Pesach is a time of radical empathy.

Mishnah Pesachim teaches us that בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים: In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they were liberated from Egypt. In Hebrew, Egypt is known as 'Mitzrayim,' a narrow place. The seder asks that we identify with those currently oppressed, marginalized, or restricted; those who yearn and fight for freedom. Not out of pity, but because we are or have been them.

Pesach is also a night of questions. During this seder, we will not only ask the traditional Four Questions, but also invite each other to become living documents and witnesses to oppression and liberation.

We begin with two questions. Please turn to your neighbor, and ask: Which communities or individuals are currently in Mitzrayim - in a narrow place? And when have you dwelt in Mitzrayim?

The traditional haggadah uses four expressions of redemption to describe God's role in the Exodus:

'I will take you out...' 'I will save you...' '

I will redeem you...' 'I will take you to be my people…'

We drink four cups of wine over the course of the seder to celebrate each aspect of divine redemption. For our first cup, we honor the power of liberation. We lift the first glass of wine and say:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן

Baruch atah Adonai Elohenu Melech ha-olam, borey p'ree ha-gaphen.

Blessed are you, Ruler of All, who brings forth the fruit of the vine.

A hand-washing ritual offered by the Newman Club.

By Ronnie M. Horn 

Long before the struggle upward begins, there is tremor in the seed. Self-protection cracks, Roots reach down and grab hold. The seed swells, and tender shoots push up toward light. This is karpas: spring awakening growth. A force so tough it can break stone.

And why do we dip karpas into salt water?

To remember the sweat and tears of our ancestors in bondage.

To taste the bitter tears of our earth, unable to fully renew itself this spring because of our waste, neglect and greed.

To feel the sting of society's refusal to celebrate the blossoming of women's bodies and the full range of our capacity for love.

And why should salt water be touched by karpas?

To remind us that tears stop. Spring comes. And with it the potential for change.

We are free, but we remember when we were slaves. We are whole, but we bring to mind those who are broken. With Yachatz, the middle matzah is broken in silence, and the larger part is hidden.

Martin Luther King Jr. is credited with the saying: "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." The arc of the seder begins with slavery and ends with liberation; begins with tears and ends with full bellies.

We trust that the future will be more just than the past. And yet, the reality of our world's present brokenness, and the magnitude of our hopes for a dreamed future, can be overwhelming to the point of making us mute. So it is in silence, without blessing, that we break and hide the matzah and long for redemption.

Most traditional haggadot summarize the Passover story with a selection of biblical and rabbinic verses:

"My father was a wandering Aramean, and he went down into Egypt with a few people and sojourned there and became a great nation, powerful and numerous. But the Egyptians mistreated us and made us suffer, putting us to hard labor. Then we cried out to the Lord, the God of our fathers, and God heard our voice and saw our misery, toil, and oppression. So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror and with miraculous signs and wonders." (Deuteronomy 26:5-8)

In this summary, the Israelites are a mass of victims; the Egyptians are a massed oppressor; and God is the sole redeemer. Which characters from the Passover story are missing? Where are their voices? What stories could they tell us?

Mah nishtanah halyla hazeh mikol halaylot? What makes this night different from all [other] nights?

The traditional Four Questions revolve around the action of the seder table:

Sheb’chol haleilot anu och’lin chameitz umatzah; halaylah hazeh kulo matzah.

Sheb’chol haleilot anu och’lin sh’ar y’rakot; halaylah hazeh maror.

Sheb’chol haleilot ein anu matbilin afilu pa’am echat; halaylah hazeh sh’tei f’amim.

Sheb’khol haleilot anu okhlim bein yoshvin uvein m’subin; halailah hazeh kulanu m’subin.

On all nights we need not dip even once, on this night we do so twice? On all nights we eat chametz or matzah, and on this night only matzah? On all nights we eat any kind of vegetables, and on this night maror? On all nights we eat sitting upright or reclining, and on this night we all recline?

These Four Questions are meant to inspire each us to ask more and deeper questions. At our own table, here are modern retakes on the ancient questions:

Why do we eat much on this night and others eat little? Why do we eat the unleavened bread and throw our leavened bread away instead of donating it to the food pantry? Why do we dip our food into sauce and salt and charoset while others may not even have a crumb to dip? Why do we lay back, relax and eat the food that comes to us so easily while others work to buy bread for their family?

עֲבָדִים הָיִינוּ הָיִינו. עַתָּה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין

Avadim hayinu hayinu. Ata b’nei chorin.

