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.

A new tradition has become popular in modern Judaism: Miriam's cup, filled with water. Miriam's role in the Exodus is multifaceted: she watches over Moses as he floats in the Nile, ensuring his safekeeping, and she helps keep the Jewish people alive with her miraculous well of water during the crossing of the Red Sea. This has often been the role of women in history: keeping the people alive while men get more credit. But not tonight. Tonight, we fill Miriam's cup from our own water cups as a promise to share the burdens of life with each other. I also invite you to share something your mother or grandmother did to pass on her legacy that lives on in you and your life.

“Zot Kos Miryam, kos mayim hayim. Zeikher l’yitziat Mitztrayim.

This is the Cup of Miriam, the cup of living waters. Let us remember the Exodus from Egypt. These are the living waters, God’s gift to Miriam, which gave new life to Israel as we struggled with ourselves in the wilderness. Blessed are You God, Who brings us from the narrows into the wilderness, sustains us with endless possibilities, and enables us to reach a new place.” (“Miriam’s Cup blessing” 1996 Kol Ishah, PO Box 132, Wayland, Mass. 01778)

There are two points during the Seder when we wash our hands. This first washing, Urchatz, is a symbolic and ritual washing, done by one person and with no blessing. The second washing, Rachtzah, is a washing used to prepare all of us for the meal and is said with a blessing.

As we wash our hands for the first time this evening, we remember that we have the freedom to access resources that many do not.

The first hand-washing of the Seder is unusual. The rabbis point out that even a child would wonder at least two things: why do we wash without a blessing and why do we bother to wash when we will not be eating our meal for some time. They suggest that we wash our hands here in order to raise questions. Questions, both of wonder and of despair, are crucial to our time at the Seder and, really, our growth as human beings. We have permission to ask questions, even of God, when we see and experience suffering.

Now one person will symbolically wash their hands for all of us seated here.

We dip karpas, a green that can be represented by several items, into saltwater to represent the tears and suffereing of our Jewish ancestors in Mitzrayim, the narrow place. This year, the saltwater represents other forms of suffering, including the Black lives lost to police brutality and the trans* lives lost to intolerance.

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

We eat matzo at Passover as a reminder of the sacrifices poverty forces us to make. This "bread of affliction" saved us, but was a reminder of our plight. We eat it all these years later as a reminder that there are people who are still hungry, who are still making hard choices, and we pray that the coming years will bring them a relief from their affliction, just as the Jews were freed from their hardship in Egypt.

Of the three matzo in the basket, the leader will take the middle one and break it into two pieces. The bigger piece is laid on their shoulder as they say: "In haste did we leave Egypt." Now, the youngest person will hide the afikoman for the leader to find after the meal.

The MaNishtana traditionally asks us, “What is unique or different about tonight?” and, “Why do we eat Matzah, why do we dip and eat Bitter Herbs not just once, but twiceand why do we recline?” These elements are symbolic themes that mirror the reflection our ancestor’s liberation from slavery, the hardships they experienced and theoppression that infringed on their freedoms. Tonight at our GLBT Passover Seder we incorporate a fifth question and answer. “What is unique or different about tonight’s seder, why tonight do we have Pride?” Pride is a very symbolic word in the GLBT community. We use this word often and tonight we have the opportunity to demonstrate how proud we are of our sexual orientation and gender identity.

מַה נִשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָׇּל־הַלֵּילוֹת

שֶׁבְּכָׇל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה

הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלּוֹ מַצָּה

שֶׁבְּכָׇל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת

הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר

שֶׁבְּכָׇל־הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּעַם אֶחָת

הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים

שֶׁבְּכָׇל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין

הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּנוּ מְסֻבִּין

Mah nish-ta-na ha-lai-lah ha-zeh mi-kol ha-lei-lot!
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin ha-metz u-matzah. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-lo matzah?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin sh’ar y’ra-kot. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, maror?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot ein a-nu mat-bi-lin a-fi-lu pa-am e-hat. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, sh-tei fi-ah-mim?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin bayn yosh-vin ou-vein mis-u-bin. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-la-nu mis- u-bin?

Why is this night different from all other nights?

On all other nights we eat either leavened bread or matzah. Why, on this night, do we eat only matzah?
On all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs. Why, on this night, do we eat only bitter herbs?
On all other nights we do not dip herbs. Why, on this night, do we dip them twice?
On all other nights we eat sitting or reclining on pillows. Why, on this night, do we eat only reclining upon pillows?

The fifth question:

Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot sed-er a-nu o-seem sed-er ma-sar-ti. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-la-nu ga-im?
On all other Seder nights we do a traditional Seder. Why, on this night, do we have Pride?

The Five Answers

Speaker 1: We were slaves in Egypt. Our ancestor in flight from Egypt did not have time to let the dough rise. With not a moment to spare they snatched up the dough they had prepared and fled. But the hot sun beat as they carried the dough along with them and baked it into the flat unleavened bread we call matzah.

Speaker 2: The first time we dip our greens to taste the brine of enslavement. We also dip to remind ourselves of all life and growth, of earth and sea, which gives us sustenance and comes to life again in the springtime.

Speaker 3: The second time we dip the maror into the charoset. The charoset reminds us of the mortar that our ancestors mixed as slaves in Egypt. But our charoset is made of fruit and nuts, to show us that our ancestors were able to withstand the bitterness of slavery because it was sweetened by the hope of freedom.

Speaker 4: Slaves were not allowed to rest, not even while they ate. Since our ancestors were freed from slavery, we recline to remind ourselves that we, like our ancestors, can overcome bondage in our own time. We also recline to remind ourselves that rest and rejuvenation are vital to continuing our struggles. We should take pleasure in reclining, even as we share our difficult history.

Speaker 5: We are proud to be gay, straight, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, queer and everything else under the rainbow. And all of us together here, add meaning to an age old Jewish tradition and for that we have pride. As a community we have come far, and while we are not done with our struggle, we should reflect proudly on our accomplishments as we celebrate here tonight at our GLBT Passover Seder.

Telling is only one part of the commandment to recount the story of Passover during the seder; making sure that message sent is the same as message received is the other. But we all approach life differently for a variety of reasons: experiences, temperament, ability, priorities. In order to further explore our relationship to ourselves, to the Passover story, and to the message of inclusion that is at the core of Passover, tradition has divided us into "four children," or four types of people who don't understand the message of the seder and have some questions.

As we discuss each child, reflect on times you have been and continue to be in that mindset. If you find one mindset particularly troubling, consider whether or not that has to do with where you have been, and work harder on bringing those with that mindset out of their intellectual narrow place and into enlightenment.

The Wise Child asks "What are the details of Passover? What can I do to improve them and bring them closer to their meaning?"

We answer this child by helping them uncover deeper instruction and honoring their ideas. The wise child within us all is always searching out answers, always applying their experience and knowledge, always seeing themselves within the narrative. We must be careful with our wise children that they do not believe themselves more worthy than the others, just because they can more easily grasp concepts.

The Wicked Child asks "Why do you bother with the seder, when we are safe and sound? What's the point?"

We answer this child by telling them that had they excluded themselves from the community this way in Egypt, they may not have been brought out in the Exodus, but that whether or not they include themselves, they are included in the Torah and are a part of the larger redemption.The wicked child feels that they are outside the proceedings, even if they are Jewish. They understand that we were all slaves once, but they just don't care, because they do not feel included in a greater 'we.' The wicked child is just another facet of the wise child, and one can easily become the other with the right (or wrong) shaping. This is also a reminder not to exclude others from the liberation we seek on the basis of their behavior; a member of your community is not invalidated as one by the basis of their beliefs.

The Simple Child asks "Can you go over what Passover is, again?"

We answer this child by condensing the answer simply: We commemorate when we were brought out of Egypt and the wonders that accompanied it. The simple child in all of us struggles with a concept, no matter how basic; it isn't that they don't want to understand, but for whatever reason, they don't have the tools. Remember that we are all this innocent about something, and do not assume that others have access to the same language or other conceptual tools that you do. And remember that if you cannot condense what you believe into as simple terms as you can, like you are explaining to a five year old, you may not truly understand it as well as you ought to.

The Child Who Does Not Know How To Ask is silent, perhaps watching, perhaps unaware that there is something happening or that this night is, indeed, different than all other nights.

We answer this child by   starting the discussion for them by saying that today we re-enact what we did to get out of the desert. We cannot wait for a question that may never come. We must not assume the reason behind the silence: it could be a lack of ability ranging from being too young to have all the words to a physical disability preventing speech, but it could also be shyness, social anxiety, or even perhaps because they think they know everything already. Whatever the case, we don't assume any sort of intent or lack of intent; we simply start the conversation and see where it goes. There remain things that we are all so ignorant of that we do not even know there should be a discussion about them.

These are the children we may encounter, and the children within us all. We are all capable of being each of these people, and I invite you to name a time when you have been one or commit to approaching someone in your life who is one of them, with the knowledge that you have also been a child in a Passover seder.

The Passover Story (At Last!)

Source: For This We Left Egypt? By Dave Barry, Alan Zweibel and Adam Mansbach

The Passover story begins thousands of years ago in the land of Egypt, which is located in the Middle East, unfortunately. Egypt was ruled by a man called the Pharaoh, who was very powerful. Like one time he said, “I want a pyramid,” and although it took many years, a group of Egyptian workers actually built him a pyramid. When the Pharaoh saw it, he was very surprised, because what he actually wanted was some soup, which in ancient Egyptian sounds very similar to the word for pyramid. So everybody had a good laugh, and then Pharaoh had the workers executed, because that’s how embarrassed he was.

So anyway, around this time, a nice Jewish boy named Joseph arrived in Egypt, and he came to be an advisor to the Pharaoh because he had a degree in management. He advised the Pharaoh to build storehouses to store the grain, which Pharaoh thought was a tremendous idea, because up to that point he had been sorting the grain in the bathroom and it was disgusting. The Pharaoh was so pleased that he invited Joseph to stay in Egypt and bring his relatives to hang out also. They became known as the Israelites, and they multiplied and prospered in various fields, although generally not team sports.

Years passed, and eventually the Pharaoh died. (He was buried in the pyramid, which by then the Egyptians jokingly referred to as “the Big Stone Soup.”) A new Pharaoh took over, and he turned out to be a real schmuck. He was afraid that the Israelites would become too  powerful, so he made them into slaves.

Slavery totally sucked. The Pharaoh made the Israelites work from sunrise to sunset with no days off, not even Labor Day. The Israelites were forced to hard work, such as hewing stones, which as you would know if you ever hewed a stone, is no picnic. But the Israelites continued to multiply, so Pharaoh Schmuck decreed that every male baby born to an Israelite woman had to be cast into the River Nile, where they ran a risk of, at minimum, getting a cramp, particularly if they were cast too soon after eating a heavy meal.

There was an Israelite couple named Amram and Yocheved, who had a male baby, but they didn’t want him to be cast into the Nile. So instead, they hid him for three months. Then they put him into a basket and put the basket into the Nile. But it was OK because they ysed an ancient Egyptian car seat. Their daughter, Miriam, hid in the reeds and watched to see what happened next, which you will find out in the next paragraph.

As it happened, at that moment, Pharaoh’s beautiful daughter was bathing in the Nile, which she preferred because the Pharaoh’s bathroom still smelled faintly of grain. She noticed this baby floating past in a basket and she said, “I shall keep this baby, as apparently it does not belong to anybody!” Yes, she was beautiful, but dumber than a brick.

Miriam stepped out from behind the reeds and offered to raise baby and have her mom (who of course was Yocheved, the baby’s real mother) be the nurse. The Pharaoh’s daughter was like, “Sure!” So, bottom line, this woman went to take a bath and came home with a baby and two new domestic employees. We can only imagine what she would have done with a credit card. She decided to name the baby Moses, which was an ancient Egyptian word meaning either drawn from water or soup.

Moses grew up. He lived a life of luxury as the prince of Egypt in the Pharaoh’s palace, but he was upset about the treatment of the Israelites. One day, he saw an Egyptian beating a slave, so Moses killed him (the Egyptian) and had to flee from Egypt, making his escape by riding off on a speedy young sheep, which is where we get the expression, “on the lamb.”

Moses went to the land of Midian, where he became a professional shepherd, which was a living. One day, he was shepherding on Mount Horeb when he saw a bush that was on fire and speaking in a voice that sounded kind of like Morgan Freeman’s. This turned out to be God, who told Moses that he was going to rescue the Israelites from slavery and take them to a land flowing with milk and honey. This raised several questions in Moses’s mind, such as:

1. Were the milk and honey flowing separately, or mixed together?

2. Were they flowing right on the ground?

3. Wouldn’t that attract insects?

But this did not seem like a good time to interrupt.

God told Moses that he should go back to Egypt and tell the Pharaoh to let the Israelites go or God would bring plagues down upon the Egyptians. Moses said “OK” because when a divine, all-powerful, flaming shrubbery tells you to do something, you do it.

Discussion questions:

1. Would you store grain in a bathroom? Why or why not?

2. According to scripture, Moses had a speech impediment. Some scholars believe that Adonai (God) chose a leader with a handicap to prove that he does not require perfection. Others argue that all the other Israelites had even worse speech impediments. And still others hold that Moses just had a slight lisp you could barely notice and it was no big deal. Which group of scholars do you think is the most fun at parties?

Leader:
Let us all refill our cups.

[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]

Tonight we drink four cups of the fruit of the vine.
There are many explanations for this custom.
They may be seen as symbols of various things:
the four corners of the earth, for freedom must live everywhere;
the four seasons of the year, for freedom's cycle must last through all the seasons;
or the four matriarchs: Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel.

A full cup of wine symbolizes complete happiness.
The triumph of Passover is diminished by the sacrifice of many human lives
when ten plagues were visited upon the people of Egypt.
In the story, the plagues that befell the Egyptians resulted from the decisions of tyrants,
but the greatest suffering occurred among those who had no choice but to follow.

It is fitting that we mourn their loss of life, and express our sorrow over their suffering.
For as Jews and as Humanists we cannot take joy in the suffering of others.
Therefore, let us diminish the wine in our cups
as we recall the ten plagues that befell the Egyptian people.

Leader:

As we recite the name of each plague, in English and then in Hebrew,
please dip a finger in your wine and then touch your plate to remove the drop.

Everyone:

Blood - Dam (Dahm)
Frogs - Ts'phardea (Ts'phar-DEH-ah)
Gnats - Kinim (Kih-NEEM)
Flies - Arov (Ah-ROV)
Cattle Disease - Dever (DEH-vehr)
Boils - Sh'hin (Sh'-KHEEN)
Hail - Barad (Bah-RAHD)
Locusts - `Arbeh (Ar-BEH)
Darkness - Hoshekh (KHO-shekh)
Death of the Firstborn - Makkat B'khorot (Ma-katB'kho-ROT) 

[Take turns reading. Each person is invited to read a grouped set of lines - or to pass.]

In the same spirit, our celebration today also is shadowed
by our awareness of continuing sorrow and oppression in all parts of the world.
Ancient plagues are mirrored in modern tragedies.

In our own time, as in ancient Egypt, ordinary people suffer and die
as a result of the actions of the tyrants who rule over them.
While we may rejoice in the defeat of tyrants in our own time,
we must also express our sorrow at the suffering of the many innocent people
who had little or no choice but to follow.

Leader:

As the pain of others diminishes our joys,
let us once more diminish the ceremonial drink of our festival
as we together recite the names of these modern plagues:

Hunger
War
Tyranny
Greed
Bigotry
Injustice
Poverty
Ignorance
Pollution of the Earth Indifference to Suffering

Leader:
Let us sing a song expressing our hope for a better world. 

Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam, borei p'ri hagafen.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, creator of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine. (Now we drink the second cup while reclining to the left).

Had He brought us out from Egypt and not executed judgment against them,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He executed judgment against them and not destroyed their idols,
It would been enough! Dayenu!

Had He destroyed their idols and not slain their firstborn,
It would been enough! Dayenu!

Had He slain their first born and not given us their possessions,
It would have been enough!, Dayenu!

Had He given us their possessions and not divided the sea for us,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He divided the sea for us and not brought us through it dry-shod,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He brought us through it dry-shod and not drowned our oppressors in it,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He drowned our oppressors in it and not sustained us in the wilderness for forty years,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He sustained us in the wilderness for forty years and not fed us manna,
It would have been enough Dayenu!

Had He fed us manna and not given us the Sabbath,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He given us the Sabbath and not brought us to mount Sinai,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had he brought us to Mount Sinai, and not given us the Torah,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had he given us the Torah and not brought us in the land of Israel,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

Had He brought us into the Land of Israel and not built the temple for us,
It would have been enough! Dayenu!

We once again wash our hands to prepare ourselves to eat symbolic foods.

In Jewish practice, it is customary to perform a ritual washing of one’s hands before consuming a meal that includes bread or matzah. Tonight, even beyond the ritual of tradition, we renew our committment to using our hands to make the world a better place.

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.

We eat the maror, a bitter herb, to remind us of the suffering of our ancestors and the bitterness that precedes freedom, but we mix it with charoset to represent the binding not only of the cement the charoset represents, but the binding ties of slavery. We don't lean for this one!

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 by commanding us to fulfill mitzvahs, commanding us to eat bitter herbs

We combine our matzo (from the bottom one!), charoset, and maror in a sandwich to commemorate the traditional Pesach sacrifice as did Rabbi Hillel, who lived during the times of Temple. After we construct and eat our sandwich, we recite the wine blessing again and drink our third cup:

Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam, borei p'ri hagafen.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, creator of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Earlier we filled a cup for Miriam from our own water glasses, and now we fill a cup for Elijah, the prophet, whose coming is supposed to bring us to an age of peace on earth. We invite him to the seder every year, but he never shows up... we'll leave his cup outside the door anyway and see if he shows up this time.

While we wait for a prophet, we still must do what we can on earth ourselves to conduct tikkun olam, or the repair of the world. Let us share what we plan to do towards that end and then drink to it with our fourth glass of wine.

Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam, borei p'ri hagafen.

Blessed are you, Lord our God, creator of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Now let's eat!

Energized by the meal, it's time for the leader to find the afikoman. Some hints, perhaps? Once it's found, we share it and go after the real afikoman, the dessert in the kitchen.

Seders don't end, at least not in the traditional sense. We must come to a conclusion, but not an ending, as the work of freedom is never truly done. We hope that the lessons of this evening have been absorbed, and the rituals accepted; we may as well go see if Elijah has come to visit us now, before we leave off with the ceremony.

And look! It has been drunk. Elijah has visited, a sign that redemption will come someday, even if it isn't here yet.

At this time we say L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim, or "next year in Jerusalem." But not literal Jerusalem; instead, consider it a perfect time and place, where the world is at harmony, where those who are oppressed are freed. Every year we say next year, as every year we renew our hope and our commitment to doing the work of tikkun olam.

So to that end, we say "next year in Jersey City," where we will hopefully gather again to relive the magic of Passover.