You have made it to the seder, to this consecrated place where we tell and tell again stories of liberation and justice being built. Take a deep breath. You have made it through a year of struggle, of solidarity, of heartbreak. You have bravely crossed the sea. You have mourned our dead. Take a deep breath. You have cooked and cleaned and worried about headcounts. You have cleaned out chametz – the muck of life, the forbidden crumbs keeping us from renewal, and liberation.

Depending on the size of your group, go around the circle and introduce yourself. Everyone should say their name and pronouns. It can be incredibly stressful for transgender people to have to endure being called by the wrong terms, or to have to choose between being in a trans-friendly space and participating in their own cultural events. By stating our pronouns at the beginning of our time together, we take the pressure off individual transpeople to find space and courage to identify themselves to strangers. This is an opportunity to practice loving compassion by listening without judgment and trying to respect peoples’ self-identification every time. Even if there are no transpeople at your seder, this is a chance for non-trans folks to think about something they take for granted – that their gender will be seen and respected. And by doing this you are making Jewish practice more loving and inclusive right now!

- Joy Levitt (age 16)

Questions are not only welcome during the course of the evening but are vital to tonight’s journey. Our obligation at this seder involves traveling from slavery to freedom, prodding ourselves from apathy to action, encouraging the transformation of silence into speech, and providing a space where all different levels of belief and tradition can co-exist safely. Because leaving Mitzrayim--the narrow places, the places that oppress us—is a personal as well as a communal passage, your participation and thoughts are welcome and encouraged.

We remember that questioning itself is a sign of freedom. The simplest question can have many answers, sometimes complex or contradictory ones, just as life itself is fraught with complexity and contradictions. To see everything as good or bad, matzah or maror, Jewish or Muslim, Jewish or “Gentile”, is to be enslaved to simplicity. Sometimes, a question has no answer. Certainly, we must listen to the question, before answering. 

In the wake of the violence, turmoil, colonialist control, and ongoing Occupation, we want to acknowledge the distinction between “mitzrayim” – the narrow place – where the story we tell at Passover takes place and Egypt, the modern-day nation state. We are not conflating contemporary Egyptians with the pharaoh and taskmasters that appear in the Passover story. In the U.S., and worldwide, anti-Arab racism and Islamophobia saturate our media and our culture, and we must be vigilant to oppose it and interrupt it at every turn.

Likewise, the word Yisrael (Israel) when found in the liturgy does not refer to the modern nation/state of Israel. Rather it derives from the blessing given to Ya’akov (Jacob) by a stranger with whom he wrestles all night. When Ya’akov finally pins the stranger down, he asks him for a blessing. The stranger says, “Your name will no longer be Ya’akov but Yisrael for you have wrestled with God and triumphed.” Therefore, when we say “Yisrael” in prayer we are referring to being Godwrestlers, not Israelis.

Even as we give thanks for the gift of being together at this time, we take a moment of silence, in memory of all those we have lost in the past year, since we last sat at the Passover table together. They may be family or personal loved ones; they may be people who were killed by state-sponsored violence; they may be people who died for the cause of liberation.

We remember... [participants share names of those they are remembering.] May the memories of these righteous be a blessing and a reminder of why we gather together to organize, to co-resist, and to demand justice. We will now hold a minute of silence in remembrance.

A few years ago at Kol Nidre I delivered a sermon on the power of diversity to my congregation in Toronto. Afterwards, in the swirling crowd I felt someone tug at my jacket. I turned around to find a nine-year-old by in lavender shiny “Powerpuffs” sneakers. “I really liked your sermon,” he whispered before disappearing into the crowd. During Sukkot his moms told me that he had been hassled about his shoes at school all week, but after hearing my sermon he had decided to keep wearing them. I don’t really think it was my words that impacted him, but the visual power of having a transgender, flamingly queer, gender ambiguous rabbi on the bimah.

I couldn’t help compare the range of options that the boy in my congregation had to be a full person, with the limited scope of choices that had been available to Ronnie Paris Jr., a boy in Florida who was beaten to death by his father for being a “sissy.” I also couldn’t stop dreaming of a world where everyone has the option to grow up with the ability to choose their clothes, hobbies, and behaviors without the threat of violence or humiliation. A world where every size, shape, ability, age, and gender is celebrated as yet another manifestation of holiness.

