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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Tonight’s Haggadah contains the following ingredients:
Kadesh – Sanctification – קַדֵש
Oorhatz – Washing of the hands – וּרְחַץ
Carpas – The eating of the green vegetables – כַּרְפַּס
Yahatz – Breaking of the Middle of the three Matzot – יַחַץ
Maggid – The story of Exodus – מַגִיד
Eyru’ayim - The reading of the GLBT timeline – אֵירוּעַיִם
Rachatz – Washing of the hands before the meal – רַחַץ
Motzi – Blessing before the meal – מוֹצִיא
Matzah – Blessing for the Matzah – מַצָּה
Maror – Eating of the bitter herbs – מָרוֹר
Korech – Eating of the Matzah and Maror sandwich – כּוֹרֵךְ
HaCarah - The conscious recognition of those not completely seen – הַכָּרָה
Chamutz – Eating of the sour vegetables – חָמוּץ
HaDerekh – The path – הַדֶּרֶךְ
Shulhan Orech – The meal - שֻׁלְחָן עוֹרֵךְ
Tzafon – Eating of the Afikomen – צָפוּן
Barech – Birkat HaMazon – בָּרֵךְ
Hallel – Closing recitation – הַלֵל
We begin this Seder by…
Recounting and intertwining the story of Exodus and bringing our ancestral heritage into our lives here in the present. At this table, we collectively relive the saga as if we experienced the redemption ourselves.
The light of Passover is the light of freedom; the hope of Passover is the hope of freedom. Our ancestors suffered in the darkness of slavery and dreamed of their liberty; some of our world neighbors must yet do the same. In the flame of the Passover candle, we celebrate the light of freedom, the light that gives life and reveals the beauty in our diversity.
The seder plate is full of familiar foods (at least to those who have attended a Passover seder before!), each one chosen for its symbolism as it relates to the story of the Exodus out of Egypt. What wasn't counted on when choosing these foods was the growing movement of Jews who choose vegan or vegetarian diets. Luckily, there are some perfectly great substitutes that convey similar flavors and meanings. So, what's on this vegan Passover plate?
Maror: bitter herbs to represent the pain of slavery. Obviously vegan already! This plate has horseradish, but cilantro is also a Rabbinically-approved maror herb.
Z'roa: the shank bone replaced by a roasted beet, representing the traditional sacrifice. While we wouldn't be eating the bone itself, it's still not going on this plate, and a beet looks nice and bloody and has Halachic precedent.
Charoset: a mixture of fruit made to resemble the mortar that slaves bound bricks together with in Egypt. Vegan enough, although it's often made with honey, so that will not be used here.
Chazeret: another green, supposed to be less bitter than the maror but still bitter, to represent the strain of slavery and the Jewish time in Egypt getting more difficult. On this plate, it is romaine lettuce.
Karpas: another green! This time parsley, representing springtime. Can also be a potato, but we're keeping the ceremonial items light.
Beitzah: usually an egg, but this time avocado. Can't be vegan without some, eh? This item has a lot of significance attached to it, some of it conflicting. It symbolizes fertility and new life, so a seed as as appropriate as an egg.
There is also an orange, to represent LGBTQIA+ Jews and other marginalized Jews, whose inclusion brings fruitfulness to the Jewish community and the world. (More on this following!)
The Hebrew word “Kiddush” means sanctification. But it is not the wine we sanctify. Instead, the wine is a symbol of the sanctity, the preciousness, and the sweetness of this moment. Held together by sacred bonds of family, friendship, peoplehood, we share this table tonight with one another and with all the generations who have come before us. Let us rise, and sanctify this singular moment.
HOW? We will drink four cups of wine at the Seder in celebration of our freedom. (Grape juice is fine too.) We stand, recite the blessing, and enjoy the first cup. L'chaim!
The blessing praises God for creating the "fruit of the vine." We recite the blessing, not over the whole grape, but over wine — squeezed and fermented through human skill. So, too, the motzee blessing is recited not over sheaves of wheat but over bread, leavened or unleavened, ground and kneaded and prepared by human hands. The blessing is over the product cultivated through human and divine cooperation: We bless the gifts of sun, seed and soil transformed by wisdom and purpose to sustain the body and rejoice the soul.
