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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Welcome to our Passover Seder.
Today we come together to celebrate the festival of liberation of the Jewish people. As Jews, we are linked throughout history with those who share a passion for justice and human liberty.
We come together at this moment because we are a people with deep historic roots and memories. We come together at this moment because many centuries ago our ancestors left slavery and began their march toward freedom. We come together at this moment because the struggles for freedom never stop; there are those, Jews and non Jews alike, who are still struggling today and provide us with inspiration now. We come together at this moment because spring is emerging all around us, the earth is reborn, and it is a time to celebrate with family and friends.
As we retell this ancient story, we think about those people around the world who are living this story today, struggling to overthrow oppression and establish more democratic societies. Even as we celebrate our freedom, we commit ourselves to join the fight against injustice wherever it exists in whatever ways we can. For as long as one person is oppressed, none of us are free.
Nayrot-Candle Lighting
It is said, there is nothing new under the sun, yet nothing remains the same. The sun rises and the sun sets, yet each day and each season is fresh and new. The earth displays an ever-changing countenance. We rejoice in the warm light and rich blessings of this season. The celebration of Passover represents the perennial rebirth and survival of the Jewish people and the world of nature.
We light the candles, and then we say together:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel (Shabbat v'shel) Yom Tov.
Blessed are You, our God, spirit of the universe, who sanctifies us with mitzvot and calls upon us to kindle the lights of (Shabbat and) the Festival day.
The light of these candles symbolize a renewal of life and a reaffirmation of peace and freedom.
We are the generations that stand between the fires.
Behind us is the flame and smoke that rose from Auschwitz and from Hiroshima,
From the burning of our Towers, From the torching of our forests
Before us is the nightmare of a Flood of Fire:
The scorching of our planet,
Or the blazing of our cities in thermonuclear fire or the glare of gunfire.
It is our task to make from fire not an all-consuming blaze
But the light in which we see each other; Each of us different.
All of us made in the image of God.
We light this fire to see more clearly that the earth, the human race, are not for burning.
We light this fire to see more clearly the rainbow in our many-colored faces.
.הִנֵּה מַה טוֹב וּמַה נָּעִים שֶׁבֶת אָחִים גַּם יַחַד
Hinei Mah Tov Umah Nayim, Shevat Ahyim Gam Yahad!
Hinei Mah Tov Umah Nayim, Shevat Ahyim Gam Yahad!
Hinei Mah Tov, Shevet Ahyim Gam Yahad!
Hinei Mah Tov, Shevat Ahyim Gam Yahad!
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity!
Good and pleasant, brothers and sisters in peace together!
Reclining on our left side demonstrates our freedom from slavery. We hold our first cup of wine and we recite:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam, borei p'ri hagafen. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher bachar banu mikol am v'rom'manu mikol lashon v'kid'shanu b'mitzvotav. Vatiten lanu Adonai Eloheinu b'ahavah moadim l'simchah chagim uz'manim l'sason et yom chag hamatzot hazeh z'man cheiruteinu mikra kodesh zeicher litziat Mitzrayim. Ki vanu vacharta v'otanu kidashta mikol haamim umoadei kodsh'cha b'simchah uv'sason hinchaltanu. Baruch atah Adonai, m'kadeish Yisrael v'hazmanim.
Blessed are You, Our God, Ruler of the world, Creator of the fruit of the vine.
Blessed are You, who sanctifies our people Israel, and the Festivals. We thank You for enabling us to gather in friendship, to observe the Festival of Freedom. Just as for many centuries the Passover Seder has brought together families and friends to retell the events that led to our freedom, so may we be at one with Jews everywhere who perform this ancient ritual linking us with our historic past. As we relive each event in our people’s ancient struggle, and celebrate their emergence from slavery to freedom, we pray that all of us may keep alive in our hearts the love of liberty. May we dedicate our lives to the abolition of all forms of tyranny and injustice.
Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v’kiy’manu v’higianu laz’man hazeh.
Praise to You, Adonai our God, spirit of the universe, for giving us life, for sustaining us, and for enabling us to reach this season.
Drink the first cup of wine.
To wash your hands, you don’t need soap, but you do need a cup to pour water over your hands. Pour water on each of your hands three times, alternating between your hands. If the people around your table don’t want to get up to walk all the way over to the sink, you could pass a pitcher and a bowl around so everyone can wash at their seats… just be careful not to spill!