What of from the moment a child was born, instead of asking “is it a boy or a girl,” we said, “It’s a baby image of God”? What if we all supported each other in being our shiniest, sexiest, fiercest, most authentically quirky selves? This is the future I imagine for all of us and I can tell you right now, it looks fabulous.

As the novelist of African diaspora, Andrea Hairston, once wrote, "if no one tells your story, you die twice." So tonight we choose life, by honoring the stories of Jews throughout the ages who were queer in one way or another. We choose life with a new mitzvah - telling the stories that have been lost, censored or silenced.

Matzah: The bread of haste as the slaves did not have time to let their bread rise before escaping mitzrayim. Also, a reminder of the people currently fleeing their homes throughout the world due to war and violence, taking only what they can carry.

Karpas: Represents the struggle for all of us to get out of our mitzrayim (narrow places or narrow-mindedness). Traditionally, it's used to remember the initial flourishing of the Hebrews in mitzrayim. In the course of the seder, we dip the karpas in salt water in order to taste both the hope of new birth and the tears that the Hebrew slaves shed over their condition.

Charoset: A mixture of chopped nuts, apples, agave, and spices. Charoset is used to symbolize the mortar used to layer bricks which was done by the Hebrew slaves.

Maror: This bitter herb (cilantro) allows us to taste the bitterness of slavery. Like life in mitzrayim, these lettuces and roots taste sweet when one first bites into them, but then become bitter as one eats more. We dip maror into haroset in order to associate the bitterness of slavery with the work that caused so much of this bitterness.

Z'roa: The blood-red color of a roasted beet is certainly symbolic of the blood shed as well as the blood smeared over the doors of the people the Angel of Death was to pass over.

Beitzah: An avocado pit that symbolizes the second sacrifice, which would be offered on every holiday (including Passover) when the Temple stood. The roundness of the avocado pit also represents the cycle of life--even in the most painful of times, there is always hope for a new beginning.

Olive: An olive represents the oppression of Palestinians at the hands of the Israeli Government. It reminds us to ask: “How will we, as Jews, bear witness to the unjust actions committed in our name? Will these olives inspire us to be bearers of peace and hope for Palestinians — and for all who are oppressed?” (Forward, Put an Olive on the Seder Plate)

Orange: The orange reminds us of the presence of LGBTQ folks in our community, and the oppression we face within the strict gender and sexuality roles enforced in the name of our tradition.

Tomato: The tomato is a symbol of modern-day slavery, representing the migrant workers who suffer abuse at the hands of a consumer market that demands fruits and vegetables without regard for how the pickers are treated.

Lock and Key: We place the lock and key on our seder plate tonight to ally ourselves with those who are behind bars, with those who are labelled as felons in the community, and with the parents, children, and other family members of those who are locked up and locked out. The key represents our commitment, as Jews who know a history of oppression, to join the movement to end mass incarceration in the United States. The key reminds us of our potential to partner with the Source of Liberation to unlock a more promising, dignified future for us all. (RitualWell)

We invite anyone to share anything they brought to the table and why.

Sources:

- A Seder For and By Us: Kavod Jews of Color, Indigenous Jews, Mizrahim, & Sephardim 2019/5579 (https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Md2LqouIjcsf1iKjqu0UhRl02DMz4gxh/view)

- http://thevword.net/2014/03/how-to-make-a-vegan-seder-plate-plus-a-recipe-for-charoset.html

May our hearts be lifted,
our spirits refreshed,
as we light the Sabbath candles.

A blessing to mark the purpose of our gathering – to strengthen our commitment to pursue justice together.

“I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” – Martin Luther King Jr., “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” April 16, 1963

Tonight we have a powerful group of people gathering around this table telling the Exodus story as one way to gain a deeper understanding of oppression and refuel our work for liberation in our time. We are involved in many struggles, in our local communities and around the world, all intersecting and inseparable.At this seder we have participants involved in many different facets of the struggle for justice and liberation. Before we say a blessing for social justice, we invite everyone here to share campaigns they are involved in, issues they are working on, struggles they feel passionately connected to. We know that all of our disparate work is but different parts of the same struggle for healing and justice.

Participants share struggles in which they are currently involved.