Baruch ata Adonai, Elohaynoo melech ha-olam, boray pree ha-gafen. Baruch atah Adonai, Elohynoo melech ha- olam, asher bachar banoo meekol am, v’romemanoo meekol lashon, v’keedshanoo b’meetzvotav. Va’teetayn lanoo Adonai Elohaynoo b’bahava, mo’adeem lsimcha, chageem oo-z’maneem l’sason. Et yom chag ha-matzot ha-zeh,
z’man chayrootaynoo, meekra kodesh, zecher leetzeeyat Meetzrayeem. Kee vanoo vacharta, v’otanoo keed- ashta meekol ha- ameem. Oo’mo’adday kodsheh’cha b’seemcha oo-v’sason heen’chaltanoo. Barcuch ata Adonai m’kadesh Yisrael v’ha-z’maneem.
Praised are You, Lord our God, Whose presence fills the universe. Who creates the fruit of the vine. Praised are You, Lord our God, Whose presence fills the universe, Who has called us for service
from among the peoples of the world, sanctifying our lives with Your commandments. In love, You have given us festivals for rejoicing and seasons of celebration, this Festival of Matzot, the time of our freedom, a commemoration of the Exodus from Egypt. Praised are You, Lord, Who gave us this joyful heritage and Who sanctifies Israel and the festivals.
Baruch ata Adonai, Elohaynoo melech ha-olam, sheh’hech’eeyanoo v’’keeyemanoo, v’heegeeanoo la-z’man ha-zeh.
Praised are You, Lord, our God, Whose presence fills the universe, Who has given us the gifts of life and strength and enabled us to reach this moment of joy.
We now do a “washing” in preparation for eating the vegetable (Karpas). Since the need for
such washing was questioned after the Rabbinic period and washing before eating vegetables
fell ultimately into disuse except for the Seder, no blessing is required. For some Seder
celebrations, only the Leader has his/her hands washed - but without a blessing, and in other
customs we go around to each of the participants, pouring water over the hands from a pitcher
into a bowl.
Leader: Centuries ago, only those who were free enjoyed the luxury of dipping their food to begin a meal. In celebration of our people’s freedom, tonight, we, too, start our meal by dipping green vegetables. However, we also remember that our freedom came after tremendous struggle. And, so, we dip our vegetables into salt water to recall the ominous waters that threatened to drown our Israelite ancestors as they fled persecution in Egypt, as well as the tears they shed on that harrowing journey to freedom.
We recognize that, today, there are more than 68 million people still making these treacherous journeys away from persecution and violence in their homelands. As we dip the karpas into salt water tonight, we bring to mind those who have risked and sometimes lost their lives in pursuit of safety and liberty.
Group: We dip for the Rohingya father who walked for six days to avoid military capture in his native Myanmar before he came to the Naf River and swam to Bangladesh.
We dip for the Syrian mother rescued from the dark waters of the Mediterranean Sea in the early hours of morning, still holding the lifeless body of her infant child after their small boat capsized.2
We dip for the Somali and Ethiopian refugees deliberately drowned when the smuggler who promised them freedom forced them into the Arabian Sea.
Leader: We dip for these brave souls and for the thousands of other refugees and asylum seekers who have risked their lives in unsafe and unforgiving waters across the globe this past year.
It is a green vegetable that we dip tonight – a reminder of spring, hope, and the possibility of redemption even in the face of unimaginable difficulty. As we mourn those who have lost their lives in search of freedom, we remain hopeful that those who still wander will find refuge.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the earth.
There are three pieces of matzah stacked on the table. We now break the middle matzah into two pieces. The host should wrap up the larger of the pieces and, at some point between now and the end of dinner, hide it. This piece is called the afikomen, literally “dessert” in Greek. After dinner, the guests will have to hunt for the afikomen in order to wrap up the meal… and win a prize.
We eat matzah in memory of the quick flight of our ancestors from Egypt. As slaves, they had faced many false starts before finally being let go. So when the word of their freedom came, they took whatever dough they had and ran with it before it had the chance to rise, leaving it looking something like matzah.
Uncover and hold up the three pieces of matzah and say:
This is the bread of poverty which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. All who are hungry, come and eat; all who are needy, come and celebrate Passover with us. This year we are here; next year we will be in Israel. This year we are slaves; next year we will be free.