Too often during our daily lives we don’t stop and take the moment to prepare for whatever it is we’re about to do.
Let's pause to consider what we hope to get out of our evening together tonight. Go around the table and share one hope or expectation you have for tonight's seder.
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.
We now take our green vegetable and dip it into our salt water and say together:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.
We praise God, spirit 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 lying dormant during winter, getting ready to reappear just when we need 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?
Now we break the middle matzah, bread of the poor in two. We put the larger piece aside, the afikomen or dessert, leaving the smaller on the plate. (Uncover the remaining three matzah.)
We lift up the dish with the matzah and say:
This is the bread of the oppressed that our forebears ate in the Tight and Narrow Land (Mitzrayim, Egypt, where the Israelites were enslaved). Let all who are hungry eat, and all who are in need come and celebrate the 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.)
Now lift the larger piece and say the following:
Why do we break this bread in two? Because if we hold on to the whole loaf for ourselves, it remains the bread of oppression. If we break it in order to share it, it becomes the bread of freedom. In the world today, there are still some who are so pressed-down that they have not even this bread of oppression to eat. There are so many who are hungry that they cannot all come and eat with us tonight. Therefore we say to them, we set aside this bread as a reminder that we owe you justice and a share of the earth’s fruitfulness, and that we will work to make the sharing real.
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.
Passover is the celebration of Life. The story of the Jewish people is truly a triumph of life. Against the odds of history, the Jewish people have done more than survive – we, the Jewish people, have adapted creatively to each new time, each new place, from the birth of our ancient nation to the present day. Even though death has pursued us relentlessly, time and time again, we have chosen to live.
During the many centuries of the Jewish experience, memories of destruction are tempered by the knowledge that the world can also be good. Jews [We] have endured slavery and humiliation. We Jews have also enjoyed freedom and power. Darkness has been balanced by light. Our forebears traveled the Earth in search of the safety and liberty they knew must exist.
We have learned to endure.
We have learned to progress.
We are proud survivors.
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 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. It may be the youngest child that asks the question, or it may be the person with the least seder experience – or we 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 all types of bread or crackers. On Passover, why do 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 and herbs. Why at our Seder do 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 don't need to dip our vegetables. Tonight, why do 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 straight up. Tonight why do we lean on a pillow or recline?
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.
Our story starts in ancient times, with Abraham, the first person to have the idea that maybe all those little statues his contemporaries worshiped as gods were just statues. The idea of one God, invisible and all-powerful, inspired him to leave his family and begin a new people in Canaan, the land that would one day bear his grandson Jacob’s adopted name, Israel.
God had made a promise to Abraham that his family would become a great nation, but this promise came with a frightening vision of the troubles along the way: “Your descendants will dwell for a time in a land that is not their own, and they will be enslaved and afflicted for four hundred years; however, I will punish the nation that enslaved them, and afterwards they shall leave with great wealth."
Raise the glass of wine and say:
וְהִיא שֶׁעָמְדָה לַאֲבוֹתֵֽינוּ וְלָֽנוּ
V’hi she-amda l’avoteinu v’lanu.
This promise has sustained our ancestors and us.
For not only one enemy has risen against us to annihilate us, but in every generation there are those who rise against us. But God saves us from those who seek to harm us.
The glass of wine is put down.
In the years our ancestors lived in Egypt, our numbers grew, and soon the family of Jacob became the People of Israel. Pharaoh and the leaders of Egypt grew alarmed by this great nation growing within their borders, so they enslaved us. We were forced to perform hard labor, perhaps even building pyramids. The Egyptians feared that even as slaves, the Israelites might grow strong and rebel. So Pharaoh decreed that Israelite baby boys should be drowned, to prevent the Israelites from overthrowing those who had enslaved them.
But God heard the cries of the Israelites. And God brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand and outstretched arm, with great awe, miraculous signs and wonders. God brought us out not by angel or messenger, but through God’s own intervention.
Before we tell the traditional Passover story, let's sing a traditional spiritual, a song that should be sung with great enthusiasm, “Let My People Go”.
Let My People Go (Traditional Spiritual)
When Israel was in Egypt land
Let my people go
Oppressed so hard they could not stand
Let my people go.
Chorus:
Go down Moses,
Way down to Egypt land
Tell old Pharaoh To let my people go!
