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TABLE OF CONTENTS
PESACH
The holiday of Passover, or Pesach in Hebrew, celebrates God's freeing the Jews from bondage in Egypt through the leadership of Moses. Passover is known as the "holiday of freedom," commemorating the Jewish Exodus from Egypt following 210 years of slavery. Passover begins on the 15th day of Nissan, the first month of the Jewish calendar. Passover is a seven day holiday (8 days outside of Israel). The name Passover derives its name from the fact that during the final plagues -- the slaying of the first born -- God “passed over" the Israelites homes. Note : This is a required Feast of The Lord known as The Feast of Unleavened Bread where God commanded that no leavened products to be consumed for 7 days. (See Matzah below)
SEDER
The central observance of Passover is the Seder. This word in Hebrew literally means "order" and it refers to the order of services that are held on the first two nights (in Israel, on the first night only). The Seder is designed to give each Jew the experience of "going from slavery unto freedom." As recorded in the Haggadah. The word Haggadah means the "Telling" and so we tell the Exodus story and recount the Ten Plagues. The name Passover comes from the final plague which was the killing of the firstborn sons. Moses instructed the Jews to sacrifice a lamb for each family and spread its blood on the doorposts of their house. (As lambs were considered sacred by Egyptians, this was a public test of faith.) God passed over the marked Jewish houses, and killed the firstborn male child in every Egyptian household.
MATZAH
Passover is most closely associated with the observance of eating matzah instead of leavened foods. At the Seder, it is a special commandment to eat matzah, the Seder’s main symbol. During the week of Passover, Jews are forbidden to eat or possess any chametz (leavened products). For this reason the night before Passover we perform a "search and burn", we conduct a careful search of the home for chametz. and we dispose of (or sell) all bread, cookies, pasta, etc. The most common reason for eating matzah is that on the morning of the Exodus, the Jews were so rushed in getting out of Egypt that the bread didn’t have time to rise. At the end of the festive meal, the special “dessert” is another piece of matzah, called the Afikoman.
AFIKOMAN
Surprisingly, afikoman is not a Hebrew word (habba' in Hebrew) but rather a greek word meaning "the coming one" but the precise meaning is difficult to determine and some debate it is the verb form meaning "I have come". With the Messianic emphasis on the meaning of Afikoman, one can't help but to think of when Yeshua celebrated His last Passover with His disciples. Yeshua gave the disciples (Talmidim in Hebrew) matzah as the symbol of His body (1 Corinthians 11:24). The matzah is unleavened, striped and pierced, just as the prophet Isaiah describes the Messiah: "But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement for our peace was upon Him, and by His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5). Prior to the meal, this matzah was broken, wrapped in linen, and hidden away. Following the dinner, the matzah reappears. For the Messianic Jewish community, the afikomen symbolically represents the Messiah, as Jesus' body was broken, wrapped in linen, buried, and raised on the third day.
Note: The afikomen was not part of the original Passover described in the book of Exodus. Before the destruction of the Temple, the Jewish community concluded the Passover meal with the eating of a small (olive-sized) piece of lamb. This ritual emphasized the importance of the Pesach sacrifice. But since the destructuion of the Temple and there is no longer the sacrifice of the lamb, today the afikomen represents this sacrifice, and Jewish people conclude the Passover meal with the eating of a small piece of the afikomen.
FOUR CUPS
At the Seder, Jews drink four cups of wine corresponding to the four expressions of freedom mentioned in the Torah (Exodus 6:6-7).1) Cup of Sanctification - "I will bring you out of Egypt"2) Cup of Deliverance - "I will deliver you from Egyptian slavery"3) Cup of Redemption - "I will redeem you with My power"4) Cup of Restoration - "I will take you as My people"
Messianic emphasis : Yeshua drank the first two cups in the traditional way during His last Passover Seder. It was the third cup, the cup of redemption where He said, "This is my blood" (Matt. 26:27-39). It was the fourth cup that Yeshua told His disciples (the Cup of Restoration) that He would not drink of it again until He was with them in the coming kingdom (Matt. 26:29) at the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.
In the traditional Seder, the leader cries out: "Kadesh!" and we fill our cups with wine. Now we will recite the following traditional blessing over the wine: Barukh attah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam, borei (bore-ray) peri (Poor-ree) hagafen (ha-gaw-fane). "Blessed are You, LORD our God, King of the universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine. " "The Shehecheyanu Blessing is recited after the Kiddush for the first cup, the Shehecheyanu blessing is recited: Barukh attah Adonai eloheinu melekh ha-olam,she-hecheyanu (sha-heck-ya-ha-new) v'ki-yemanu (va-key-ya-maw-new) v'higianu (va-hig-E-ya-new) lazeman (la-za-mon) hazeh (ha-zaw) amein. “Blessed are You, Lord, our God, king of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us and has brought us to this season Amen.”
THE SEDER PLATE
Celery, parsley or potato (Karpas)Lettuce (Marror)Horseradish (Chazeret)CharosetRoasted chicken wing (Zero'ah)Hard-boiled egg (Beitzah)Matzah cover with 3 matzotWine and grape juice.
THE PESACH SEDER
1. Kaddesh: Sanctification
2. Urechatz: Washing
3. Karpas: Vegetable - A vegetable (usually parsley) is dipped in salt water and eaten. The vegetable symbolizes the tears shed as a result of our slavery.
4. Yachatz: Breaking - One of the 3 matzahs on the table is broken.Part is returned to the pile, the other part is set aside for the afikomen.
5. Maggid: The Story - A retelling of the story of the Exodus from Egypt and the first Pesach.
6. Rachtzah: Washing of hands
7. Motzi: Blessing over Grain Products
8. Matzah: Blessing over Matzah
9. Maror: Bitter Herbs - This symbolizes the bitterness of slavery.
10. Korekh: The Sandwich - We eat some maror on a piece of matzah, with some charoset.
11. Shulchan Orekh: Dinner - A festive meal is eaten. There is no particular requirement regarding what to eat. (except, of course, that chametz cannot be eaten)
12. Tzafun: The Afikomen - The piece of matzah set aside earlier is eaten as "dessert," the last food of the meal. (This is where the kids look for the hidden piece)
13. Barekh: Grace after Meals - The third cup of wine is poured, and birkat ha-mazon (grace after meals) is recited.At the end, a blessing is said over the third cup and it is drunk.The fourth cup is poured, including a cup set aside for the prophet Elijah.Elijah is supposed to herald the Messiah.The front door is opened for a while for Elijah to come and announce the arrival of the Messiah.
14. Hallel: Praises - Several psalms are recited. A blessing is then recited over the last cup of wine and it is drunk.
15. Nirtzah: Closing - A statement that the Seder has been completed, with a wish that next year, we may celebrate Pesach in Jerusalem - (meaning that the Messiah will come within the next year & Passover will be celebrated in the Temple again.)
CONCLUSION
Our Passover Seder is now complete! We put down our Haggadahs and all shout out: L'shanah haba'ah bi-yerushalayim! - "Next year in Jerusalem!" We are hopeful that one day soon we will enjoy fellowship together with the Messiah Himself in His coming kingdom!
All Jewish celebrations, from holidays to weddings, include wine as a symbol of our joy – not to mention a practical way to increase that joy. The seder starts with wine and then gives us three more opportunities to refill our cup and drink.
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.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who chose us from all peoples and languages, and sanctified us with commandments, and lovingly gave to us special times for happiness, holidays and this time of celebrating the Holiday of Matzah, the time of liberation, reading our sacred stories, and remembering the Exodus from Egypt. For you chose us and sanctified us among all peoples. And you have given us joyful holidays. We praise God, who sanctifies the people of Israel and the holidays.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם
שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶּה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam,
she-hechiyanu v’key’manu v’higiyanu lazman hazeh.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything,
who has kept us alive, raised us up, and brought us to this happy moment.
Drink the first glass of wine!
By Rabbi Baruch Frydman-Kohl
During the Passover Seder, the four cups of wine mark the four promises of God: “I am YHVH. I will free you… I will deliver you... I will redeem you… I will take you to be my people (Exodus 6.6-7).” In the discussion about this in the Talmud Yerushalmi, Rabbi Tarfon suggests that an additional cup of wine should be consumed to reflect a fifth promise: “I will bring you to the Land that I promised to Avraham, Yitzhak and Yaakov.” According to many commentators, this is the origin of the Cup of Elijah - a fifth cup that reflects the hope for a messianic redemptive return to the Land of Israel.
When the State of Israel was established in 1948, Rabbi Menachem Kasher unsuccessfully proposed that after Israeli independence we should consume that fifth cup. In our home, even though we don’t drink the fifth cup, we do pour a bit from our individual cups into the Cup of Elijah to indicate that we join with God to play a part in the act of redemption. Rabbi Michael Marmur (CCAR Journal, 2007) suggests interpreting the cups of wine at the Seder as indicative of different Jewish perspectives on contemporary life, with the fifth cup representative of the role of Israel in unifying our people.
The first cup is full, reminding us of the blessing of sufficiency. This cup is for those Jews who feel blessed by our families, by having enough, and by the virtues which guide our lives - kindness and hesed, tsedakah and justice, humanity and mentschlikhkeit. This is a cup of fulfillment.
The second cup is empty, signaling us that there is real poverty, powerlessness and pain in this world. We have glimpsed this on the streets of Toronto, in the news clips from Darfur, and in the missile attacks on Sderot. This cup calls us to act in solidarity with those who still experience life as problematic and painful. This is a cup of challenge.
The third cup is overflowing, pointing to those who seek enlightenment, ecstasy or serenity. There are spiritual seekers who want something that will give transcendent meaning to their daily lives. Whether through kabbalah, meditation, or yoga, these Jews want something beyond the ordinary. This is the cup of rapture.
