced and sang. This kicked off a trek of forty years through the desert.

NARRATOR 1: It was also when God starting sending manna, food from the sky that tasted like anything you wanted it to and sustained the Jews until they reached the Holy Land of Israel. But all of that is for another story. In the meantime, Happy Passover!

THE END!

In every generation, one must see himself as if he himself had personally come out of Egypt, as it is said: “You should say to your son on that day, ‘It is because of that which God did to me when I left Egypt.’ It is not only our ancestors that the Holy One Blessed Be He redeemed. Rather, he redeemed us too, along with them, as it is said: “He brought us out of there, in order so that he could bring us to and give us the land which He had promised to our ancestors.”

Leader:
Let us all refill our cups.

[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]

Tonight we drink four cups of the fruit of the vine.
There are many explanations for this custom.
They may be seen as symbols of various things:
the four corners of the earth, for freedom must live everywhere;
the four seasons of the year, for freedom's cycle must last through all the seasons;
or the four matriarchs: Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel.

A full cup of wine symbolizes complete happiness.
The triumph of Passover is diminished by the sacrifice of many human lives
when ten plagues were visited upon the people of Egypt.
In the story, the plagues that befell the Egyptians resulted from the decisions of tyrants,
but the greatest suffering occurred among those who had no choice but to follow.

It is fitting that we mourn their loss of life, and express our sorrow over their suffering.
For as Jews and as Humanists we cannot take joy in the suffering of others.
Therefore, let us diminish the wine in our cups
as we recall the ten plagues that befell the Egyptian people.

Leader:

As we recite the name of each plague, in English and then in Hebrew,
please dip a finger in your wine and then touch your plate to remove the drop.

Everyone:

Blood - Dam (Dahm)
Frogs - Ts'phardea (Ts'phar-DEH-ah)
Gnats - Kinim (Kih-NEEM)
Flies - Arov (Ah-ROV)
Cattle Disease - Dever (DEH-vehr)
Boils - Sh'hin (Sh'-KHEEN)
Hail - Barad (Bah-RAHD)
Locusts - `Arbeh (Ar-BEH)
Darkness - Hoshekh (KHO-shekh)
Death of the Firstborn - Makkat B'khorot (Ma-katB'kho-ROT) 

[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]

In the same spirit, our celebration today also is shadowed
by our awareness of continuing sorrow and oppression in all parts of the world.
Ancient plagues are mirrored in modern tragedies.

In our own time, as in ancient Egypt, ordinary people suffer and die
as a result of the actions of the tyrants who rule over them.
While we may rejoice in the defeat of tyrants in our own time,
we must also express our sorrow at the suffering of the many innocent people
who had little or no choice but to follow.

Leader:

As the pain of others diminishes our joys,
let us once more diminish the ceremonial drink of our festival
as we together recite the names of these modern plagues:

Hunger
War
Tyranny
Greed
Bigotry
Injustice
Poverty
Ignorance
Pollution of the Earth Indifference to Suffering

Leader:
Let us sing a song expressing our hope for a better world. 

A cup to our teachers: To those we have known and those whose work has inspired us, and made space for our lives. We are graeful to you who did and said things for the first time, who claimed and reclaimed our traditions, who forged new tools. Thank you to the teacher around us of all ages -- the people we encounter everyday -- who live out their values in small and simple ways, and who are our most regular and loving reminders of the world we are creating together. 

[Raise the cup. All sing or recite Dayenu:]

Had You taken us out of slavery, but not torn the Sea apart for us, it would have been enough for us!

Had You brought us through it dry, but not sunk our oppressors in its midst, it would have been enough for us!

Had You sunk our oppressors in its midst, but not freely fed us manna, it would have been enough for us!

Had You freely fed us manna, but not rested us with Shabbat, it would have been enough for us!

Had You rested us with Shabbat, but not given us the Teaching, it would have been enough for us!

I-lu ho-tzi ho-tzi-a-nu, ho-tzi-anu mi-mitz-ra-yim, ho-tzi-a-nu mi-mitz-rayim dai-ye-nu.

DAI-DAI-YE-NU, DAI-DAI-YE-NU, DAI-DAI-YE-NU, Dayenu, dayenu!

I-lu na-tan na-tan la-nu, na-tan la-nu et ha-sha-bat, na-tan la-nu et ha-sha-bat, dai-ye-nu.

DAI-DAI-YE-NU, DAI-DAI-YE-NU, DAI-DAI-YE-NU, Dayenu, dayenu!

