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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Welcome to Hillel of San Diego’s 2021 Passover Seder: Chocolate & Justice. We’re so glad you all joined us for this special evening to celebrate our ancient Passover traditions as a warm and welcoming community.
Every Passover we gather to celebrate the Israelite’s plight from slavery to freedom. We are obligated to tell the story of the Exodus, the journey to liberation, and recall the bitterness of that experience. Each year we read, “every generation is obligated to see him or herself as though he/she had personally been redeemed from Egypt.” We are urged to remember that we were once slaves. We tell the details of the story, taste the symbolic foods; we try to imagine what the clay mortar looked like as we worked endless hours building Pharaoh's kingdom, we try to replicate the diet, limited to “the bread of affliction”. Each ritual is an attempt to “experience” what slavery felt like as if we were there. The tradition is to work towards forming the highest levels of empathy for enslavement, envisioning it on ourselves.
But the story is thousands of years old. How deeply can you really connect and feel the pain of an ancestor moving gigantic clay boulders in the Egyptian desert thousands of years ago? It’s our tradition to try, and we will. But slavery wasn’t eradicated thousands of years ago. There are children enslaved today, a part of the very industries we consume on a regular basis. This year, as we’re called to imagine ourselves as slaves in Egypt, we will simultaneously envision real world slaves today, specifically our brothers and sisters in West Africa. Let this be an opportunity where we not only more deeply fulfill our tradition to experience empathy for enslavement, but also an evening where we open our eyes to realize we’re not done with this struggle.
We each have the power and the obligation to participate in liberating the modern slave. What does this mean to us and how can we do this? We must reach beyond ourselves, beyond the usual extent of our gaze. Slavery does not end through hope and passivity. Today we’re not going to simply talk in abstract about the fact that slavery exists. Throughout our Seder, we’re going to learn about a real example, the child slaves employed by our favorite multi-billion dollar chocolate companies.
And tonight, we’re not consuming that chocolate touched by child slave laborers. Instead, we eat fair trade chocolate, reminding us that while these horrors exist today, there is a struggle against it and we can be a part of it. We have the freedom to support industries who won’t stand for injustice. As we recall our immense joy at being freed from slavery, we celebrate the great strides made today, fighting oppression similar to our ancestors. We take the sweetness of this chocolate as a symbol of resistance and the possibility of liberation for all. Let this observance of Passover evoke thoughtful insights, authentic emotions, impactful education, and connective interfaith celebration. May the world know liberation, one person at a time, mindful act by mindful act, until all people are free!
Baruch Atah Adonai, eloheinu Melekh ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu lirdof tzedek
Brucha Yah Shechinah, eloheinu Malkat ha-olam, asher kid’shatnu b’mitzvotayha vitzivatnu lirdof tzedek
Blessed is the Source, who shows us paths to holiness, and commands us to pursue justice.
Calligraphy by: Ruben Shimonov
The Seder Plate
We place a Seder Plate at our table as a reminder to discuss certain aspects of the Passover story. Each item has its own significance.
Maror – The bitter herb, providing a visceral reminder of the bitterness of slavery, the life of hard labor our ancestors experienced in Egypt. This is represented by our piece of fair trade bitter dark chocolate.
Charoset – Usually a delicious mix of sweet wine, apples, cinnamon and nuts that resembles the mortar Jewish slaves used to layer bricks in Egypt. For a chocolate Charoset, we provided fair trade chocolate chips to mix. You may either mix them into your traditional Charoset, or if you don't have one already prepared, you can make your brick mortar by mixing the chocolate chips with jam, almond butter, or any type of sticky food you have around.
Karpas – Usually a green vegetable like parsley, is a reminder of the green sprouting up all around us during spring. We dip it into the saltwater, a symbol of tears, to juxtapose the freshness of the green coming out of the sadness of slavery. For our seder, when it's time, we will melt fair trade chocolate and dip in it whatever fresh fruit you have around.
Zeroah – A shank bone, represents the lamb sacrifice made during the 10th plague on the Egyptians. The Jews painted their doorposts with lambs blood so the plague would pass over their homes. This is represented by our fair trade chocolate covered orange slice that resembles a bone.
Beitzah – The roundness of the egg represents the cycle of life — even in the most painful of times, there is always hope for a new beginning. This is represented by our fair trade chocolate egg.
Orange - symbolizes full inclusion in modern day Judaism: not only for women, but also for people with disabilities, intermarried couples, and the LGBT Community. The story claims that once when a woman tried to go on the bimah to read Torah, someone told her that a woman belonged on the bimah as an orange belonged on the Seder plate. This is also represented by the fair trade chocolate covered orange slice.
Matzah
Matzah is the unleavened bread we eat to remember that when the Jews fled Egypt, they didn’t even have time to let the dough rise on their bread. We commemorate this by removing all bread and bread products (Chametz) from our home during Passover.
Elijah’s Cup
The fifth ceremonial cup of wine poured during the Seder. It is left untouched in honor of Elijah, who, according to tradition, will arrive one day as an unknown guest to herald the advent of the Messiah. During the Seder dinner, biblical verses are read while the door is briefly opened to welcome Elijah. In this way the Seder dinner not only commemorates the historical redemption from Egyptian bondage of the Jewish people but also calls to mind their future redemption when Elijah and the Messiah shall appear.
Miriam’s Cup
Another relatively new Passover tradition is that of Miriam’s cup. The cup is filled with water and placed next to Elijah’s cup. Miriam was the sister of Moses and a prophetess in her own right. After the exodus when the Israelites are wandering through the desert, just as Hashem gave them Manna to eat, legend says that a well of water followed Miriam and it was called ‘Miriam’s Well’. The tradition of Miriam’s cup is meant to honor Miriam’s role in the story of the Jewish people and the spirit of all women, who nurture their families just as Miriam helped sustain the Israelites.
The whole point of the Seder is to ask questions. This is your time to ask about things that confuse you, things you don’t understand, or even things you don’t agree with. There really is no such thing as a stupid question, especially tonight.
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 (directly translated as Egypt)—is a personal as well as a communal passage, your participation and thoughts are encouraged.
Remember that questioning itself is a sign of freedom and our way out of Mitzrayim. The simplest questions can have many answers and sometimes, the best questions have no concrete answers. To judge things as good or bad, matzah or maror, Jewish, Muslim or Christian, conservative or liberal, religious or secular, is to be enslaved to simplicity.
Since this group is too large to pause for many full group discussions, our remedy is your stack of sticky notes at each table. Please, whenever you think of a question, write it on the sticky notes and bring them up in your dinner conversations. Do not see it as lacking knowledge or potentially being bothersome to others, but rather the best way to participate in the Passover tradition.
We have come together this evening for many reasons. We are here because Spring is all around, the Earth is reborn, and it is a good time to celebrate with family and friends. We are here because we are Jews, because we are members of the Jewish nation, with its deep historic roots and its valuable old memories and stories.
We are here to remember the old story of the liberation of the ancient Hebrews from slavery in Egypt - a great struggle for freedom and dignity. We are here because the struggle for human freedom never stops. We are here to remember all people - Jews and non-Jews - who are still struggling for their freedom.
As we feel how wonderful and important it is for diverse peoples to come together, let us recite and then sing the words of HINNEH MAH TOV.
HINNEH, MAH TOV - BEHOLD, HOW GOOD! (Adaptation* of T'hillim / Psalms 133.1)
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is when peoples* dwell together in unity!
Hinneh, mah tov u-mah naim shevet ammim* gam yahad!
(*originally "brothers", or "achim")
A Prayer for Human Rights
Rabbi Brant Rosen
Ruach Kol Chai - Spirit of All that Lives: Help us.
Help us to uphold the values that are so central to whom we are: human beings created B'tzelem Elohim- in the image of God. Help us to recognize that the inherent dignity of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world. May we find the strength to protect and plead the cause of the stranger among us, to ensure just treatment for all who dwell in our land.
Guide us.
Guide us toward one law. One justice. One human standard of behavior toward all. Move us away from the equivocation that honors the divine image in some but not in others. Let us forever affirm that the justice we purport to hold dear is nothing but a sham if it does not uphold the value of K'vod Habriot - basic human dignity for all who dwell in our midst.
Forgive us.
Forgive us for the inhumane manner in which we too often treat the other. We know, or should, that when it comes to crimes against humanity, some of us may be guilty, but all of us are responsible. Grant us kapparah - atonement for the misdeeds of exclusion we invariably commit against the most vulnerable members of society: the unwanted, the unhoused, the uninsured, the undocumented.
Strengthen us.
Strengthen us to find the wherewithal to shine your light into the dark places of our world. Give us the ability to uncover those who are hidden from view, locked away, forgotten. Let us never forget that nothing is hidden and no one lost from before you. Embolden us in the knowledge that neshamot - human souls are neither disposable nor replaceable; that we can never, try as we might, lock away the humanity of another.
Remind us.
Remind us of our duty to create a just society right here, right now, in our day. Give us the vision of purpose to guard against the complacency of the comfortable - and the resolve in knowing that we cannot put off the cause of justice and freedom for another day. Remind us that the time is now. Now is the moment to create your kingdom here on earth.
Ken Yehi Ratzon. May it be your will. And may it be ours. And let us say, Amen.
Urchatz
There are two points during the Seder when we wash our hands. This first
washing is a symbolic and ritual washing, done by one person and with no
blessing; later, we will all wash our hands and say a blessing as we prepare
for the meal. So why do we wash our hands symbolically now, if we will wash
them again before we eat?
It is Jewish tradition to wash our hands and say a blessing before we eat, so
that our hands are physically clean when we begin our meal. This washing,
however, is symbolic: because water is seen as refreshing and purifying, it is
an opportunity to cleanse ourselves spiritually before we continue with our
seder. This year, our handwashing holds even greater meaning because of
the state of current events. We wash our hands to symbolically and
physically cleanse ourselves, to protect others, and to display radical
empathy.
Before we continue with our seder, share one thing in the Jamboard that
you wish to leave behind as we enter Passover, so you may be fully present
as we enter the holiday.
At this moment of the Seder, we dip something fresh (traditionally a green vegetable like parsley), called Karpas, into saltwater. The freshness is meant to be reminiscent of spring and freedom, and we dip it to remember the tears shed by our ancestors in their Egyptian slavery. But this year we are also considering the sadness of all those enslaved by forced labor and human trafficking today.
Now take a moment to create your dipping chocolate. Take a small handful of your provided fair trade chocolate chips and place them in a small microwave safe bowl with a splash of milk or water. Microwave for 30 seconds at a time and mix. While it's in the microwave, grab whatever type of fresh fruit you have around your house for dipping.