The fourth cup is broken, calling us to realize that the Holocaust profoundly disrupted the lives of so many of our people. Emil Fackenheim wrote that we cannot imagine Jewish life as ever being the same after the Shoah, even as we are bidden to continue to live as Jews. This cup calls on Jews to exercise power so that we will never again become victims. This is the cup of rupture.
Rabbi Marmur writes that each of these cups is “important and each is deficient. A commitment to [individual] happiness outside of history [may create] walls” that cut off our personal lives from the rest of the world, as if our own homes and family are enough. A concern for others’ problems may bind us to the legitimacy of our own needs. A search for spiritual fulfillment can sometimes shift from self-development to self-indulgence. An awareness of rupture can too easily slide into a justification of every act in terms of a rampant survivalism.”
In Hebrew, mizug is the pouring of wine. The same term refers to the blending of the many different Jews who have come to this tiny country. In a deep sense, Israel is mizug galuyot, the mixing of the diversity of Diaspora Jewish life into a new blend. Israel pours for us a blended fifth cup of wine, for while it has provided survival, security and stability for our people, it is also full of poverty, pain, and the challenge of making peace. Just as the search for spiritual uplift through meditation or mitzvot is a part of life in the Holy Land for many Jews, so too is awareness of the Holocaust a constant reminder of the need for strength, swiftness and self-sufficiency. Israel is a complex country seeking a civic culture that will blend the wine of all the initial four cups.
May each of the cups you drink during Pesach add to your self-awareness and understanding of the variety of Jewish life. When you sit for seder, think about the historic issues Israel resolved, the contemporary challenges it faces, and how Israel might blend and unify the various aspects of your Jewish yearnings and identity.
Baruch Frydman-Kohl is the Anne and Max Tanenbaum Chair in Rabbinics and Rabbi of Beth Tzedec Congregation in Toronto, Canada. He is a Senior Rabbinic Fellow of the Shalom Hartman Institute
To wash your hands, you don’t need soap, but you do need a cup to pour water over your hands. Pour water on each of your hands three times, alternating between your hands. If the people around your table don’t want to get up to walk all the way over to the sink, you could pass a pitcher and a bowl around so everyone can wash at their seats… just be careful not to spill!
Too often during our daily lives we don’t stop and take the moment to prepare for whatever it is we’re about to do.
Let's pause to consider what we hope to get out of our evening together tonight. Go around the table and share one hope or expectation you have for tonight's seder.
Why Wash?
Let your HANDS take the first step, nose ahead, do the talking:
R' Yitzchak Mirsky, in his Hegyoni Halachah Haggadahi, writes about the significance of Urechatz--of the additional washing of one's hands before eating vegetables on the night of the Seder. In Mesachet Sottah 4B it says, "One who takes the Mitzvah of washing one's hands lightly will be removed from the world." The Ba'er Hatav comments that even if one is normally vigilant about washing his hands before eating bread (and the Maateh Yosef says that this also applies to washing before eating vegetables), but disregards this Mitzvah purposely just one time, he is still liable to the punishment set forth in the Gemarah.
The question arises though as to why the Gemarah stipulates such a strict punishment, even for missing the Mitzvah just once?!
The Maharal of Prague says that there is deep symbolism involved when one washes his hands for the purpose of a Mitzvah. Hands represent the beginning of the human body, for when one stretches out his hands to reach forward or above, it is the hands that are at the front or at the top of the body. The Maharal explains that that the way one begins an action greatly influences the direction and tone of all that follows from that point, and therefore, even a seemingly insignificant sin, but one involving the "bodily leader," is particularly wrong, for a misguided beginning will lead to an incomplete and incorrect conclusion. On Pesach, the Maharal continues, we should be extremely careful in our observance of this idea, for Pesach is the annual point of beginning for everything that exists, in all times.
At this time of beginning and renewal, R' Mirsky concludes, it is essential to remind ourselves of the importance of a correct beginning in any action and endeavor we undertake- something which is symbolized by the additional washing of our hands at the Seder.
Passover, like many of our holidays, combines the celebration of an event from our Jewish memory with a recognition of the cycles of nature. As we remember the liberation from Egypt, we also recognize the stirrings of spring and rebirth happening in the world around us. The symbols on our table bring together elements of both kinds of celebration.
We now take a vegetable, representing our joy at the dawning of spring after our long, cold winter. Most families use a green vegetable, such as parsley or celery, but some families from Eastern Europe have a tradition of using a boiled potato since greens were hard to come by at Passover time. Whatever symbol of spring and sustenance we’re using, we now dip it into salt water, a symbol of the tears our ancestors shed as slaves. Before we eat it, we recite a short blessing:
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 fruits of the earth.
We look forward to spring and the reawakening of flowers and greenery. They haven’t been lost, just buried beneath the snow, getting ready for reappearance just when we most needed them.
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We all have aspects of ourselves that sometimes get buried under the stresses of our busy lives. What has this winter taught us? What elements of our own lives do we hope to revive this spring?
In the early 1980s, while speaking at Oberlin College Hillel, Susannah Heschel was introduced to an early feminist Haggadah that suggested adding a crust of bread on the Seder plate, as a sign of solidarity with Jewish lesbians (there's as much room for a lesbian in Judaism as there is for a crust of bread on the seder plate). Heschel felt that to put bread on the Seder plate would be to accept that Jewish lesbians and gay men violate Judaism like chametz violates Passover. So, at her next Seder, she chose an orange as a symbol of inclusion of gays and lesbians and others who are marginalized within the Jewish community. She offered the orange as a symbol of the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men are contributing and active members of Jewish life. This story evolved to the urban legend that a rabbi said to Heschel that a woman on the bimah is as out of place as an orange on a Seder plate. In remembrance, some began to place an orange on their Seder plate. We did as well for a few years.
Several years ago I had the opportunity to create my own Seder plate. Through the clay in my hands I had the awesome power to decide to stay with or break from tradition in a lasting way. Is there a way to break tradition yet honor it at the same time? My goal was to maintain the ideals and values that the generations before me held dear and interpret them in a way that demonstrates their transcendent nature; to clarify that they endure in each generation.
Martin Buber writes:
Tradition constitutes the noblest freedom for a generation that lives it meaningfully, but it is the most miserable slavery for habitual inheritors who merely accept it, tenaciously and complacently.
Balancing the desire to honor tradition or institute change is a dynamic struggle we face on regular basis particularly at momentous occasions.
You will find on our family plate there is a dish with the Hebrew word Makom meaning place. Hamakom, literally ‘the place’, is an ancient name for God. It is meant to represent the ideal that there is a place at our table, a prominent place, for all; that no group should be marginalized as there is a spark of God in each of us. It is an opening, an opportunity for conversation.
We have committed vegetarians in our household; the opportunity to omit a place for meat was promising. The mitzvah is to remember the sacrifice, so the Hebrew word Pesach (offering) is on the dish on which we place the roasted beet in remembrance of the sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb.
The plates sit side by side; the inspiration and the interpretation.
- Esther Heimberg, Congregation Beth El of the Sudbury River Valley
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?
Pour the second glass of wine for everyone.
The Haggadah doesn’t tell the story of Passover in a linear fashion. We don’t hear of Moses being found by the daughter of Pharaoh – actually, we don’t hear much of Moses at all. Instead, we get an impressionistic collection of songs, images, and stories of both the Exodus from Egypt and from Passover celebrations through the centuries. Some say that minimizing the role of Moses keeps us focused on the miracles God performed for us. Others insist that we keep the focus on the role that every member of the community has in bringing about positive change.
The haggadah teaches, "In every generation, every individual should feel as though he or she had gone out of Egypt." Now comes the tough question: "What will we do with our memories of slavery?" Will we use them to renew empathy or vegeance? As free people, the choice remains ours. but history suggests that the urge for vengeance often proves irresistable. Passover should renew our capacity for empathy.
Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Opressed people can not remain oppressed forever." But it is also true that opression has been with us forever. In fact, the fight for freedom often ends with one repressive regime's replacement by another. The French Revolution, with its slogan, "liberty, fraternity, equality," produced a reign of terror more brutal that even that of the worst french kings. The Russian Revolution gave birth to a totalitarian state, more coercive than most autocratic czars. And in Africa, the stuggle against colonialism brought to power a slew of regimes that ulimately proved more abusive than the most domineering colonial overlords.
Why does this disillusioning pattern reoccur throughout history? Part of the answer lies in the fat that liberation rarely frees us from the desire or the emotional capacity to opress others. The firey cauldron of revolution, seething with moral contradictions, stands far from the cool ideal of justice. By the time the freedom fighters have finally won, their moral integrity has often dwindled to that of the overturned regime. Principles become the rebellions first casualty, the human rights of thsoe on th eother side are the next casualties. Locked in a spiral of brutal strife, the tactics of the opressed and the oppressor become increasingly difficult to distingush. And then the liberation movement turns inward, purifying itself, silencing the murmuring, divisive voices within its own ranks.
Let's look at the elements of this pattern within the Exodus story itself. With God fighting the war against Pharaoh, the Israelites themselves were spared from violently rebelling against the Egyptian king. But they must surely have observed that the forces for and against oppression, Pharaoh, and God, ultimately restored to similar tactics; the slaying of children. To prevent the Israelites from becoming too numerous, Pharaoh orders the murder of their newborn sons. To persuade Pharaoh to let the Israelites go, God slays the Egyptians' firstborn sons.
The murmuring against God, Moses, and Aaron begins in Egypt but increases after the Exodus. Unable to find water for three days after the miraculous parting of the Red Sea, the Israelites yearn for Egypt:
The Israelites said to them, "If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat beside the fleshpots, when we ate our fill of bread! For you have brought us out into this wilderness to starve this whole congregation to death." - EXODUS 16:2-3
The height of the murmuring comes when the Israelites build the Golden Calf. Moses smashes the Ten Commandments and sentences the counterrevolutionaries.
Moses stood up in the gate of the camp and said, "Whoever is for the Lord, come here!" And all the Levites rallied to him. He said to them, "Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel; Each of you put sword on thigh, go back and forth from gate to gate throughout the camp, and slay brother, neighbor, and kin." The Levites did as Moses had bidden; and some three thousand of the people fell that day. - EXODUS 32:26-29
To enforce the frst commandment against idol worship, Moses violates the sixth - "Thou shalt not kill." So revolutions go. The sanctity of human life pales in the blinding light of more exalted ideals.
Liberation struggles often wht an evil appetite. Revenge is Sweet. Frantz Fanon was a french psychiatrist who studied the effects of oppression. Descended from African slaves, Fanon found himself irresistibly attracted to the Algerian fight of the bloody war between France and Algeria, he descrobed the circumstances and inner feelings of oppressed peoples:The town belonging to the colonized people... is a hungry town, starved of bread, of meat, of shoes, of coal, of light. The native town is a crouching village, a town on its knees, a town wallowing in the mire.The colonized man is an envious man. And this the settler knows very well; when their glances meet, he ascertains bitterly, always on the defensive, "They want to take our place." it is true, for there is no native who does not dream at least once a day of setting humself up in the settler's placeHe is in fact ready at a moment's notice to echange the role of the quarry for that of the hunte. The native is an oppressed person whose permanent dream is to become the presecutor...
This is the Pharoah's Egypt and it is all around us, from the grinding decay of America's worst inner cities to the brutal dictatorships that still dominate much of Africa and the Middle East.
But the desire to humiliate one's former master explains only part of the cycle in which the oppressed become the oppressors. Subjugation of another rflects more than quenching an old thirst for revenge. The capacity to oppress another human being represents a fundamental rupture of human empathy, the bond of understanding that links us with out brothers and sisters and enables us to put ourselves in their shoes. Eliminate empathy and one group begins to treat another as inhuman objects - as machines to build cities in Egypt, as beasts to be captured in Africa, as insects to be exterminated in Nazi concentration camps. Expose a people to a world without empathy and you forge the next link in the chain of oppression. Nations respond this way and so do individuals. Scratch a parent who abuses a child and you will usually find someone who suffered abuse as a child.
If vengeance and a lack of empathy are the germs that breed oppression, neighter the Israelites who left Egypt nor we today are immune from the disease.
As the very climax of their struggle for freedom, the children of Israel rejoice when Pharaoh's soldiers drown in the Red Sea. A tide of other emotions submerged what compassion they may have had - revenge, relief, and the joy of salvation: "Then Moses and the Israelites and this song to the Lord. They said: I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver he was hurled into the sea" (Ex, 15:1). For the Israelites dancing on the shore of the Red Sea, the Egyptians were hardly the object of human concern. They were the enemy, not young men whose mothers would mourn them, whose firstborn brothers had just been slain by God, soldiers following orders of a Pharaoh whose heart had repeatedy been hardened by the Lord of Israel.
In reminding us of our experience as slaves, Passover renews our collective empathy. We are neither slaves stripped of our dignity, nor are we fully free to rejoice in the fall of our enemies. We must remember their humanity, even when they have forgotten ours.
So, before we sing 'Dayyenu' we spill a drop of wine from our glasses for each of the ten plagues. A common inerpretation explains that our joy cannot be complete because our redemption was acheived at the cost of great suffering to the Egyptians.
The passion for vengeance cools slowly. Dignity destroyed takes years to rebuild. The scars of slavery take generations to heal. That is why we needed forty years in the desert before entering the Promised Land. But time alone does not heal all wounds. If they are deep enoug, active intervention and treatment are essentail. And for the Jewish people, that intervention came in the form of the Torah, a code for transforming the bitter memories of oppression into a commitment to building a more just and humane society.
As the Rabbis of the Talmud wisely observed, the commandment to respect the rights of minorities appears thirty-six times in the Torah, a reminder that with power, the oppressed themselves often become oppressors. It is the Jewish peoples responsiblity to remain strong and to help break this tragic cycle. When Hillel, the great sage, was asked to teach the entire Torah to a man while standing on one foot, this is what he said: "What is hateful to you, do not do to other. All the rest is commentary. Now go and study."
Let your bitter memories enlarge the well of human empathy. Overcome your lust for vengeance. Overcome your readiness to deny others their humanity. For who has not dreamed - at least once - of sitting on Pharaoh's throne?
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.
As we tell the story, we think about it from all angles. Our tradition speaks of four different types of children who might react differently to the Passover seder. It is our job to make our story accessible to all the members of our community, so we think about how we might best reach each type of child:
What does the wise child say?
The wise child asks, What are the testimonies and laws which God commanded you?
You must teach this child the rules of observing the holiday of Passover.
What does the wicked child say?
The wicked child asks, What does this service mean to you?
To you and not to himself! Because he takes himself out of the community and misses the point, set this child’s teeth on edge and say to him: “It is because of what God did for me in taking me out of Egypt.” Me, not him. Had that child been there, he would have been left behind.
What does the simple child say?
The simple child asks, What is this?
To this child, answer plainly: “With a strong hand God took us out of Egypt, where we were slaves.”
What about the child who doesn’t know how to ask a question?
Help this child ask.
Start telling the story:
“It is because of what God did for me in taking me out of Egypt.”
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Do you see yourself in any of these children? At times we all approach different situations like each of these children. How do we relate to each of them?
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.
As we rejoice at our deliverance from slavery, we acknowledge that our freedom was hard-earned. We regret that our freedom came at the cost of the Egyptians’ suffering, for we are all human beings made in the image of God. We pour out a drop of wine for each of the plagues as we recite them.
Dip a finger or a spoon into your wine glass for a drop for each plague.
These are the ten plagues which God brought down on the Egyptians:
Blood | dam | דָּם
Frogs | tzfardeiya | צְפַרְדֵּֽעַ
Lice | kinim | כִּנִּים
Beasts | arov | עָרוֹב
Cattle disease | dever | דֶּֽבֶר
Boils | sh’chin | שְׁחִין
Hail | barad | בָּרָד
Locusts | arbeh | אַרְבֶּה
Darkness | choshech | חֹֽשֶׁךְ
Death of the Firstborn | makat b’chorot | מַכַּת בְּכוֹרוֹת
The Egyptians needed ten plagues because after each one they were able to come up with excuses and explanations rather than change their behavior. Could we be making the same mistakes? Make up your own list. What are the plagues in your life? What are the plagues in our world today? What behaviors do we need to change to fix them?
As all good term papers do, we start with the main idea:
ּ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. Even if we were all wise, knowledgeable scholars and Torah experts, we would still be obligated to tell the story of the exodus from Egypt.
The plagues and our subsequent redemption from Egypt are but one example of the care God has shown for us in our history. Had God but done any one of these kindnesses, it would have been enough – dayeinu.
אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָֽנוּ מִמִּצְרַֽיִם, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu
If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!
אִלּוּ נָתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah , Dayeinu
If God had only given us the Torah, that would have been enough.
The complete lyrics to Dayeinu tell the entire story of the Exodus from Egypt as a series of miracles God performed for us. (See the Additional Readings if you want to read or sing them all.)
Dayeinu also reminds us that each of our lives is the cumulative result of many blessings, small and large.
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.
The shank bone represents the Pesach, the special lamb sacrifice made in the days of the Temple for the Passover holiday. It is called the pesach, from the Hebrew word meaning “to pass over,” because God passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt when visiting plagues upon our oppressors.
The matzah reminds us that when our ancestors were finally free to leave Egypt, there was no time to pack or prepare. Our ancestors grabbed whatever dough was made and set out on their journey, letting their dough bake into matzah as they fled.
The bitter herbs provide a visceral reminder of the bitterness of slavery, the life of hard labor our ancestors experienced in Egypt.
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!
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.
A WAY IN Jewish Mindfulness Program
Haggadah Supplement
MATZAH
Bread of Affliction, Bread of Hope and Possibility
Ha lachma anya— This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.
As we go through the seder, the matzah will be transformed. It will cease to be the bread of affliction and it will become the bread of hope, courage, faith and possibility.
And it begins with a breaking.
YACHATZ: Breaking the Matzah
Reader:
Each person is invited to hold a piece of matzah, to mindfully feel its weight, notice its color, its shape and texture.
Resting the matzah on our open palms, we remember that the Passover story teaches that oppression and suffering result from fear and the unwillingness to open one’s heart to the pain and the experiences of others.
It was fear that brought about the enslavement of the Israelites and it was the hardening of the heart that kept the Israelites, the Egyptians and the Pharaoh in bondage. From fear and a hardened heart came violence, anguish and grief.
One person lifts the plate of three matzot. We all take a moment of silence and then call out the beginning of the prayer:
Ha lachma anya – This is the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.
We return to silence and each raise up a piece of matzah.
We maintain silence while all, at the same time, break our matzot in half.
We listen to the sound of the bread of affliction cracking open.
As we hold the two pieces in our hands we set an intention to break open and soften our hearts:
All:
May our eyes be open to each other’s pain.
May our ears be open to each other’s cries.
May we live with greater awareness.
May we practice greater forgiveness.
And may we go forward as free people—able to respond to ourselves and each other with compassion, wonderment, appreciation and love.
We place the matzah back on the plate and continue the prayer:
Let all who are hungry come and eat.
Let all who are in need join us in this Festival of Liberation.
May each of us, may all of us, find our homes.
May each of us, may all of us, be free.
II. Later in the seder, after we have told the story, we say the blessing over the matzah and prepare to eat it for the first time. We take a moment and acknowledge our capacity for healing and love:
Reader:
Every time we make a decision not to harden our hearts to our own pain or to the pain of others, we step toward freedom.
Every time we are able to act with compassion rather than anger, we stop the flow of violence.
And each moment we find the strength and courage to see ourselves in each other, we open possibilities for healing and peace.
This is the bread that we bless and share.
All:
May all who are hungry come and eat.
May all who are in need join together in this Festival of Freedom.
A WAY IN Jewish Mindfulness Program weaves together Jewish tradition and Mindfulness practice. A 501c(3) charitable organization, A Way In is guided by Rabbi Yael Levy, whose approach to mindfulness grows out of her deep personal commitment to spiritual practice and a passionate believe in its potential to change not only individuals but the world.
For more information on A Way In: www.mishkan.org/a-way-in; www.Facebook.com/jmindfulness. Follow us on Twitter: @awayinms
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.
Eating a sandwich of matzah and bitter herb | koreich | כּוֹרֵךְ
When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the biggest ritual of them all was eating the lamb offered as the pesach or Passover sacrifice. The great sage Hillel would put the meat in a sandwich made of matzah, along with some of the bitter herbs. While we do not make sacrifices any more – and, in fact, some Jews have a custom of purposely avoiding lamb during the seder so that it is not mistaken as a sacrifice – we honor this custom by eating a sandwich of the remaining matzah and bitter herbs. Some people will also include charoset in the sandwich to remind us that God’s kindness helped relieve the bitterness of slavery.
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.
Refill everyone’s wine glass.
We now say grace after the meal, thanking God for the food we’ve eaten. On Passover, this becomes something like an extended toast to God, culminating with drinking our third glass of wine for the evening:
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, whose goodness sustains the world. You are the origin of love and compassion, the source of bread for all. Thanks to You, we need never lack for food; You provide food enough for everyone. We praise God, source of food for everyone.
As it says in the Torah: When you have eaten and are satisfied, give praise to your God who has given you this good earth. We praise God for the earth and for its sustenance.
Renew our spiritual center in our time. We praise God, who centers us.
May the source of peace grant peace to us, to the Jewish people, and to the entire world. Amen.
The Third Glass of Wine
The blessing over the meal is immediately followed by another blessing over the wine:
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 third glass of wine!
The Arabian Gulf (Apr. 17, 2003) -- Crewmembers read from the Passover Hagaddah (prayer book) during the Passover Seder dinner in the wardroom aboard USS Nimitz (CVN 68). Passover is a holiday that commemorates the time in history when the Jewish people were freed from slavery in the land of Egypt. Nimitz Carrier Strike Group and Carrier Air Wing Eleven (CVW-11) are deployed conducting missions in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Operation Iraqi Freedom is the multi-national coalition effort to liberate the Iraqi people, eliminate Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction, and end the regime of Saddam Hussein. U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate 2nd class Tiffini M. Jones.
Traditionally, a series of prayers and blessings after eating are now recited in Hebrew. Together we say:
We have eaten this Passover meal as a free people and we give thanks to God for his many blessings. Preserve us in life, sustain us with good and honorable work and make us worthy. Bless this home, this table, and all assembled here; may all our loved ones share our blessings.
Singing songs that praise God | hallel | הַלֵּל
This is the time set aside for singing. Some of us might sing traditional prayers from the Book of Psalms. Others take this moment for favorites like Chad Gadya & Who Knows One, which you can find in the appendix. To celebrate the theme of freedom, we might sing songs from the civil rights movement. Or perhaps your crazy Uncle Frank has some parody lyrics about Passover to the tunes from a musical. We’re at least three glasses of wine into the night, so just roll with it.
Fourth Glass of Wine
As we come to the end of the seder, we drink one more glass of wine. With this final cup, we give thanks for the experience of celebrating Passover together, for the traditions that help inform our daily lives and guide our actions and aspirations.
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 fourth and final glass of wine!
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.
Nirtzah marks the conclusion of the seder. Our bellies are full, we have had several glasses of wine, we have told stories and sung songs, and now it is time for the evening to come to a close. At the end of the seder, we honor the tradition of declaring, “Next year in Jerusalem!”
For some people, the recitation of this phrase expresses the anticipation of rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem and the return of the Messiah. For others, it is an affirmation of hope and of connectedness with Klal Yisrael, the whole of the Jewish community. Still others yearn for peace in Israel and for all those living in the Diaspora.
Though it comes at the end of the seder, this moment also marks a beginning. We are beginning the next season with a renewed awareness of the freedoms we enjoy and the obstacles we must still confront. We are looking forward to the time that we gather together again. Having retold stories of the Jewish people, recalled historic movements of liberation, and reflected on the struggles people still face for freedom and equality, we are ready to embark on a year that we hope will bring positive change in the world and freedom to people everywhere.
In The Leader's Guide to the Family Participation Haggadah: A Different Night, Rabbi David Hartman writes: “Passover is the night for reckless dreams; for visions about what a human being can be, what society can be, what people can be, what history may become.”
What can we do to fulfill our reckless dreams? What will be our legacy for future generations?
Our seder is over, according to Jewish tradition and law. As we had the pleasure to gather for a seder this year, we hope to once again have the opportunity in the years to come. We pray that God brings health and healing to Israel and all the people of the world, especially those impacted by natural tragedy and war. As we say…
לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשָׁלָֽיִם
L’shana haba-ah biy’rushalayim
NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM!
In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdon Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdon — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family — responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated).
Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865
To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson,
Big Spring, Tennessee
Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.
I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master.
Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.
As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.
In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.
Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.
From your old servant,
Jourdon Anderson.
Who Knows One?
At some seders, people go around the table reading the question and all 13 answers in one breath. Thirteen is hard!
Who knows one?
I know one.
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows two?
I know two.
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows two?
I know two.
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows four?
I know four.
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows five?
I know five.
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows six?
I know six.
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows seven?
I know seven.
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows eight?
I know eight.
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows nine?
I know nine.
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows ten?
I know ten.
Ten are the Words from Sinai
Nine are the months of childbirth
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows eleven?
I know eleven.
Eleven are the stars
Ten are the Words from Sinai
Nine are the months of childbirth
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows twelve?
I know twelve.
Twelve are the tribes
Eleven are the stars
Ten are the Words from Sinai
Nine are the months of childbirth
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Who knows thirteen?
I know thirteen
Thirteen are the attributes of God
Twelve are the tribes
Eleven are the stars
Ten are the Words from Sinai
Nine are the months of childbirth
Eight are the days for circumcision
Seven are the days of the week
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
Five are the books of the Torah
Four are the matriarchs
Three are the patriarchs
Two are the tablets of the covenant
One is our God in Heaven and Earth
Chad Gadya
חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא
דְזַבִּין אַבָּא בִּתְרֵי זוּזֵי
חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Dizabin abah bitrei zuzei
Chad gadya, chad gadya.
One little goat, one little goat:
Which my father brought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The cat came and ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The dog came and bit the cat
That ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The stick came and beat the dog
That bit the cat that ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The fire came and burned the stick
That beat the dog that bit the cat
That ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The water came and extinguished the
Fire that burned the stick
That beat the dog that bit the cat
That ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The ox came and drank the water
That extinguished the fire
That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The butcher came and killed the ox,
That drank the water
That extinguished the fire
That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The angle of death came and slew
The butcher who killed the ox,
That drank the water
That extinguished the fire
That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
One little goat, one little goat:
The Holy One, Blessed Be He came and
Smote the angle of death who slew
The butcher who killed the ox,
That drank the water
That extinguished the fire
That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,
Which my father bought for two zuzim.
Seder Night Fever
set to the music of I Will Survive
lyrics by Carolyn Gage & Fae Silverman
Copyright 2008
PHAROAH:
At first I was afraid
That I’d be mummified
Kept thinking I could never live
With Hebrews by my side
But then I spent so many nights
Thinking how to make them slaves
And I grew strong
And learned that I could not be wrong
But now you’re back
You’re in my space
You just walked in to find me here
And I’ve got boils on my face
I should have changed that stupid law
I should have taken all your straw
If I’d have known for just one second
Just how much you’d shock-and-awe
Go on now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around now
Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to
Break me with the plagues
Did you think I’d crumble?
Yeah well take it to the Hague
MOSES:
Let’s not be vague
We’re not afraid
Oh as long as we know who we are
We know we’ve got it made
We’ve got all our lives to live
We’ve got all our love to give
It’s time to wade
It’s time to wade
Hey hey
It took all the faith we had
To make the Red Sea part
Kept trying hard to mend
The pieces of our broken hearts
And we spent oh so many nights
Just feeling sorry for ourselves
We used to cry
But now we hold our heads up high
Now you see us
So catch a clue
We’re not that chained up little Hebrew
Still enslaved by you
And then you thought you’d change your mind
And just expect us to agree
But now we’re saving all our loving
For ourselves because we’re free
PHAROAH:
Go on now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around now
Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with the frogs?
Did you think I’d crumble?
And be scared of polliwogs?
MOSES:
Call off the dogs
We’ll dialogue
Oh as long as we can find our way back to the synagogue
We’ve got all our lives to live
We’ve got all our love to give
It’s time to jog
It’s time to jog
Oh-h-h
PHAROAH:
Go on now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around now
Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Weren’t you the one who tried to break me with the lice?
Did you think I’d crumble?
Just because you can’t be nice?
MOSES:
Oh no, no dice
Let’s be precise
Oh as long as we behave ourselves
We’ll get to paradise
We’ve got all our lives to live
We’ve got all our love to give
So just be nice
So just be nice
So just be nice
