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TABLE OF CONTENTS
We were slaves in Egypt, now we are free. Let’s have a Seder! What’s on the Seder plate? Egg, herbs, bone, greens, charoset Let’s drink some wine. Why is this night different? Why is this child different? Ten plagues on the Egyptians. Enough already – Dayeinu! Drink wine again. Matzah, Maror, Hillel sandwich, let’s eat! Where’s the Afikoman? Thanks for the food! Drink some more Wine. Open the door for Elijah! Drink some wine – last one. Thanking and singing. Next year in Jerusalem!
Here we are...our lives enriched by being together. We add light to the world with our presence, our actions and our kindness. We can also add light symbolically. Tonight is the beginning of Passover and also Shabbat. We light the candles and say these words:
Baruch Atah Adonai
Eloheinu Melech Ha-olam
Asher Kid'shanu B'mitzvotav
V'tzivanu L'hadlik Ner Shel Shabbat
May we find a way to see the Passover story in whatever ways are meaningful to each of us, individually.
The Seder Plate
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 (The Paschal Lamb)
Beitzah – The egg symbolizes a different holiday offering that was brought to the temple. Since eggs are the first item offered to a mourner after a funeral, some say 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.
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.
Elijah’s Cup
The fifth ceremonial cup of wine poured during the Seder. It is left untouched in honor of Elijah, who, according to tradition, will arrive one day as an unknown guest to herald the advent of the Messiah. During the Seder dinner, biblical verses are read while the door is briefly opened to welcome Elijah. In this way the Seder dinner not only commemorates the historical redemption from Egyptian bondage of the Jewish people but also calls to mind their future redemption when Elijah and the Messiah shall appear.
Miriam’s Cup
Another relatively new Passover tradition is that of Miriam’s cup. The cup is filled with water and placed next to Elijah’s cup. Miriam was the sister of Moses and a prophetess in her own right. After the exodus when the Israelites are wandering through the desert, just as Hashem gave them Manna to eat, legend says that a well of water followed Miriam and it was called ‘Miriam’s Well’. The tradition of Miriam’s cup is meant to honor Miriam’s role in the story of the Jewish people and the spirit of all women, who nurture their families just as Miriam helped sustain the Israelites.
its message of freedom - its response to suffering - its hope for renewed life.
United with family and dear friends, Jews celebrate the holiday of Pesach -
with gratitude for blessings - for love - for freedom.
On this night we retrace our steps from then to now, reclaiming years of desert wandering.
On this night we ask questions, ancient and new, speaking of servitude and liberation, service and joy.
On this night we welcome each soul, sharing stories of courage, strength, and faith.
On this night we open doors long closed, lifting our voices in songs of praise.
On this night we renew ancient hopes and dream of a future redeemed.
On this night we gather around Seder tables remembering our passage from bondage to freedom.
On this night we journey from now to then, telling the story of our people’s birth.
At Passover we drink four glasses of wine to symbolize four promises God made to God's people:
"I will free you from the burdens of a narrow place"
"I will deliver you from the straits of that bondage"
"I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and a demonstration of my power," and
"I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God"
Our memory of the experiences of bondage across generations shed light on the scope and urgency for continued work towards liberation. We express gratitude for the ability to work as God’s partners in continual redemption as we recognize our opportunity to prevent further suffering. If we can heal what is broken, and prevent further destruction, we will truly be acting as God's people.
As our wine cups overflow in this time of fellowship, we hold out hope for the day when every person in search of a sustainable and just world can recall this story of deliverance from a narrow place. Blessed are You, God, who frees the oppressed.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.
(1) Kiddush, sanctifying the holiday (2) Maggid, the storytelling (3) Birkat HaMazon, completing the Pesach meal; and (4) Hallel, completing the festival Psalms.
The Talmud connects the Four Cups to God's Four Promises to Israel: "Tell the children of Israel: I am Adonai! I will take them out... I will rescue them… I will redeem them… and I will marry them taking them as my people and I will be their God" (Exodus 6:6-7, Jerusalem Talmud Pesachim 10:1).