We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Now we are free.

'We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and God took us from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. Had God not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then even today we and our children and our grandchildren would still be slaves...'

More than just ritual observance, we are directed to feel in our own bodies what it might have been like to escape from slavery to freedom.The Exodus story asserts unapologetically that oppression can and must end, and it lays the foundation for us to work for a more just society.

We read responsively:

Reader: This year, thousands and thousands of refugees fled the Middle East.

All: And too many countries, including ours, failed to welcome them with open arms.

Reader: This year, a politician vying for the most powerful position in our country repeatedly proposed policies grounded in race- and religion-based discrimination.

All: And this year, too many of our fellow Americans support him. And even more have failed to actively fight the bigotry he peddles.

Reader: We have forgotten the fundamental promise we make each year at Passover. To remember. Avadim Hayinu – We were slaves in Egypt.

All: We remember our histories, we acknowledge our pasts.

Reader: Atah b’nei horin – Now we are free people

All: How will we use our freedom?

[We refill our cups.]

Tonight we drink four cups of wine or grape juice. A full cup symbolizes complete happiness. The triumph of Passover - liberation from slavery - was diminished by the sacrifice of human lives when ten plagues were visited upon the people of Egypt. In the Passover 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. Therefore, we deliberately remove a drop of wine from our cups as we recall each of the ten plagues:

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)

In the same spirit, our celebration today also is shadowed by our awareness of continuing sorrow and oppression in all parts of the world.  Just as we poured out a drop of wine for each of the ten plagues that Egypt suffered, let us pour out drops of wine for ten modern plagues afflicting refugee communities worldwide and in the United States:

1. Violence
2. Dangerous journeys
3. Poverty
4. Food insecurity
5. Lack of access to education
6. Xenophobia
7. Anti-refugee legislation
8. Language barriers
9. Workforce discrimination
10. Loss of family

Violence

Most refugees initially flee home because of violence that may include sexual and gender-based violence, abduction, or torture. The violence grows as the conflicts escalate. Unfortunately, many refugees become victims once again in their countries of first asylum. A 2013 study found that close to 80% of refugees from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) living in Kampala, Uganda had experienced sexual and gender-based violence either in the DRC or in Uganda.

Dangerous Journeys

Forced to flee their home due to violence and persecution, refugees may make the dangerous journey to safety on foot, by boat, in the back of crowded vans, or riding on the top of train cars. Over the last two years, the United States has seen record numbers of unaccompanied minors fleeing violence in Central America. Many of these children have survived unimaginably arduous journeys, surviving abduction, abuse, and rape. Erminia, age 15, came to the United States from El Salvador two years ago. As she walked through the Texas desert, her shoes fell apart and she spent three days and two nights walking in only her socks. “There were so many thorns,” she recalls, “and I had to walk without shoes. The entire desert.”

Lack of access to education

Though the 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees affirms that the right to education applies to refugees, a recent education assessment found that 80% of Syrian refugee children in Lebanon were not in school. Research shows that refugee children face far greater language barriers and experience more discrimination in school settings than the rest of the population. Muna, 17, a Syrian refugee living in Jordan, who dropped out of school, said, “We can’t get educated at the cost of our self-respect.”

Loss of Family

It is not uncommon for refugees to lose multiple immediate family members in the violent conflicts that cause them to flee home. These losses, as well as the fact that they may become separated from their family members during flight, can have major consequences on the family structure. Paola7, a refugee living in Jaque, Panama8 explains, “Fifteen years ago, paramilitaries invaded my community in Jurado, Colombia. The group began to massacre the locals, forcing many of us to flee our lifelong homes. I escaped across the border to Panama. Before the massacre, I had five children. Two of them died in the violence, and I don’t know anything about the remaining three, who all left the community many years ago. I am now 62 years old. I have two young grandchildren for whom I am the sole caretaker and provider.”

Xenophobia

Just as a 1939 poll from the American Institute of Public Opinion found that more than 60% of Americans opposed bringing Jewish refugees to the United States in the wake of World War II, today we still see heightened xenophobia against refugees. This fear can manifest through workplace discrimination, bias attacks against Muslim refugees, and anti-refugee legislation. In recent months, there has been a frightening surge in anti-refugee sentiment here in the United States, a trend we expect will grow in the months to come.

from the HIAS Seder Supplement

Just as we remember all of the times throughout history when the nations of the world shut their doors on Jews fleeing violence and persecution in their homelands, so, too, do we remember with gratitude the bravery of those who took us in during our times of need — the Ottoman Sultan who welcomed Spanish Jews escaping the Inquisition, Algerian Muslims who protected Jews during pogroms in the French Pied -Noir, and the righteous gentiles hiding Jews in their homes during World War II. In the midst of the current global refugee crisis, we aspire to stand on the right side of history as we ask our own government to take a leadership role in protecting the world’s most vulnerable refugees. May we find the bravery to open up our nation and our hearts to those who are in need. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, who delivers those in search of safety.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

We have now told the story of Passover…but wait! We’re not quite done. There are still some symbols on our seder plate we haven’t talked about yet. Rabban Gamliel would say that whoever didn’t explain the shank bone, matzah, and marror (or bitter herbs) hasn’t done Passover justice. Rabban Gamliel cherished three symbols; tonight we will explain eight! And they are:

The Maror, bitter herb or horseradish, which represents the bitterness of slavery.

The Charoset, a mixture of apples and nuts and wine, which represents the bricks and mortar we made in ancient times, and the new structures we are beginning to build in our lives today.

The Lamb Shank (or beet) which represents the sacrifices we have made to survive. Before the tenth plague, our people slaughtered lambs and marked our doors with blood: because of this marking, the Angel of Death passed over our homes and our first-born were spared.

The Egg, which symbolizes creative power, our rebirth.

The Parsley, which represents the new growth of spring, for we are earthy, rooted beings, connected to the Earth and nourished by our connection.

Matzah, which reminds us that when the chance arises for liberation, we must seize it even if we do not feel ready- indeed, if we wait until we feel fully ready, we may never act at all.

And what about the orange? In the early 1980s, Susannah Heschel attended a feminist seder where bread was placed on the seder plate, a reaction to a rebbetzin who had claimed lesbians had no more place in Judaism than bread crusts have at a seder. “Bread on the seder plate…renders everything chametz, and its symbolism suggests that being lesbian is transgressive, violating Judaism,” Heschel writes. “I felt that an orange was suggestive of something else: the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men are contributing and active members of Jewish life.” May our lives be inclusive, welcoming, and fruitful.

And the olive? We keep an olive on our seder plate as an embodied prayer for peace, in the Middle East and every place where war destroys lives, hopes, and the freedoms we celebrate tonight.

[Refill your cup.]

It's almost time to eat! Before we do, we fill our third cup of wine and give thanks for the meal we're about to share. At this seder, this becomes an extended toast to the forces that brought us together:

We say together:

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, and redeems us through holy community.

Now, LET'S EAT!

During the meal, feel free to ask one another:

1. What is your family’s exodus story?

2. How does your exodus story shape your worldview? Your sense of responsibility for the Other?

3. What does justice look like for you?

4. (Make up your own...)

The playfulness of finding the afikomen reminds us that under normal circumstances, we balance our solemn memories of trauma and pain with a joyous celebration of freedom. When we eat the afikomen, our last taste of matzah for the evening, we are grateful for moments of celebration and happiness in our lives.

A question: What gives you a feeling of fullness? Of being emotionally satiated and at peace?

After every meal, we bless and acknowledge gratitude.

The traditional series of blessings after the meal is called 'Birkat HaMazon.' However, the Babylonian Talmud (Brakhot 40b) describes how a shepherd named Benjamin coined a single phrase of gratitude - brich rachamana malka d'alma ma'arey d'hai pita ('blessed is the merciful one, ruler of the world, creator of this bread') - after hurriedly eating a sandwich.

The story also describes the sages' conversation about that one-line blessing and whether it counts to fulfill a Jew's obligation to express gratitude after eating. The rabbis concluded that the one-liner is acceptable as a complete, if minimalist, blessing that one may recite if one is strapped for time. (The example the Talmud gives is, what if one were being pursued by robbers on the highway and didn't have time to pray the complete Birkat HaMazon, is a relative rarity for most of us in the modern world, but we can extrapolate to our hurried, modern lives.)

We sing together:

Brich rachamana malka d'alma ma'arey d'hai pita. Blessed is the Merciful One, ruler of the world, creator of this bread.

Prayer After Eating, Wendell Berry

I have taken in the light
that quickened eye and leaf.
May my brain be bright with praise
of what I eat, in the brief blaze
of motion and of thought.
May I be worthy of my meat.

