- Joy Levitt (age 16)

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

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

Passover is a festival of freedom.

It commemorates the Israelites’ Exodus from Egypt, and their transition from slavery to freedom. The main ritual of Passover is the seder, which occurs on the first two night (in Israel just the first night) of the holiday — a festive meal that involves the re-telling of the Exodus through stories and song and the consumption of ritual foods.

Kadesh: Blessings over Cup #1 of wine and marking sacred time.

Urchatz: Ritually washing hands without offering a blessing.

Karpas: Eating green vegetable dipped in salt-water.

Yachatz: Breaking the middle matzah (of the ceremonial 3) to create the Afikoman.

Maggid: Telling the story. Why is this night different? 4 sons! 10 plagues! Enough already! Pascal lamb, matzah and bitter herb explanations. Cup #2.

Rachtzah: Ritually washing hands with a blessing before breaking bread.

Motzi: Blessing over bread.

Matzah: Blessing over matzah. Eat matzah.

Maror: Blessing over the bitter herbs. Eat bitter herbs.

Korech: Eating a sandwich of matzah and bitter herbs.

Shulchan Orech: Festive Meal.

Tzafun: Finding / ransoming / eating the Afikoman.

Barech: Blessing After Meals. Cup #3. Elijah.

Hallel: Singing psalms of praise. Cup #4.

Nirtzah: Seder ends. Next year in Jerusalem. Drinking songs.

Is This the Haggadah for Me?

Passover is a time of traditions.

Family and friends come together, a feast is prepared. We pour wine and say blessings, we tell the story that has been told for generations of the birth of the Hebrew people from suffering and oppression. We wait longer then we want to eat and we end with dry matzoh. Everything is done in the right order with its own time and place.

Passover is a time to celebrate difference.

Our traditions tell us to ask what makes this night, this time, different. We discuss different types of people and how to share our traditions with them. The Haggadah evolves and changes to celebrate all kinds of people. We add new things to the Seder plate to represent women and peace and queer people and so much else.

This Haggadah is different.

It is for the Jews who have chosen a different path. We are Heathens and Pagans and Witches. We do not only question the differences of this night, but the beliefs and traditions of our ancestors. Yet we still gather for Passover. We come together to ask the questions and to tell the story and to remember that our stories of heros and spirits and gods are as deep and connected to our roots as those told over the generations of Jews and Hebrews who have celebrated Passover.

The JQ GLBT seder plate includes some special symbolic items including:

• An Orange - which carries the seeds of rebirth and represents the diversity of the Jewish community as we increase inclusion.
• A Coconut - for the LGBT still in the closet and their struggle in coming out
• Sour Vegetables - for the flavor of hatred and bigotry
• Fruit Salad - for our collective potential and recognition
• Flowers, Sticks and Stones - for the path all of us as LGBT and Allies are on as we move through life and play our role in the development of our culture and commemoration of our history.

First Cup:

Four is a holy number is Judaism.

It is the number of the four directions and the four elements. It is the number of matriarchs in the Torah and also the number of patriarchs.  It is the number of glasses of wine traditional at many Jewish celebrations.

Tonight we will drink four glasses of wine (or other red beverage) each representing a different aspect of the Passover evening.

The first glass is for the grapes. We raise this glass to the grapes that are a holy fruit in Judaism and to all the fruits that are beginning to grow and climb and bud in these Springtime days. We raise this glass to the spirits of the land that hold us and sustain us. Who come before us and will be here long after us.

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.

Hail to the Land Weights!

Tonight we will wash our hands twice. This first time is to prepare ourselves for our ritual work.

Passover is the holiday of Springtime, nature's rebirth beckoning. Just as Spring rains bring renewal after a long winter, may this washing of hands bring each of us personal renewal, freedom from whatever tyranny we endure and the deep happiness that comes from celebrating, laughing and eating together with family and friends.

We wash this time with cold water both in remembrance of all those who do not have access to hot water and of the winter that has passed.

At this time we need two volunteers, one to carry a pitcher of water and to pour water over each guest’s hands, and one to carry a basin and a towel.

Let me be not deceived,
let me remember this
moment holds sweetness
enfolded in its deep grievousness.

Let me be a vessel for
the healing this planet
so deeply needs.