Let us bless the parents
who are the source of our lives
and the impulse to pursue justice.

Tonight we drink four cups of wine. Why four? Some say the cups represent our matriarchs—Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah—whose virtue caused God to liberate us from slavery.

Another interpretation is that the cups represent the Four Worlds: physicality, emotions, thought, and essence.

Still a third interpretation is that the cups represent the four promises of liberation God makes in the Torah: I will bring you out, I will deliver you, I will redeem you, I will take you to be my people (Exodus 6:6-7.) The four promises, in turn, have been interpreted as four stages on the path of liberation: becoming aware of oppression, opposing oppression, imagining alternatives, and accepting responsibility to act.

The Supportive/Open Minded Child

How do we make our GLBT Seder more inclusive?

We seek to ensure that everyone is included and that all of their needs are being met. For example, there is a movement to encourage the use of gender-neutral pronouns like ze for he/she and hir for him/her at inclusive Seders. We have incorporated many new traditions into our own Seder for example, the orange on our Seder plate, or the creation of a whole second Seder plate.

While discussing the ancient oppression in Egypt, we should recognize today’s oppression and the struggles for women’s rights, GLBT rights, racial equality and the elimination of unfair discrimination and the assurance of equal rights for all.

The Hateful Child

Why must you have your own “Queer” (GLBT) Seder?

Judaism is about incorporating each individual’s needs into community and cultural celebrations. Very often, traditional Seders are not sufficiently inclusive of Queer people’s needs. A Seder is a moment to reflect upon the painful lessons of long ago. What better time is there to discuss how these barbaric practices of hate and discrimination still thrive today?

Let our Seder symbolize our (Queer) ability to overcome obstacles for a brighter future.

The Apathetic Child

Why should I participate?

It is in one’s best interest to recognize the world around him or her or hir and to become involved in making a better future for everyone. Lutheran Pastor Martin Niemoller, who was imprisoned by the Nazis, hauntingly reminds us of this imperative in his famous poem.

“First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a communist;

Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a socialist;

Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a trade unionist;

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

because I was not a Jew;

Then they came for me—

and there was no one left to speak out for me.”

The Child That Doesn’t Know or Closeted Child

Does not know how to ask or perhaps is too afraid…

This child must receive support and guidance from the community. A community that fosters support, tolerance, inclusion, and understanding is vital to creating an environment where one can explore one’s own identity and understand others’.

Rabbi Gamliel (Grandson of the great Sage Hillel) taught; one who has not explained the following three symbols of the Seder has not fulfilled the Festival obligations:

Tonight, let’s speak about four people striving to engage in racial justice. They are a complicated constellation of identity and experience; they are not simply good or bad, guileless or silent. They are Jews of Color and white Jews. They are Mizrahi, Sephardi, and Ashkenazi; they are youth, middle-aged, and elders. They are a variety of people who are at different stages of their racial justice journey. Some of them have been on this journey for their entire lives, and for some, today is the first day. Some of them are a part of us, and others are quite unfamiliar.

What do they say? They ask questions about engaging with racial justice as people with a vested interest in Jewishness and Jewish community. How do we answer? We call them in with compassion, learning from those who came before us.

WHAT DOES A QUESTIONER SAY?

“I support equality, but the tactics and strategies used by current racial justice movements make me uncomfortable.”

Time and time again during the journey through the desert, the Israelites had to trust Moses and God’s vision of a more just future that the Israelites could not see themselves. As they wandered through the desert, eager to reach the Promised Land, they remained anxious about each step on their shared journey. They argued that there must be an easier way, a better leader, and a better God. They grumbled to Moses and Aaron in Exodus 16:3, “If only we had died by the hand of God in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the cooking pot, when we ate our fill of bread! For you have brought us out into this wilderness to starve this whole community to death.” Despite their deep misgivings, they continued onward.

As we learn in our Passover retelling, the journey toward liberation and equity can be difficult to map out. In the midst of our work, there are times when we struggle to truly identify our own promised land. We see this challenge in various movements, whether for civil rights, women’s rights, LGBTQ rights, workers’ rights, and others. In our retelling of these struggles for justice, we often erase conflicts of leadership, strategy debates, or even the strong contemporaneous opposition to their successes. Only when we study these movements in depth do we appreciate that all pushes for progress and liberation endure similar struggles, indecision, and pushback.