[Someone says:]

What does this mean, "It would have been enough"? Surely no one of these alone would indeed have been enough for us.

It means to celebrate each step toward freedom as if it were enough, then to start out on the next step.

It means that if we reject each step because it is not the whole liberation, we will never be able to achieve the whole liberation.

It means to sing each verse as if it were the whole song and then sing the next verse! [All read:]

How many and how hard are the tasks the Redeemer has set before us!

If we were to free the peoples of the world, but not to beat the swords of every nation into plowshares, it would not be enough for us.

If we were to beat the swords of every nation into plowshares, but not to share our food and end all hunger, it would not be enough for us.

If we were to share our food and end all hunger, but not to cleanse our earth and air of poison, it would not be enough for us.

If we were to cleanse our earth and air of poison, but not to turn to wind and sun for energy, it would not be enough for us.

If we were to turn to wind and sun for energy, But not to set aside some time for love and laughter, it would not be enough for us

Then how great, doubled and redoubled, are the claims the Redeemer makes upon our effort! You call us to struggle, work, share, give, think, plan, organize, sit-in, speak out, dream, hope, and pray for the great Redemption: to end the oppression of all peoples, to prevent the extinction of a million species, to shape a planet joyful in our shared abundance, to turn to wind and sun for energy, and to set aside some time for love and laughter, All these!

[Someone reads:] Before entering … the Hajj {Pilgrimage to Mecca], which is the beginning of a great change and revolution, you must declare your intention. It is the intention of a "transferral" from your house to the house of people, from life to love, from the self to Allah, from slavery to freedom, from racial discrimination to equality, sincerity and truth, from being clothed to being naked, from a daily life to an eternal life and from selfishness and aimlessness to devotion and responsibility. — Ali Shariati, Hajj

One of the most powerful, and deeply spiritual, ways to work for social change is for us to take action in the present that embodies — right now! — the future vision that we seek. Forty years ago, the sit-in movement had a vision of the future: integrated restaurants. The sit-ins did not beg legislators to change the law. They did not attack the restaurant-owners. They went, Black and white together, to integrate them. What happened next was up to the owners and the police. They could accept integration, they could beat people up, they could put them in jail, they could kill them, they could change the law. They did all those things, but mostly, ultimately, people changed the law.

The vision of new possibility was not left in the hands of visionaries, for it was embodied in defiant love. It made real the spiritual teaching that the means and the ends are indivisible, for it made the ends themselves into the means, not in a far-off future but in Now. And it gave actual faces to the "issue." It was no longer a matter of courts and law books but of real live students, restaurant-owners, waitresses, police. So the public responded. The sit-ins seeded a fruitful American politics that is still nourishing us, even in days of Imperial War and Insatiable Wealth. — Rabbi Arthur Ocean Waskow

Our hands were touched by this water earlier during tonight's seder, but this time is different. This is a deeper step than that. This act of washing our hands is accompanied by a blessing, for in this moment we feel our People's story more viscerally, having just retold it during Maggid. Now, having re-experienced the majesty of the Jewish journey from degradation to dignity, we raise our hands in holiness, remembering once again that our liberation is bound up in everyone else's. Each step we take together with others towards liberation is blessing, and so we recite: 

                                                         --Rabbi Menachem Creditor, Congregation Netivot Shalom, Berkeley, CA

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, asher kidshanu bemitvotav vetzivanu al netilat yadayim.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶך הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדָיִּם.

Blessed are You ETERNAL our God, Master of time and space, who has sanctified us with commandments and instructed us regarding lifting up our hands.

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kidishanu b'mitzvo-tav v'tzivanu al a-chilat matzoh.

We praise You, God, who hallows our lives with commandments, and enjoins us to partake in eating matzoh.

(Each participant eats a portion of the two matzot)

Take the maror, bitter herbs,  (horseradish) and dip them into the haroset. 

May the sweet haroset that we eat with these bitter herbs symbolize for us the hope and freedom that enables our ancestors to withstand the bitterness of their slavery. 

ברוּךְ אַתָּה יְיַָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מרוֹר:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat maror.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat bitter herbs.

As legend has it, the idea of eating two pieces of bread with something in between was invented by England’s fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792). An avid gambler, the Earl couldn’t bear to leave the card table for as long as it took to eat a normal meal, and so invented this handy snack so that he could eat and gamble at the same time.

