In a nutshell, Passover is the retelling of the story of Exodus, the story of Jews escaping slavery in Egypt, and it’s told through a variety of rituals. But I’d argue that the point of it all actually has little to do with knowing the details of the Jews and the Egyptians. Rather it’s about the feelings, questions, and inspiration that the story has the power to elicit. We will be following readings and rituals explained in these booklets in front of you called Haggadot. But did you know that for the first 800 years of Jews celebrating Passover, there was no written text. The rituals were all based on Rabbis leading dramatic first-person re-enactments of the story tailored to whatever would strategically engage their people, using props, food, and actions. The purpose was, and is, to use the story to create unscripted dialogue, introspective conversation, and inspire deeper perspectives of the modern world. 

Similarly, tonight we’ll only spend a few minutes in the middle of the Seder actually retelling the details of the story. All around it, we’ll be experiencing rituals that immerse us in the themes. It’s a practice to more deeply connect with concepts like oppression, suffering, hope, revolution, freedom, or whatever else we might discover in the story. 

Okay but oppression, suffering, hope, revolution, freedom… those are huge topics, too huge to digest without specific examples. That’s why it's becoming more mainstream in modern Judaism to give your seder a theme. Instead of just generally talking in abstract about all these big picture concepts, we get to pick lens to apply them, pick a statement to make. Maybe some of you can relate if your families recently began putting oranges on the seder plate, to call for freedom for women and in the LGBTQ community. Maybe at some of your family seders the conversation has grown into a discussion of more recent stories of Jewish oppression like the Holocaust or even more recent antisemitism. Maybe you've been to vegan seders, environmental justice seders, or our fair trade chocolate seder last year about slavery in the chocolate industry. The beauty of this Jewish ritual is that it tells us to take this ancient story and make it as relevant as possible to whatever topic feels important to us right now.

In the past decade, the global refugee population has more than doubled. 84 million people around the world have been displaced. And then Russia invaded Ukraine. As of a few weeks ago, an estimated 10 million Ukranians were forced to flee their homes, and there’s likely even more since then. This is not only one of the most heart breaking examples of suffering in our world today, but it's also very personal to us Jews. As Jews living outside of Israel, we are all in a way refugees. Maybe we've been comfortable now for a few generations, but beginning 2,000 years ago and many many times since we have been violently displaced from oppressive regimes. This diaspora is a tragic curse but also a blessing. While being scattering time and time again across the world is undeniably traumatic, at the same time, it is the reason for both our unbreakable tenacious spirit and our wildly rich cultural diversity. 

Our Seder tonight will draw inspiration from our oppression in Egypt to empathize with today’s refugees and send our support to Ukrainians. We’ll be wishing them the same undying hope for peace that we conjured in Egypt and so many times since. And at the same time, echoing the typical duality of Jewish traditions, we’ll enjoy the beauty and sweetness that ironically came out of our own bitter displacment. We’ll be celebrating Jewish diversity through the Passover traditions and foods of Jewish communities in all different corners of the world.
 

A Prayer for Peace in Ukraine and Beyond

Rabbi Rachel Sabath Beit-Halachmi

We come before you, Adonai, praying for peace.
A new war has begun, and thousands of innocent people are dying…
We pray for the strength and courage of the few
faced with the ruthless power of the many.

We stand together with our brothers and sisters in the Ukraine,
the birthplace of so many of our ancestors,
a place where the Jewish people has known both light and darkness.
We pray for a quick end to the raging conflict and the senseless bloodshed.

May our people remember that wherever a Jew is in danger or hurt,
we all feel that danger and pain as well.
As they seek cover from the life-threatening missiles
and fire falling from the sky, as they help the elderly
and hug their children tightly, and defend their homeland,
we pray that they can maintain hope that a Sukkat Shalom–
a canopy of blessing and peace–
will soon emerge above them.

May all the innocent people in the Ukraine and throughout the region
know that we are with them. Even from afar, we hear their cries.
May they know that we will continue to advocate for peace among nations
and that we will strengthen our commitment to aid and protect
every human being.