And God told Moses what to do
Let my people go!
To lead the children of Israel through
Let my people go!
Chorus:
Go down Moses,
Way down to Egypt land
Tell old Pharaoh
To let my people go!
A Passover Poem
By Lesa Schwartz, 1975
I wanted to tell
But didn’t know how
The reason we’re sitting
And having a Seder now.
I thought and I thought
How to not make it boring
And end up with everyone
Snoozing and snoring.
And so I decided a poem
I would write
And tell of the Jews
And their memorable flight.
________________________________________
Now the story goes,
As we’ve heard many times,
We were slaves in Egypt
Held for no special crimes.
We worked and we built
For the Pharaoh his city,
And were treated as criminals
Without any pity.
We labored so hard,
We labored so long,
We nearly forgot what was right
or was wrong.
_________________________________________
Then came along
A man named Moses,who
Though raised as Egyptian,
By the daughter of Pharaoh
Would soon come to learn*
That he too was a Jew.
________________________________________
As he grew and he saw,
How the Jews they were treated,
He came to our aid
When a slave they were beating.
He killed the officer
And took our side,
The Pharaoh enraged
Said Moses must die.
________________________________________
So Moses escaped
Into the desert alone,
With hardly a bite
And no help but his own.
When almost near death,
And nowhere to turn,
He was found by a tribe
And made well once again.
________________________________________
He grew strong and he married
And years quickly flew,
Until on a mountain
His purpose he knew.
For God came to call
And to tell him that day,
He was to go to Egypt
He’d show him the way.
________________________________________
Now Moses set off
Not clear how to do it
But knew only he
Was the man that God chooseth.
He went straight to Pharaoh,
And told that mean guy
The powers of God
Are mine so don’t try
To ignore them or fight them
Or surely you’ll cry.
For the message I bring,
So you’ll clearly know,
Is this that I tell you-
“LET MY PEOPLE GO!”
_______________________________________
The Pharaoh, he laughed
And called Moses a phony,
Said his magicians could do
The same kind of baloney.
A staff turned to snake,
They could easily do,
So don’t tell me of your God
It just isn’t true.
__________________________________________
So proud and so cruel
And so hate filled a man
Was the Pharaoh
That Moses at once began
To put plagues on his country
Til his people he’d free
And then lead them out
A new world there would be.
__________________________________________
(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:
Ten plagues they were heaped
On Egypt’s people and land
To pay for their crimes
And Pharaoh’s evil stand.
There was
Blood in the water (dam | ) ָּםד
Frogs | tzfardeiya | דַ ְעד רַם ְצפ
Lice | kinim | נםנִִּּד
Beasts | arov | ָּפ ָע
Cattle disease | dever | ֶַם ֶע
Boils | sh’chin | דן נִִּש
Hail | barad | ָּד ָּ ב
Locusts | arbeh | ְהד ֶדא
Darkness | choshech | ִֶַׁ ֶןח
And not least,
The Angle of Death | makat b’chorot | ְת ְםמצ דדתָ ָמ
When pharaoh hardened his heart
Came and slew the first born
Then did depart.
_____________________________________________
Only Jews, they were saved
For they had a warning.
They put blood on their doors
And lived to see morning.
The Angel of Death had “passed over”
Their home,
Giving our holiday Passover
A name of its own.
__________________________________________
The Pharaoh’s son died,
And finally he said,
Moses, take your people
And away they fled.
But the Pharaoh chased after,
And the Jews were then saved
By God’s powers when Moses
His staff he did wave.
And the Red Sea parted,
And the Jews walked through
But drowned all the soldiers
Who followed them too.
______________________________________
It took forty years
In the desert they wandered,
While God watched and silently pondered.
These people he aided
In finding their freedom
Had many a sin
That must be undone
Before as a people
They would find a place
To live as God’s people
And be given his grace.
________________________________________
A set of commandments
To follow was given,
And with Moses as leader
And with God’s help, they were driven
Til a free Jewish nation
Was brought to a land
They could call their own
And live in peace
On its sand.
_________________________________________
Today we are free,
But we must never forget
That once long ago
A tragedy was met.
We were slaves;
We weren’t free;
We suffered and died;
We struggled to live
In peace side by side.
__________________________________________
And so as we close
Our story this day,
We pray for our Jews
In lands far away.
They too may find peace;
They too may find joy
And live as God meant it,
Free men, women, girls, and boys.
