This may take up to thirty seconds.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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 because we are Jews, because we are members of the Jewish nation, with its deep historic roots and its 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.
HINNEH, MAH TOV - BEHOLD, HOW GOOD! (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")
I choose this clip because it was brief and explained the most about Passover overall. This clip is important to me because it explains the significance of why we come together during Passover. Additionally, it shows the relevance of the struggle for human freedom. We are suppose to repent and remember the story by all the foods on the table to symbolize what the Israelites have gone through.
It’s been a crazy week. The world with all its worries and bothers is still clamoring for your attention. The first step is to forget all that. Leave it behind. Enter into a timeless space, where you, your great-grandparents and Moses all coincide.
The beginning of all journeys is separation. You’ve got to leave somewhere to go somewhere else. It is also the first step towards freedom: You ignore the voice of Pharaoh inside that mocks you, saying, “Who are you to begin such a journey?” You just get up and walk out.
This is the first meaning of the word, “Kadesh” -- to transcend the mundane world. Then comes the second meaning: Once you’ve set yourself free from your material worries, you can return and sanctify them. That is when true spiritual freedom begins, when you introduce a higher purpose into all those things you do.
Kiddush (the blessing over wine) | kadeish | קַדֵּשׁ
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!
I choose this clip because it allows me to feel a deep connection to our actual history as Jews.
By Rabbi Gavriel Goldfeder alternadox.net
Later on we will do ' rachtzah '─the washing over the matzah . Now we are doing ' urchatz ', which amounts to washing before eating a vegetable. This is not something we do every day.
To explain, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, first chief Rabbi of the State of Israel, writes of dividing life into two categories: the goal, and everything else. We set goals for ourselves and set out to reach them. Everything we do that helps us reach that goal is worthwhile. But how do we relate to all the other things we do? This is an important question that addresses how we feel about the aspects of our lives that our not essential. And this is one of the central points of the Seder.
What is the goal of the Seder? The peak spiritual moment of the Seder is when we fully absorb the spiritual impact of the matzah when we eat it. So why don't we cut to the chase? Let's get that matzah inside of us as quickly as possible! But the truth is, the Seder wants to help us experience every moment of our lives as an encounter with the Divine. It demands that we let go of our usual distinctions - important and unimportant, sacred and profane, good and bad, needs and wants.
Tonight, we are going to learn how to experience the Divine within all moments. Not only prayers and mitzvot, but also eating and conversation. Not only goals, but journeys. Finally free to let go of the reins for a moment, we can celebrate every moment equally. Not only will we recognize the holiness of the process, we will even sanctify ourselves toward this pursuit: urchatz.
R’ Kook deepens the concept for us: vegetables, in the Talmud, are thought to enhance hunger - 'appetizers'. If eating is an unfortunate concession we make to our animal nature, then vegetables are antithetical to the goal of living life more spiritually. But if eating is another opportunity for encounter with the Divine - if pleasure is an encounter with the Divine ─ then the vegetable we are about to eat is a holy sacrament, drawing us in to a moment of Encounter. So of course we should wash our hands to prepare ourselves.
Washing toward the matzah -goal and the vegetable-distractions represent two kinds of freedom: the first is freedom to live an intentional life. We celebrate our right and capacity to point ourselves in a specific direction and actually follow through. But there is another kind of freedom: freedom to let go, to know that wherever we go we will find Hashem and meaning and direction and connection. It is told that the Ba'al Shem Tov, the founder of Chassidut, when embarking on a journey, would have his coachman, Alexi, let go of the reins and sit backward, facing away from the horses. With the freedom to let go of the reins, we allow our desires to guide us as much we allow the Torah to guide us.
Rebbe Natan of Brelsov writes that ' urchatz ' is from the root-word in Aramaic that means 'trust'. At this moment in the Seder, pay closer attention to your capacity to trust and let go. The goal is to trust enough to sanctify aspects of yourself and the life you live that you never allowed yourself to see as holy. Can you trust the holiness of the night, the 'night of protection', to guard you from any negative impact of what's inside of you? Do you trust the people around this table, each of them looking at you tonight with holy Pesach-eyes, to be with you in your search for true freedom?
We have nothing to fear except holding back. We will never reach true freedom if we do not free our desires and appetites to be in service of the Divine.
As you wash, consider that you are preparing yourself for an encounter with something holy – your own desires! Use the washing as an opportunity to shift your perspective on those desires.
We now take a vegetable, in this case parsely, to represent our joy at the dawning of spring after our long, cold winter. 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.
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?
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 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.”
-
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?
The Haggadah collection at the National Library of Israel is considered the most comprehensive in the world, and includes over 8,500 Haggadahs from all ages and throughout the world. This is an image of Exodus from the Hamburg Haggadah from Hamburg, Germany in 1728
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?
The first thing about “Dayenu”: It is a magnificent song. We have discussed the intimate connection of music and memory, and “Dayenu” demonstrates it. Its words and its lyrics are among the most recognized parts of any Seder. But it is the familiar things, those that we think we know, that often require the most investigation.
An initial look at the content of “Dayenu” should arouse curiosity. We sing that if God had split the sea but not led us through to dry land, it would have been enough for us. But we would have drowned. We sing that if he had led us through to dry land but not drowned our oppressors, it would have been enough for us. But the Egyptians would have enslaved and/or killed us. We sing that if God had provided for our needs in the desert for forty years but did not feed us manna, it would have been enough for us.
But we would have starved. How does that work? Why are we effectively expressing gratitude for something that would have ended in death?
Read or sung in a vacuum, that dispositive question leads to only one answer: We shouldn’t be! However, nothing about “Dayenu” occurs in a vacuum. Instead, it comes immediately after Rabbi Akiva shows us why it is better to count more miracles. Rabbi Akiva shows us why we should count many miracles, and “Dayenu” expresses how we should do so. The success of gratitude, the defining quality of the Jew, requires both the idea and the execution. So the authors of the Haggadah give us the section on miracles followed immediately by “Dayenu.”
Rabbi David Fohrman shows how “Dayenu” is the ancient Jewish expression of the modern scientific discovery of irreducible complexity. This term irreducible complexity was invented by Professor Michael Behe, who describes it as “a single system of several interacting parts, and where the removal of any one of the parts causes the system to cease functioning.”
How do we express our gratitude for gifts of irreducible complexity— to our parents for creating and sustaining us or to God for doing the same with that and everything else . . . among other things? In exactly the same way as “Dayenu” instructs. It is by showing appreciation for every component that we express gratitude for the system as a whole.
So does it make sense outside of this context to say that if he had split the sea for us but had not led us through to dry land, it would have been enough for us? No, we would have drowned. Inside the concept of irreducible complexity, the answer is different. The splitting of the sea was meaningless by itself. But it was not by itself. It was an indispensable part of the system working. We should be grateful for it as if our lives depended on it— because they did.
--Rabbi Menachem Creditor, Congregation Netivot Shalom, Berkeley, CA
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, asher kidshanu bemitvotav vetzivanu al netilat yadayim.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶך הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדָיִּם.
Blessed are You ETERNAL our God, Master of time and space, who has sanctified us with commandments and instructed us regarding lifting up 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.
Have Yourself a Piece of Bitter Maror
By Gary Teblum
(sung to the tune of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”)
Have yourself a piece of bitter maror
On each seder night
Then we’ll feel
The toils and our people's plight.
Have yourself a piece of bitter maror
Hillel sandwich way,
We'll recall,
Our troubles weren’t so far away.
Here we are as in a olden days,
Such sad slavin' days of yore.
Family, friends who are dear to us
gather near to us once more.
Through the years we all will be together
Just as we are now
Eating matzah, teaching all the children how.
And have yourself a piece of bitter maror now.
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!
GREEK FOR DESSERT
Enjoy something sweet. Then, after you’ve eaten all you can eat, eat a small piece of the Afikoman (remember when we created it earlier?) – it’s traditionally the last thing we eat at a Seder, and a cash prize is given to the finder of the Afikoman.* This year, discuss among your FriendsederTM guests how much prize money you would give to the Afikoman- finder and choose a charity to donate the prize money to!
*A prize is a slick reframe for ‘ransom money.’ Because the seder can’t be completed until the Afikoman is returned to its partner-matzah, Afikoman-finders have the leverage to charge the Seder leader for a bigger allowance to get it back!**
**Though in family settings, seder-leaders usually have extra leverage to dictate bedtimes – so watch out you Afikoman- finders!
Have a participant open the door for Elijah. Make sure that all participants have an extra wine glass that has not been used for the previous three cups of wine and will not be used for the fourth cup of wine. Pour a cup of wine into the additional wine glass. Raising the additional cup of wine and read as a group:
Gathered around the Seder table, we ultimately pour four cups, remembering the gift of freedom that our ancestors received centuries ago. We delight in our liberation from Pharaoh’s oppression.
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 an additional cup, a cup not yet consumed.
An additional cup for the more than 68 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.
Place this additional cup of wine down untasted.
This cup is not for Elijah. Elijah knows he is welcome here. We welcome him in our traditional seders, and we sing Eliyahu Hanavi throughout the year. This cup is for the queer Jew who has not yet found this community. They may not know they are queer yet. They may not know that there are out and proud and healthy queer Jews. They may know we exist, but haven’t build up the courage to attend an LGBTQ seder yet. So this cup is for them. Let all who are hungry come and eat, and let our doors always be open for those that need this community.
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!
Traditionally, the Seder is concluded with the prayer for "next year in Jerusalem." Let us conclude our Seder this year with the prayer that next year will bring us closer to liberation for all including:
Peace within ourselves and our comunity
Safe harbor for refugees and immigrants
Respect for the aspiration and humanity of women and girls
The promise of dignity and human rights for every human regardless of age, race, sexual orientation, physical or mental abilitity
By Rabbi Kerry M. Olitzky and Liz Offenbach
Whether in prayer or conversation, the words we use are not taken lightly in Judaism, especially when they are harmful to others. Jewish law actually likens the act of embarrassing a person to murder. And the Talmud, the primary source book for Jewish law, teaches that gossiping is equivalent to the murder of three people.
As you sit around the Passover seder table this year, be conscious of the words you use to describe others. Consider their impact because all too often we forget that words have the power to marginalize and oppress members of our society.
This holiday, we invite you to make this pledge and bring it your seder table: "I promise to the best of my ability to eliminate from my vocabulary all words that are hurtful, insensitive and oppressive of others, and include only words that are welcoming, sensitive and liberating."
Language defines us. It shapes who we are. Language can build, but it also has the potential to destroy through the extension and perpetuation of negative stereotypes. We are not “kikes”; we are not “cheap Jews.” We bristle even at the mention of such words.
Similarly, those from other religious backgrounds who have chosen to cast their lot with the Jewish people through marriage are not “shaygetzes” or “shiksas,” “intermarrieds” or “goys.” They are women and men. They are Christians, Muslims, Buddhists and atheists. They do not “desecrate” nor are they “abominations.”
During Passover, Jews and their loved ones recount the story of the Exodus and recite, “Now we are slaves, next year may we be free.” This verse, from the “Ha Lachma Anya" (The Bread of Our Affliction) Passover table reading, is both symbolic and literal. During the seder we put ourselves in the place of the Israelite slaves, but we also remember those in other parts of the world who today live without freedom. We are fortunate to live in a democracy where we can say and think whatever we choose, so let’s use this upcoming holiday as an opportunity to choose words that will free people rather than enslave them.
When we choose to eliminate such language from our speech, we are able to welcome and include all those who wish to engage with Judaism in our Big Tent. Sometimes “negative language” is not obvious to all. What is negative to one person may appear to be positive to another. And some words have evolved to take on positive and empowering connotations when once they were negative and demeaning. For example, “queer” was once used as a derisive term to refer to gay individuals. Today it represents a term of empowerment.
This is something we are all learning. Even at the Jewish Outreach Institute, where we try to be inclusive of all, we recently received feedback about an article we had written that mistakenly compared those with mental and physical disabilities to those who are “well.” Did we mean to imply that people with disabilities are therefore “unwell” and somehow less robust and dynamic members of the community? Of course not. We erred and have since apologized. We continue to learn.
This Passover, we ask that you do your best to end the “enslavement” of others through language. We are well aware of the grave nature of physical slavery, and we are not making light of this serious issue by raising the concern of verbal oppression. But it’s clear through our work that using negative language makes some people feel like they are being relegated to a lower or outer edge of society.
Now is the time to stop defining those who are different from us by using negative words and stereotypes -- whether different means Jewish or another religious background, heterosexual or homosexual, American or any other ethnic group, disabled, male or female, single or married, old or young.
Inclusive language is the first step toward creating a truly inclusive -- and fully free from oppression -- Jewish community.
(Rabbi Kerry M. Olitzky is the executive director of the Jewish Outreach Institute (JOI.org) and the author of many books, including "Preparing Your Heart for Passover: A Guide for Spiritual Readiness." Liz Offenbach is the director of program at the institute.)
Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came a cat and ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came a dog and bit the cat, that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came a stick and beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came fire and burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came water and quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came the ox and drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burnt the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, That Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
Then came the 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 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 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 Father bought for two zuzim, Chad gadya. Chad gadya.