WHAT DOES A NEWCOMER SAY?

“How do I reach out and engage with marginalized communities in an authentic and sustained way?”

We tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt year after year; it is a story not only about slavery and freedom, but also a story of transition. At its core, the Passover story is about the process of moving from oppression to liberation. It informs us that liberation is not easy or fast, but a process of engagement and relationship building.

As the Israelites wandered in the desert, they developed systems of accountability and leadership. Every person contributed what they could given their skills, passions, and capacity to create the mishkan, the Israelites’ spiritual sanctuary in the desert. As it says in Exodus 35:29, “[T]he Israelites, all the men and women whose hearts moved them to bring anything for the work that the LORD, through Moses, had commanded to be done, brought it as a freewill offering to the LORD.”

Those of us engaging or looking to engage in racial justice work can learn from that example. We need to show up, and keep showing up. We can spend time going to community meetings, trainings, marches, protests, and other actions while practicing active listening and self-education. Only by each person exploring their own privileges and oppressions, whatever they may be, can we show up fully and thoughtfully in this racial justice work.

WHAT DOES A JEW OF COLOR SAY?

“What if I have other interests? Am I obligated to make racial justice my only priority?”

The work of racial justice is not only for People of Color; it is something everyone must be engaged in. Most Jews of Color are happy to be engaged in racial justice, whether professionally, personally, or a mix of both. However, we nd too often the burden of the work falls on our shoulders. The work of racial justice cannot only fall to Jews of Color.

Instead, all Jews who are engaged in tikkun olam, repairing the world, should be engaged in the work of racial justice. Following the leadership of Jews of Color, white Jews must recognize their own personal interest in fighting to dismantle racist systems. When white Jews commit to racial justice work, it better allows Jews of Color to take time for self-care by stepping away from the work or focusing on a different issue. As Rabbi Tarfon writes in Pirke Avot 2:21, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world, but you are not free to desist from it either.”

WHAT DOES AN AVOIDER SAY?

“I am so scared of being called a racist, I don’t want to engage in any conversations about race.”

Engaging in conversations about difficult and personal subjects takes time and practice. When Joseph first began having prophetic dreams as a young man, he insensitively told his brothers that despite his youth, they would eventually bow down to him. In Genesis 37:8, Joseph’s brothers respond by asking, ‘“Do you mean to rule over us?” And they hated him even more for his talk about his dreams.’ However, as he matured, his dreams became his method of survival. As Joseph learned how to share his dreams with people in power, he was able to reunite with his family and create a period of incredible prosperity in Egypt.

We will make mistakes when engaging in racial justice. It is part of the process. Engaging in racial justice conversations can be painful and uncomfortable; it is also absolutely essential. We must raise up the dignity and complexity in others that we see in ourselves and our loved ones. Empathy for people of different backgrounds, cultures, religions, and races moves us to have these difficult conversations. Compassion for ourselves allows us to keep engaging through any guilt or discomfort.

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Download the Full PDF Here: http://rpr.world/the-four-people

The Four Queer/Trans Jews Adapted from “the Four Daughters” by Tamara Cohen, Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell and Ronnie Horn. Adapted and used with loving gratitude.

The queer/trans Jew is in search of a meaningful, holy past through our texts, traditions, and people. Ma heh omereh? What do they say?

“Why didn’t the Torah count, or acknowledge women and trans people among the ‘600,000 men on foot, aside from children,’ who came out of Egypt? And why did Moses say at Sinai, ‘Go not near a woman,’ addressing only men, as if preparation for Revelation was not meant for us, as well?”

Because we know that Jewish memory is essential to our identity, we teach them that history is made up by those who tell the tale. If the original Torah did not name and count us as women, trans people and those whose gender we do not know the words for now, it is up to us to fill the empty spaces left in our holy texts. We have the power to tell our own story, take our own census and create our own values. Jewish history is meant for us as well.

And the queer/trans Jew who wants to erase our differences and assimilate? Ma heh omereh? What do they say?

“Why do we keep pushing these questions into every text? Why make us so noticable? So visible? Why are these issues so important to you? Don’t you want to blend in?”