_____________________________________________
Optional: 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?
Now that we've told our Passover story, we can answer the “Four Questions”.
1. Why do we eat matzah on Passover?
When Pharaoh let our ancestors go from Mitzrayim (Egypt), they were forced to leave quickly. There was no time to let dough rise and bake it into bread for the journey. So they snatched up their dough and fled Pharaoh’s army. The hot sun beating down on the dough as they carried it along with them baked it into a flat, unleavened bread which they called matzah. That is why we eat matzah on Pesach.
2. Why do we eat bitter herbs at the Seder?
We eat bitter herbs to remind us of the bitter life the slaves had while working for Pharaoh in Egypt.
3. Why do we dip foods twice at the Seder?
We dip the parsley or other green vegetable into salt water to remind us that spring is here and new life is growing all around us. The salt water reminds us of the tears of the Jewish slaves. By dipping one in another, we remember the happy and the sad times together. We also link together the ancient celebrations of springtime with the retelling of this important story from our Biblical tradition. Soon, we will dip our food for the second time, or rather combine, the apples and walnuts with wine to remind us of the clay and mortar that with hardship and suffering slaves used to make the bricks for building the cities and palaces for Pharaoh, but also to remember that it was sweetened by the hope of freedom.
4. Why do we lean on a pillow, or sit in comfort, at the Seder?
We lean on a pillow to be comfortable and to remind us that once our ancestors were slaves, and now we are free! We are free to relax and to be comfortable, and we do not take that for granted!
Dayenu means "it would have been enough." And not in a kvetchy/sarcastic way! Dayenu is a sincere expression of gratitude for all the Jewish people have been given.
The plagues and our subsequent redemption from Egypt are but one example of the care God has shown for us in our history. Had God but done any one of these kindnesses, it would have been enough – dayeinu.
אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָֽנוּ מִמִּצְרַֽיִם, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu
If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!
אִלּוּ נָתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah , Dayeinu
If God had only given us the Torah, that would have been enough.
Dayeinu also reminds us that each of our lives is the cumulative result of many blessings, small and large.
We can all participate in Dayenu. What is your "dayenu" for the year?
It would have been enough if________, but also ______! Dayenu! Day-day-enu...etc...
EVERY JEWISH FAMILY produces a unique version of the Passover seder—the big ritual meal of traditional foods, served after and amid liturgy, storytelling, and song. We’re all surprised at each other’s customs: You eat lamb? You don’t sing “Chad Gad Ya”? And yet, virtually every seder does share a few common elements. Matzoh crumbs all over the floor. Wine stains on the tablecloth.
A Seder plate containing the traditional symbols of the holiday:
- a roasted shank bone and hardboiled egg , recalling the days of the Temple sacrifices [the egg, now considered symbolic of the circle of life];
- horseradish and salt water for the bitterness of oppression [and the tears the Hebrew slaves cried and we cry now for all people who are still living in suffering];
- parsley for spring;
- haroset , a mixture of wine, nuts, and fruit symbolizing mortar and the heavy labor performed by the Israelite slaves.
- And for lots of us, an orange .
The ancient Hebrews who fled into the wilderness didn’t know from citrus fruit, and there certainly weren’t any Valencias on Grandma’s Seder plate….
The custom originated with the teacher and writer Susannah Heschel [in the 1980s], who first set it out as a symbol of inclusion for lesbian and gay Jews, and in following years for all those who have been marginalized in the Jewish community. Jewish women adopted the fruit as a symbol of their inclusion, and now there are oranges on Seder plates all over the world….
In the words of Susan Heschel, “When we eat that orange segment, we spit out the seeds to repudiate homophobia and we recognize that in a whole orange, each segment sticks together. Oranges are sweet and juicy and remind us of the fruitfulness of gay and lesbian Jews and of the homosociality that has been such an important part of Jewish experience, whether of men in yeshivas or of women in the Ezrat Nashim.”
The orange is a living part of the ancient pedagogic strategy of Passover. We are commanded to teach our children about the Exodus from Egypt in a manner so vivid that everyone at the table—but especially the kids—remembers (not merely imagines but actually remembers) what it feels like to be a hungry, hunted slave. The Seder makes memory manifest, tangible, and solid as Grandpa’s Kiddush cup. Just like the shank bone, the orange is there so that someone under the age of thirteen will ask, “What’s that thing doing on the Seder plate?” The orange is there so that Mom or Dad can say, “I’m so glad you asked that question.