These days, matzah is a special food and we look forward to eating it on Passover. Imagine eating only matzah, or being one of the countless people around the world who don’t have enough to eat.
What does the symbol of matzah say to us about oppression in the world, both people literally enslaved and the many ways in which each of us is held down by forces beyond our control? How does this resonate with events happening now?
"We are instructed in the Holiness Code to treat the strangers in our midst with justice and compassion:
"When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall do him no wrong. The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:33).
This teaching permeates Jewish tradition and is echoed 35 times in the Torah – the most repeated of any commandment. The history of the Jewish people from Egypt through the Holocaust until today reminds us of the many struggles faced by immigrants throughout the world. As a community of immigrants, we are charged to pursue justice, seek peace and build a society that is welcoming to all of God's creatures, regardless of their immigration status.
In Genesis, three strangers visit Abraham, and he welcomes them into his home and into his heart without question (Genesis 18:1-22). This virtue of hachnasat orchim, welcoming the stranger, drives both our commitment to protecting undocumented immigrants from deportation and our dedication to the hospitality and inclusion of all people."
—Excerpt from the Union for Reform Judaism's Resolution on Protecting Individuals at Risk of Deportation from the United States
“Let all who are hungry come and eat” is one of the traditional rallying cries of the Passover Seder.
How are you addressing issues of hunger in your community?
Want to get involved in the fight against hunger? Visit https://www.haggadot.com/contributors-details/mazon for more info!
The central imperative of the Seder is to tell the story. The Bible instructs: “ You shall tell your child on that day, saying: ‘This is because of what Adonai did for me when I came out of Egypt.' ” (Exodus 13:8) We relate the story of our ancestors to regain the memories as our own. Elie Weisel writes: God created man because He loves stories. We each have a story to tell — a story of enslavement, struggle, liberation. Be sure to tell your story at the Seder table, for the Passover is offered not as a one-time event, but as a model for human experience in all generations.
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 formal telling of the story of Passover is framed as a discussion with lots of questions and answers. The tradition that the youngest person asks the questions reflects the centrality of involving everyone in the seder. The rabbis who created the set format for the seder gave us the Four Questions to help break the ice in case no one had their own questions. Asking questions is a core tradition in Jewish life. If everyone at your seder is around the same age, perhaps the person with the least seder experience can ask them – or everyone can sing them all together.
מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילות
Ma nishtana halaila hazeh mikol haleilot?
Why is this night different from all other nights?
שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכלין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלּוֹ מצה
Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin chameitz u-matzah. Halaila hazeh kulo matzah.
On all other nights we eat both leavened bread and matzah.
Tonight we only eat matzah.
שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר
Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin shi’ar yirakot haleila hazeh maror.
On all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables,
but tonight we eat bitter herbs.
שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָֽנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּֽעַם אחָת הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעמים
Shebichol haleilot ain anu matbilin afilu pa-am echat. Halaila hazeh shtei fi-amim.
On all other nights we aren’t expected to dip our vegetables one time.
Tonight we do it twice.
שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין. :הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּֽנוּ מְסֻבין
Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin bein yoshvin uvein m’subin. Halaila hazeh kulanu m’subin.
On all other nights we eat either sitting normally or reclining.
Tonight we recline.
Below is a contemporary adaptation of the traditional Four Children from the Passover Haggadah. Read these words together and then discuss the question that follows:
The one who ignores . . .
She turns off the news and closes the newspaper, speechless as she considers the magnitude of the problem. “68 million displaced people?” she wonders, “It couldn’t possibly be that many.”
The one who deflects . . .
They want to attend the rally for refugees and sign that petition, but they lost track of time with so many other pressing issues demanding their attention. “Someone else will take this one,” they console themselves, “I’ve got other priorities.”
The one who abandons . . .
He knows that Jewish values command him to welcome the stranger, but he cannot reconcile that with his worries about the economy and his fear of terrorism. “It’s not the same as when my grandparents came to this country,” he says.
The ones who understand . . .
They see that the Jewish refugee story never really ends; our role in the story shifts. Together, they take actions big and small. While they know they cannot complete the work, they do not desist from trying to make a difference. “We used to help refugees because they were Jewish,” they say, “But now we help refugees because we are Jewish.”