Use me
as a source of soothing
for everyone suffering
under every destructive
regime’s undoing.

Use me
as a sukkat shalom,
as shelter from
the tumbling detritus
of crumbling empires,

as comfort
for those terrified
of this
natural catastrophe.

Let me awaken
the sleepers

and weave lullabies
for the sleepless.

Let me tend with
utmost tenderness.

Help me find the calm inside
so that I may grant it
expansiveness.

From within this cocoon,
use me to reveal
the mercy of retreat.

Use me as a tool
to teach
of Mother Gaia’s
tremendous gentleness,

of her unfathomably vast patience
with this human race—

what unimaginable grace
she shows us.

What merciful tolerance
she bestows upon us:

to serve us
three-day-pay-or-quit papers,
rather than a
well-deserved
immediate eviction notice.

Remind me that I was born
for this moment.

Let this be the turning point,
we so desperately need,

let me be
empathy,

let me mourn
each soul’s last gasp
of breath,

let me be compassion,
let me
radiate graciousness,

please,
hear this simple petition,
please
use me to priestess
the emerging world
Into existence.

“Remember you are water. Of course you leave salt trails. Of course you are crying. Flow. P.S. If there happens to be a multitude of griefs upon you, individual and collective, or fast and slow, or small and large, add equal parts of these considerations: that the broken heart can cover more territory. that perhaps love can only be as large as grief demands. that grief is the growing up of the heart that bursts boundaries like an old skin or a finished life. that grief is gratitude. that water seeks scale, that even your tears seek the recognition of community. that the heart is a front line and the fight is to feel in a world of distraction. that death might be the only freedom. that your grief is a worthwhile use of your time. that your body will feel only as much as it is able to. that the ones you grieve may be grieving you. that the sacred comes from the limitations. that you are excellent at loving.”

― Adrienne Maree Brown, Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds

The  karpas, the green vegetable, is the first part of the  seder  that makes this night different from all other nights. So far, the first glass of wine and the hand washing, though significant, do not serve to mark any sort of difference; they are regular parts of meals. The karpas, however, is not. As a night marked by difference, that difference starts now. Tonight, we celebrate difference with the karpas. Here, difference brings us hope, joy, and renewed life.

We also know that with difference can come pain and tears. We have shed these tears ourselves and we have caused others to shed tears. Difference can also be dangerous.

Tonight, we dip the karpas into salt water twice, and as we taste it, we taste both the fresh, celebratory hope of difference and the pain and tears that have come with it. We dip it once for our own tears, and twice for the tears we have made other shed.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, borei p’ri ha’adamah.

Blessed are You, Lord, our God, Ruler of the universe, who creates the fruit of the earth.

The top Matzoh And bottom Matzoh are,

it is said,

Pesach substitutes

For the two loaves of challah on Shabbat,

Supposedly a reminder

Of the two portions of manna

They received  in the dessert

Every Friday before Shabbat.

But the middle matza?!

Ah,

That's for the seder.

We break it in half

And call it the bread of affliction,

Just like the unleavened bread

They ate as they fled slavery

Matza Number Two,

The afflicted matza,

We break it in half

And separate ourselves from joy

So we don't forget the pain

That has been ours.

We break it in half

And separate ourselves from the joy

So we can remember the pain

Of others.

All this pain

Lives in this first half of the afflicted matzoh

And we eat this half first,

So that we do not forget the pains of slavery

So that we do not enslave others.

But--

We separate the second half of the afflicted matza

(The Afikomen)

From all that hurt

So that we don't forget the  joy that can follow the sorrow.

So that we don't forget the times that we changed things for the better.

And after the meal we will search for that happiness

And we will find it.

And then we eat the Afikomen together

So we don't forget that it is good to be alive

 And we are obligated to share that joy.

We are grateful for the obligations to remember pain and share joy.

Hail

There are 15 parts of the Seder overall, and they each happen in a specified order. This piece, the breaking of the afikomen will be needed again twelfth step, which is called tzafun. The Hebrew word tzafun means “hidden” or “concealed,” which accurately conveys the uncertain and peculiar origin of the ritual.

In some traditions, the children in the home attempt to steal the afikomen during the meal; while in many Ashkinazi homes the leader hides the afikomen from the children, who then search for it. In both traditions, the leader attempts to redeem the afikomen from the children, often in exchange for a small gift. Surprisingly, afikomen is not Hebrew, but a Greek word, meaning “dessert”.

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.

Before we get to the traditional questions asked in this part of the Seder this is a good moment to ask: What are the questions that we have now? How can we question our traditions, both within this ritual and throughout our lives?  What questions are we afraid to ask?

The Four Questions

?מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילוֹת
Ma nishtanah halailah hazeh mikol haleilot?
Why is this night different from all other nights?

1st Question:

.שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה, הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה – כֻּלּוֹ מַצָּה
Shebchol haleilot anu okhlin hametz umatzah; halailah hazeh, kuloh matzah.
On all other nights we eat leavened products and matzah, and on this night only matzah.

2nd Question:

.שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה (כֻּלּוֹ) מָרוֹר
Shebchol haleilot anu okhlin sh’ar y’rakot; halailah hazeh, maror.
On all other nights we eat all vegetables, and on this night only bitter herbs.

3rd Question:

.שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּעַם אֶחָת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים
Shebkhol haleilot ein anu matbilin afilu pa’am ehat; halailah hazeh, shtei f’amim.
On all other nights, we don’t dip our food even once, and on this night we dip twice.

4th Question:

.שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּנוּ מְסֻבִּין
Shebchol haleilot anu okhlin bein yoshvin uvein m’subin; halailah hazeh, kulanu m’subin.
On all other nights we eat sitting or reclining, and on this night we only recline.

The one key question is: Why is this night different from all other nights?

Because tonight we remember that the things that divide us — race, ethnicity, gender, class, religion, among others — also have the power to unite us.

1. Where did Passover come from?

Once we had two spring festivals: Pesach, a lambing holiday on which a newborn lamb was killed and eaten, and Chag Hamatzah, a holiday celebrating the year’s first grain.

Eventually, these two earth-based festivals became tied together into the Exodus narrative, part of the collection of new myths that bound the disparate Canaanite groups together as "Israel." These myths were oral traditions at first, and then recorded in various texts that eventually were stitched together into the Bible.

The name Pesach was repurposed from the Paschal Sacrifice to mean "pass over" as is God “passed over” the houses of the Hebrew slaves in Egypt. And matzah came to mean the unleavened bread baked as the liberates slaves left.

One of the names of Passover is still Chag Ha'Aviv, the Spring Holiday.

2. Where did the Seder come from?

The Seder is an adaptation of the classical "Symposium," a long banquet on a single subject. That secular custom was adapted by the Talmudic rabbis as a modern way of celebrating Passover, once the Temple was destroyed and the Passover sacrifice became impossible. As in many other instances, the rabbis transformed Judaism from a Temple-based religion to a portable religion that could be practiced anywhere. They also created a new ritual to compete with the new Christian Jews, who were reinterpreting the Passover symbols in new ways (e.g. last supper, lamb of God, communion).

3. Why do people still celebrate this ritual today?

The Passover Seder is the second most widely observed Jewish ritual today -- second to fasting on Yom Kippur. There are many reasons why it has endured. It is kinaesthetic, filled with special symbolic foods and objects. It is familial and food centered, like Thanksgiving dinner. And it is decentralized, performed at home rather than in a synagogue where people are told what to do by authority figures.

4. What are some themes of the holiday?

Freedom, liberation, and justice.

The birth of the Jewish people and the miracles of the Exodus.

The cycle of the seasons and springtime renewal.

The hardship of slavery and God's promise to Israel.

The moral imperative to help those who are suffering or oppressed.

The Traditionalist, who is active, knowledgeable and involved in his or her Judaism,

The Humanist or Secular Jew, who has a sense of the Jewish community that drives his or her values and perhaps social activism,

The Spirtualist, whose heritage may be at least partly Jewish, but who seeks enlightenment through other paths,

The Friend, a non-Jewish person interested enough to join us this evening.

Each of these represents attitudes and questions concerning the nature of this ritual and the nature of being a Jew in today’s world.

Arrival in Mitzryam

Jacob and his children had arrived in Mitzryam to be close to Joseph; who was second in command to the Pharaoh, and with his ingenuity had saved the people of Mitzryam, and by extension those from neighboring countries, from death by famine. Jacob and his children were settled in the city of Goshen and prospered wonderfully—their numbers grew and grew.

As long as Jacob's son's are alive, the Children of Israel are accorded honor and respect, but after the passing of Joseph, "There arose a new king in Mitzryam who knew not Joseph And he said to his people. 'Behold the Children of Israel are more and mightier than we. Come, let us deal wisely with them; lest they multiply...'"(Exodus 1:8-10).

Enslavement

In order to take power from the Hebrew people, they are all forced into labor, compelled to build cities of treasure houses for Pharaoh. But still, the Israelites continue to multiply at, to Pharaoh's eyes, an ever frightening pace. To put a stop to this, Pharaoh summons the Hebrew midwives, Shifra and Puah, and commands them to kill all Jewish newborn males. This, he is certain, will put an end to the propagation of this race. When the midwives defy his order, he commands that they cast all the newborn males into the Nile—his stargazers had predicted that the savior of the Hebrews would die through water—and Pharaoh hopes his plan will ensure an early death for any potential Israelite leader.

Moses' Birth

Jocheved, the wife of the Levite Amram, gives birth to a son. Because he is born three months early, she is able to conceal him for that amount of time. When she can no longer hide him, she builds a cradle of reeds floats the child into the Nile, thereby obeying the letter of Pharaoh’s decree. The child's sister, Miriam, hides among the brush to watch the child.

Pharaoh's daughter comes to bathe in the river when she sees the floating cradle. When she opens it and sees the weeping baby, she realizes that this is a Hebrew child, but she is compassionate and she resolves to take the baby home and raise it as her own. She names him Moses "he who was drawn from the water."

Miriam approaches the princess and offers to find a wet-nurse for the baby. When Pharaoh's daughter accepts, Miriam brings her Jocheved, whom Pharaoh's daughter hires to nurse and care for the child. Thus Moses is nursed by his birth mother in the heart of his birth family.

Moses Is Appointed Leader

As a young man, Moses leaves the palace and discovers the hardship of the Israelites in Mitzryam. He sees an overseer beating a Hebrew and, in anger at the injustice, kills him. The next day he sees two Hebrews fighting; when he admonishes them, they reveal his deed of the previous day, and Moses is forced to flee to the country of Midian. There he rescues the daughters of a shepherd named Jethro, begins living with Jethro’s clan, and marries one of his daughters—Zipporah—becoming a shepherd of his father-in-law's flocks.

In the meantime, the plight of the Children of Israel in Mitzryam worsens, "and their cry rose up to Elohim."

As Moses is shepherding his flock, he comes upon a burning bush, in which Elohim appears to him and instructs him to go to Pharaoh and demand that he let the Hebrew people go. Moses objects, citing a speech defect he acquired while in the palace, and so Moses' birth brother, Aaron, is appointed to serve as his spokesman.

Back in Mitzryam, Moses and Aaron assemble the elders to tell them that the time of their redemption has come. The people believe; but Pharaoh refuses to let them go.

Moses can no longer bear the pain of his brethren; he turns to Elohim saying, "Why have You done evil to this people?" Elohim promises that the redemption is close at hand, "Now you shall see what I will do to Pharaoh; for with a strong hand shall he let them go, and with a strong hand shall he drive them out of his land."

Art by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.

watercolor and pen on paper
Beth Flusser,  2011

The 10 Plagues

We now pour the second cup of wine, but we do not drink from it. This glass will be for those we have left behind or who can not be with us.

As we read about the ten plagues we will take a drop of wine from out cup for each and splash it onto our plate. This represents the blood of those who suffer from powers beyond their control.

Moses and Aaron come before Pharaoh again to demanding for him to let their people go, when Pharaoh refuses. Elohim turns Aaron's staff turns into a snake that attacks Pharaoh’s sorcerors.

Pharaoh still refuses to let the Hebrews go. Moses warns him that Elohim will smite Mitzryam. Pharaoh remains impervious. So Elohim begins to send a series of plagues to Mitzryam. In the throes of each plague, Pharaoh promises to let the Israelites go; but he reneges the moment the affliction is removed.

1) Aaron strikes the Nile, the waters turn to blood;
2) Swarms of frogs overrun the land;
3) Lice infest all men and beasts. Still, Pharaoh remains stubborn;
4) Hordes of wild animals invade the cities,
5) a pestilence kills the domestic animals,
6) painful boils afflict the Mitzryamians.
7) Fire and ice combine to descend from the skies as a devastating hail. Still, "the heart of Pharaoh was hardened and he would not let the children of Israel go."

The people of Mitzryam have suffered too much. They beg Pharaoh to let the Hebrews go. When Moses comes to warn Pharaoh of the eighth plague, Pharaoh says: You say that you want to go? I'll let the men go, as long as the women and children stay behind. No, says Moses, we must all go, men women and children, cattle and herds. Pharaoh once again refuses.

The next plagues descends upon Mitzryam.
8) a swarm of locusts devours all the crops and greenery;
9) a thick, palpable darkness envelops the land.

The Israelites are instructed to bring a "Passover offering" to Elohim: a lamb or kid is to be slaughtered and its blood sprinkled on the doorposts and lintel of every Israelite home, so that the angel of death should pass over the Israelite homes as Elohim enacts the final plague.

10) all the firstborn of Mitzryam are killed at the stroke of midnight of the 15th of the month of Nissan.

The Exodus

The death of the firstborn finally breaks Pharaoh's resistance and he literally begs the Children of Israel to leave his land. They hastily depart; so hastily that there is no time for their bread dough to rise for the trip, and the only provisions they take along are unleavened.

Soon after allowing the Hebrews to depart from Mitzryam, Pharaoh chases after them to force their return, and the Israelites find themselves trapped between Pharaoh's armies and the sea. Elohim tells Moses to raise his staff over the water; the sea splits to allow the Israelites to pass through, and then closes over the pursuing soldiers of Pharaoh’s army.

This is a story of redemption. Of revolution. Of connection. Of women who connected to their inner power and fully realized their dreams of freedom, hand in hand, as a community and led their tribe to redemption. This is a story about the midwives who helped birth the Jewish nation and our birthright. 

Miriam

Miriam (also known as Puah the midwife in the Talmud), Miriam’s mother Yocheved (known as midwife Shiphrah), and the Pharaoh’s daughter, Batya, all led by connecting, rather than overcoming. Their bravery and collaboration brought about a people willing to risk it all to save themselves from their oppressors.

In our story of redemption, many know of Miriam as the prophet and older sister of Moses, who boldly decides to follow her newborn brother as he floats down the river convinces the pharaoh's daughter to have her mother serve as his wet nurse. But what is often in the shadows of this story is that Miriam was a force for revolution long before following Moses down the river. After the Pharaoh decrees that all the first-born sons shall  be killed, her father divorces her mother, and encourages others to do the same in order to avoid the birth and killing of baby boys.  Miriam, of course, decries his actions. He heeds her words and remarries her mother, leading to the birth of Aaron and Moses. Miriam was said to be the first midwife to rebel against the pharaoh’s edict to kill the first-born sons, and thus, she started the revolution. Once free, Miriam did not command the people to do anything;  she simply took up her drum and began to dance, while  thousands followed her in redemption and triumph! 

Also hidden in the recesses of our redemption story are two other female leaders:   

Yocheved

The mother of Miriam, Aaron and Moses, gave birth and raised strong, resilient leaders. She gave up her newborn (down the Nile), then nursed and gave over her son Moses into the hands of the Pharaoh’s daughter. What a model of courage, selflessness, and trust.   

Batya

The pharaoh’s daughter, knowingly took a Hebrew baby into her care. She agreed to Miriam’s overture to have a Hebrew wet nurse care for the baby until weaned, to then be returned to Batya’s home and care. Thus, saving his life and mothering the future liberator of the Hebrew people. What an impact she had on the nurturing of this eventual leader of the Hebrews. Batya—a quiet but noble ally to the Hebrew people—we see you, we thank you.  

We are at a critical moment today, one in desperate need of revolution and resistance. One that will take leadership in small and big movements to make the changes we want to see in our personal lives and to shift the world for the better. What we can learn from Miriam, Batya, and Yocheved, the female leaders of this story, is that we can lead by connecting with ourselves (our desires, beliefs, and our values) and with others--empowering those around us to be brave and take action. Most importantly, let us not forget the power of an ally. Let Batya’s example of taking huge risks, speaking up, and putting in place protections to keep Moses safe, help us feel the strength and fortitude to nurture those in need within our community and to be an ally for others. 

What we can ask ourselves is this: What if any one of these women chose not to act? What if Miriam never convinced her father to remarry her mother? What if Miriam never followed Moses down the river or approached Batya so boldly? And what if Batya wasn’t brave enough to take in this Hebrew babe? Our fate would be so different. Their stories can inform us as we seek to discover our inner leader and move towards a brighter and freer tomorrow. 

Learn more here https://www.atthewellproject.com/nissan-moon-manual-activities/biblical-babes-honoring-our-jewish-female-leaders

Second cup:

We are now prepared to drink the second cup.

We raise this cup to our ancestors and to those who can not be here with us today. We have all experienced times of separation. Sometimes they span months or years, sometimes they span lifetimes; no matter how long they last, we still hold those connections in our hearts. They twine between us like the vines of the grape, holding us together even as we drift apart.

You may choose not to recite:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise Elohim, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Hail to our kith and kin who can not be with us today!

In a traditional Seder, we would now sing a song of praise to Elohim for all of the help he has provided to the Hebrew people. It is called “Dayenu” which means “it would have been enough.” It is a song of thanks, and we do have so much to be grateful for.

Rather then reciting the gratitudes of our ancestors that may collide with our current faiths, beliefs, or lack thereof, we will each name something we are grateful for. Something that went above and beyond in our lives. Something for which it would have been enough.

After each gratitude, we state, “Dayenu.”

Now that we have told the story and we get nearer to the ritual meal, we will wash our hands again.

Pouring water over hands has an enormous symbolic significance. Hands are our tools for manipulating the world. As we transition from telling the Passover story to the meal, we wash with the healing waters of spring. We wash our hands to cleanse the daily world from ourselves and to remind ourselves that this meal is as much ritual space as everything before it was. And it’s probably just a good idea to wash your hands before eating.

The pitcher and bowl are still available, but you may want to get up and wash your hands at the sink, since we are moving from livingroom to the table.

You may choose not to recite:

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 Elohim, ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with God's commandments and instructed us on washing hands.

Hail to all the waters that we live on and by and with!

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 Elohim, ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with God's commandments and instructed us on washing hands.

Hail to all the waters that we live on and by and with!

The only ingredient that changes regular flour and water into matza is time: the baking must take less than eighteen minutes or the mixture is assumed to have risen and cannot be eaten for Passover. Matza then is not just a symbol or a reminder of the haste with which we left for freedom but an embodiment of having to act quickly. Like time saved in a bottle, matza is urgency baked into bread.

Bread and salt hold sacred significance in cultures all over the world. It is the first food to be eaten in all Jewish ritual meals; in many Slavic countries, it is traditional to welcome guests with a ritual of bread and salt; in Germany, they are a gift for luck to newly wed couples and babies; and in many Arab countries it is an expression of alliance.

Today we start our meal with Matzo, without any adornment, as a reminder of the simplicity of survival. We are here today because we have survived everything that has come before, whether it was easy or difficult. Bread is the food of survival. Nearly every culture has their own style and recipe, their own way of combining these simple ingredients to draw a map to their roots. We eat this, one of the most simple and basic forms of bread, and know that it connects us deep into the history of the world. It is nothing but grain and water and salt. Bread holds the power of the bones of the Earth.

You may choose not to recite:

בְָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיא לֶֽחֶם מִן הָאָֽרֶץ:

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.

We praise Elohim, 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 Elohim, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat matzah.

Hail to the crops of the Earth and the history they can teach us!

Maror is the bitter herbs. It is the green things that grow and are bitter to taste.

It is bitter to remind us of the hardships of our ancestors. The hardships that got us to where we are today. But we do not eat this alone. We dip this bitter herb in salt water, to go a step further and remind ourselves of the tears that we have shed. We then dip it again to remind us of the tears we have caused in others.

Dip parsley in salt water twice.

You may choose not to recite:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מָרוֹר.

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al achilat maror.

Praised are you Elohim, who has taught us the way of holiness through commandments, commanding us to eat the bitter herb.

Hail to the green things of the Earth that may be bitter or sharp and that help to keep us healthy!

Eat the Parsley

Maror is also pungent. It can fill your existence and take hold of your senses. It is sometimes more then we can take! For this we also eat horseradish and experience the consuming nature of hardship.

Spread some horseradish onto a piece of matzo.

Hail to the reminders of our past so we can move forward into a better world!

Eat some horseradish.

The 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 the fortitude of the two pieces of matzah--the symbol of freedom. Through this ritual, we think about mortar and brick. We think of the Israelites traveling through the desert with no homes, no place to land and build up their strong communities, and only the matzah as a reminder of their freedom. It is not until they came to the biblical Promised Land that they experienced the sweetness of their redemption.

Feel free to have one now.

Now we get to the meal!

First Course: Egg Soup

We start with Egg Soup. It is, again, very simple. Just egg and salt water, in a bowl. We celebrate the spring. The new life and new growth. It is simple. It is good.

Hail to new life and growth!

Enjoy Egg Soup

Second Course: Gefilte Fish

It’s a strange tradition, but we have it none the less

Third Course: Matzo Ball soup

Fourth Course: The Meal itself!!

Dessert!

We have now enjoyed our meal and it is time to find the Afikoman. We can not finish the meal without it. Someone at this table hid it. Whoever finds it gets a prize.

Everyone look for the Afikoman.

We finish this meal as we started it. With the simplicity of flour and water and salt. We eat it last with nothing following to remind us how simple some things can be. There is a power in the simple things.

The Afikoman and divide it among all the guests at the Seder table.

Hail to the simple things!

Traditionally we do not drink or eat anything (except the remaining two ritual cups of wine) after eating the Afikoman

The legends of 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 Hebrew 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 have filled Miriam’s cup with water to honor her. Like Miriam, women in all generations have been essential for the continuity culture. Women passed down songs and stories, rituals and recipes, from mother to daughter, from generation to generation. Let us each drink from the cup of Miriam pouring water into our own glasses, so that our children may continue to draw from the strength and wisdom of our heritage.

In the years of wandering in the desert, Miriam's well accompanied the Israelites. According to tradition, Miriam's well is still with us. Every Saturday night, at the end of Shabbat, its waters flow out into wells everywhere in the world.

While the return of Elijah is left to the future and all its potential, Miriam is present with us always. She and her waters sustain us as we await Elijah. She is here to provide healing, inspiration, and wisdom.

The prophet Elijah symbolizes the dreams of the Jewish people. Elijah challenged the injustice of the powerful. He healed the sick and protected the helpless. At the end of his days, Elijah was carried off to heaven in fiery chariot. The prophet Malachi promised that Elijah will return one day to announce the coming of the Messiah, when all the world will celebrate universal freedom. Legend relates that Elijah returns to earth each day to carry forward the work of bringing justice and peace.

One or more participants should open the front (or other exterior) door as the following is read:

We now open the door to these legendary figures. We welcome them into our homes and our lives as we would welcome the blessings of the past, the hopes of the present, and our wishes for the future!

We now come to the third glass of wine. As the first was for the spirits of the land and the second was for the connections between us and those who are not with us, this glass is for the self. This glass is for you.

You have so much to celebrate. Raise this glass to you!

You may choose not to recite:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise Elohim, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Hail to me and all my accomplishments, to my survival and all I have lived through and experienced!

We now drink the last cup. This is the cup of community.

This cup is for you and the ones you love, for all the living things that make life easier and more enjoyable, for all the spirits that we see and all those we do not. With this cup we remember that the hardships we live in now will pass and that the world will change around us. We remember that the winter has passed and we can begin to enjoy the spring, but that the winter will come again.

You may choose not to recite:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise Elohim, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Hail to the communities that hold us up and those we help hold together!

The Seder ends in an outburst of longing and it is a longing for home. No matter where we are, the chances are that we feel displaced. No strangers to estrangement, we carry a homesickness from place to place. 

Somewhere on earth will feel like home. We will know it down to its homeliest details, and that knowledge will seep through and calm our restlessness, for what was that restlessness but a dream of coming home?

Next year in Jerusalem! we sing, from our places scattered around the globe, including the city of Jerusalem inself. And we sing it year after year, no matter how history disposes of us, just so long as we are still around. Proust wrote, "There is no paradise but paradise lost." The Jerusalem with which we end the seder is a place in the Proustian dreamscape, only designated not by the ache of loss but by the ache of longing. 

And if Jerusalem is metaphor, so, too, is Egypt. Egypt is the here and now, using the most persuasive of means -- the fact of reality itself -- to make us sink into its presence and forget the boundaries we had meant to cross. 

The Haggadah's tale is about a family who swell into something more. Voluntary strangers, they became involuntary slaves and finally head out into the unknown, driven by their longing to go home. None of them would ever reach that home, not even Moses.

Next year in Jerusalem, we say, and the words send us out into the night with our desires stoked, our commitment cooled. 

We are slaves without our longings. 

Traditionally, a Seder is held only on the first two nights of Pesach.  And on the last day of Pesach we observe a Yizkor day, a memorial day in which we light candles to remember those we have lost, and perhaps go to synagogue and participate in a Yizkor service.  How much better to also have a Seder on the last night, and to welcome in the memories of those we have lost to celebrate a Passover Seder with them?

On the Last Night of Passover, if doing a Memorial Seder:

Light the Yahrzheit Candle and recite:

ברוך אתה '', אלהינו מלך העולם, דיין האמת
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, dayan ha-emet.
(Blessed are you, Lord our God, ruler of the universe, the true judge.)

As we welcome in the final day of Pesach, we remember with love those who are no longer here to celebrate with us.  The journey of the ancient Israelites did not end with being freed, but had rather just begun, and the same can be said with the souls of our dearly departed.  May this light that shines upon us now remind us of their souls that shine upon us always.  May we feel their love as we remember all the Seders we held with them in the past, and as we celebrate a Seder with those memories in our minds tonight.  Truly, our Lord is ruler of the universe, of both the Heavens and the Earth, of all that we can see and all that we cannot.  Truly, the Lord is the True Judge.  May the Lord bless us with comfort after we lose loved ones, and watch over their souls once they have departed from their Earthly existence.

Optional:  Invite everyone present to share a Seder memory with someone they have loved and lost.

1. What do you consider your “promised land,” or heaven on earth?

2. In Hebrew, the word for Egypt is “Mitzraim,” which literally means “narrow place.” What is one way that you wish for our society to be more open?

3. Moses is considered one of the greatest leaders in our history — he is described as being smart, courageous, selfless and kind. Which of today’s leaders inspires you in a similar way?

4. Miriam was a prophetess and the sister of Moses who, after crossing the Red Sea, led the women in song and dance with tambourines. She is described as being courageous, confident, insightful and nurturing. Which musician or artist today inspires you in a similar way?

5. More recent and ongoing struggles for freedom include civil rights, GLBTQ equality, and women’s rights. Who is someone involved in this work that you admire?

6. Is there someone — or multiple people — in your family’s history who made their own journey to freedom?

7. Freedom is a central theme of Passover. When in your life have you felt most free?

8. If you could write an 11th commandment, what would it be?

9. What’s the longest journey you have ever taken?

10. How many non-food uses for matzah can you think of? Discuss!

11. Let’s say you are an Israelite packing for 40 years in the desert. What three modern items would you want to bring?

12. The Haggadah says that in every generation of Jewish history enemies have tried to eliminate us. What are the biggest threats you see to Judaism today?

13. The Passover seder format encourages us to ask as many questions as we can. What questions has Judaism encouraged you to ask?

14. Israel is central to the Passover seder. Do you think modern Israel is central to Jewish life? Why or why not?

15. The manna in the desert had a taste that matched the desire of each individual who ate it. For you, what would that taste be? Why?

16. Let’s say you had to swim across the Red Sea, and it could be made of anything except water. What would you want it to be?

17. If the prophet Elijah walked through the door and sat down at your table, what’s the first thing you would ask him?

18. Afikoman means “dessert” in Greek. If you could only eat one dessert for the rest of your life, what would it be?

19. What is something you wish to cleanse yourself of this year? A bad habit? An obsession or addiction?

20. The word “seder” means “order.” How do you maintain order in your life?

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Download the PDF here: https://www.jewishboston.com/20-table-topics-for-your-passover-seder/