Yet as nice as this story is, tradition tells us that Jews have been eating sandwiches long before the 18th century. Hillel the Elder, the 1st century rabbi, argued that elements of the Passover seder including maror and charoset should be placed between two slides of matzah and eaten as a sandwich. The charoset reminds us of the mortar and, together with the maror, of the pain of slavery. However, as we eat it we taste its sweetness. This sweetness gives us hope that the future will bring redemption and justice to all people.

Make and enjoy a Hillel sandwich

We have answered the four traditional questions, but there are still more questions to be answered.
There are other special foods on our Seder plate:

a bone (z'roa) or a beet,
a roasted egg (beitsah)
an orange,
and, many people's favorite, the sweet condiment (haroset).

Why are they here?

Z'ROA - SHANKBONE OR BEET

Z'ROA can mean a shankbone - the bone of a forelimb - or a vegetable.
This lamb's bone is the symbol of the ancient shepherd's festival of Pesah or Passover.

It was celebrated at the time of the full moon in the month lambs and goats were born. At that time, each family would sacrifice a young lamb or goat at a spring feast. Jews ended these sacrifices when the Jerusalem Temple was destroyed.

Since z'roa also means vegetable, a beet can be used instead of an animal bone on the seder plate.
The Jewish people are very diverse, so the rabbis who wrote the Talmud acknowledged this vegetarian alternative.

BEITSAH - EGG

Why do we have a beitsah on the seder plate?
Beitsah is the egg of life, a symbol of the birth of the young in spring. Each of us begins as an egg and grows to adulthood. The egg reminds us of our evolutionary past and of the gifts of human inheritance. But the egg is fragile. It represents potential that can be destroyed. Left alone, its life would perish.

Growing life needs warmth and love and security, guidance, hope, and vision. To achieve their full potential, human beings need the support and encouragement of family and community. Beitsah symbolizes the fragility and interdependence of life.

[All who so desire may now eat a piece of egg.]

TAPPUZ - ORANGE

Why have we added an orange to our seder plate?
We place this fruit among our ceremonial foods as a symbol of our efforts to make sexual minorities feel acknowledged in our community. We recognize the contributions made by these family members and friends.

By inviting and welcoming all with open hearts and open minds, we celebrate diversity and freedom. We put an orange on our seder plate as a new symbol of liberation around sexuality and gender roles.

[All may eat a piece of orange.]

HAROSET - CONDIMENT

Why do we eat haroset?
Fruits, nuts, spices, and wine are combined to make this sweet condiment. Being the color of clay or mortar, it reminds us of the bricks and mortar used by slaves - Jews and others - in building the Pharaohs' palaces and cities. Yet the taste of haroset is sweet, and thus reminds us of the sweetness of freedom.

Leader:

Let us now all eat haroset on a piece of matsah.
We now make a little sandwich - called a "korekh" or a "Hillel sandwich;" tradition credits Rabbi Hillel with creating this sandwich 2000 years ago. By eating some bitter herb (maror) and some haroset between two pieces of matsah, you can taste the "bittersweet" meaning of Passover. 

Zayit: al shum mah?- This olive: why do we eat it? 

The olive tree is one of the first plants mentioned in the Torah and remains among the oldest species in Israel/Palestine. It has become a universal symbol of peace and hope, as it is written in Psalm 52, "/ am like a thriving olive tree in God's house, I trust in God's loyal kindness forever and ever:' 

We add these olives to our Seder plate as a reminder that we must all be God's bearers of peace and hope in the world. At the same time, we eat this olive in sorrow and anger, mindful that olive trees, the source of livelihood for Palestinian farmers, are regularly chopped down, burned and uprooted by Israeli settlers and the Israeli authorities, often to make way for future Israeli settlements. 

As we look on, Israel pursues systematic policies that increasingly deny Palestinians access to olive orchards that have belonged to them for generations. Tonight, we ask one another: How will we, as Jews, bear witness to the unjust actions committed in our name? Will these olives inspire us to be actors for peace and hope with Palestinians- and with all who are oppressed?

At a traditional seder, there is a cup of wine left on the table for the prophet Elijah. Toward the end of the night, the door is opened for Elijah, symbolizing that all are welcome at the seder, all can take refuge here.

In this spirit, consider symbolically setting aside a table setting or opening the door to the 60 million refugees and displaced people around the world still waiting to be free — for all those who deserve to be welcomed in not as strangers but as fellow human beings.

Eliyahu

We open the door and invite Eliyahu and Miriam into our homes. To show how truly free we are, we send our youngest to open the door.

Elijah the prophet - may we create a world where everyone experiences redemption and freedom, growth and possibility. Let all who are hungry be fed, let all who are bereaved be comforted, let all who suffer find release.