Nishmat Kol Chai

Were our mouths as full of song as the sea

and our tongues as full of rejoicing as the waves

and our lips as full of praise as the breadth of the horizon

and our eyes as brilliant as the sun and the moon

and our arms as outspread eagles' wings and our feet as swift as deers' --

it would still not be enough to thank You, our God of eternity and eternities.

Psalm, Alicia Ostriker

like a skin on milk
I write to you
I hurl the letters of your name
onto every page, one and many
I know you are reading over my shoulder
look each of us possesses a book of life
each attempts to read what the other has scripted
in these almost illegible letters tipped by crowns
what is the story
we want to know

i thank you God for this most amazing, e. e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

A scriptural reading from Arcadia Christian Fellowship.

[Refill your cup.]

'I will take you to be my people...'

When we rise from our seder tables, let us commit ourselves to stamping out xenophobia and hatred in every place that it persists. Echoing God’s words when God said, 'I take you to be my people,' let us say to those who seek safety in our midst, 'we take you to be our people.'

May we see past difference and dividing lines and remember, instead, that we were all created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God. May we see welcoming the stranger at our doorstep not as a danger but as an opportunity – to provide safe harbor to those seeking refuge from oppression and tyranny, to enrich the fabric of our country and to live out our values in action. Blessed are You, Adonai Our God, who has created us all in Your image.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

Blessed are You, God of Unity, who creates the fruit of the vine.

"Prayer is meaningless unless it is subversive, unless it seeks to overthrow and to ruin the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism, falsehoods. The liturgical movement must become a revolutionary movement, seeking to overthrow the forces that continue to destroy the promise, the hope, the vision."

—Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, 1970

"We were always, in the depths of our hearts, completely free men and women. We were slaves on the outside, but free men and women in soul and spirit."

-Rabbi Judah Loew, The Maharal of Prague (1525-1609)

Maggid, Marge Piercy

The courage to let go of the door, the handle.

The courage to shed the familiar walls whose very

stains and leaks are comfortable as the little moles

of the upper arm; stains that recall a feast,

a child’s naughtiness, a loud blattering storm

that slapped the roof hard, pouring through.

The courage to abandon the graves dug into the hill,

the small bones of children and the brittle bones

of the old whose marrow hunger had stolen;

the courage to desert the tree planted and only

begun to bear; the riverside where promises were

shaped; the street where their empty pots were broken.

The courage to leave the place whose language you learned

as early as your own, whose customs however dan-

gerous or demeaning, bind you like a halter

you have learned to pull inside, to move your load;

the land fertile with the blood spilled on it;

the roads mapped and annotated for survival.

The courage to walk out of the pain that is known

into the pain that cannot be imagined,

mapless, walking into the wilderness, going

barefoot with a canteen into the desert;

stuffed in the stinking hold of a rotting ship

sailing off the map into dragons’ mouths,

Cathay, India, Siberia, goldeneh medina

leaving bodies by the way like abandoned treasure.

So they walked out of Egypt. So they bribed their way

out of Russia under loads of straw; so they steamed

out of the bloody smoking charnelhouse of Europe

on overloaded freighters forbidden all ports—

out of pain into death or freedom or a different

painful dignity, into squalor and politics.

We Jews are all born of wanderers, with shoes

under our pillows and a memory of blood that is ours

raining down. We honor only those Jews who changed

tonight, those who chose the desert over bondage,

who walked into the strange and became strangers

and gave birth to children who could look down

on them standing on their shoulders for having

been slaves. We honor those who let go of every-

thing but freedom, who ran, who revolted, who fought,

who became other by saving themselves.

From a distance everything looks like a miracle but up close even a miracle doesn’t appear so. Even someone who crossed the Red Sea when it split only saw the sweaty back of the one in front of him and the motion of his big legs, and at most, a hurried glance to the side, fish of many colors in a wall of water, like in a marine observatory behind walls of glass. 

The real miracles happen at the next table in a restaurant in Albuquerque: Two women were sitting there, one with a zipper on a diagonal, so pretty, the other said, “I held my own and I didn’t cry.” And afterwards in the reddish corridors of a strange hotel I saw boys and girls holding in their arms even smaller children, their own, who also held cute little dolls. 

Why Black Lives Matter to a People for Whom G-d Promised a Holy Place

By Graie Barasch-Hagans

BLM Supplement, JREJ 2015

As Jews we come together in our most vulnerable moments. We come as community to support our mourners in our synagogues and in our homes. As Black folks we have come to the street, to the courthouse, to the town square to demand justice.

Our demands for justice are a communal act to love and support one another. A communal act to remember those who have been taken from us.

We have no kaddish, no framework of remembrance. We have hashtags, freedom songs, and protest chants.

When we say Black Lives Matter we are calling for the recognition of G-d in us all. We are calling for our skin to be recognized as the skin of family, our tears to be recognized as the tears of mothers, of fathers, of lovers, the tears of G-d.

We are a people who know that there is a better world and that it our responsibility, our duty to love and support one another. The stranger, the beggar, and the familial.

For those of us who live our lives through Blackness we cannot separate our duty as Jews from our fears of being strange in a land that though of our birth still does not recognize us fully as present. As Jews who cannot separate from our Blackness we inhabit spaces of silent loss. We struggle to rise as mourners in spaces that call for us to remember our time as slaves in Egypt. To remember that we are not safe as Jews. That are inhabited by the call “Never Again.”

For we are the descendants of slaves with no great escape story. No great memorial to our suffering. No great G-d to intervene on our behalf, to choose us, to form us as a people. And yet for many of us who inhabit both Blackness and Jewishness we feel the deep divide, as the parting of the seas. For if our images of our great escape maintain the dichotomy of light versus dark would the sea fall in on us? Would we be cast aside, swept away in the great tide? Would we be held tight and carried with as much as care as the bread we did not have time to rise? As so many with faces with skin so similar to mine remain in bondage, in isolation, removed from a people still struggling will we return to the voice of “we” in our demand to Let my people go?

When Israel was in Egypt Land,

Let my people go.

Oppressed so hard they could not stand,

Let my people go.

Go down Moses, way down in Egypt Land,

Tell ol" Pharaoh, Let my people go.

Thus said the Lord, bold Moses said,

Let my people go.

If not I'll smite your first-born dead,

Let my people go.

As Israel stood by the waterside,

Let my people go.

By God's command it did divide,

Let my people go.

"Redemption Song"
 

Old pirates, yes, they rob I;
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

[Guitar break]

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our mind.
Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Yes, some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfill the book.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever had:
Redemption songs -
All I ever had:
Redemption songs:
These songs of freedom,
Songs of freedom.

Oh Mary don't you weep no more,
Oh Mary don't you weep no more,
Pharaoh's army got drownded,
Oh Mary don't you weep.

Well Moses stood on the Red Sea shore,
Smote the water with a two by four,
Pharaoh's army got drownded,
Oh Mary don't you weep.

Oh Mary don't you weep no more...

Well one of these nights about 12 o'clock,
This old world is gonna rock,
Pharaoh's army got drownded,
Oh Mary don't you weep.

Oh Mary don't you weep no more...

Brothers and sisters, don't you cry,
There'll be good times by and by,
Pharaoh's army got drownded,
Oh Mary don't you weep.

אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ

אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ? אֶחָד אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ. אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שְׁנַיִם מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שְׁנַיִם אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ. שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שְׁלשָׁה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שְׁלשָׁה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

אַרְבַּע מִי יוֹדֵעַ? אַרְבַּע אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

חֲמִשָׁה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? חֲמִשָׁה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שִׁשָּׁה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שִׁשָּׁה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שִׁבְעָה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שִׁבְעָה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שְׁמוֹנָה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שְׁמוֹנָה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שְׁמוֹנָ

יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

תִּשְׁעָה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? תִּשְׁעָה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: תִּשְׁעָה יַרְחֵי לֵדָה, שְׁמוֹנָה יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

עֲשָׂרָה מִי יוֹדֵעַ? עֲשָׂרָה אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: עֲשָׂרָה דִבְּרַיָא, תִּשְׁעָה יַרְחֵי לֵדָה, שְׁמוֹנָה יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

אַחַד עָשָׂר מִי יוֹדֵעַ? אַחַד עָשָׂר אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: אַחַד עָשָׂר כּוֹכְבַיָּא, עֲשָׂרָה דִבְּרַיָא, תִּשְׁעָה יַרְחֵי לֵדָה, שְׁמוֹנָה יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שְׁנֵים עָשָׂר מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שְׁנֵים עָשָׂר אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שְׁנֵים עָשָׂר שִׁבְטַיָא, אַחַד עָשָׂר כּוֹכְבַיָּא, עֲשָׂרָה דִבְּרַיָא, תִּשְׁעָה יַרְחֵי לֵדָה, שְׁמוֹנָה יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