They say: “To you,” instead of “not to me”. They forget the struggles of our ancestors, both Jewish and non-Jewish. Perhaps we’ve been here at some point or another too, what did we need to find the beauty in our divergence? Invite them to our seder tables. Let them see the pleasure and joy at living outside of cis-heteronormativity, the wonder of appreciating queer and trans bodies for all of our diversity and divergence. The blessings of our resistance.

And the queer/trans Jew who does not know that we have a place at the table? Ma heh omereh? What do they say?

“What is this?”

Because they don’t yet know that their question is, in itself, a part of the seder tradition, show them that the Haggadah is a conversation about liberation, and their insights and questions belong here, in our texts and seder plates. Their wonder and curiosity, their frustration and confusion, in equal parts belong right here, nestled between maror and charoset.

And the queer/trans Jew who asks no questions? Who is scared to exist? Isolated from themselves and others?

We must say to them, “Your questions, when they come and in whatever form, will liberate you from Egypt. This is how it is and how it has always been with your queer and Jewish ancestors. For every moment we choose to survive, to look towards unanswered truths, we move a half-step closer to liberation. Even with no questions, you have a seat at our table, you deserve to know the fullness of your ancestors, of Shifra and Puah, of Joseph, of Ruth and Naomi and Judith, of Marsha, Sylvia, Leslie, and so many more who lived both named and unnamed in their truth and power. Come to the seder table with us, you will always have a seat.”

*The hebrew used in this text is in the style of Lior Gross and Eyal Rivlin of the Nonbinary Hebrew Project*

Skit - The Democrats Try To Nominate A New Moses

By Dave Cowen

New Judaic scholarship has recently uncovered a little known part of the Passover story. At one point, before the Jews’ Exodus from Egypt, when it wasn’t clear if Pharaoh would let them go, the Jewish people decided to put a term limit on how long Moses could be their leader. Even though some Jews thought of Moses as their (ba) rock and their (o) balm (a), they went about holding debates among candidates to see who might take over his position. This is a transcript.

Moderator

The question is simple. And it will go to each of you one at a time. What makes you the right leader of the Jewish People? We’ll start with Joe. Mr. Biden?

Joe

Well, first of all. I just want to say, that, I know Moses well, very well. I worked, hand-in-hand, with Moses, for eight years. I was Moses’ right-hand man, and I have had the privilege of learning from him, directly, how to lead our people. So, I think, what I offer, is a continuation of the leadership of Moses, into the next chapter of our peoples’ history.

Mike

And yet following Moses’ leadership has not freed us from slavery yet. So why would we want a continuation of Moses’ leadership?

Moderator

Mr. Bloomberg, what would be your plan to get us out of Egypt?

Mike

Well, I think these plagues have been helpful. And Moses’ attempts at dialogue have been helpful as well. But I am the wealthiest Jewish man in Egypt. And I think the real answer is that we should just simply pay the Pharaoh to let us go. This may sound worldly. But money talks. So I’ll make a promise. I am prepared to spend my entire fortune on buying our freedom. Well, part of most of my entire fortune. 

Elizabeth

Mr. Bloomberg, with all due respect, what makes you think money would guarantee Pharaoh lets us go? What would he do for slaves? He can’t pay his people to be his slaves.That would be a whole other system of covert subjugation, by a different name. Which might actually be even more effective and scary, now that I think about it. Hm.

Moderator

Mrs. Warren, if you don’t think money will convince the Pharaoh to let us go, what will?

Elizabeth

I’m glad you asked. I have about fifty plans for this.

Moderator

Pick one to start.

Elizabeth

Well, I think we need to break up the Egyptian business monopolies. The Nile company which Pharaoh owns and made him the wealthiest man in the world, until he had an affair and divorced his wife, and lost a third of that money, point is, we need to regulate that monopoly. If we had regulated the Apple company back in the day, we might still be living in Paradise.

Pete

But, Elizabeth, are you even Jewish? You claim your great grandmother is Jewish. Sure, technically, we all descended from Adam and Eve as you said, but there’s no proof that--

Elizabeth

I may not be able to prove that I am 1/16th Jewish, but I didn’t work for the Pharaoh’s Pyramid Wall Street consulting company in my youth. Pete, how do we know that you are a true agent of change, if you were part of the system?

Pete

Look at this boyish smile. How could you not trust this boyish smile?