Eliyahu Hanavi, Eliyahu Hatishbi,
Eliyahu Eliyahu EliyahuHagiladi,
Bimherah beyamenu Yavo Elenu
Im Mashiach Ben David.

Elijah the Prophet, Elijahthe Tishbite,
Elijah the Giladite,
 

Finding and eating the Afikomen | tzafoon | צָפוּן

The playfulness of finding the afikomen reminds us that we balance our solemn memories of slavery with a joyous celebration of freedom. As we eat the afikomen, our last taste of matzah for the evening, we are grateful for moments of silliness and happiness in our lives.

Fill the third cup of wine

Together we take up the third cup of wine, now recalling the third divine promise to the people of Israel: “And I will redeem you with an outstretched arm.”

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen.

We now drink the third cup of wine

Elijah the profit it a symbol of the hope to come. It is told that when he comes he will bring peace and spread love throughout the world. Let's drink our last cup of wine to Elijah!

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, borei pri ha'gafen.

Nirtzah  marks the conclusion of the seder. Our bellies are full, we have had several glasses of wine, we have told stories and sung songs, and now it is time for the evening to come to a close. At the end of the seder, we honor the tradition of declaring, “Next year in Jerusalem!”

For some people, the recitation of this phrase expresses the anticipation of rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem and the return of the Messiah. For others, it is an affirmation of hope and of connectedness with  Klal Yisrael, the whole of the Jewish community. Still others yearn for peace in Israel and for all those living in the Diaspora.

Though it comes at the end of the seder, this moment also marks a beginning. We are beginning the next season with a renewed awareness of the freedoms we enjoy and the obstacles we must still confront. We are looking forward to the time that we gather together again. Having retold stories of the Jewish people, recalled historic movements of liberation, and reflected on the struggles people still face for freedom and equality, we are ready to embark on a year that we hope will bring positive change in the world and freedom to people everywhere.

In  The Leader's Guide to the Family Participation Haggadah: A Different Night, Rabbi David Hartman writes: “Passover is the night for reckless dreams; for visions about what a human being can be, what society can be, what people can be, what history may become.”

What can  we  do to fulfill our reckless dreams? What will be our legacy for future generations?

Our seder is over, according to Jewish tradition and law. As we had the pleasure to gather for a seder this year, we hope to once again have the opportunity in the years to come. We pray that God brings health and healing to Israel and all the people of the world, especially those impacted by natural tragedy and war. As we say…

לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשָׁלָֽיִם

L’shana haba-ah biy’rushalayim

NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM!

Chad Gadya

חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא דְזַבִּין אַבָּא בִּתְרֵי זוּזֵי, חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא.

Chad gadya, chad gadya

One little goat, one little goat: Which my father brought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, chad gadya 

Then came the cat and ate the goat
my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the dog and bit the cat that ate the goat
my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the stick and beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the goat
my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the fire and burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat
that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the water and quenched the fire that burned the stick
that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the ox and drank the water that quenched the fire
that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat, that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the butcher and killed the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the angel of death and slew the butcher that killed the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya.

Then came the Holy One, Blessed be God, and slew the angel of death that slew the butcher that killed the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the goat my father bought for two zuzim; had gadya, had gadya. 

To the tune of juice by Lizzo

Pharaoh 

pharaoh 

in the halls

Don’t tell me you won’t free the jews

(ooh baby)

My man

Moses

Got that beard

Don’t make him call a plague on you

(ooh baby)

He was

Raised in

Egypt land

But now he’s back with something new

(ooh baby)

Gotta

Let my

People go

Cuz the hebrews gotta fly the coop!

(That’s how I roll)

Touch the

Water 

and the

Whole Nile

Turn to

Blood

(Hebrew goals)

Darkness

Boils and

Hail and

Even

Freaky

Bugs 

(now you know)

Frogs and

Lice and

Flies and

Pesti-

Lence no

good

(so you know)

One more

Plague from

Moses

And then

Bitch you 

done!

CHORUS

It ain’t my fault 

that I’m out here asking Qs

Got my matzoh and grape juice

Gotta pass over the Jews (yeah)

It ain’t my fault

That god’s death angel is loose

Out here killing first-born dudes

Gotta pass over the Jews 

hineni

Hi-ne-ni

hi-ne-ni

Hi-ne- //-ni

Pass over the jews gotta pass over the jews hi ne ni

Hi ne ni

Hi ne ni

Hi ne -

Pass over the jews gotta pass over the jews, yeah!