The orange is a symbol of the struggle by Jews who used to be ignored by our tradition—like gays and lesbians, and women, and Jews by choice—to become full partners in religious and community life. The orange is a sign of change, too, because now all kinds of Jews are rabbis and cantors and teachers and leaders. And the orange is a mark of our confidence in the Jewish future, which means that someday maybe you too will bring something new to the Seder plate.”
The orange on the Seder plate is both a playful and a reverent symbol of Judaism’s ability to adapt and thrive. It also celebrates the abundant diversity of creation. After all, God, who made the heavens and the earth, and dinosaurs and lemurs and human beings, is clearly a lover of variety and change—not to mention oranges.
Excerpt from Anita Diamant
Today we also add one additional symbol, the olive .
The olive branch is a universal symbol of peace, associated with the dove in the story of Noah's Ark and the Flood.
Olive trees mature slowly, so only when there was an extended time of peace, with agriculture left undisturbed, could the olive tree produce its fruit. Olive trees grow in Israel, but today, in Israel the Jews and Palestinians still struggle to live in peace. We hope that both the Jews of Israel and the Palestinians can find a way to live together harmoniously, acknowledging each other’s right to exist in safety, peace, and happiness.
This year, we have olives on our Seder plate to remind us that not only are we not free until everyone is free, but we are not free until there is peace in our homes, in our community and in our world.
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.
Reader: 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.”
Reader: The freedom we celebrate tonight is not only freedom from slavery. It is also the freedom to live in peace, with dignity and with hope for a bright future. This constant vision has inspired the Jewish people since the ancient times recorded in the Bible.
Reader: For many centuries, most Jews lived in Europe, where they were often persecuted. They were driven from place to place, and their lives were often filled with terror and despair.
Reader: There came a time when many Jewish families heard of a place called America, where they could live without fear. This was the promise that America held out to them and to many other suffering people.
Reader: By the thousands, and then by the millions, year after year they crossed a large ocean, enduring the dangers of that long voyage before reaching the shores of America.
Reader: Even then for a time they suffered from poverty and homelessness, but because of their perseverance, courage, and skills, they [we] are here tonight celebrating this festival of freedom in a free land.
Reader: This evening, as we celebrate this [our own] freedom let us take notice of the struggles toward freedom in many other parts of the world.
Reader: Freedom for Israel. Freedom for humankind. Freedom for the whole world.
Hold up the second cup of wine and say:
We praise God, Breath of Life, who redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt, enabling us to reach this night. 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.
Blessed is God, spirit of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the second glass of wine!
As we now transition from the formal telling of the Passover story to the celebratory meal, we once again wash our hands to prepare ourselves. In Judaism, a good meal together with friends and family is itself a sacred act, so we prepare for it just as we prepared for our holiday ritual, recalling the way ancient priests once prepared for service in the Temple.
Some people distinguish between washing to prepare for prayer and washing to prepare for food by changing the way they pour water on their hands. For washing before food, pour water three times on your right hand and then three times on your left hand.
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.
Before we move on with our Seder, we must acknowledge the central role of women in the liberation.
It has always been important for our community to repair some of the damage done to all of us, both men and women, through the patriarchal practices that at times marginalized women’s role in Judaism. There is Yocheved, Moses’ mother, Batya, the Pharaoh's daughter, and Shifra and Puah, the famous midwives, and of course, Miriam, Moses' sister, the phrophet.
Reader: We start in our Seder by acknowledging that the Torah tells the story of the first act of rebellion against Pharaoh – the refusal of the Jewish midwives Shifra and Pu’ah to participate in the genocide that the Pharaoh had devised by calling on them to kill the first-born males whose births they facilitated. These midwives’ refusal to participate in the Pharaoh’s nefarious scheme, even under the threat of death, was the first crack in his rule, and it set the precedent for other women to refuse to go along with the genocide that Pharaoh’s followers were implementing. It gave the people courage both to withstand their oppression and to envision how to overcome it. These two brave women are really the first heroes of the liberation struggle.