Elizabeth

I’m not sure we want a boyish leader. We want an experienced adult.

Moderator

Tom what do you think?

Tom

About Pete’s smile? 

Moderator

I meant about being the next Moses.

Tom

Right. Duh. I believe the only way to get us out of Egypt is to convince his people to impeach him. How could they not after all the devastation he has let happen to them?

Amy

His people will never impeach him. They even tried to this year, but it failed. That’s not a real option.

Tom
And what do you think is better, Candidate Klobuchar, working with him, and the Egyptians?

Amy

I do. I am a pragmatist. I still think I can win them over.

Bernie

This is crazy. No one has brought up the ONLY way to solve this problem.

Moderator

What’s that, Mr. Sanders?

Bernie

We tax the Pharaoh! When I put a 100% wealth tax on him, he’ll want us out of here in a second.

Pete

Bernie, he’s a tyrant. We’re slaves. We can’t tax him. 

Joe

Yes, that’s a classic Democratic-Socialist pie-in-the-sky idea.

Bernie

You moderates have no imagination.

Elizabeth

Look, I think we can break up some of his companies, but to tax him, that doesn’t seem to be a viable plan, Bernie. And I’m a progressive just like you, who knows a lot about plans.

Moderator

Look, everyone! Here comes Moses!

Moses

I have great news, my people! I’ve talked to Pharaoh again. While you were having this debate. Not offended in the slightest, all good. But, just so you know, Pharaoh freed us! 

Moderator

Wow! Amazing! Who here wants Moses to be our leader again, say, Aye?

Joe/Mike/Elizabeth/Pete/Tom/Amy/Bernie/Jewish People/Moderator

AYE!

Moses

Thing is, we have to leave, like, right now, without finishing baking the bread…

Tom

Oh.

Pete

Hm.

Joe
I mean, our people love baked bread.

Elizabeth

Yeah, I can’t imagine leaving without baked bread.

Mike

That would be worse than staying.

Amy

Awkward.

Bernie

Can we still vote?

The Passover Haggadah recounts ten plagues that afflicted Egyptian society. In our tradition, Passover is the season in which we imagine our own lives within the story and the story within our lives. Accordingly, we turn our thoughts to the many plagues affecting our society today. Our journey from slavery to redemption is ongoing, demanding the work of our hearts and hands. Here are ten “modern plagues”:  

Homelessness

In any given year, about 3.5 million people are likely to experience homelessness, about a third of them children, according to the National Law Center on Homelessness & Poverty. A recent study by the U.S. Conference of Mayors showed the majority of major cities lack the capacity to shelter those in need and are forced to turn people away. We are reminded time and again in the Torah that the Exodus is a story about a wandering people, once suffering from enslavement, who, through God’s help, eventually find their way to their homeland. As we inherit this story, we affirm our commitment to pursue an end to homelessness.

Hunger

About 49 million Americans experience food insecurity, 16 million of them children. While living in a world blessed with more than enough food to ensure all of God’s children are well nourished, on Passover we declare, “Let all who are hungry come and eat!” These are not empty words, but rather a heartfelt and age-old prayer to end the man-made plague of hunger.

Inequality

Access to affordable housing, quality health care, nutritious food and quality education is far from equal. The disparity between the privileged and the poor is growing, with opportunities for upward mobility still gravely limited. Maimonides taught, “Everyone in the house of Israel is obligated to study Torah, regardless of whether one is rich or poor, physically able or with a physical disability.” Unequal access to basic human needs, based on one’s real or perceived identity, like race, gender or disability, is a plague, antithetical to the inclusive spirit of the Jewish tradition.

Greed

In the Talmud, the sage Ben Zoma asks: “Who is wealthy? One who is happy with one’s lot.” These teachings evidence what we know in our conscience—a human propensity to desire more than we need, to want what is not ours and, at times, to allow this inclination to conquer us, leading to sin. Passover urges us against the plague of greed, toward an attitude of gratitude.

Discrimination and hatred

The Jewish people, as quintessential victims of hatred and discrimination, are especially sensitized to this plague in our own day and age. Today, half a century after the civil rights movement in the United States, we still are far from the actualization of the dream Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. articulated in Washington, D.C., a vision rooted in the message of our prophets. On Passover, we affirm our own identity as the once oppressed, and we refuse to stand idly by amid the plagues of discrimination and hatred.