שְׁלשָׁה עָשָׂר מִי יוֹדֵעַ? שְׁלשָׁה עָשָׂר אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ: שְׁלשָׁה עָשָׂר מִדַּיָא, שְׁנֵים עָשָׂר שִׁבְטַיָא, אַחַד עָשָׂר כּוֹכְבַיָּא, עֲשָׂרָה דִבְּרַיָא, תִּשְׁעָה יַרְחֵי לֵדָה, שְׁמוֹנָה יְמֵי מִילָה, שִׁבְעָה יְמֵי שַׁבָּתָא, שִׁשָּׁה סִדְרֵי מִשְׁנָה, חֲמִשָׁה חוּמְשֵׁי תוֹרָה, אַרְבַּע אִמָהוֹת, שְׁלשָׁה אָבוֹת, שְׁנֵי לֻחוֹת הַבְּרִית, אֶחָד אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַים וּבָאָרֶץ.

Echad mi yode’a? Echad ani yode’a: echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shnayim mi yode’a? Shnayim ani yode’a: shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shloshah mi yode’a? Shloshah ani yode’a: shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Arba mi yode’a? Arba ani yode’a: arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Chamishah mi yode’a? Chamishah ani yode’a: chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shishah mi yode’a? Shishah ani yode’a: shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shiv’ah mi yode’a? Shiv’ah ani yode’a: shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shmonah mi yode’a? Shmonah ani yode’a: shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnailuchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Tishah mi yode’a? Tishah ani yode’a: tishah yarchai laidah, shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Asarah mi yode’a? Asarah ani yode’a: asarah dibraiya, tishah yarchai laidah, shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Echad asar mi yode’a? Echad asar ani yode’a: echad asar kochvaya, asarah dibraiya, tishah yarchai laidah, shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shnaim asar mi yode’a? Shnaim asar ani yode’a: shnaim asar shivtaiya, echad asar kochvaya, asarah dibraiya, tishah yarchai laidah, shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

Shloshah asar mi yode’a? Shloshah asar ani yode’a: shloshah asar midaiya, shnaim asar shivtaiya, echad asar kochvaya, asarah dibraiya, tishah yarchai laidah, shmonah yimei milah, shiv’ah yimei shabbata, shishah sidrei mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnai luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim u’va’aretz.

One little goat, one little goat.

That Father bought for two zuzim,

Chad gadya...chad gadya....

Then came a cat that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim,

Chad gadya...chad gadya....

Then came a dog that bit the cat, that ate the goat, That 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 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 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 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 Father bought for two zuzim,

Chad gadya...chad gadya...

Then came the slaughterer 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 Father bought for two zuzim,

Chad gadya...chad gadya....

Then came the Angel of Death and killed the slaughterer, 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 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 slaughterer, 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 Father bought for two zuzim,

Chad gadya...chad gadya...

אִלוּ הוֹצִיאָנוּ מִמִצְרַים

אִלוּ נָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַשַׁבָּת

אִלוּ נַָתַן לָנוּ אֶת הַתּוֹרָה

Ilu ho-tsi, ho-tsi-a-nu,
Ho-tsi-a-nu mi-Mitz-ra-yim,
Ho-tsi-a-nu mi-Mitz-ra-yim,
Da-ye-nu!

.. CHORUS:
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Da-ye-nu, da-ye-nu, da-ye-nu!
..
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Dai, da-ye-nu,
.. Da-ye-nu, da-ye-nu!

Ilu na-tan, na-tan la-nu,
Na-tan la-nu et-ha-Sha-bat,
Na-tan la-nu et-ha-Sha-bat,
Da-ye-nu!

.. (CHORUS)

Ilu na-tan, na-tan la-nu,
Na-tan la-nu et-ha-To-rah,
Na-tan la-nu et-ha-To-rah,
Da-ye-nu!

.. (CHORUS)

Had He brought all, brought all of us, brought all of us
out from Egypt,
then it would have been enough. Oh, dayenu.

Chorus:
Da-da-yeinu_____, da-da-yeinu_____, da-da-yeinu_____,
dayeinu, dayeinu, dayeinu.

(repeat)

Had He given, given to us, given to us all the Sabbath,
then it would have been enough. Oh, dayenu.

Chorus

Had He given, given to us, given to us all the Torah,
then it would have been enough. Oh, dayenu.

Chorus