However, two 16th C. mystic rabbis identify the Four Cups with the Four Matriarchs of Israel. The Maharal of Prague (famous for the legend of Golem) and Rav Isaiah Horowitz of Tsfat explain:
(1) The Cup of Kiddush stands for Sarah who was the mother of a community of converts, believers by choice.
(2) The Cup of Maggid is for Rebecca who knew how to mother both Esav and Jacob, two opposed natures.
(3) The Cup of the Blessing after Eating represents Rachel whose son Joseph provided the whole family of Jacob with bread in a time of great famine.
(4) The Cup of Hallel (Praise) is for Leah who came to realize that the pursuit of the impossible, Jacob's love, must give way to appreciation of what one has. When her fourth child was born, Judah, she praised God: " This time I will thank God " (Genesis 29:35).
When we left Egypt,
we bloomed and sprouted,
and songs dripped from our tongues
like shimmering threads of nectar.
All green with life we grew,
who had been buried,
under toil and sorrow,
dense as bricks.
All green in the desert we grew,
casting seeds at a promise.
All green we grew.
The top Matzoh
And bottom Matzoh are,
it is said,
Pesach substitutes
For the two loaves of challah on Shabbat,
Supposedly a reminder
Of the two portions of manna
They received in the dessert
Every Friday before Shabbat.
But the middle matza?!
Ah,
That's for the seder.
We break it in half
And call it the bread of affliction,
Just like the unleavened bread
We ate as we fled slavery
Matza Number Two,
The afflicted matza,
We break it in half
And separate ourselves from joy
So we don't forget the pain
That has been ours.
We break it in half
And separate ourselves from the joy
So we can remember the pain
Of others.
All this pain
Lives in this first half of the afflicted matzoh
And we eat this half now,
So that we do not forget that we were slaves
So that we do not enslave others.
But--
We separate the second half of the afflicted matza
(The Afikomen)
From all that hurt
So that we don't forget the joy that can follow the sorrow.
So that we don't forget the times that we changed things for the better.
And after the meal we will search for that happiness
And we will find it.
And then we eat the Afikomen together
So we don't forget that it is good to be alive
And we are obligated to share that joy.
Blessed One-ness, we are so grateful for the obligations to remember pain and share joy.
Amen
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.
To all these questions, there is but one answer:
עֲבָדִים הָיִינוּ הָיִינו. Avadim hayinu.
עַתָּה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין: Ata b'nei chorin.
We were slaves. Now we are free.
We were slaves to Pharaoh, and God took us from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. Had God not brought our ancestors out of captivity, then even today we and our children and our grandchildren would still be slaves. Even if we were all wise and the most knowledgeable scholars, we would still be obligated to tell the story of the Exodus.
At the time the Haggadah was created, it was safe for the rabbis to assume that most Jewish adults had the knowledge available to teach their children about the Exodus. At that time, perhaps, all adults did know about the Exodus from Egypt and the Jews' struggle against Pharaoh. However, in subsequent generations, not all adults are familiar with the story told in the Haggadah, with the people of Israel, with their history. It isn't only the children that need to be taught, but their parents as well. To complicate matters, each Jew is coming from a different orientation with regard to his or her Judaism.
In today's world, Jews may identify themselves in a variety of ways. One may be ritually, culturally, or intellectually orientedor unconnected. And yet, however modified one's Judaism may be, there is still some level of concern about the Jewish people that causes Jews to at least ask the questions about the Exodus from Egypt. If they weren't interested, they wouldn't ask. We must answer them, and enable them to teach their children.
The ritual Jew asks: "What are the laws that God commanded us? " This Jew defines herself by the rituals, the laws and guidelines of Pesach. We call on her to seek the meaning that underlies all of these acts, so that they have relevance for all of us today.