Silence amid violence

Every year, 4.8 million cases of domestic violence against American women are reported. Each year, more than 108,000 Americans are shot intentionally or unintentionally in murders, assaults, suicides and suicide attempts, accidental shootings and by police intervention. One in five children has seen someone get shot. We do not adequately address violence in our society, including rape, sex trafficking, child abuse, domestic violence and elder abuse, even though it happens every day within our own communities.

Environmental destruction

Humans actively destroy the environment through various forms of pollution, wastefulness, deforestation and widespread apathy toward improving our behaviors and detrimental civic policies. Rabbi Nachman of Brezlav taught, “If you believe you can destroy, you must believe you can repair.” Our precious world is in need of repair, now more than ever.

Stigma of mental illness

One in five Americans experiences mental illness in a given year. Even more alarming, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, nearly two-thirds of people with a diagnosable mental illness do not seek treatment, and minority communities are the least likely to search for or have access to mental health resources. Social stigma toward those with mental illness is a widespread plague. Historically, people with mental health issues have suffered from severe discrimination and brutality, yet our society is increasingly equipped with the knowledge and resources to alleviate the plague of social stigma and offer critical support.

Ignoring refugees

We are living through the worst refugee crisis since the Holocaust. On this day, we remember that “we were foreigners in the land of Egypt,” and God liberated us for a reason: to love the stranger as ourselves. With the memory of generations upon generations of our ancestors living as refugees, we commit ourselves to safely and lovingly opening our hearts and our doors to all peace-loving refugees.

Powerlessness

When faced with these modern plagues, how often do we doubt or question our own ability to make a difference? How often do we feel paralyzed because we do not know what to do to bring about change? How often do we find ourselves powerless to transform the world as it is into the world as we know it should be, overflowing with justice and peace?

Written in collaboration with Rabbi Matthew Soffer of Temple Israel of Boston

2) 44% felt unsafe at school due to gender identification

3) 42% of LGBT youth have experienced cyber bullying

4) 42% of LBGT youth say the community in which they live in is not accepting of LGBT people

5) Only 77% of LGBT youth say they know things will get better

6) 60% LGBT students report feeling unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation

7) LGBT youth are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide as their straight peers

8) LGBT students are twice as likely to say that they were not planning on completing high school or going on to college

9) LGBT youth who reported higher levels of family rejection during adolescence are three times more likely to use illegal drugs

10) Half of gay males experience a negative parental reaction when they come out and in 26% of those cases the youth was thrown out of the home

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. 

A cup to Ourselves, to all of us who are at this seder tonight, to the present moment. We must love ourselves, for we are holy, and we have been created out of all that is. Let us take this moment to honor our bodies, our lives, and our communities. Let us honor all the things that have made us who we are––the pain and the pleasure. Let us savor our bodies in all their uniqueness: our skin and our bones, all of our different strengths and sizes, the places that look and move in ways unique to us. Note the places that hurt, the places we struggle with, the places that are changing and unfurling. Note the parts that have come down to us from our ancestors, the parts we have been taught to hate, the parts we have been taught to love. We are beautiful. Let us never forget that caring for ourselves, as we would care for our most precious and beloved, is part of creating the world we want to live in.

Ruth’s Cup: A New Passover Ritual Honoring Jewish Diversity

by Rabbi Heidi Hoover 

Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt, is also interpreted to mean “narrow places.” At Passover, we celebrate being released from the restrictions that limit us and make our lives smaller. We are not fully free as long as we are kept down by attitudes and conditions that are unjust.

Many Jews assume that “real Jews” look a certain way and have one path to Judaism — being born Jewish. When confronted with Jews who don’t fit these stereotypes, even well-meaning Jews may treat them as less Jewish. Jews of color and/or those who have converted to Judaism find that other Jews can act insensitively out of ignorance.

In the biblical book that bears her name, Ruth is a Moabite who marries an Israelite living in Moab. After her husband’s death, Ruth insists on accompanying her Israelite mother-in-law, Naomi, when she returns to Israel. There she cares for Naomi and ends up marrying one of her relatives. Because of Ruth’s declaration to Naomi: “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16), she is considered the prototypical convert to Judaism. Ruth becomes the great-grandmother of King David, from whom our tradition says the Messiah will descend.

The following ritual—Ruth’s Cup—may be added after Elijah’s Cup or anywhere in the seder. It honors not only those who have converted to Judaism, but the overall diversity of the Jewish people:

Leader

At Passover we fill a cup with wine for Elijah and open the door to welcome him to our seder. Elijah symbolizes our hope for the Messianic age, when the world will be perfected, and all people will live in harmony and peace.

We also fill a cup of wine for Ruth, the first Jew by choice and great-grandmother of King David. We open the door to signify our welcome of Ruth and all who follow in her footsteps—those who become part of our people, part of our diversity.

All rise, face the open door, and read together:

We declare that we do not have to wait for the Messianic age to make sure that every Jew feels fully comfortable and integrated into our people, no matter what their skin, hair or eye color is; no matter what their name sounds like; no matter how they became Jewish—through birth or through conversion, as a child or as an adult.

Close the door and be seated.

May your Passover be liberating and enlightening!

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/ruths-cup/

Oppression can be a physical thing -- a shackle on an ankle, bars on a cell, the long sleeves a woman is forced to wear for fear of catcalls. But it can also be a feeling, an encumbrance that clouds our days and degrades our psyches, digging into our souls and denying us the truest and fullest expression of the freedom we are owed by virtue of our humanity.

Many words in Hebrew share common roots, which suggest common meanings, and which in turn illuminate the significance of their example. In the story of Passover, God delivers the Israelites from Egypt, which in Hebrew is מצרים - "Mitzrayim". The Jewish mystic text called the Zohar notes another word with the exact same root: מצרים, "m'tzarim", or "narrow straits". And while the deliverance from Egypt freed the Israelites from their physical bondage, it took decades for the painful memory of enslavement to give way to the true potential of freedom. The oppressions of prejudice, of indifference, and of self-doubt we suffer today may not be as literal as those we suffered millennia ago, but they constrain and limit us nonetheless.

We are fortunate today to live in a society which, we hope, mostly succeeds at protecting our liberties; which safeguards the expression of our innermost selves, in identity, word and, deed; which acknowledges and respects us as individuals and communities. But Passover calls us also to turn a critical eye to the comfort of that fortune and examine its insufficiencies. We must question why we have tolerated circumstances that have afforded us such freedoms while denying them to others.

When people are denied legal recognition of their love, they are oppressed. When people are rejected from our country because of where they were born, they are oppressed. When someone is arrested, harmed, or killed by police because of the color of their skin, they are oppressed. When a child suppresses who they are because of the judgements of their peers or lack of support from adults, they are oppressed. When a person seeking community is turned away because they are unlike the majority, they are oppressed. And when we ignore, deny, or contribute to these actions, we are the oppressors. Until all oppression ends, we must remember that we too are oppressed, because there is no true freedom until we are all free.

Tonight, we celebrate the freedoms we enjoy, and remember that others are not as fortunate; and we pledge that in the next year, we will seek freedom for everyone, without reservation.

We pledge to rise up in Revolutionary Love.

We declare our love for all who are in harm’s way, including refugees, immigrants, Muslims, Sikhs, Jews, LGBTQIA people, Black people, Latinx, the indigenous, the disabled, and the poor. We stand with millions of people around the globe rising up to end violence against women and girls (cis, transgender and gender non-conforming) who are often the most vulnerable within marginalized communities. We vow to see one another as brothers and sisters and fight for a world where every person can flourish.

We declare love even for our opponents. We vow to oppose all executive orders and policies that threaten the rights and dignity of any person. We call upon our elected officials to join us, and we are prepared to engage in moral resistance throughout this administration. We will fight not with violence or vitriol, but by challenging the cultures and institutions that promote hate. In so doing, we will challenge our opponents through the ethic of love.

We declare love for ourselves. We will practice the dignity and care in our homes that we want for all of us. We will protect our capacity for joy. We will nurture our bodies and spirits; we will rise and dance. We will honor our mothers and ancestors whose bodies, breath, and blood call us to a life of courage. In their name, we choose to see this darkness not as the darkness of the tomb - but of the womb. We will breathe and push through the pain of this era to birth a new future.