May the Source of All Life protect all of humanity from violence.
May the Source of Peace bring wisdom to their leaders
and bring a sense of tranquility, shalvah, to the people of the region
and peace to all who are endangered.
Amen.

As we celebrate our liberation from bondage, we remember that security and safety are just out of reach for many of us. We pray especially for the people of Ukraine.

Sovereign of the Universe

Who hearkens to our prayers.

We stand before You in solidarity

with all who are enduring the darkness of human conflict in Ukraine.

May You protect all the innocent

at this moment of great peril for them,

their country,

for Europe and the world.

Bring fortitude to the vulnerable,

resilience to the insecure

and strength to those who live in fear.

Incline the hearts of national leaders towards peace and reconciliation

and bless them with the wisdom, vision and perseverance needed

to end this war and restore peace to the region.

Almighty God,

strengthen the hands of those who pursue peace, not war.

Bring harmony where there is hostility;

relief where there is pain and hope where there is despair.

May the One who makes peace in high places

Make peace for all on earth.

May this be your will,

And let us say Amen.

How do you say “Happy Passover”?

Jews around the world have come up with diverse Passover greetings, often involving creative blends of Hebrew and local languages. Many of these phrases were originally written in Hebrew letters or other alphabets.

Judeo-French in Bordeaux, France: Bonne fête (good holiday)

Judeo-Provençal in Avignon, France: Bon tsantou (good holiday [yom-tov])

Western Yiddish in Alsace, France: Bauet gut (build well, likely a reference to rebuilding of the Temple because of the song Adir Hu)

Judeo-Georgian in Kutaisi, Georgia: Bednieri pesach-i (happy Passover)

Judeo-Greek in Ioannina, Greece: Kalo pesach/pascha (good Passover)

Judeo-Italian in Rome, Italy: Buon mongedde (good holiday [moed])

Yiddish in Kovno, Lithuania: A zisn un koshern peysech (a sweet and kosher Passover)

Jewish Neo-Aramaic in Betanure, Iraq: Edəd patire brixa (blessed matzot festival)

Ladino in Izmir, Turkey: Men: Moadim lesimhá [times of happiness; Reply: Hagim uzmanim lesasón - holidays and times of joy]; Women: Pesach alegre (happy Passover)

Judeo-Arabic in Taroudant, Morocco: Ikun ʕlik ǝl-ʕid mḅɑṛk (blessed holiday to you)

Judeo-Tat/Juhuri in Quba, Azerbaijan: Nisonushmu shor giro (may your Passover [Nissan] pass happily)

Judeo-Persian in Tehran, Iran: Moedetun mubarak bashe (have a happy holiday [moed])

Jewish Malayalam in Parur, India: Nalle pesahә pernal (happy Passover)

Jewish Amharic in Gondar, Ethiopia: Melkam yeqita be’al (fine holiday of unleavened bread)

For more on diverse Jewish Passover traditions, see:
Abadi, Jennifer Felicia. 2018. Too Good to Passover: Sephardic & Judeo-Arabic Seder Menus and Memories from Africa, Asia and Europe. Jennifer Abadi.
Lowenstein, Steven. 2000. The Jewish Cultural Tapestry: International Jewish Folk Traditions. Oxford.
Raphael, Chaim. 1993. A Feast of History: The Drama of Passover through the Ages. Reprint edition. Bnai Brith.

The whole point of the Seder is to ask questions. This is your time to ask about things that confuse you, things you don’t understand, or even things you don’t agree with. There really is no such thing as a stupid question, especially tonight. 

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 (directly translated as Egypt)—is a personal as well as a communal passage, your participation and thoughts are encouraged.

Remember that questioning itself is a sign of freedom and our way out of Mitzrayim. The simplest questions can have many answers and sometimes, the best questions have no concrete answers. To judge things as good or bad, matzah or maror, Jewish, Muslim or Christian, conservative or liberal, religious or secular, is to be enslaved to simplicity.

Since this group is too large to pause for many full group discussions, our remedy is your stack of sticky notes at each table. Please, whenever you think of a question, write it on the sticky notes and bring them up in your dinner conversations. Do not see it as lacking knowledge or potentially being bothersome to others, but rather the best way to participate in the Passover tradition.