The unconnected Jew asks: "What does this ritual mean to you?" This Jew feels alienated from the Jewish community and finds it difficult to identify with the rituals, perhaps because of his upbringing or experiences. Yet we recognize that he is still interested, if only because he asks these questions, and we call on him to see these rituals as a way of affirming the universal beliefs that gave rise to them.
The cultural Jew asks: "What is this all about?" She shows little concern with the ritual or psychological ramifications of the Exodus, even while embracing this reenactment of our ancestors; flight from Egypt. We call on her to recognize that it was a deep sense of faith that enabled these rituals to transcend the generations. It was belief in a vision of future freedom that caused us to celebrate our first Exodus and hear the echo of the prophets' call: "Let all people go!"
The intellectual Jew refrains from asking direct questions because he doesn't lean in any direction, preferring instead to let the text speak for itself. We call on him to understand that true freedom can only be obtained when we question authority and challenge power, even if that power be God Himself. It is our responsibility to question not only the text but the status quo too, and share this message of freedom with all people everywhere.
I knew from the very beginning that my baby brother was going to be special. We had to hide him from the crazy Egyptian soldiers who were seeking out and killing all the newborn Israelite babies due to Pharaoh’s command. Whenever they came to our house and we hid him, somehow, he knew to stay quiet. One time he farted really loud but the guard didn’t hear (or smell!) it. It was kind of a miracle now that I think about it. And also a plague... We actually didn’t even give him a name because we were so scared that he might be killed and didn’t want to become too attached.
When baby bro Moses (I like to call him “Chalupa Batman”) got so big that we couldn’t hide him anymore (it’s not like our slave accommodations were so spacious… they were more like an individual WeWork office), my mom suggested that the only way to save him was to send him down the Nile in a basket, hoping that he might find a better future downriver.
I followed Chalupa down along the banks of the river, and watched as Pharaoh’s daughter, Daenerys Targarean, pulled him out of the water and decided to keep him! She was a Mother of Hebrews, and the one who named him Moses – an Egyptian name meaning “I drew him from the water.” I’m not quite sure how I got through her personal security guard, Paul Blart, but I ran up to her and let her know that if she needed a nursemaid for the baby, that I could help find her one. And just like that, my mom became her own son’s nursemaid!
When he inevitably was weaned (Mom would’ve kept nursing til his Bar Mitzvah if she could’ve) we went back to slave life, with no real interaction with him for decades, until one day my big brother Aaron disappeared, and then we heard murmurings around town about an Egyptian man who had come out as being a Hebrew. And he was advocating for us. And bringing miracles. And that Aaron was his press secretary ... er … spokesperson. And wouldn’t you know it, but that out and proud Hebrew man was my baby brother.
Along the way he seemed to have picked up a speech impediment – hence the need for Aaron’s support – as well as a few magic tricks and a personal unbreakable relationship with a God who self-described as “I am that I am” – sounds like a kind of sweet potato if you ask me ... I Yam that I Yam … We are starving after all. Is it time for the festive meal yet?
It turned out Pharaoh was crazy stubborn! Despite some crazy plagues he just wouldn’t agree to either just let us go, or to shift to a sharing economy – he called it Democratic socialism … the fiery hail didn’t quite make him “feel the Bern.” But, in the ultimate twist of irony, his own firstborn was killed along with the firstborn children of man and beast in all of Egypt – except for ours. Schadenfreude – taking pleasure in the pain of another. A great word I learned from Avenue Kuf! Have you seen Avenue Kuf? I learned what the internet is for.
That last night in Egypt we painted our doorposts with blood, quickly shared a roasted lamb with our neighbors (how we had lamb to eat despite being slaves I’m not quite sure…), and ate bitter herbs (we had dried and packed all the delicious ones!). Because we weren’t sure if there were bathrooms in the desert where we were going, we made sure to make our bread in such a way that we’d be sure to not need to use the bathroom for at least a week – hopefully we make it to the Promised Land by then.
If you ask me, the Egyptians would’ve gotten off way easier had they had a female leader. The palace would have been more of a safe space. Pantsuits would have been introduced way earlier into historical garment records.
I should mention: while Mom was nursing Moses for Pharaoh’s daughter I got tight with two of her royal helpers from the local dance academy. They inspired me to take moments to just dance – it’ll be okay – and so one of my most noteworthy moments was leading all of our women – like a million of us! – in dancing after we passed through the Red Sea. We couldn’t do the electric slide due to being so close to water, and everyone knows that Hebrews are incapable of square dancing – no one is willing to follow instructions – so circles it was!
In the end, I’m actually described as a prophetess in the Bible – pretty sweet. I have a mystical well that follows me (and the Israelites) as we wander in the desert – you know you’re jelly. Many families put a cup on the Seder table filled with water in my honor due to my story’s close association with it. While I end up dying before both Moses and Aaron, which admittedly is a bummer, at least I had the chance to have it all, rolling in the deep.
“By spilling a drop of wine, from the Pesach cup for each plague, we acknowledge that our own joy is lessened and incomplete. For our redemption had to come by means of the punishment of other human beings. Even though these are just punishments for evil acts, it says ‘Do not rejoice at the fall of your enemy.’” (Proverbs 24:17)
The Plagues happened at the same time as a massive volcano eruption. The volcano Santorini sent ash in to the air effecting the surrounding area. The ash is found in Cairo and the Nile River, proven by testing the composition of the ash. This volcanic eruption happened between 1500-1650BC while the Plagues happened between 1400-1550BC. So it fits there.
1st Plague. River ran red LIKE blood. But there is a common algae plume called the Red Tide. This makes the river, or any water, look red like blood. Why did this happen? The ash changes the PH level of the river allowing the algae to bloom.
2nd Plague. Frogs. The algae is killing fish. Fish eat frog eggs. No fish, record number of frogs. Frogs can't live in polluted water and so leave the river.
3rd and 4th Plague. Lice and flies. The translation can actually be lice, fleas, gnats, or midges. But you have riverfull of dead fish, and now dead frogs. This brings the insects of the 3rd and 4th Plague.
5th Plague. Pestilence. Flies, dead frogs, dead fish, easy enough no?
6th Plague. Boils. Certain types of flies that bite can leave behind boils. The bites get infected, they turn in to boils.
7th Plague. Fire and Hail. Ash in the air causes a mixture of ash and water. The ash, very high in the air, causes the water to freeze so when it falls it is hail and not rain. The fire? I saw this amazing picture in Nat. Geo. of a volcanic eruption. There was red lightning. It was amazing to see bright red lightning. Why is it red? Chemicals in the ash makes red lightning. So fire in the sky, and hail.
8th Plague. Locusts. Locusts come about when the ground is very damp. They bury their eggs in the sand about 4-6 inches. After record amount of hail the ground would be very wet allowing the locusts to form.
9th Plague. Darkness. Ash in the air. After am eruption in 1815 there was darkness for 600 kilometers. After Krakatoa it was dark for even farther for days.
10th Plague. Death of First born. In Egypt the first born was king. They would be the one to lead the family after the father died. When food was scarce the first born ate first and some times was the only one to eat. After locusts ate every thing there was only grain locked in vaults. The hail got it wet, locust feces, it made it moldy. And so when only the first born ate, they were the only ones killed by moldy grain.
As all good term papers do, we start with the main idea:
ּעֲבָדִים הָיִינוּ הָיִינו. עַתָּה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין
Avadim hayinu hayinu. Ata b’nei chorin.
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Now we are free.
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and God took us from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. Had God not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then even today we and our children and our grandchildren would still be slaves. Even if we were all wise, knowledgeable scholars and Torah experts, we would still be obligated to tell the story of the exodus from Egypt.
We have now told the story of Passover…but wait! We’re not quite done. There are still some symbols on our seder plate we haven’t talked about yet. Rabban Gamliel would say that whoever didn’t explain the shank bone, matzah, and marror (or bitter herbs) hasn’t done Passover justice.
The shank bone represents the Pesach, the special lamb sacrifice made in the days of the Temple for the Passover holiday. It is called the pesach, from the Hebrew word meaning “to pass over,” because God passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt when visiting plagues upon our oppressors.
The matzah reminds us that when our ancestors were finally free to leave Egypt, there was no time to pack or prepare. Our ancestors grabbed whatever dough was made and set out on their journey, letting their dough bake into matzah as they fled.
The bitter herbs provide a visceral reminder of the bitterness of slavery, the life of hard labor our ancestors experienced in Egypt.
בְּכָל־דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת־עַצְמוֹ, כְּאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרָֽיִם
B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et-atzmo, k’ilu hu yatzav mimitzrayim.
In every generation, everyone is obligated to see themselves as though they personally left Egypt.
The seder reminds us that it was not only our ancestors whom God redeemed; God redeemed us too along with them. That’s why the Torah says “God brought us out from there in order to lead us to and give us the land promised to our ancestors.”
---
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt, enabling us to reach this night and eat matzah and bitter herbs. May we continue to reach future holidays in peace and happiness.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the second glass of wine!
Dayeinu is a highly counter-intuitive hymn.
Among its fourteen stanzas it proclaims that:
Had God taken our ancestors out of Egypt, but not rescued them at the Red Sea, it would have been sufficient.
And had God rescued them at the Red Sea, but not nourished them in the dessert, it would have been sufficient.
And had God brought them to Sinai, but not given them the Torah, it would have been sufficient.
These statements make no sense. If God liberated our ancestors from Egypt only to allow them to drown in the Red Sea, would that really have been cause for celebration? And what would have been the point of leading them out to the dessert, only have them starve? Or to bring them all the way to Sinai, only to withhold the Torah? Are any of these elements on their own really sufficient? Is the hymn just hyperbole?
Perhaps not. The reason it seems senseless to us is because we know how the story ends. We know that our ancestors have to end up in the Promised Land where they build God’s Temple. And so anything short of that is a failure.
But imagine if we didn’t know how the story was going to end. Then each separate episode would have been cause for thanksgiving. The Exodus would be a cause for celebration, because the Red Sea had yet to present itself as a terrifying obstacle. The overwhelming relief of being rescued from the Red Sea would be sufficient, because the harsh dessert was not yet a reality. And coming to Sinai is a blessing in itself, for who could possible anticipate the Giving of the Torah?
Dayeinu is an ingenious hymn because, by placing us squarely in the story, it allows us to experience what our ancestor’s would have felt as the events unfolded in real time.
It does for liturgy what Faulkner, Joyce, and Wolf did for literature.
Dayeinu invites us to be grateful for the blessings in our lives, as and when they unfold. We have no way of knowing how our story is going to end, much less what next year, or even tomorrow, will look like. All we have is here and now. Dayeinu teaches us to live in the moment by cherishing each of life's blessings as we experience them.
--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.
Take the three matzot - the broken piece between the two whole ones – and recite the following blessing:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם הַמּוֹצִיא לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ.
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.
Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who provides sustenance from the earth.
Before eating the matzah, put the bottom matzah back in its place and continue:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מַצָּה.
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu al achilat matzah.
Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has taught us the way of holiness through commandments, commanding us to eat matzah.
Break the top and middle matzot into pieces and distribute them everyone at the table to eat a while reclining to the left
Dipping the bitter herb in sweet charoset | maror |מָרוֹר
For the people of God, even the bitterness of a history of bondage in "narrow places" is interjected with sweet demonstrations of love, grace, faithfulness, and progression towards the goal of full and lasting freedom. Similarly, our concern for the Earth is coupled with joy and awe at how well it has supported life. We acknowledge this by dipping our bitter herbs into the sweet charoset. We don’t totally eradicate the taste of the bitter with the taste of the sweet, but perhaps it reminds us to hold both.
ברוּךְ אַתָּה יְיַָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מרוֹר:
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat maror.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat bitter herbs
The sage Hillel originated the tradition of eating matzah and maror together, combining the bread of liberation with a remembrance of the bitterness of slavery.
[Everyone eats a Hillel Sandwich: maror between two pieces of matzah.]
Prepare a sandwich of matza, maror, and charoset. This recalls for us what Hillel did when the Temple existed: He enwrapped the Paschal lamb, the matzo, and the bitter herbs to eat them as one, in fulfillment of the Torah verse, "with matzot and maror they shall eat it. (Numbers 9:11). It also reminds us that life is an integration of the bitter and the sweet.
This section, eating the Hillel sandwich, is called Korech. It is the moment when we eat maror (the bitter herbs) and the charoset (the sweet apple and nut mixture) on a piece of matzah. What a strange custom to eat something so bitter and something so sweet all in one bite. We dread it and long for it all at the same time. Why do we do such a thing? We do it to tell our story.
The Jewish people tells our story through our observance of Jewish holidays throughout the year. The holidays of Passover, Chanukah and Purim remind us just how close the Jewish people has come to utter destruction and how we now celebrate our strength and our survival with great joy, remembering God’s help and our persistence, and our own determination to survive.
We also tell the story throughout our lifetime of Jewish rituals. The breaking of a glass at a Jewish wedding reminds us that even in times of life’s greatest joys we remember the sadness of the destruction of the Temple. When we build a home, some Jews leave a part unfinished to remember that even when building something new, we sense the times of tragedy in the Jewish people. And on Passover we mix the sweet charoset with the bitter maror, mixing bitter and sweet of slavery and 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. Judaism says, sometimes life is like that. We can celebrate and mourn all at the same time. And somehow, everything will be ok
Time to eat.
For reals, for reals.
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.
BLESSING AFTER the MEAL - adapted by Marcia Falk
BARUKH ATAH ADONAI, HAZAN ET HA’KOL.
Let us acknowledge the source of life, source of all nourishment. May we protect the bountiful earth that it may continue to sustain us, And let us week sustenance For ALL who dwell in the world. Amen
Reclining on our left side demonstrates our freedom from slavery. We hold our third cup of wine and we recite:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheynu Melech Ha’Olam Borey P’ree Hagafen.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the third glass of wine!
We now say grace after the meal, thanking God for the food we’ve eaten. On Passover, this becomes something like an extended toast to God, culminating with drinking our third glass of wine for the evening:
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, whose goodness sustains the world. You are the origin of love and compassion, the source of bread for all. Thanks to You, we need never lack for food; You provide food enough for everyone. We praise God, source of food for everyone.
As it says in the Torah: When you have eaten and are satisfied, give praise to your God who has given you this good earth. We praise God for the earth and for its sustenance.
Renew our spiritual center in our time. We praise God, who centers us.
Oseh shalom bimromav, Hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu, V’al kol V’al kol Yisrael.
May the source of peace grant peace to us, to the Jewish people, and to the entire world.
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
We praise God, Spirit of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Amen
Sometimes I lay under the moon
And I thank God I'm breathing
Then I pray don't take me soon
Cause I am here for a reason
Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know someday it'll all turn around because
All my life I been waiting for
I been prayin' for
For the people to say
That we don't want to fight no more
There'll be no more wars
And our children will play, one day
It's not about win or lose cause we all lose
when they feed on the souls of the innocent
blood drenched pavement keep on moving
though the waters stay raging
And in this maze you may lose your way
it might drive you crazy
but don't let it phase you no way
Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know someday it'll all turn around because
All my life I been waiting for
I been prayin' for
For the people to say
That we don't want to fight no more
There'll be no more wars
And our children will play, one day
One day this all will change
Treat people the same
Stop with the violence down with the hate
one day we'll all be free
and proud to be under the same sun
singing songs of freedom like…
All my life I been waiting for
I been prayin' for
For the people to say
That we don't want to fight no more
There'll be no more wars
And our children will play, one day
Hallel is an opportunity to sing songs of praise and freedom. After Hallel, we drink the fourth cup of wine.
Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן:
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
We drink the fourth cup of wine in a reclining position.
Blessed are You, Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, for the vine and the fruit of the vine, for the produce of the field, and for the precious, good and spacious land which You gave to our ancestors, to eat of its fruit and enjoy its goodness. Have compassion, O Eternal our God, upon us, upon Israel Your people, upon Jerusalem Your city, upon Zion the abode of Your glory, upon Your altar and upon Your Temple. Rebuild Jerusalem, the holy city, speedily in our days. Bring us there, and cheer us with its rebuilding, and we will bless You in holiness and purity ( On Shabbat add: Be gracious to us and strengthen us on this Shabbat day). Grant us joy and remember us for good on this day of the Festival of Matzot, for You, God, are good and do good, and we therefore give thanks to You for the land and for the fruit of the vine. Blessed are You, Eternal, for the land and for the fruit of the vine.
Blessed are you, Eternal our God, Ruler of the universe, Creator of innumerable living beings. We thank You for all the means that You have created to sustain all. Blessed be the Eternal.
The fourth ceremonial cup of wine poured during the family Seder dinner on Passover is left untouched in honour of Elijah, who, according to tradition, will arrive one day as an unknown guest to herald the advent of the Messiah. During the Seder dinner, biblical verses are read while the door is briefly opened to welcome Elijah, who, it is further said, will resolve all controversial questions connected with the Law. In this way the Seder dinner not only commemorates the historical redemption from Egyptian bondage of the Jewish people but also calls to mind their future redemption when Elijah and the Messiah shall appear.
A Midrash teaches us that a miraculous well accompanied the Hebrews throughout their journey in the desert, given by God because of the merit of Miriam, the prophetess. Miriam’s optimism and faith also was a spiritual oasis, giving the Hebrews the confidence to overcome the hardships of the Exodus.
Like Miriam, Jewish women in all generations have been essential for the continuity of our people. As keepers of traditions, women passed down songs and stories, rituals and recipes, from mother to daughter, from generation to generation. Let us each fill the cup of Miriam with water from our own glasses, we may remember the important role women play in both Judaism and the world.
זאת כּוֹס ִמריָם, כּוֹס ַמיִם ַחיִּים זֵכר ִליציאַת ִמצריִם
Zot kos Miryam, cos mayim chayim zecher litziat Mitzrayim.
This is the cup of Miriam, the cup of living waters, a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt.
Elijah the profit is a symbol of hope to come. It is told that when he comes he will bring peace and spread love throughout the world. Let's drink our last cup of wine to Elijah!
Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, borei pri ha'gafen.
We praise you Adonai our God, Creator of the universe, who blesses the fruit of the vine.
In the years of wandering in the desert, Miriam's well accompanied the Israelites. According to tradition, Miriam's well is still with us. Every Saturday night, at the end of Shabbat, its waters flow out into wells everywhere in the world. While the return of Elijah is left to the future and all its potential, Miriam is present with us always. She and her waters sustain us as we await Elijah. She is here to provide healing, inspiration, and wisdom. There is still a long journey to freedom, a long time before Elijah will herald the Messianic age. Miriam calls is to work for -- not to passively wait for -- that day. She sustains us with the most basic substance on earth: water. She also lifts our hearts as she leads us in song and dance.
Elijah's cup remains untouched by us. But we now drink from Miriam's cup, the nurturing waters of Miriam's well.
Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam shehakol niyah bidvaro.
Praised are you, Eternal our God, Ruler of the Universe, by whose word all things are created.
NIRTZAH
Our Seder now ends.
Together we say, “Next year in Jerusalem. Next year may all men and women everywhere be free!”