Discuss as a group:
When we talk about the global refugee crisis, many of us may struggle to reconcile one or more of these voices within ourselves or we hear them in family members and friends. How do you respond to your own struggle when you think about taking action in support of refugees and asylum seekers? How do you respond to the concerns of others?
Our story starts in ancient times, with Abraham, the first person to have the idea that maybe all those little statues his contemporaries worshiped as gods were just statues. The idea of one God, invisible and all-powerful, inspired him to leave his family and begin a new people in Canaan, the land that would one day bear his grandson Jacob’s adopted name, Israel.
God had made a promise to Abraham that his family would become a great nation, but this promise came with a frightening vision of the troubles along the way: “Your descendants will dwell for a time in a land that is not their own, and they will be enslaved and afflicted for four hundred years; however, I will punish the nation that enslaved them, and afterwards they shall leave with great wealth."
Raise the glass of wine and say:
וְהִיא שֶׁעָמְדָה לַאֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ וְלָֽנוּ
V’hi she-amda l’avoteinu v’lanu.
This promise has sustained our ancestors and us.
For not only one enemy has risen against us to annihilate us, but in every generation there are those who rise against us. But God saves us from those who seek to harm us.
The glass of wine is put down.
In the years our ancestors lived in Egypt, our numbers grew, and soon the family of Jacob became the People of Israel. Pharaoh and the leaders of Egypt grew alarmed by this great nation growing within their borders, so they enslaved us. We were forced to perform hard labor, perhaps even building pyramids. The Egyptians feared that even as slaves, the Israelites might grow strong and rebel. So Pharaoh decreed that Israelite baby boys should be drowned, to prevent the Israelites from overthrowing those who had enslaved them.
But God heard the cries of the Israelites. And God brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand and outstretched arm, with great awe, miraculous signs and wonders. God brought us out not by angel or messenger, but through God’s own intervention.
Avadim hayinu l’pharoh b’mitzrayim. Vayotzieinu Adonai Eloheinu misham, b’yad chazakah uvizroa netuyah
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and Adonai, our God, brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.
Jews are a people of memory and action. On Passover, we use stories and rituals to remember and retell the narrative of our collective liberation. We share the ancient Exodus story, year after year, so that it resonates through the generations as a narrative of deliverance from slavery to freedom. In Hebrew, Egypt is called Mitzrayim, which means “a narrow place.” Every year, the Haggadah asks us not only to share the story of the Exodus, but challenges us to actively engage in the process of combating oppression. We are encouraged to connect the biblical story of Exodus to communal and individual struggles for liberation, and are reminded that the fight for freedom is ongoing.
Let’s discuss the process of Exodus, moving from “a narrow place” to a place of freedom. Every day, people fight for freedom on interpersonal, systemic, global and local levels. What are modern struggles for liberation? Discuss the following questions either in pairs or as a group to inspire thought, conversation and action:
Why do you think the text starts with “We were slaves” instead of “Our ancestors were slaves?” How does this quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. "no one is free until we are all free," connect to Avadim Hayinu? How are we free today? How are we still struggling? Share something that you are doing or can commit to doing to help move yourself or others from “a narrow place” to a place of shared freedom.
Leader:
Let us all refill our cups.
[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]
Tonight we drink four cups of the fruit of the vine.
There are many explanations for this custom.
They may be seen as symbols of various things:
the four corners of the earth, for freedom must live everywhere;
the four seasons of the year, for freedom's cycle must last through all the seasons;
or the four matriarchs: Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel.
A full cup of wine symbolizes complete happiness.
The triumph of Passover is diminished by the sacrifice of many human lives
when ten plagues were visited upon the people of Egypt.
In the story, the plagues that befell the Egyptians resulted from the decisions of tyrants,
but the greatest suffering occurred among those who had no choice but to follow.
It is fitting that we mourn their loss of life, and express our sorrow over their suffering.
For as Jews and as Humanists we cannot take joy in the suffering of others.
Therefore, let us diminish the wine in our cups
as we recall the ten plagues that befell the Egyptian people.
Leader:
As we recite the name of each plague, in English and then in Hebrew,
please dip a finger in your wine and then touch your plate to remove the drop.
Everyone:
Blood - Dam (Dahm)
Frogs - Ts'phardea (Ts'phar-DEH-ah)
Gnats - Kinim (Kih-NEEM)
Flies - Arov (Ah-ROV)
Cattle Disease - Dever (DEH-vehr)
Boils - Sh'hin (Sh'-KHEEN)
Hail - Barad (Bah-RAHD)
Locusts - `Arbeh (Ar-BEH)
Darkness - Hoshekh (KHO-shekh)
Death of the Firstborn - Makkat B'khorot (Ma-katB'kho-ROT)
[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]
In the same spirit, our celebration today also is shadowed
by our awareness of continuing sorrow and oppression in all parts of the world.
Ancient plagues are mirrored in modern tragedies.
In our own time, as in ancient Egypt, ordinary people suffer and die
as a result of the actions of the tyrants who rule over them.
While we may rejoice in the defeat of tyrants in our own time,
we must also express our sorrow at the suffering of the many innocent people
who had little or no choice but to follow.
Leader:
As the pain of others diminishes our joys,
let us once more diminish the ceremonial drink of our festival
as we together recite the names of these modern plagues:
Hunger
War
Tyranny
Greed
Bigotry
Injustice
Poverty
Ignorance
Pollution of the Earth Indifference to Suffering
Leader:
Let us sing a song expressing our hope for a better world.
בְּכָל־דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת־עַצְמוֹ, כְּאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרָֽיִם
B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et-atzmo, k’ilu hu yatzav mimitzrayim.
In every generation, everyone is obligated to see themselves as though they personally left Egypt.
The seder reminds us that it was not only our ancestors whom God redeemed; God redeemed us too along with them. That’s why the Torah says “God brought us out from there in order to lead us to and give us the land promised to our ancestors.”
---
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt, enabling us to reach this night and eat matzah and bitter herbs. May we continue to reach future holidays in peace and happiness.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the second glass of wine!
One of most beloved songs in the Passover seder is "Dayenu". A few of us will read the stanzas one at a time, and the everyone else will respond, "Dayenu" – meaning, “it would have been enough”.
How many times do we forget to pause and notice that where we are is exactly where we ought to be? Dayenu is a reminder to never forget all the miracles in our lives. When we stand and wait impatiently for the next one to appear, we are missing the whole point of life. Instead, we can actively seek a new reason to be grateful, a reason to say “Dayenu.”
Fun fact: Persian and Afghani Jews hit each other over the heads and shoulders with scallions every time they say Dayenu! They especially use the scallions in the ninth stanza which mentions the manna that the Israelites ate everyday in the desert, because Torah tells us that the Israelites began to complain about the manna and longed for the onions, leeks and garlic. Feel free to be Persian/Afghani for the evening if you’d like.
| English translation | Hebrew | |
| Ilu hotzianu mimitzrayim, | אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָנוּ מִמִּצְרָיִם | |
| and had not carried out judgments against them | v'lo asah bahem sh'fatim, | וְלֹא עָשָׂה בָּהֶם שְׁפָטִים |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had carried out judgments against them, | Ilu asah bahem sh'fatim | אִלּוּ עָשָׂה בָּהֶם שְׁפָטִים |
| and not against their idols | v'lo asah beloheihem, | וְלֹא עָשָׂה בֵּאלֹהֵיהֶם |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had destroyed their idols, | Ilu asah beloheihem, | אִלּוּ עָשָׂה בֵּאלֹהֵיהֶם |
| and had not smitten their first-born | v'lo harag et b'choreihem, | וְלֹא הָרַג אֶת בְּכוֹרֵיהֶם |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had smitten their first-born, | Ilu harag et b'choreihem, | אִלּוּ הָרַג אֶת בְּכוֹרֵיהֶם |
| and had not given us their wealth | v'lo natan lanu et mamonam, | וְלֹא נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת מָמוֹנָם |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had given us their wealth, | Ilu natan lanu et mamonam, | אִלּוּ נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת מָמוֹנָם |
| and had not split the sea for us | v'lo kara lanu et hayam, | ןלא קָרַע לָנוּ אֶת הַיָּם |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had split the sea for us, | Ilu kara lanu et hayam, | אִלּוּ קָרַע לָנוּ אֶת הַיָּם |
| and had not taken us through it on dry land | v'lo he'eviranu b'tocho becharavah, | וְלֹא הֶעֱבִירָנוּ בְּתוֹכוֹ בֶּחָרָבָה |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had taken us through the sea on dry land, | Ilu he'eviranu b'tocho becharavah, | אִלּוּ הֶעֱבִירָנוּ בְּתוֹכוֹ בֶּחָרָבָה |
| and had not drowned our oppressors in it | v'lo shika tzareinu b'tocho, | וְלֹא שִׁקַע צָרֵינוּ בְּתוֹכוֹ |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had drowned our oppressors in it, | Ilu shika tzareinu b'tocho, | אִלּוּ שִׁקַע צָרֵינוּ בְּתוֹכוֹ |
| and had not supplied our needs in the desert for forty years | v'lo sipeik tzorkeinu bamidbar arba'im shana, | וְלֹא סִפֵּק צָרַכֵּנוּ בַּמִּדְבָּר אַרְבָּעִים שָׁנָה |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had supplied our needs in the desert for forty years, | Ilu sipeik tzorkeinu bamidbar arba'im shana, | אִלּוּ סִפֵּק צָרַכֵּנוּ בַּמִּדְבָּר אַרְבָּעִים שָׁנָה |
| and had not fed us the manna | v'lo he'echilanu et haman, | וְלֹא הֶאֱכִילָנוּ אֶת הַמָּן |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had fed us the manna, | Ilu he'echilanu et haman, | אִלּוּ הֶאֱכִילָנוּ אֶת הַמָּן |
| and had not given us the Shabbat | v'lo natan lanu et hashabbat, | וְלֹא נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had given us the Shabbat, | Ilu natan lanu et hashabbat, | אִלּוּ נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַשַּׁבָּת |
| and had not brought us before Mount Sinai | v'lo keirvanu lifnei har sinai, | וְלֹא קֵרְבָנוּ לִפְנֵי הַר סִינַי |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had brought us before Mount Sinai, | Ilu keirvanu lifnei har sinai, | אִלּוּ קֵרְבָנוּ לִפְנֵי הַר סִינַי |
| and had not given us the Torah | v'lo natan lanu et hatorah, | וְלֹא נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַתּוֹרָה |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had given us the Torah, | Ilu natan lanu et hatorah, | אִלּוּ נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַתּוֹרָה |
| and had not brought us into the land of Israel | v'lo hichnisanu l'eretz yisra'eil, | וְלֹא הִכְנִיסָנוּ לְאֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
| If He had brought us into the land of Israel, | Ilu hichnisanu l'eretz yisra'eil, | אִלּוּ הִכְנִיסָנוּ לְאֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל |
| and not built for us the Holy Temple | v'lo vanah lanu et beit hamikdash, | וְלֹא בָּנָה לָנוּ אֶת בֵּית הַמִּקְדָּשׁ |
| — Dayenu, it would have been enough! | dayeinu! | דַּיֵּנוּ |
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. In Judaism, a good meal together with friends and family is itself a sacred act, so we prepare for it just as we prepared for our holiday ritual, recalling the way ancient priests once prepared for service in the Temple.
Some people distinguish between washing to prepare for prayer and washing to prepare for food by changing the way they pour water on their hands. For washing before food, pour water three times on your right hand and then three times on your left hand.
After you have poured the water over your hands, recite this short blessing.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו, וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדָֽיִם
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al n’tilat yadayim.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to wash our hands.
The blessing over the meal and matzah | motzi matzah | מוֹצִיא מַצָּה
The familiar hamotzi blessing marks the formal start of the meal. Because we are using matzah instead of bread, we add a blessing celebrating this mitzvah.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיא לֶֽחֶם מִן הָאָֽרֶץ
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who brings bread from the land.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתַָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מַצָּה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat matzah.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat matzah.
Distribute and eat the top and middle matzah for everyone to eat.
Passover is a joyful holiday. It is a time for celebrating our redemption, not reveling in the pain of the past. So why do we eat maror? The biblical mitzvah of maror is to eat it with the paschal lamb. Without a Temple to offer sacrifices, this mitzvah cannot be performed today. But the rabbinic mitzvah to eat maror still applies. Some say we eat maror nowadays to remember the Temple and the bitterness of its loss.
This teaches that eating maror is a meditation on our own lives’ bitterness, not the bitterness of slavery in Mitzrayim. So why should we dwell on that bitterness during this joyful holiday? Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liady offers some deep insight in the classic Chasidic text, The Tanya. He draws a distinction between depression, atzvut (a word derived from a Hebrew root meaning ‘constriction’) and bitterness, merirut. Depression hardens our hearts, making them numb as stones and draining them of vitality. Bitterness, on the other hand, is a sign of life. By feeling bitter about something’s brokenness, we recognize its potential to be repaired.
When we watch violent oppressors have free reign over the world, it’s natural for hopelessness to set in, which in turn leads to isolation, self-loathing, self-pity, and apathy. It’s easy to see all that is wrong in the world, sigh, and retreat into ourselves. But shutting out the world’s brokenness will only reveal the brokenness of our own hearts—and therein lies possibility for growth. The Tanya says that times of depression are opportune moments for cheshbon nefesh, “spiritual accounting.” First we search our souls for chametz, the things that block compassion, then for afikomen, the hidden shards of light that give us the power to change.
Acknowledging our brokenness is the first step of transformation and the key to changing our depression to joy. This is why we dip maror in charoset: to show that through taking a long, hard look at the oppressive narratives we’ve internalized, we are able to unlearn and overcome them. Through bitter reflection, we can crack the protective shells we’ve made around our hearts and let love and joy in. And by refusing to turn away from the world’s violent brokenness, we find the power to act.
Dipping the bitter herb in sweet charoset | maror |מָרוֹר
In creating a holiday about the joy of freedom, we turn the story of our bitter history into a sweet celebration. We recognize this by dipping our bitter herbs into the sweet charoset. We don’t totally eradicate the taste of the bitter with the taste of the sweet… but doesn’t the sweet mean more when it’s layered over the bitterness?
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מרוֹר
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat maror.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat bitter herbs.
Leader: It was the practice of Rabbi Hillel, at the time when the Temple stood in Jerusalem, to combine matzo and maror and eat them together. He did this to carry out the injunction concerning the Passover sacrifice: “they shall eat the paschal lamb with the matzo and maror together.”
All: Together they shall be: the matzo of freedom and the maror of slavery, for in the time of freedom we there is knowledge of servitude and in times of bondage there is hope for redemption.
Leader: We remember our slavery and our liberation. But just as it was we, and not our ancestors only, who were liberated in Egypt, so it is we, and not our ancestors only, who live in slavery. Our slavery is not over and our liberation is not complete. The task of liberation is long and it is work we must do for ourselves. What is the task of liberation?
All: The same Rabbi Hillel answers in three questions: If we are not for ourselves, who will be for us? If we are for ourselves only, what are we? And if not now, when?
Take a piece of the bottom matzah, and some extra matzah if you like, and some more maror. Dip the maror in charoset, then shake off the charoset. Make a matzah-maror sandwich, recite or read or think about the following text, then eat the sandwich.
The text is:
Zecher l'mikdash k'hillel. Ken asah hillel bizman shebeit hamikdash hayah kayam. Haya korech matzah umaror v'ochel b'yachad. L'kayam mah shene'emar, al matzot um'rorim yochluhu.
Which means:
This is a reminder of what Hillel used to do in the time of the Temple. When the Temple stood, he used to combine matzah and maror in a sandwich and eat them together, doing as the Torah says: "They will eat the Pesach offering together with matzah and maror."
Eating the meal! | shulchan oreich | שֻׁלְחָן עוֹרֵךְ
Enjoy! But don’t forget when you’re done we’ve got a little more seder to go, including the final two cups of wine!
Finding and eating the Afikomen | tzafoon | צָפוּן
The playfulness of finding the afikomen reminds us that we balance our solemn memories of slavery with a joyous celebration of freedom. As we eat the afikomen, our last taste of matzah for the evening, we are grateful for moments of silliness and happiness in our lives.
Go around the table and share your gratitude statements. Breathe.
Reflect on Elijah the prophet. He was worried we wouldn’t keep Jewish traditions. He’d be surprised – but proud.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם הַזָּן אֶת הַכֹּל
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam Hazan Et Hakol.
We acknowledge the Unity of All and express gratitude for there being food for each of us this evening.
Discussion topic: Who are the prophets of our time? Who do you look up to, or make it a point to listen to what they have to say about the world today? Toast to them over Cup #3 of wine/juice.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha’olam Borei Pri HaGafen.
We acknowledge the Unity of All, and express gratitude for the fruit of the vine.
Drink Cup #3.
The legends of our Rabbinic sages teach us that a miraculous well of healing waters accompanied the children of Israel throughout their journey in the desert, providing them with water. This well was given to Miriam, the prophetess, to honor her bravery and devotion to the Jewish people. According to the legend, both Miriam and her well provided comfort and gave our forbearers the faith and confidence to overcome the hardships of the Exodus. We fill Miriam’s cup with water to honor her contribution to the Jewish people. Like Miriam, Jewish women in all generations have been essential for the continuity of our people. Women passed down songs and stories, rituals and recipes, from mother to daughter, from generation to generation. Let us each fill the cup of Miriam with water from our own glasses, so that our children may continue to draw from the strength and wisdom of our heritage.
We place Miriam’s cup on our Seder table to honor the important and often unrecognized role of Jewish women in our tradition and history, to tell their stories that have been too sparingly told.
We are going to conclude our dinner tonight with a celebratory toast - a l’chaim.
Rather than filling our own cup tonight, though, and focusing on us as individuals, let’s fill someone else’s cup and 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.
Many of us around the table may already share our resources in different ways - volunteering in our communities, providing pro bono services, donating to charities, or by advocating or lobbying officials. For others we may still be exploring the ways we’re hoping to share our resources and are looking for outlets to do so.
We are now going to fill our 4th cup of wine and I want to invite you to fill someone else’s cup instead of your own. As you fill someone else’s cup, let’s share with each other our answer to the following:
How can I help in changing the world?
The Cup of Elijah
We now refill our wine glasses one last time and open the front door to invite the prophet Elijah to join our seder.
In the Bible, Elijah was a fierce defender of God to a disbelieving people. At the end of his life, rather than dying, he was whisked away to heaven. 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.
אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַנָּבִיא, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַתִּשְׁבִּיאֵלִיָּֽהוּ, 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.
We will celebrate again, next year, in the promised land!
ECHOD MI YOIDEYA
Who knows one? I know one: One humanity in the whole world.
Who knows two? I know two: Humanity is split in two parts: poor and rich.
Who knows three? I know three: Christian trinity darkens the world.
Who knows four? I know four: Capitalism, militarism, religion, and government enslave the working class.
Who knows five? I know five: All five continents are under capitalist tyranny.
Who knows six? I know six: Six days a week the worker is downtrodden.
Who knows seven? I know seven: Seven days of rest is all the rich man knows.
Who knows eight? I know eight: Already from the eighth day, a young boy suffers from religion.
Who knows nine? I know nine: Nine months to work—three months to die.
Who knows ten? I know ten: Ten commandments became 613.
Who knows eleven? I know eleven: Only rabbis and lazybones can liken eleven brother-sellers to eleven stars.
Who knows twelve? I know twelve: There’s twelve holes in a dozen bagels, to equal to the twelve tribes.
Who knows thirteen? I know thirteen: The capitalist bosses are thirteen thousand times worse than useless!
In a moment, our Seder will be complete. We don’t say “It is finished” because we want to remember that working for oppression in the world is our never-ending responsibility. Instead, we recommit ourselves to the vision of a world filled with peace and justice for all. We wish for a world where “nation shall not lift up sword against nation, nor study war anymore.” We wish for a world where people are not treated differently because of their race, their religion, their gender, their nationality, how much money they have, or the people they love. We wish for a world that affirms the inherent worth and dignity of every person on our planet, and assures basic human rights for everyone, everywhere.
“A lot of people are waiting for Martin Luther King or Mahatma Gandhi to come back – but they are gone. We are it. It is up to us. It is up to you.” - Marian Wright Edelman Founder , Children’s Defense Fund
We close our Seder by saying, “L’Shanah Haba’ah B’Yirushalyim!” which means “Next year in Jerusalem!” It refers not only to a hope, but also to a “plan of action”, that in future times, all people will live in shalom (peace), safety and freedom.