Contributed By Machar Congregation

We have come together this evening for many reasons. We are here because Spring is all around, the Earth is reborn, and it is a good time to celebrate with family and friends. We are here to celebrate the Jewish people's valuable old memories and stories.

We are here to remember the old story of the liberation of the ancient Hebrews from slavery in Egypt - a great struggle for freedom and dignity. We are here because the struggle for human freedom never stops. We are here to remember all people - Jews and non-Jews - who are still struggling for their freedom.

As we feel how wonderful and important it is for diverse peoples to come together, let us recite and then sing the words of HINNEH MAH TOV. Let us feel gratitude for this wonderful moment of coming together.

HINNEH, MAH TOV -  (Adaptation* of T'hillim / Psalms 133.1)     

Behold, how good and how pleasant it is when peoples dwell together in unity!

Hinneh, mah tov u-mah naim shevet ammim* gam yahad! 

(*originally "brothers", or "achim")

We place a Seder Plate at our table as a reminder to discuss certain aspects of the Passover story. Each item has its own significance.

Maror – The bitter herb. This symbolizes the harshness of lives of the Jews in Egypt.

Charoset – A delicious mix of sweet wine, apples, cinnamon and nuts that resembles the mortar used as bricks of the many buildings the Jewish slaves built in Egypt

Karpas – A green vegetable, usually parsley, is a reminder of the green sprouting up all around us during spring and is used to dip into the saltwater

Zeroah – A roasted lamb or shank bone symbolizing the sacrifice made at the great temple on Passover. Or a common vegetarian version is the beet which represents the sacrifice with its blood red color.

Beitzah – The egg symbolizes the circle of life. Eggs are the first item offered to a mourner after a funeral and it also evokes a sense of mourning for the destruction of the temple.

Orange - The orange on the seder plate has come to symbolize full inclusion in modern day Judaism: not only for women, but also for people with disabilities, intermarried couples, and the LGBT Community.

Sunflower Seeds - The sunflower seeds show our solidarity with the brave people of Ukraine. Sunflowers are the national flower of Ukraine, and have become a potent symbol of resistance to the recent Russian military invasion.

Matzah - Matzah is the unleavened bread we eat to remember that when the jews fled Egypt, they didn’t even have time to let the dough rise on their bread. We commemorate this by removing all bread and bread products from our home during Passover.

Adapted from Tikkun Ha-Lev Haggadah Insert by Rabbi Yael Levy

In the Passover story, we hear many times that Pharaoh’s heart was hardened and, despite Moses’ pleas and the ten plagues, he would not let the people go. Pharaoh’s hardened heart made it impossible for him to act with empathy, understanding or justice.

With all that is happening in our country and in the world, it is easy for us to fall into the habit of hardening our hearts. Anger, fear, frustration, disappointment, and despair can cause us to shut down and turn away. As we do, it becomes more difficult for us to respond to each other with patience, understanding, and compassion. With hardened hearts, we can’t fully appreciate life’s blessings or respond well to life’s challenges.

As we begin the Passover Seder, we set an intention to engage in  Tikkun HaLev, to soften our hearts in order to heal them. We do this for our own sake and for the sake of each other, to bring us back into connection with each other and the world.

With each cup of wine, we seek to soften and heal our hearts.

First Cup: Honoring Those Who Came Before Us

We lift the first cup of wine and remember those who are no longer with us. We remember family and friends whom we love and whose memory we cherish. And we remember people who have made a difference in our lives and in the world. 

May their lights continue to shine through us and may the words of our mouths, the love of our hearts, and the work of our hands honor their memory.

As we remember and honor those who came before us, we say:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אַדָנָי אֱלהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעולָם בּורֵא 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 first glass of wine!

There are two points during the Seder when we wash our hands. This first washing is a symbolic and ritual washing, done by one person and with no blessing. Later, we will all wash our hands and say a blessing as we prepare for the meal. So why do we wash our hands symbolically now, if we will wash them again before we eat?