Reader: There is also Pharaoh’s daughter Batya, who defies her own father and plucks baby Moses out of the Nile. The Midrash reminds us that Batya knew exactly what she doing: When Pharaoh’s daughter’s handmaidens saw that she intended to rescue Moses, they attempted to dissuade her, and persuade her to heed her father. They said to her: “Our mistress, it is the way of the world that when a king issues a decree, it is not heeded by the entire world, but his children and the members of his household do observe it, and you wish to transgress your father’s decree?” But transgress she did.
Reader: There is a special cup on the table, called Miriam’s Cup, which is for water. Water has sustained us all for generations, in the most difficult environments. It is a symbol of purity and sustenance in many faiths around the world. Miriam’s cup is also a symbol of compassion.
Reader: As we know from Torah and Midrash, and as the liquid in her cup attests (hold up the cup of water), the Prophet Miriam, sister of Moshe Rabeinu, our teacher, and Aharon, the first high priest, has always been associated with water. It was Miriam who prophesized the birth of Moses, saying “my mother is destined to bear a son who will save Israel.” It is Miriam who defied the Pharaoh’s death sentence for male Hebrew infants, who placed baby Moses in the basket in the River Nile, a kind of birth canal that delivered him to another woman, the Pharaoh’s daughter, who found and adopted him, assuring his survival.
Reader: It was Miriam who, at the shore of the Red Sea, “took a timbrel in her hand and all the women followed her, with timbrels and with dancing.” And who “sang to them,” leading them through the parted waters, not with hesitation and fear but with music and dancing. Perhaps taking a cue from Miriam, a few millennia later the Jewish anarchist Emma Goldman famously said, “If there’s no dancing, it’s not my revolution.” But it was our foremother Miriam who introduced the notion of radical change as worthy of celebration.
Reader: It was because of the merit of Miriam that miraculously the Israelites, slaking their thirst during forty years, travelled in the desert. After Miriam died, there was no water. God instructed Moses to speak to a rock, asking it for water, as perhaps Miriam had sung and spoken to the land they were traversing, asking it for water. Instead of speaking to the rock, Moses struck it – producing water but also God’s wrath sufficient to deny him entry into the Promised Land. A warning to us: like Miriam, address the Earth as our comrade, rather than making it our slave – or we will lose the Earth itself, our Promised Land.
Reader: Miriam is powerfully linked to all three water sources – river, sea, and well – for good reason. Just as without water there would be no life on earth, without Miriam, there would be no Jewish life. Before he could lead us out of Mitzrayim, Moses had to be kept alive. We have Miriam’s Nile rescue plan to thank for his survival. Without Miriam’s song and dance, there would have been no life-enhancing celebration of our redemption. Without Miriam’s well, we would not have lived through our wanderings.
Reader: The wine with which we fill Elijah’s Cup anticipates the bliss of a future messianic age. The water we place in Miriam’s Cup celebrates life itself, the miracle of joy in the present, and the basic fact of Jewish survival. A people need both, but water comes before wine. Without water, there can be no wine. Without Miriam, we would have had no messianic dream because we would have had no future.
All take a drink of water.
( Letty Cottin Pogrebin, a founder of Ms. Magazine and a member of the Tikkun editorial board, offered the above explanation)
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.
Dipping the bitter herb in sweet charoset | maror |מָרוֹר
In life there is birth and there is death. There is suffering and there is joy. There is adversity and there is resilience. We can not know one without experiencing the other. This is the essence of Passover, remembering the suffering of our people in slavery, longing to be free, hoping for deliverance. This is the hope of us all.
As we eat the maror with the charoset, we don’t totally eradicate the taste of the bitter with the taste of the sweet… but doesn’t the sweet mean more when it’s layered over the bitterness?
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, the Spirit of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat bitter herbs.
Dip the bitter herb in charoset and 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 matzoh, along with some of the bitter herbs. While we do not make sacrifices any more, we honor this custom by eating a sandwich of the remaining matzoh 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.
We remember also, those who still live in many different forms of bondage around the world who don't have the opportunities and privileges we have been given living in this country. As Jews, it is our duty, Tikkun Olam, to find ways in to help relieve their bitterness.
Finally, as we eat this mix of bitter and sweet in a symbolic gesture, we reflect on our own lives.
Rabbi Andrea Steinberger explained "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. "
What is your koreich (mixing the bitter with the sweet) moment?
Eat the sandwich while discussing.
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!
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.
Refill everyone’s wine glass.
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.
May the source of peace grant peace to us, to the Jewish people, and to the entire world. