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The seder officially begins with a physical act: lighting the candles. In Jewish tradition, lighting candles and saying a blessing over them marks a time of transition, from the day that is ending to the one that is beginning, from ordinary time to sacred time. Lighting the candles is an important part of our Passover celebration because their flickering light reminds us of the importance of keeping the fragile flame of freedom alive in the world.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה אֲדֹנָי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל [שַׁבָּת וְשֶׁל] יוֹם טוֹב
Barukh Atah Adonay Eloheynu Melekh ha-Olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik neyr shel (Shabbat v'shel) Yom Tov.
You are Blessed, O God, Spirit of the World, who makes us holy with mitzvot and commands us to kindle the light of (Shabbat and of) the festival day.
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!
As we wash our hands
We pray,
Blessed is the Soul of the Universe,
Breathing us in and breathing us out.
May our breaths continue
And our health and the health of all
Be preserved
In this time of sickness and fear of sickness.
Holy Wholeness,
We take as much responsibility for this as we can
By observing the obligation to wash our hands
Thoroughly:
For as long as it takes to say this prayer.
Amen
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה הָ׳ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדַיִם
[Greens held up for all to see.]
KARPAS - Parsley and celery are symbols of all kinds of spring greenery. The second time, the salt water and the green can help us to remember the ocean and green plants and the Earth, from which we get the water and air and food that enable us to live.
Leader: N'-varekh `et pri ha-`Adamah.
Everyone:
Let us bless the fruit of the Earth.
[Please dip your parsley into salt water two times and eat it.]
Now we break the middle matzah and set the larger piece aside to hide as the Afikomen.
"We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not equivalent. But our shared brokenness connected us….
There is a strength, a power even, in understanding brokenness, because embracing our brokenness creates a need and desire for mercy, and perhaps a corresponding need to show mercy. When you experience mercy, you learn things that are hard to learn otherwise. You see things you can’t otherwise see; you hear things you can’t otherwise hear. You begin to recognize the humanity that resides in each of us."
Bryan Stevenson (Lawyer, Social Justice Advocate)
Passover Prayer in the Age of Coronavirus
Why is this night different from all other nights? Why is this Passover different from all other Passovers?
On this Passover, when a pandemic threatens our collective health on an unimaginable scale, we are called to respond with the power of our humanity, with the Divine spirit implanted within us, with our legacy of hope and determination to prevail.
We pray for those at risk, the isolated, the stricken, the mourners. We pray for those who have dedicated their lives to keeping us healthy—doctors, nurses, health-care workers—and all who sustain our hospitals and health-care institutions— existing and makeshift—operating under trying circumstances.
We pray for the first responders—police officers, fire fighters, military personnel who have been marshalled to the cause—all who are responsible for the safety of our communities. We pray for our elected officials, who can save lives with wise leadership. May God bless all of our public servants and watch over them.
On this Passover, when so many are separated from one another at a traditional time of being together, we reach out to one another with renewed love and compassion. When someone is missing from our Seder table, we tell their story as if they are with us. When there is personal sadness, we respond with communal solidarity, empathy, and fortitude.
On this Passover, not “all who are hungry can come and eat” and not “all who are in need can come and celebrate Passover.” In response, we commit all the days of our year to a heightened awareness of Passover’s values—to freeing the enslaved, to feeding the hungry, to sheltering the homeless, to supporting the poor. We rededicate ourselves to rekindling and cherishing our Passover traditions for all the years of our future, when light will overcome darkness, when health will overcome infirmity.
Dear God, “Spread over us Your canopy of peace . . . Shelter us in the shadow of Your wings . . .Guard us and deliver us. . . Guard our coming and our going, grant us life and peace, now and always.” “This year we are slaves, next year we will be free.”
In this time of global pandemic, our lives have been disrupted in significant ways and we find ourselves asking questions we may not otherwise have ever thought to ask. Tonight, we bring our questions to the table with hopes to gain wisdom and understanding.
1. On all other nights, we eat chametz (leavened foods) and matzah. Why on this night, only matzah?
Just as the Israelites hastily baked matzah as they left Egypt, many of us recently made hasty preparations for an unknown journey. How did your rush to prepare shape your feelings of readiness for the journey ahead? How do we gather enough provisions while making sure everyone can access what they need?
2. On all other nights, we eat all vegetables. Why, on this night, (only) bitter herbs?
Being in restricted and narrow places reminds us that many things are beyond our control. How can we remain aware of those around us who were already struggling and now must navigate this time too?
3. On all other nights, we don't dip even once. Why on this night do we dip twice?
When we dip twice in salt water it reminds us of the abundance that we celebrate in the spring as well as the salty tears of those experiencing scarcity. How can we identify both material and non-material abundance, knowing every person has something to contribute? Can offering gratitude shape our approach to moving through challenging days?
4. On all other nights, we eat either sitting upright or reclining. Why on this night do we all recline?
How do we recognize and share our own privilege in moments like these? How do we share our surplus with those who are increasingly vulnerable? Can we zoom out beyond our personal narrative in this moment and find our role in the broader collective of who makes up our community?
The Four Children by Mike Skliar
1- What does the socially responsible child say?
The socially responsible child asks “How can I flatten the curve?” To that child, explain that staying indoors and practicing social distancing are not just empty actions, but benefit all of us, including the vulnerable who may have immunity issues. The measure of society is not how the well-off are enjoying themselves but how we treat everyone, including those most at risk.
2- What does the skeptical child ask?
The skeptical child asks “Isn’t this just some plot by the Chinese?” To that child, explain that no, this is a public health emergency that has and will affect everyone on the planet, that the 1918 “Spanish Flu” pandemic started in Kansas, not Spain, that this could have happened anyplace where humans deal with animals, whether it be a slaughterhouse in America or a market in China, that viruses don’t respect artificial borders between countries, that international cooperation and coordination is necessary to slow the spread, and that xenophobia will only make things worse.
3- What does the indifferent child ask?
The indifferent child asks “Who cares about this stuff, when will I be able to watch sports on TV again?” To that child, explain that sometimes there are more important things, and this is the time to reflect on all the many things we have and probably don’t appreciate, and the people that make it all possible, whether it be the delivery person making minimum wage who is helping us stay at home now, or the farmers who are still growing the food, or the health care worker on the front lines. Maybe when this is all over, some of those ‘regular’ folks will get one-one hundredth of the attention we lavish on pop culture and sports stars.
4- What do we say to the child who does not know how to ask?
To that child, we say that throughout history, we have had challenges that at the time were new, scary, and seemingly overwhelming, and that not just survival, but “tikkun olum” (repairing the world) is what it’s all about, whether in challenging times or not.
On Passover, we remember the Ten Plagues that were put upon the Egyptian people. Thousands of years later, modern-day plagues of inequality should ignite contemporary responses to combat these injustices. Many of the most vulnerable members of our society are disproportionately affected; they cannot be “passed over” or ignored, especially during this important holiday.
As we think about the ancient plagues, let us also keep in mind those who still live under the weight of modern plagues.
- A justice system that instills fear and divides communities does no justice at all: it must be independent and fair to foster an equal society. Just as the first plague of blood recalls violence and turmoil, we must take action to reform our criminal justice system so that it meets the highest ideals of society and overcomes the brokenness – the spilled blood – that began this cycle in the first place.
- Today, essential pathways to opportunity are blocked by a basic lack of shelter and affordable housing. Just as the plague of frogs transformed the Egyptians’ homes into unlivable conditions, the lack of affordable housing can transform lives into the most basic struggle. Until more affordable housing units are created, too many people in need will not be able to have a home of their own.
- Today’s health care system remains out of reach to so many, millions of Americans still do not have insurance. The plague of lice reminds us that affordable, quality healthcare is important to have when we are healthy, and especially when unforeseen circumstances arise. We must work to advocate for those who do not have access to health care to ensure that all Americans can receive the treatments that they need.
- Sadly the plague of gun violence in America is all too familiar; guns kill 32,000 Americans each year. Gun violence runs rampant in our communities, as did the wild animals in the fourth plague, but we have the power to end this scourge ourselves. We are commanded to take necessary measures to ensure the sanctity of human life and safety of our communities.
- Hungry kids are not a distant tragedy; they are in every community. Our tradition is explicit in commanding that we feed the hungry, and we must work to make that a reality. The plague of cattle disease reminds us how important it is to ensure that all people have the resources and support needed to live healthily.
- COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus, is wreaking havoc across the globe, and those most vulnerable are being hardest hit. With thousands falling ill, vast sectors of our economy shutting down, and many workers continuing to labor under dangerous circumstances, this crisis has major implications for economic justice, underscoring the need for universal health care, workers’ rights and more. Just as COVID-19 plagues many our society in this moment, did boils plague the Egyptians when this sudden health crisis impaired their lives and livelihood.
- We must all take action to adapt to and to mitigate the effects of climate change, but we cannot lose sight of the fact that climate change most significantly impacts low income communities and people of color. The climate disruption of the plague of hail is a reminder that the onus is on each of us to take action to prevent climate disruption in communities where such events would have a devastating impact.
- Our tradition speaks strongly to valuing workers’ essential dignity as well as maintaining healthy families. Just as the locusts disrupted work and resources for the Egyptians, so does the lack of paid sick days disrupt the lives of families and workplaces across the United States. Without a national minimum standard, workers face agonizing choices between health and subsistence.
- Education is the key to opportunity and prosperity; and the fewer the educational resources, the more challenging for those students to advance in society. The plague of darkness reminds us to pursue a bright future for all our children through robust public education. We cannot keep some members of our community on the margins by denying them educational opportunities.
- There are many structural policy changes that we can make to ameliorate economic inequality. The drama and pain of the plague of the death of the firstborn does not remind of us of any one social justice issue, but it does remind us of the importance of taking action before crises become truly dire. Raising the minimum wage underscores the previous nine plagues by lifting millions of people out of poverty and taking them away from these plagues.
We cannot let these injustices of inequality continue. On Passover, we commit to structural change so that these issues will no longer be plaguing millions at home and around the globe.
As we celebrate our redemption from the land of Egypt, and of the plagues that played a role in that redemption, we cannot lose sight of the plagues that still exist today. If we can overcome these plagues, so many more people will be able to revel in the liberation and redemption that the Jewish people celebrate on Passover.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן
We acknowledge the Unity of All,
and express gratitude for the fruit of the vine.
Drink Cup #2.
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.
The egg is a symbol of the circle of life and being born anew, we will eat this as our first course.
The parsely represents how the Jewish people initially flourished in the land of Egypt until they were enslaved.
The charoset represents the mortar the slaves used to build Egyptian buildings.
The lettuce is a second bitter herb, used in korech or the Hillel sandwich, which consists of matzah and bitter herbs (some add charoset as well).
Dayenu means “it would have been enough.” The idea is to practice gratitude, in spite of all the crappy shit Jews are always dealing with. So thinking back over the trashfire of the past year, let's name some of the stuff we've felt grateful for and sing Dayenu!
We stayed healthy. Dayenu!
We had a safe home to live in. Dayenu!
etc.
We wash our hands again now before we eat (yes, finally we’re nearly there!) but why? Why do we not wash our feet like our Middle Eastern ancestors did? Because our hands are the instruments with which we work in the world. It is our hands which plants and write, which caress and create – and our hands which strike and smash, poison and pain. We wash our hands not to absolve ourselves of responsibility but to affirm the need to make our hands pure, to choose to make real decisions; to use our hands for good. This pesach let us consecrate our collective hands, as Habonim Dror, to the task of building freedom.
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.
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.