It is Jewish tradition to wash our hands and say a blessing before we eat, so that our hands are physically clean when we begin our meal. This washing, however, is symbolic: because water is seen as refreshing and purifying, it is an opportunity to cleanse ourselves spiritually before we continue with our seder. 

Let's take a moment now to set a personal intention for cleansing ourselves this Passover. What's something you'd like to cleanse yourself from? Maybe it's a negative emotion, bad habit, or whatever else is clouding your mental or spiritual space. Or, what's something you'd like to clear space for? Maybe there's something you'd like to make an effort to be more present about. Go around your table and have everyone share one ideal they'd like to explore for themselves this Passover. 

Salt is unique in that it is bitter on its own, yet sweetens and brings out the taste of that which it is added to. For this reason, salt is the staple of suffering.

There are two perspectives of suffering – Purposeless Suffering and Purposeful Suffering.

Purposeless Suffering is suffering without reason, value, or an end-goal, and is therefore completely bitter. It is based on a keyhole view of life: “What is right in front of my eyes is all there is and there is no grander scheme.”

We squint in order to focus on something in the distance.

The Kabbalists explain that for this reason, the reaction of a person in pain is to close his eyes, since physical eyes don't see the spiritual purpose. Just as a person squints, which is a partial closing of one's eyes in order to focus on something in the physical distance, one may close his eyes completely in order to focus on something in the "spiritual distance.”

Purposeful Suffering is sweetened by understanding the greater context – that all is from God and for the best.

At the Seder, we dip the Karpas into saltwater in order to embody the concept of Purposeful Suffering – that we view any suffering in life as a surgery for our ultimate betterment rather than meaningless torture. (Additionally, we dip Karpas into salt water to represent the tears cried by the Jewish people while enslaved under Egyptian rule.)

We see these two sides of salt expressed by the Dead Sea. Due to its high salt concentration, the Dead Sea contains no life within it, yet has an incredible capacity to heal. On its own, the Dead Sea is "bitter," but when a person dips into the Dead Sea, he is "sweetened."

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 also dip Karpas to help us remember the sweetness of life. How the universe  works in cycles and the spring will always come back around providing us with new life. 

Winter is Over

by Daniel Prakhabmek

Winter is over, the cold is gone,

The universe is filled with joy.

The southerly winds slowly blow

Repairing a gloomy soul.
 

Young sun, spring sun,

Shining in the sky,

Casting a wealth of light on the Earth,

Blinding eyes.
 

The naked trees,

Are awakened again,

The noisy city,

Dons a new face.
 

Everything is joyful, alive, and glowing,

The spirit of spring washes over all

Happy are the tall buildings,

Crowned by high mountains.
 

Still, there remains a glassy film of ice,

Over the swamps, over the streams,

Still, the trees are bare,

The leaves not yet budded.
 

The birds not yet returned,

Singing their joyful songs,

But spring is already felt,

In every corner and square.
 

The sky has changed

The sea foam is different,

And spring is already seeping,

Into the depths of the soul.
 

This is not the world,

This is not as the heights of Creation,

Everything is alive, fresh, happy

Everything returns to life!

Take the middle matzah of the three on your Seder plate. Break it into two pieces. Wrap the larger piece, the Afikoman, in a napkin to be hidden later. As you hold up the remaining smaller piece, read these words together:

We now hold up this broken matzah, which so clearly can never be repaired. We eat the smaller part while the larger half remains out of sight and out of reach for now. We begin by eating this bread of affliction and, then, only after we have relived the journey through slavery and the exodus from Egypt, do we eat the Afikoman, the bread of our liberation. We see that liberation can come from imperfection and fragmentation. Every day, refugees across the globe experience the consequences of having their lives ruptured, and, yet, they find ways to pick up the pieces and forge a new, if imperfect, path forward.

Bsisa: A Tasty Women’s Tradition To Begin The Passover Season

Benghazi Haggadah

This Passover, I’m placing a small dish of sunflower seeds on my seder plate to show my solidarity with the people of Ukraine. Sunflowers are the national flower of Ukraine, and have become a potent symbol of resistance to the recent Russian military invasion. They have been grown in Ukraine since the 18th Century and have been associated with Ukrainian national identity since the early 19th Century. They symbolize unity, life and well-being, and can be seen across the countryside. 