Keep listening as you melt your chocolate, we willl read outloud a clip from the following text about human trafficking today. After, we'll read our first text about the chocolate industry before saying the blessing over our Karpas and tasting its symbolism.
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While we say the prayer and eat, think about the fresh feeling of freedom while also considering human trafficking and the inequality in our world today.
If you're consuming a fruit that's grown on a bush:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.
If you're consuming a fruit that's grown on a tree:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָעץ
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-eitz.
Human Trafficking Today
Human trafficking is the practice of modern day slavery, and is one of the largest criminal indus- tries in the world, generating an estimated $32 billion per year. Approximately 27 million people are enslaved today and 800,000 people are trafficked across international borders each year (this number does not include those trafficked within a country’s borders). Fifty percent of those victims are children, and 80% are women and girls. While human trafficking is often thought of as solely an international problem, it occurs on a local level as well. An estimated 17,500 people are trafficked into the United States each year and an even greater number of United States citizens are trafficked within the country.
The Torah says that each one of us, every individual, is created “b’tzelem elokim,” in the image of God. How can this godly quality within each of us inspire us in our actions? What is our responsibility and our power in- herent in that gift of divine capacity? How can we use this divine potentiality within ourselves to address contemporary slavery?
We each have the power and the obligation to free today’s slaves with a “strong hand and outstretched arm.” What does the Haggadah mean by “an outstretched arm?” We must reach beyond ourselves, beyond the usual extent of our gaze. Our realm of influence, our chance to exert that divine capacity, is not an opportunity lurking in the distance—it is right here, within reach, just beyond us.
In the Haggadah, we see what would have been the continued plight of our forefathers had God not acted to take them out of Egypt. The practi- cal implications of the Exodus are far-reaching even until our own generation. Slavery does not end through hope and passivity, but by powerful action. Our action to end slavery is not only important for our own time but also for its ef- fects on future generations. This is our chance to shape the future.
Testimonial
“Jose Antonio Martinez and Francisco Martinez got sick of working 10 hours to make $15 after being promised $150 per day. Almost all their money in early 1999 went to their labor contractors for rent, food and their $750
smuggling fees. After picking tomatoes all day, they weren’t allowed to leave the roach-infested trailer they shared with 22 other workers west of Immokalee.
“You were locked up... you couldn’t stick your head out,” Francisco said. The floor had holes through which they saw snakes, and their mattresses were on the floor.
-From a case uncovered and prosecuted in Florida in 2003 - (http://www.palmbeachpost.com/moderndayslavery/content/moderndayslavery/reports/peonageblurbs1207.html) on March 2, 2010
Testimonial
“The Endangered Children of Northern Uganda” Ms. Grace Grall Akallo, spokesperson for World Vision, formerly abducted LRA child soldier testifying before the House International Relations, Subcommittee on Africa, Global Human Rights and International Opera- tions
April 26, 2006
My Story In October 1996, the LRA attacked St. Mary’s College, a girls’ boarding school in Aboke Town, in
the Apac District, in northern Uganda. They abducted 139 girls--including myself. I was 15-years-old at the time...
I was forcibly marched into southern Sudan. We walked for four days and four nights. In southern Sudan, the LRA had bases that were run and protected by forces allied with the Sudanese government in Khartoum. I, and the other girls captured with me, were trained to assemble and disassemble, clean and use guns. We were used as slave labor by the LRA and Sudanese government soldiers. We were forcibly given to senior LRA commanders as so-called “wives.” For seven months, I was held in captivity by the LRA, always looking for an opportunity to escape. I con- stantly prayed that God would allow me to see my family once more before I died. I desperately wanted to finish my education, but hope seemed distant. I saw two other children who had tried, unsuccessfully, to escape. They were brutally murdered in front of me as a warning. One night, we were forced to raid a village, and I was directed to help steal food and water. I fainted from thirst. I woke up hours later, buried alive in a shallow grave. The Ugandan soldiers, along with the SPLA (Sudan People’s Liberation Army) attacked the base of the LRA, allowing me a chance to escape. I walked for three days, living on soil and leaves before I found another group of children who had also escaped. I persuaded eight of them to join me, and we eventually found a group of villagers who took care of us, before helping us connect with the Ugandan army to return home. I escaped, alive, from the LRA, but five of my classmates died in captivity. The others gradually managed to escape over the past ten years; some are infected with HIV/AIDS; many of them have children by the com- manders who abused them. Ten years later, two of my friends are still held hostage by the LRA.
So I thank God for allowing me to see my family again. I thank Him for allowing me to continue on with my education. I went back to St. Mary’s to finish high school, and then I began studying at Uganda Christian University, in southern Uganda near the capital city, Kampala. I have since transferred to Gordon College in Boston, where I am now working on my undergraduate degree in Communications. When I finish my education I would like to work for one year and then continue on to graduate school to study International Relations and Conflict Resolution. I want to be part of the people struggling day and
night to try to bring peace in the world.
Cocoa beans, sugar, and just a sprinkle of child labor. While most people know that chocolate comes from cocoa beans, they are unaware of the human and economic toll of the product. In Western countries, chocolate symbolizes a reward used to motivate children for good behavior, but in Western Africa it represents an industry that enslaves and imprisons children, exploiting them for free labor.
Chocolate derives from the cacao bean, 70% of which is cultivated in Western Africa, where it accounts for over half of some countries’ Gross Domestic Product. The chocolate industry is extensive and stretches over every continent, earning around $100 billion in annual profits. Unfortunately, the profits are not equally distributed as farmers that grow the crops only receive about 6% of the revenue compared to 35% for manufacturers and 44% for retailers.
The average annual income from cocoa cultivation is approximately $1,000 per farm, translating to about $2.70 per day. This figure is meant to be divided amongst the workers of the farm, which can be as many as a dozen. In order to avoid splitting the profits, some farmers use enslaved children for labor.
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Ha lachma anya d’achaloo avhatana b’ara d’meetzrayeem. Kol dichfeen yay-tay vi’yachool, kol deetzreech yay-tay viyeesfsach. Hashata hach. Li’shana ha-ba-aa bi’arah di’yeesrael. Hashata av’day, li’shana ha-ba a bi’nay choreen.
This is the bread of affliction, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in need, come and celebrate Passover. Today, we are here. Next year, in the land of Israel. Today, we are slaves. Next year, we will be free.
Written in Aramaic, this statement begins the narration of the Seder by inviting the hungry to our table. Aramaic, Jewish legend has it, is the one language which the angels do not understand. Why then is Ha Lachma spoken in Aramaic? To teach us that where there is hunger, no one should rely upon the angels, no one should pray to the heavens for help. We know the language of the poor, for we were poor in the land of Egypt. We know that we are called to feed the poor and to call them to join our celebration of freedom.
The word Haggadah means telling and as such we now reach the key piece of the Passover traditions: We are to tell the story.
We will tell this story through questions and considerations, through traditions and divergences, and through new insights into ancient rituals.
The formal telling of the story of Passover is framed as a discussion with lots of questions and answers. 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. Traditionally, the youngest person at the seder reads the four questions.
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.
What questions do you have about Passover and/or tonight's seder?
Four Questions:
Why should we be conscious of the people who we consider strangers?
Why are human beings treated as if they are disposable based on their living circumstances?
Why is it important to reach out to individuals who don’t have the same rights as us?
Despite what we hear about the working conditions, why do we still support the industries?
What does each of us do to further oppression?
How much more might I pay for fair trade certified chocolate?
What is the role of globalization in my chocolate?
Which fair trade certified or modified fair trade chocolate companies deserve our support?
Can we be humble enough to admit when we do not know something, rather than pretending to have the answer? Can we be gracious enough to answer another’s question without shaming them for not knowing? Can we be brave enough to inquire within, and ask ourselves our own hard questions? Can we open our hearts to the love that wants to come in, if only we will release our clever defenses?
Around our tables sit four daughters.
Wise Daughter
The Wise daughter understands that not everything is as it appears.
She is the one who speaks up, confident that her opinion counts. She is the one who can take the tradition and ritual that is placed before her, turn it over and over, and find personal meaning in it. She is the one who can find the secrets in the empty spaces between the letters of the Torah.
She is the one who claims a place for herself even if the men do not make room for her.
Some call her wise and accepting. We call her creative and assertive. We welcome creativity and assertiveness to sit with us at our tables and inspire us to act.
Wicked Daughter
The Wicked daughter is the one who dares to challenge the simplistic answers she has been given.
She is the one who asks too many questions. She is the one not content to remain in her prescribed place. She is the one who breaks the mold. She is the one who challenges the status quo.
Some call her wicked and rebellious. We call her daring and courageous. We welcome rebellion to sit with us at our tables and make us uneasy.
Simple Daughter
The Simple daughter is the one who accepts what she is given without asking for more.
She is the one who trusts easily and believes what she is told. She is the one who prefers waiting and watching over seeking and acting. She is the one who believes that the redemption from Egypt was the final act of freedom. She is the one who follows in the footsteps of others.
Some call her simple and naive. We call her the one whose eyes are yet to be opened. We welcome the contented one to sit with us at our tables and appreciate what will is still to come.
Daughter Who Does Not Know How to Ask
Last is the daughter who does not know how to ask.
She is one who obeys and does not question. She is the one who has accepted men's definitions of the world. She is the one who has not found her own voice. She is the one who is content to be invisible.
Some call her subservient and oppressed. We call her our sister. We welcome the silent one to sit with us at our tables and experience a community that welcomes the voices of women.
(Used with permission of the Temple Emunah Women's Seder Haggadah Design Committee)
Adapted from the Horowitzes' Haggadah
1. Our story starts in ancient times, with Abraham, the first person to believe in one God. God 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.
2. Generations later, our people went into galut, exile, in the land of Egypt. During a famine, our forefather Jacob and his family fled to Egypt where food was plentiful. Through a complicated set of plot twists, his son Joseph had risen to high position in Pharaoh's court, and our people were well-respected and well-regarded, secure in the power structure of the time.
3. Generations passed and our people remained in Egypt. As rulers came and went, a new Pharaoh ascended to the throne. He felt threatened by the strangers in his people's midst, and ordered our people enslaved.
In fear of rebellion, Pharaoh decreed that all Hebrew boy-children be killed. Two midwives named Shifrah and Puah defied his orders, claiming that "the Hebrew women are so hardy, they give birth before we arrive!" Through their courage, a boy survived.
Fearing for his safety, his family placed him in a basket and he floated down the Nile. He was found and adopted by Pharaoh's daughter, who named him Moshe because min ha-mayim m'shitihu, from the water she drew him forth. She hired his mother Yocheved as his wet-nurse. Thus he survived to adulthood and was raised as Prince of Egypt.
4. Although a child of privilege, as he grew he became aware of the slaves who worked in the brickyards of his father. When he saw an overseer mistreat a slave, he struck the overseer and killed him. Fearing retribution, he set out across Sinai alone.
God spoke to him from a burning bush, which though it flamed was not consumed. The Voice called him to lead the Hebrew people to freedom. Moses argued with God, pleading inadequacy, but God disagreed. Sometimes our responsibilities choose us.
5. Moses returned to Egypt and went to Pharaoh to argue the injustice of slavery. He gave Pharaoh a mandate which resounds through history: Let my people go.
Pharaoh refused, and Moses warned him that Mighty God would strike the Egyptian people. These threats were not idle: ten terrible plagues were unleashed upon the Egyptians. Only when his nation lay in ruins did Pharaoh agree to our liberation.
6. Fearful that Pharaoh would change his mind, our people fled, not waiting for their bread dough to rise. (For this reason we eat unleavened bread as we take part in their journey.) Our people did not leave Egypt alone; a "mixed multitude" went with them. From this we learn that liberation is not for us alone, but for all the nations of the earth.
Even Pharaoh's daughter came with us, and traded her old title ( bat-Pharaoh, daughter of Pharaoh) for the name Batya, "daughter of God."
Pharaoh's army followed us to the Sea of Reeds. We plunged into the waters. Only when we had gone as far as we could did the waters part for us. We mourn, even now, that Pharaoh's army drowned: our liberation is bittersweet because people died in our pursuit.
7. To this day we relive our liberation, that we may not become complacent, that we may always rejoice in our freedom.
According to the 2018 Cocoa Barometer, there are as many as 2 million child laborers in West Africa alone, many of whom were kidnapped and forced into the servitude of the chocolate industry.
Smugglers are paid to traffic children from countries like Mali and Guinea into the Ivory Coast, Ghana, and Algeria. After they are handed off to farmers, the children are forced to work long hours in life-threatening conditions, carrying heavy bags of cocoa seeds, using sharp machetes, and climbing tall trees without equipment.
They are beaten with bicycle chains or cacao branches if they fail to meet required quotas or attempt an escape. These children are physically and psychologically abused and deprived of their childhoods to lay the foundation for other countries’ luxurious consumption of chocolate.
Institutionalized poverty breeds child slavery when farmers refuse to split profits fairly. The enslaved children miss out on educational opportunities, preventing income and skills to circulate the economy. And finally, since the countries’ economies are unable to grow and diversify, they remain stagnant and underdeveloped. Furthermore, cocoa-exporting countries like the Ivory Coast and Ghana have created a parasitic relationship that feeds off of Western countries’ chocolate consumption, fueling a strong dependency that represses development opportunities. Thus, child enslavement is both a cause and consequence of stagnated economic growth as it perpetuates a cycle of poverty and underdevelopment.
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 lists ten plagues that afflicted the Egyptians. We live in a very different world, but Passover is a good time to remember that, even after our liberation from slavery in Egypt, there are still many challenges for us to meet. Here are ten “modern plagues”:
Inequity - Access to affordable housing, quality healthcare, nutritious food, good schools, and higher education is far from equal. The disparity between rich and poor is growing, and opportunities for upward mobility are limited.
Entitlement - Too many people consider themselves entitled to material comfort, economic security, and other privileges of middle-class life without hard work.
Fear - Fear of “the other” produces and reinforces xenophobia, anti-immigrant sentiment, antisemitism, homophobia, and transphobia.
Greed - Profits are a higher priority than the safety of workers or the health of the environment. The top one percent of the American population controls 42% of the country’s financial wealth, while corporations send jobs off-shore and American workers’ right to organize and bargain collectively is threatened.
Distraction - In this age of constant connectedness, we are easily distracted by an unending barrage of information, much of it meaningless, with no way to discern what is important.
Distortion of reality - The media constructs and society accepts unrealistic expectations, leading to eating disorders and an unhealthy obsession with appearance for both men and women.
Unawareness - It is easy to be unaware of the consequences our consumer choices have for the environment and for workers at home and abroad. Do we know where or how our clothes are made? Where or how our food is produced? The working conditions? The impact on the environment?
Discrimination - While we celebrate our liberation from bondage in Egypt, too many people still suffer from discrimination. For example, blacks in the United States are imprisoned at more than five times the rate of whites, and Hispanics are locked up at nearly double the white rate. Women earn 77 cents for every dollar earned by a man. At 61 cents to the dollar, the disparity is even more shocking in Jewish communal organization.
Silence - Every year, 4.8 million cases of domestic violence against American women are reported. We do not talk about things that are disturbing, such as rape, sex trafficking, child abuse, domestic violence, and elder abuse, even though they happen every day in our own communities.
Feeling overwhelmed and disempowered - 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?
The plagues and our subsequent redemption from Egypt are but one example of the care God has shown for us in our history. Had God but done any one of these kindnesses, it would have been enough – dayeinu.
אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָֽנוּ מִמִּצְרַֽיִם, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu
If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!
אִלּוּ נָתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah , Dayeinu
If God had only given us the Torah, that would have been enough.
The complete lyrics to Dayeinu tell the entire story of the Exodus from Egypt as a series of miracles God performed for us. (See the Additional Readings if you want to read or sing them all.)
Dayeinu also reminds us that each of our lives is the cumulative result of many blessings, small and large.
Adapted from A Dayeinu for Our Time by Rabbi Michael Strassfeld
If I can’t get together with my friends but I can see and talk to them by Zoom— dayeinu ; it would be enough.
If I am stuck in my home for days that turn into weeks but at least I have a home unlike too many others— dayeinu ; it would be enough.
If I was isolated and my loved ones couldn’t come to my room, I would cry but be assured of their love— dayeinu ; it would have to be enough.
After recent journalistic exposés brought the issue to the international stage, several popular chocolate brands were exposed for their participation in the global exploitation of chocolate, including Hershey, Nestlé, Godiva, and Mars. Most of these acknowledged their use of child slaves and some even presented plans to purify their farms of child slavery and labor by 2020. Unfortunately, without the proper guidelines and repercussions in place, large chocolate companies will never cease the exploitation of children, as they keep on benefiting from the free labor that generates billions of dollars annually.
However, not all chocolate companies are evil and exploitative. The Fairtrade Foundation, founded in 1992, is a trading partnership that oversees the sustainable farming and trading of raw materials, including cacao
They are based on transparency, respect, and equity, their standards ensure that farmers are paid living wages and that farms are free from child slaves. While none of the major chocolate brands have joined the Fairtrade movement, there are some smaller ones that pledged to reform their production. Divine Chocolate, for example, is a company co-owned by the 85,000 members of Kuapa Kokoo, a Ghana based cooperative that supplies the cacao in each bar of Divine. As owners, they are heavily involved at every level of the company, getting fair shares of the profits for their community and using their voice in the global marketplace.
The Cup of Redemption
With the third cup of wine we recall the second promise, the second stage,
of our liberation, the actual rescue from slavery. Here, we think about the heros of our time, rescuing others from slavery.
Who are the people in our time working towards for justice? Who is fighting for freedom?
What have I done this past year to further freedom? How can I take inspiration from those taking steps towards a better world?
In their honor, and in honor of all the people of the world who have joined in the
struggle for peace, for freedom, and to make the world a better place in which to
live and work, we drink the second cup.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אַדָנָי אֱלהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעולָם בּורֵא 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.
Drink the 2nd glass of wine!
As we now transition from the formal telling of the Passover story to the celebratory meal, we once again wash our hands to prepare ourselves. As we remember from our symbolic washing, pouring water over the hands has an enormous symbolic significance. Hands are our tools for manipulating the world. To mark the transition from telling the Passover story to the meal, we ritually wash our hands to create an aura of sanctity; we clean our tools for interacting with the world, that will engage us in something beautiful.
We encourage you to to say the blessing for washing your hands and then go wash your hands.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה הָ׳ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדַיִם
Barukh atah adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al netilat yadayim
Blessed are you, our God, ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with God's commandments and instructed us on washing hands.
Break off some Matzah, melt remaining fair trade chocolate chips, and spread the chocolate onto the Matzah while we read the following paragraphs.
Matzah is the “bread of poverty,” that is, the bread which our ancestors ate as slaves in Egypt. It reminds us of the great haste in which our Israelite ancestors fled from Egypt. Our ancestors had little time to prepare food for their escape, so they had to bake unleavened dough.
The chocolate coating on our matzah recalls the poverty in which most cocoa growers live. They rarely taste the finished product of the chocolate. In this elaborate and plentiful Seder feast the Matzah is a slender reminder of poverty and those who barely eke out a living from their agricultural work, particularly the contrast between the limited resources of most cacao growers and the wealthy consumers of chocolate. When we cover our matzah with chocolate we recall that we are descended from slaves in Egypt and that unfortunately slaves exist in our chocolate-growing world today. As we seek to break the bonds of slavery may this occasion help us form bonds with each other, so that we may eliminate all forms of enslavement on earth.
The Maror symbolizes the bitter lives of our ancestors who were slaves in Egypt, toiling as builders and as field workers. When we eat the bitter herbs, we share in that bitterness of oppression. When you go to the grocery store, where does your food come from? Who picked the sugar cane for your chocolate, or the coffee bean for your morning coffee? We are reminded that people still face the bitterness of oppression, in many forms. This bitter chocolate calls us to consider the difficult circumstances of harvesting cacao; the use of machetes, the rainforest heat and humidity, the carrying of heavy loads of beans.
Before we recite the prayer and taste our bitter dark chocolate, we'll read some information about the bitter conditions of harvesting non fair trade chocolate. Then come back to recite the prayer over maror:
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat maror.
Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Sovereign of the universe, who has sanctified us with
Your commandments and ordained that we should eat bitter herbs.
"Child Labor & Slavery in the Chocolate Industry" on 2021 Food Empowerment Project
Most of the children laboring on cocoa farms are between the ages of 12 and 16,[15] but reporters have found children as young as 5.[16][19]
A child’s workday typically begins at six in the morning and ends in the evening.[18] Some of the children use chainsaws to clear the forests.[17] Other children climb the cocoa trees to cut bean pods using a machete. These large, heavy, dangerous knives are the standard tools for children on the cocoa farms,[18] which violates international labor laws and a UN convention on eliminating the worst forms of child labor.[24][32] Once they cut the bean pods from the trees, the children pack the pods into sacks that weigh more than 100 pounds when full and drag them through the forest [17] Aly Diabate, a former cocoa slave, said, “Some of the bags were taller than me. It took two people to put the bag on my head. And when you didn’t hurry, you were beaten.”[4]
Holding a single large pod in one hand, each child has to strike the pod with a machete and pry it open with the tip of the blade to expose the cocoa beans.[18] Every strike of the machete has the potential to slice a child’s flesh. The majority of children have scars on their hands, arms, legs or shoulders from the machetes.
The great sage Hillel provided us with the tradition of constructing the Hillel sandwich, combining the bitterness of the maror with the sweetness of the charoset between two pieces of matzah. This juxtaposition is a key theme throughout Jewish rituals. In many holidays, we're reminded how close the Jewish people have come to utter destruction while celebrating strength and survival with great joy, remembering our persistence and our own determination to survive. Even at a wedding, we break a glass to remind us that even in times of life’s greatest joys we must remember the sadness of the destruction of the Temple. And on Passover we mix the sweet charoset with the bitter maror, mixing bitter of slavery and sweetness of freedom all in one bite.
Throughout each year and throughout our lifetimes, we challenge ourselves to remember that even in times of strength, it is better to sense our vulnerability, rather than bask in our success. We all have memories of times in which bitter and sweet were mixed in our lives, all in the same bite. Enjoy the sandwich, layering charoset and maror between two pieces of matzah, while meditating on the juxtaposition of sweetness and bitterness in our story and of our world.
Adapted from Tikkun Ha-Lev Haggadah Insert by Rabbi Yael Levy
Third Cup: Gratitude
We lift the third cup and give thanks for the blessings in our lives. We give thanks for the people whom we love and who love us. We give thanks for the gifts we receive and are able to give. We give thanks for the bounty we enjoy and the opportunities we have. As we raise the third cup, we share gratitude -- and that opens our awareness, brings joy and softens the heart.
Drink the third glass of grape juice!
It is customary to fill a cup of wine for Elijah the Prophet, and open our door to welcome him to our Passover seder. Tradition holds that he will return in advance of messianic days to herald a new era of peace, so we set a place for Elijah at many joyous, hopeful Jewish occasions, such as a baby’s bris and the Passover seder.
At our seder, we have two cups in the center - one for Elijah, and one for Moses's sister Miriam. It is said that a well followed the Jews as they wandered through the desert until the time of Miriam's death, a gift from God for her optimism. Miriam's cup is filled with water to honor her, as well as the often overlooked contributions of other women in the Torah and Jewish history.
As we open the door for Elijah, we sing together:
אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַנָּבִיא, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַתִּשְׁבִּי,
אֵלִיָּֽהוּ, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ,אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַגִּלְעָדִי.
בִּמְהֵרָה בְיָמֵֽנוּ יָבוֹא אֵלֵֽינוּ
עִם מָשִֽׁיחַ בֶּן דָּוִד,
עִם מָשִֽׁיחַ בֶּן דָּוִד.
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 of Gilad: return to us speedily, in our days with the messiah, son of David.
Adapted from Tikkun Ha-Lev Haggadah Insert by Rabbi Yael Levy
Rather than focusing on us as individuals, as we fill our final glass of wine tonight, let’s think about how we can symbolically fill up others' glasses. We recognize that, as a family and group of friends, we have the resources to help each other and those in our community if we are willing to share our resources and collaborate – whether those resources are time, money, skills, or any of the other gifts we bring to one another.
Fourth Cup: Goodness
There is so much good in the world. There are so many people acting every day with care and devotion for the benefit of each other and the earth. As we lift the fourth cup, we share stories of goodness. We share acts of kindness we have witnessed. We relate instances of people coming together for justice. We share inspiring moments and encounters that bring us strength and hope.
May our hearts be strong and filled with courage.
May we guide each other into the expanse of hope and possibility.
Drink the fourth glass of grape juice!
For the consumers in developed countries, chocolate is a luxury, it is a pleasure that satisfies cravings and symbolizes love. However, for the kids in developing countries who produce it and have never even tasted the finished product, chocolate represents a solemn life of slavery, abuse, and the end of their childhood. We cannot allow multibillion-dollar companies to keep lining their pockets with the blood, sweat, and tears of third world children. So, the next time you are craving some chocolate, look out for the Fairtrade logo and help combat child exploitation in West Africa.
----
Pecorelli, Sabrina. “The Hidden Ingredient in Chocolate: Africa's Child Slaves.” Chargedaffairs.org, Charged Affairs, 26 Apr. 2020, chargedaffairs.org/the-hidden-ingredient-in-chocolate-africas-child-slaves/.
Human Trafficking Today By Tziona Szajman
We each have the power and the obligation to free today’s slaves with a “strong hand and outstretched arm.” What does the Haggadah mean by “an outstretched arm?” We must reach beyond ourselves, beyond the usual extent of our gaze. Our realm of influence, our chance to exert that divine capacity, is not an opportunity lurking in the distance—it is right here, within reach, just beyond us.
In the Haggadah, we see what would have been the continued plight of our forefathers had God not acted to take them out of Egypt. The practi- cal implications of the Exodus are far-reaching even until our own generation. Slavery does not end through hope and passivity, but by powerful action. Our action to end slavery is not only important for our own time but also for its ef- fects on future generations. This is our chance to shape the future.
our hearts smoke as we gaze
toward hills that rise
above the haze of waiting waters
tonight our doors are open
harsh ties that bind us are cut
and we search under the sand
familiar songs and favorite foods
signal that we have come far
and that we are always at the beginning
released and releasing
remembered and remembering
in every state, grateful
to our heroes and the unnamed
who before us laid places
around this long, long table
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." Elie Wiesel
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 to celebrate openly together in a safe place. 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!
As Jews, we know about the power of narrative. The slavery narrative presented in the Book of Exodus and retold around the Passover table is probably the most powerful because it is the foundation of so many Jewish values: faith, compassion and justice, just to name a few.
At Passover, we do not sit down to the Seder table and simply open the Book of Exodus. Rather we open our Haggadah , which over time has developed into a narrative in which God is the hero, where the Pharaoh represents not only his own excesses of power, but tyranny across the centuries. Rather than start with Exodus, with the slavery itself, one of the first quotes is from Deuteronomy 26:5 referring back to the Book of Genesis: “Arami oved avi—My father was a wandering Aramean.”
It is not simply the Exodus that shapes our worldview as Jews. It is the Exodus portrayed within the context of this narrative, a narrative that presents our God as powerful, and presents our people as compassionate, when we take a drop out of our wine glass for each plague; grateful, when we recite the Hallel Psalms of praise; inquisitive, when our children ask the Four Questions; and imaginative, when haroset can play the role mortar and saltwater that of our tears. Most importantly, it presents Jews as a people blessed with freedom. That’s the Jewish narrative. The parts that are not true we still wish to be true. The narrative of the Exodus has served our people well. That narrative has made us vigilant against abuses of power, for example, and given us hope that from each period of oppression we can move to redemption and freedom.
American Jews have overwhelmingly interpreted our freedom to be a mandate to work for the freedom of all. In America, though, there is another narrative—a racial narrative. It is best summed up by attorney Bryan Stevenson of the Equal Justice Initiative, author of “Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption.” Unlike other societies that had slavery, Stevenson argues, America was unique in being a slave society. Slavery was established and perpetuated on a narrative of white supremacy. The ideology preached that blacks were violent and needed slavery to tame them. It taught in ways overt and subtle that blacks were dangerous and to protect themselves whites needed to use either subjugation or segregation. While the laws were changed, the narrative never was.In the generations since America’s founding, a subtle form of bias has also emerged called privilege, that unspoken part of the narrative that grants to people with white skin more opportunity than people with dark skin. There are, of course, Jews with all different shades of skin, and each of us must strive to understand the privilege that has been bestowed upon us.
White American Jews are inheritors of two often competing narratives. One tells us that there is something inherently different between blacks and whites. The other tells us that freedom is a gift we must share with others, as we are all created in God’s image.
We have to confront the fact that, for most of us, working for racial equality means working to change the American narrative. If we are successful in this, then our own sense of privilege will be transformed in ways that make us uncomfortable. But considering the sacrifices that those of previous generations made for justice and equality, the risks are small and the potential to build a better society great.
Let us understand the power we hold, the privilege that gives us that power, and the narrative that supports that privilege. I believe we can and must work to rewrite our American narrative so that it better reflects our common history and our shared ideals.
Note: This Torah commentary is offered ahead of the Martin Luther King Day holiday.
Originally published here: https://www.myjewishlearning.com/jewish-and/navigating-jewish-and-american-slavery-narratives/
Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
One little goat, one little goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came a cat and ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came a dog and bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came a stick and beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came fire and burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came water and quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came the ox and drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came the butcher and slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came the Angel of Death and killed the butcher, that slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Then came the Holy One, Blessed be He and slew the the Angel of Death, that killed the butcher, that slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim. Chad gadya, Chad gadya.
Echad Mi Yode'a - אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ
Who knows one? I know one: : אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ? אֶחָד אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ
Echad mi yode'a? Echad ani yode'a:
| 1. | One is our God, in heaven and on earth | אחד אלוהינו שבשמיים ובארץ | .א |
| 2. | Two are the tablets of the covenant; | שני לוחות הברית | .ב |
| 3. | Three are the Patriarchs | שלושה אבות | .ג |
| 4. | Four are the Matriarchs | ארבע אימהות | .ד |
| 5. | Five are the books of the Torah | חמישה חומשי תורה | .ה |
| 6. | Six are the books of the Mishnah | שישה סידרי משנה | .ו |
| 7. | Seven are the days of the week | שיבעה ימי שבתא | .ז |
| 8. | Eight are the days of the circumcision | שמונה ימי מילה | .ח |
| 9. | Nine are the months of the pregnant | תישעה ירחי לידה | .ט |
| 10. | Ten are the Commandments | עשרה דיבריא | .י |
| 11. | Eleven are the stars of the Joseph's dream | אחד עשר כוכביא | .יא |
| 12. | Twelve are the tribes of Israel | שנים עשר שיבטיא | .יב |
| 13. | Thirteen are the temperaments of God | שלושה עשר מידיא | .יג |
Miriam's Song
Chorus
And the women dancing with their timbrels
Followed Miriam as she sang her song
Sing a song to the One whom we've exalted
Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long
And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety
The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history
With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight
A woman touched with spirit, she dances toward the light
Chorus
When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea
The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe
Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand
And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land
Chorus
And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand
And all the women followed her just as she had planned
And Miriam raised her voice in song
She sang with praise and might
We've just lived through a miracle
We're going to dance tonight
Songwriters: Debbie Friedman
