INTRODUCTION

The long history of our people is one of contrasts — freedom and slavery, joy and pain, power and helplessness. Passover reflects these contrasts. Tonight as we celebrate our freedom, we remember the slavery of our ancestors and realize that many people are not yet free.

Each generation changes — our ideas, our needs, our dreams, even our celebrations. So has Passover changed over many centuries into our present

holiday. Our nomadic ancestors gathered for a spring celebration when the sheep gave birth to their lambs. Theirs was a celebration of the continuity of life. Later, when our ancestors became farmers, they celebrated the arrival of spring in their own fashion. Eventually these ancient spring festivals merged with the story of the Exodus from Egypt and became a new celebration of life and freedom.

As each generation gathered around the table to retell the old stories, the symbols took on new meanings. New stories of slavery and liberation, oppression and triumph were added, taking their place next to the old. Tonight we add our own special chapter as we recall our people’s past and we dream of the future.

For Jews, our enslavement by the Egyptians is now remote, a symbol of communal remembrance. As we sit here in the comfort of our modern world, we think of the millions who still suffer the brutality of the existence that we escaped thousands of years ago.

Often, when he came to visit, my grandfather would bring me a present...

Once, in the month of February, he brought me a little paper cup containing some soil. “If you promise so put some water in the cup every day, something may happen,” he told me.

At the time, I was four years old and my lived on the sixth floor of an apartment building in Manhattan. The whole thing made no sense to me. I looked at him dubiously. He nodded with encouragement. “Every day, Neshume-le, my little one,” he told me.

And so I promised. At first, curious to see what would happen, I did not mind doing this. But as the days went by and nothing changed, it got harder and harder to remember the water for the cup. After a week, I asked my grandfather if it was time to stop yet. Shaking his head no, he said, “Every day Neshume-le. ” The second week was even harder, and I became resentful of my promise to put water in the cup. When my grandfather came again, I tried to give it back to him but he refused to take it, saying simply, “Every day Neshume-le, my little one.” By the third week, I began to forget the water altogether. Often I would remember only after I was in bed and I would have to get out of bed and water the cup in the dark. But I did not miss a single day. And one morning, there were two little green leaves that had not been there the night before.  

I was completely astonished. Day by day they got bigger. I could not wait to tell my grandfather, certain that he would be as surprised as I was. But of course he was not. Carefully he explained to me that life is everywhere, hidden in the most ordinary and unlikely places. I was delighted. “And all it needs is water, Grandpa?” I asked him. Gently he touched me on the top of my head. “No, Neshume-le, ” he said. “All it needs is your faithfulness.”

This was perhaps my first lesson in the power of service, but I did not understand it in this way then. My grandfather would not have used these words. He would have said we need to remember to bless the life around us and the life within us. He would have said when we remember we can bless life, we can repair the world. And I agree. Blessing life, loving life is the beginning of a spiritual life.

Kadesh

קַדֵשׁ

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, borei p'ri hagafen.

Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has created the fruit of the vine.

Say this Shehechiyanu blessing the first Seder night only:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶה

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, she’hecheyanu v'ki'manu v'higi-anu laz'man hazeh.

Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sustained us, maintained us and enabled us to reach this moment in life.

Be melting snow.

Wash yourself of yourself.

"Instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.”

The Story: A Six-Minute Play
modified from the original play by Rabbi Daniel Brenner

CAST: NARRATOR, JOSEPH, BENJAMIN, PHAROAH, ADVISOR, HEBREW 1, HEBREW 2, HEBREW 3, BOSS, BAT PHAROAH, MOSES, G-D, AARON

NARRATOR: Our story begins in the land of Egypt where Joseph, once a prisoner, is now the Pharaoh’s chief advisor.

JOSEPH: So, brother, tell me. How are things back in Israel?

BENJAMIN: Terrible! Our gardens and crops are dying. There is no rain this year. That is why we had to come down to Egypt!

JOSEPH: We don’t have to worry about that. I’ve stored away tons of food in giant warehouses. Pharaoh can feed the people for three years at least, even if we get no rain.

BENJAMIN: But, what does the Pharaoh think of us Hebrews?

JOSEPH: He loves me and would welcome all Hebrews. Bring the entire family! We’ll make a great life here.

NARRATOR: So, the Hebrews moved to Egypt, had many children, and lived well. But many years later, after Joseph and his brothers had died, a new Pharaoh rose to power.

PHAROAH: Advisor, bring me the latest census report. I want to know all the people over whom I rule!

ADVISOR: Yes, you’re Royal Highness. I have the numbers here.

PHAROAH: Let’s see… Nubians, Midians, yes, very good. Are there really that many Hebrews?

ADVISOR: Yes, your highness! And, they’re growing in number. They are strong workers.

PHAROAH: Do you think that might be a danger? Perhaps they will challenge my rule – make demands, rise up against me!

ADVISOR: Yes, you are right! We must break their spirits!

PHAROAH: Start by forcing them to make more bricks each day. Next, make them haul more rocks. Then, take away their breaks. If that doesn’t break their spirits, we’ll turn to harsher measures.

NARRATOR: The Hebrews struggled to keep up with Pharaoh’s demands.

HEBREW 1: My hands are killing me. And my back! I can’t take the pace.

HEBREW 2: We can make a thousand bricks a day—but two thousand? No team can work that hard! We’ll fall over!

HEBREW 3: Get back to work, the boss is coming!

BOSS: Efficiency, people! We have got to make 900 more bricks by sundown! Come on, let’s work faster!

HEBREW 1: We are working as fast as we can, boss.

HEBREW 2: We haven’t had a break all day!

BOSS: And you are not going to get one! Work!

NARRATOR: Meanwhile, Pharaoh’s daughter adopted a baby, a first-born Hebrew male whose sister, at her mother’s request, had sent him down the river in a basket to escape his fate. The child, Moses, was raised with the finest Egypt had to offer.

BAT PHAROAH: Here, sweetheart, eat your honey cakes before your flute lesson.

MOSES: I’m so excited about the party this evening.

BAT PHAROAH: Your new robe looks lovely, dear. I just hope that the Pyramid is finished. Your grandfather has the workers working double time just to get the place finished before the great assembly.

MOSES: I heard that the Hebrews were complaining. Why?

BAT PHAROAH: Never mind what goes on outside, sweetheart.

MOSES: I know so little about the world. Someday I’d like to go out of the palace and see how they live.

NARRATOR: One day, Moses snuck away to witness the Hebrew’s plight.

HEBREW 1: I can’t work. I’m sick! My arms ache from lifting stones!

BOSS: No excuses! This pyramid must be finished by Thursday! Today is Wednesday! So get moving!

HEBREW 1: I can’t work. Please, listen. Have some compassion!

BOSS: Quiet!

HEBREW 2: Give him a break, boss!

HEBREW 3: Don’t get involved!

BOSS: Enough! [Boss pushes Hebrew 2 to the ground.]

HEBREW 3: Stop! One of Pharaoh’s princes is coming!

MOSES: What is happening?

BOSS: Your honor, I’ll give this man the beating he deserves! Watch!

MOSES: No! [Moses hits the Boss, who falls to the ground.]

HEBREW 3: No! What did you do to the boss? We’ll be punished for this!

MOSES: Oh no! What have I done? What have I done?

NARRATOR: Moses ran away, far into the wilderness, where he met a shepherd named Jethro and married his daughter Zipporah. One day, taking care of Jethro’s sheep, Moses stumbled upon a burning bush.

G-D: Moses, Moses!

MOSES: Who is that? What is happening?

G-D: It is me, the G-d of your ancestors, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob. You must go back to Egypt and ask Pharaoh to let your people leave Egypt! Then you will lead them back to their homeland!

MOSES: How will I do that? The people don’t know me! And, I have no power now that I have run away!

G-D: I will be with you. Take your brother, Aaron. Stand up to Pharaoh!

NARRATOR: So Moses and Aaron returned to Egypt to see Pharaoh.

PHAROAH: What do you want?

AARON: Please let my people leave Egypt. We need to go outside of the city so that we can pray to G-d in our own way.

PHAROAH: Why not wait for the festival of the pyramids? Then your people can pray with everyone.

MOSES: We do not wish to pray to your gods. We have one G-d, who is mightier than all of your gods.

PHAROAH: You must be joking. The gods have made Egypt a great nation. What has your G-d done for you?

MOSES: You’ll see what our G-d can do! Then you’ll let us go!

PHAROAH: Don’t count on it!

NARRATOR: So, G-d sent plagues. Water turned to blood, so fish died, and everyone was thirsty; frogs swarmed every inch of space in Egypt; lice and other bugs crawled to cover the land; wild animals came and destroyed all that was built; disease struck sacred livestock; painful boils broke on the skin of people and animals; hail pelted from the skies; and darkness fell over the land. Still, Pharoah would not let the Hebrews go ... until a fatal illness killed the firstborn child of every Egyptian ...

ADVISOR: Your highness, why aren’t our gods protecting us?

PHAROAH: Don’t you see? All we did to the Hebrews is happening to us!

ADVISOR: Maybe their G-d IS powerful!

PHAROAH: Quickly, tell all of my guards to let the Hebrew people go!

NARRATOR: And so, Moses, spoke to the people.

MOSES: Put on your sandals, we have no time to bake tomorrow’s bread! Tonight we leave Egypt and set out for a new land! Our children, and our children’s children will remember this night! They’ll tell the story of how we stood up to Pharaoh, and how G-d helped us to be free!

AARON: Pharoah’s men are chasing us! He must have changed his mind!

HEBREW 1: But the Red Sea is ahead! Such high waters!

HEBREW 2: How can we possibly cross?

HEBREW 3: I can’t swim!!

G-D: Moses, raise your staff!

NARRATOR: Moses did; the waters of the Red Sea parted long enough for the Israelites to cross over onto dry land. And thus ends our play. 

A Passover story, offered by theRita J. Kaplan Jewish Connections Program, illustrating one person’s slavery to freedom recovery.

It has been two months since I was first diagnosed. I feel as stripped down and bare as this bone I am roasting. In a few short hours my children will be expecting, hoping and needing me to take my place at the table. How will I find the strength to do it?

As I grate the horseradish my tears are heartfelt. While chopping the sticky sweet mixture of apples and honey for the charoset, I realize my family is the sweet cement of my life. They are my foundation and help me to push past my salty tears. I wash the greens for the karpas, the sign of renewal and rebirth. I place the cup of Elijah on the table. Suddenly it strikes me how so many generations have started their Seders/stories with a mixture of tears blended with hope that spring will come again. The bitter and the sweet coexist on the same plate. Currently I may be a weaker link in this chain of strong Jews but the links on either side of me, hope and redemption, keep me attached.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.