After the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in 1986, sunflowers were widely grown in the area to help remove radiation contaminants from the soil. And in 1996, sunflowers were planted in celebration of Ukraine’s nuclear disarmament. 

Two of my great-grandparents were born in western Ukraine, in what was then known as the Pale of Settlement. Conjured in stories as the family patriarch, my Hebrew name (Moriah) is in memory of my great-grandfather, Max (Mordechai). He was born in 1886 in Husyatyn and emigrated to the Boston area in the early 1900s. 

In 2005, I made the journey to the southern Ukrainian city of Odessa as part of a community exchange trip for my graduate studies. At the time, I did not feel a strong connection to this area as the land of my ancestors. But the foreignness of the city was erased by the friendliness of the people we met. From orphanages to JCCs to the apartments of homebound elderly, everyone’s love of their city and their community overflowed. 

Though we did not remain in touch, I can easily imagine these people embodying the resistance to an authoritarian ruler that is at the core of the Passover story. I can picture them on the famous Potemkin Steps on the coast of the Black Sea. In their hands are sunflower seeds. 

And so, with a dish of these powerful seeds on my seder table, I will say a blessing of peace and protection for them, for my great-grandparents and for all the brave people of Ukraine. 

Rebecca Missel is the Director of Partnerships and Content at Haggadot.com 

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.

The formal telling of the story of Passover is framed as a discussion with lots of questions. 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. Traditionally, the youngest person at the seder reads these four questions. At this time, we invite all underclassmen to the front, to lead us in singing the 4 questions.

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.

What questions do you have about Passover and/or tonight's seder? As you have questions come up throughout the Seder, write them on the sticky notes on your table and ask your table at dinner. Feel free to bring them to our staff for further discussion as well!

Below is a contemporary adaptation of the traditional Four Children from the Passover Haggadah. Read these words together and then discuss the question that follows:

The one who ignores . . .

She turns off the news and closes the newspaper, speechless as she considers the magnitude of the problem. “68 million displaced people?” she wonders, “It couldn’t possibly be that many.”

The one who deflects . . .

They want to attend the rally for refugees and sign that petition, but they lost track of time with so many other pressing issues demanding their attention. “Someone else will take this one,” they console themselves, “I’ve got other priorities.”

The one who abandons . . .

He knows that Jewish values command him to welcome the stranger, but he cannot reconcile that with his worries about the economy and his fear of terrorism. “It’s not the same as when my grandparents came to this country,” he says.

The ones who understand . . .

They see that the Jewish refugee story never really ends; our role in the story shifts. Together, they take actions big and small. While they know they cannot complete the work, they do not desist from trying to make a difference. “We used to help refugees because they were Jewish,” they say, “But now we help refugees because we are Jewish.”

Discuss as a group:

When we talk about the global refugee crisis, many of us may struggle to reconcile one or more of these voices within ourselves or we hear them in family members and friends. How do you respond to your own struggle when you think about taking action in support of refugees and asylum seekers? How do you respond to the concerns of others?

Adapted from the Horowitzes' Haggadah

1. Our story starts in ancient times, with Abraham, the first person to believe in one God. God 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.

2. Generations later, our people went into  galut, exile, in the land of Egypt. During a famine, our forefather Jacob and his family fled to Egypt where food was plentiful. Through a complicated set of plot twists, his son Joseph had risen to high position in Pharaoh's court, and our people were well-respected and well-regarded, secure in the power structure of the time.

3. Generations passed and our people remained in Egypt. As rulers came and went, a new Pharaoh ascended to the throne. He felt threatened by the strangers in his people's midst, and ordered our people enslaved.

In fear of rebellion, Pharaoh decreed that all Hebrew boy-children be killed. Two midwives named Shifrah and Puah defied his orders, claiming that "the Hebrew women are so hardy, they give birth before we arrive!" Through their courage, a boy survived.

Fearing for his safety, his family placed him in a basket and he floated down the Nile. He was found and adopted by Pharaoh's daughter, who named him Moshe because  min ha-mayim m'shitihu, from the water she drew him forth. She hired his mother Yocheved as his wet-nurse. Thus he survived to adulthood and was raised as Prince of Egypt.

4. Although a child of privilege, as he grew he became aware of the slaves who worked in the brickyards of his father. When he saw an overseer mistreat a slave, he struck the overseer and killed him. Fearing retribution, he set out across Sinai alone. 

God spoke to him from a burning bush, which though it flamed was not consumed. The Voice called him to lead the Hebrew people to freedom. Moses argued with God, pleading inadequacy, but God disagreed. Sometimes our responsibilities choose us. 

5. Moses returned to Egypt and went to Pharaoh to argue the injustice of slavery. He gave Pharaoh a mandate which resounds through history: Let my people go.

Pharaoh refused, and Moses warned him that Mighty God would strike the Egyptian people. These threats were not idle: ten terrible plagues were unleashed upon the Egyptians. Only when his nation lay in ruins did Pharaoh agree to our liberation.

6. Fearful that Pharaoh would change his mind, our people fled, not waiting for their bread dough to rise. (For this reason we eat unleavened bread as we take part in their journey.) Our people did not leave Egypt alone; a "mixed multitude" went with them.  From this we learn that liberation is not for us alone, but for all the nations of the earth.

Even Pharaoh's daughter came with us, and traded her old title ( bat-Pharaoh, daughter of Pharaoh) for the name Batya, "daughter of God."

Pharaoh's army followed us to the Sea of Reeds. We plunged into the waters. Only when we had gone as far as we could did the waters part for us. We mourn, even now, that Pharaoh's army drowned: our liberation is bittersweet because people died in our pursuit. 

7. To this day we relive our liberation, that we may not become complacent, that we may always rejoice in our freedom. 

The Jews of Ethiopia strongly identify with the story of Passover. In 1985, they had an exodus of their own, where they took almost 8,000 Jews from Sudan to Israel. They commemorate this by breaking all of their dished and making new ones. This symbolizes breaking from the past and starting over.

Some Ethiopian Jews have no Haggadahs so they read about the Pesach story directly from the Torah. They make their own matzahs from chickpea flour. On the morning of the seder, a lamb would be slaughtered. They also refrain from eating fermented dairy like yogurt, butter, or cheese.

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

In many modern Passover Seders, we use this time to contemplate current plagues causing suffering in our world. We might name war, terrorism, food insecurity, homelessness, racism, etc. However, the 10 plagues that God brought upon the Egyptians weren't simply general issues facing humanity at the time. They were strategies used to convince Pharaoh to free the enslaved; they were the means to break down the oppressive regime. The plagues were God's protest to the inhumane system. Therefore, instead I'd like to take this moment to brainstorm modern plagues that can be used to work against the problematic systems that exist in our world today. We'll brainstorm as a group, so when you think of one, raise your hand.

Persian Charoset (Haleg) Recipe

English-Persian-Hebrew Haggadah (Amazon)

Miriam's Song

Chorus

And the women dancing with their timbrels
Followed Miriam as she sang her song
Sing a song to the One whom we've exalted
Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long

And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety
The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history

With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight
A woman touched with spirit, she dances toward the light

Chorus

When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea
The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe
Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand
And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land

Chorus

And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand
And all the women followed her just as she had planned
And Miriam raised her voice in song
She sang with praise and might
We've just lived through a miracle 
We're going to dance tonight

Songwriters: Debbie Friedman

Adapted by HIAS

Pour the second cup of wine and recite the blessing below as a group:

V’hotzeiti etchem. .. I will free you...

As we remember our own liberation from bondage in Egypt, we express gratitude for the ability to work as God’s partners in continued and continual redemption for today’s refugees and asylum seekers. As our wine cups overflow in this moment of joy, we hold out hope for the day when every person in search of refuge in every corner of the earth can recall a story of freedom, reflect on a journey to security from violence and persecution, and no longer yearn for a safe place to call home. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, who frees those who are oppressed.

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 cup 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. As we remember from our symbolic washing, pouring water over the hands has an enormous symbolic significance. Hands are our tools for manipulating the world. To mark the transition from telling the Passover story to  the meal, we ritually wash our hands to create an aura of sanctity; we clean our tools for interacting with the world, that will engage us in something beautiful.

We encourage you to to say the blessing for washing your hands and then go wash your hands.

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

With the taste of bitterness just before our lips, we remind ourselves of the bitterness our enslaved ancestors experienced in Egypt. Tonight, we force ourselves to experience the stinging pain of the maror (horseradish) so that we should remember the bitterness we endured thousands of years ago as well as the bitterness that is stinging the world today.

For two months now, we've been hearing bitter stories coming out of Ukraine. Stories of civilians getting dragged out of their homes and shot in the streets, maternity wards bombed, missles hitting train stations killing dozens trying to flee, sights of mass graves in Bucha, etc. So far there's roughly 2,000 recorded civilian deaths, with potentially tens of thousands in Mariupol, and 4.5 million refugees.

Let us contemplate the bitterness of slavery, the bitterness of war in Ukraine, and all bitterness experienced in situations across the world as we say this blessing and taste maror.

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.

The great 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 two pieces of matzah. This juxtaposition is a key theme throughout Jewish rituals. In many holidays, we're reminded how close the Jewish people have come to utter destruction while celebrating strength and survival with great joy, remembering our persistence and our own determination to survive. Even at a wedding, we break a glass to remind us that even in times of life’s greatest joys we must remember the sadness of the destruction of the Temple. And on Passover we mix the sweet charoset with the bitter maror, mixing bitter of slavery and sweetness of freedom all in one bite.

Throughout each year and throughout our lifetimes, we challenge ourselves to remember that even in times of strength, it is better to sense our vulnerability, rather than bask in our success.  We all have memories of times in which bitter and sweet were mixed in our lives, all in the same bite. Enjoy the sandwich, layering charoset and maror between two pieces of matzah, while meditating on the juxtaposition of sweetness and bitterness in our story and of our world.

Bibhilu Blessing

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.

It's traditional that while you eat, ask questions! If you'd like inspiration, here's some suggestions by Jewish Bostom below:

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?

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.

The Cup of Redemption

With the third cup of wine we recall the second promise, the second stage,
of our liberation, the actual rescue from slavery. Here, we think about the heros of our time, rescuing others from slavery.

Who are the people in our time working towards for justice? Who is fighting for freedom?
What have I done this past year to further freedom? How can I take inspiration from those taking steps towards a better world?

In their honor, and in honor of all the people of the world who have joined in the
struggle for peace, for freedom, and to make the world a better place in which to
live and work, we drink the second cup.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אַדָנָי אֱלהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעולָם בּורֵא 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 2nd glass of wine!

We drink four cups for four promises fulfilled.

The first cup as God said, “I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians.”

The second as God said, “And I will deliver you from their bondage.”

The third as God said, “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments.”

The fourth because God said, “I will take you to be My People.”

We know, though, that all are not yet free. As we welcome Elijah the Prophet into our homes, we offer a fifth cup, a cup not yet consumed.

A fifth cup for the 60 million refugees and displaced people around the world still waiting to be free— from the refugee camps in Chad to the cities and towns of Ukraine, for the Syrian refugees still waiting to be delivered from the hands of tyrants, for the thousands of asylum seekers in the United States still waiting in detention for redemption to come, for all those who yearn to be taken in not as strangers but as fellow human beings.

This Passover, let us walk in the footsteps of the One who delivered us from bondage. When we rise from our Seder tables, may we be emboldened to take action on behalf of the world’s refugees, hastening Elijah’s arrival as we speak out on behalf of those who are not yet free. 

It is customary to fill a cup of wine for Elijah the Prophet, and open our door to welcome him to our Passover seder. 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.

At our seder, we have two cups in the center - one for Elijah, and one for Moses's sister Miriam. It is said that a well followed the Jews as they wandered through the desert until the time of Miriam's death, a gift from God for her optimism. Miriam's cup is filled with water to honor her, as well as the often overlooked contributions of other women in the Torah and Jewish history.

As we open the door for Elijah, we sing together:

אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַנָּבִיא, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַתִּשְׁבִּי,

אֵלִיָּֽהוּ, 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.

Adapted from Tikkun Ha-Lev Haggadah Insert by Rabbi Yael Levy

Rather than focusing on us as individuals, as we fill our final glass of wine tonight, let’s think about how we can symbolically fill up others' glasses. We recognize that, as a family and group of friends, we have the resources to help each other and those in our community if we are willing to share our resources and collaborate – whether those resources are time, money, skills, or any of the other gifts we bring to one another.

Fourth Cup: Goodness

There is so much good in the world. There are so many people acting every day with care and devotion for the benefit of each other and the earth. As we lift the fourth cup, we share stories of goodness. We share acts of kindness we have witnessed. We relate instances of people coming together for justice. We share inspiring moments and encounters that bring us strength and hope. 

May our hearts be strong and filled with courage.

May we guide each other into the expanse of hope and possibility.

Drink the fourth glass of grape juice!

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 to celebrate openly together in a safe place. 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!

Moroccan Fish Stew Recipe

Moroccan Haggadah

A wise man once said, “History doesn’t repeat itself; it rhymes.” 

The refugee experience is the Jewish narrative. The Jewish people have found refuge away from home, scattered by the Diaspora, for thousands of years. We have fled slavery, invasion, and genocide, each time leaving the familiar for a new and daunting wilderness. Because of our experience, it is our responsibility not only to  be empathetic towards those facing oppression, abuse, and displacement, but also to advocate for them.

Today we see refugees fleeing their homes around the world for a multitude of reasons. But the greatest recent influx has been a result of the war in Ukraine. 

Today there are approximately 4.8 million citizens of Ukraine who have fled their country, seeking refuge in places all around the world. In them we feel our own collective history. In them we see families, friends, and endless potential. In them we hear familiar cries for help and refuge.

The refugee crisis can feel distant and out of our hands, but there are many ways to support the cause. You can volunteer at a refugee center, donate money to organizations that provide aid, fundraise, advocate by speaking out and spreading the word, etc.

This Passover I implore you to exercise humility and empathy for all refugees around the world, and to educate yourselves and your community on how you can support them. 

Be'chol dor va’dor chayav adam lirot et atzmo ke’ilu hu yatzah miMitzrayim.

“In every generation, we are obligated to see ourselves as though we personally came out of Egypt."

Chad gadya. Chad gadya. 

One little goat, one little goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came a cat and ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came a dog and bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came a stick and beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came fire and burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came water and quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came the ox and drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came the butcher and slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came the Angel of Death and killed the butcher, that slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

Then came the Holy One, Blessed be He and slew the the Angel of Death, that killed the butcher, that slaughtered the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, that my father bought for two zuzim.  Chad gadya, Chad gadya.

What happened to the tortoise?
The tortoise, the tortoise
A breadfruit fell on the tortoise
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the breadfruit?
The tortoise, the tortoise
A stake pierced the breadfruit
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the staff?
The tortoise, the tortoise
Termite ate up the staff
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the termite?
The tortoise, the tortoise
A fowl ate the termite
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the fowl?
The tortoise, the tortoise
A kite/hawk carried the fowl
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the kite/hawk?
The tortoise, the tortoise
A gun killed the kite/hawk
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the gun?
The tortoise, the tortoise
Fire burnt the gun
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the fire?
The tortoise, the tortoise
Water quenched the fire
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the water?
The tortoise, the tortoise
The ground soaked up the water
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to the ground?
The tortoise, the tortoise
The Lord (Chukwu Abiama) created the ground
The tortoise, the tortoise

What happened to Chukwu Abiama?
The tortoise, the tortoise
Nothing happened to Chukwu Abiama
The tortoise, the tortoise

Echad Mi Yode'a  - אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ 

Who knows one? I know one:                                                      : אֶחָד מִי יוֹדֵעַ? אֶחָד אֲנִי יוֹדֵעַ

Echad mi yode'a? Echad ani yode'a: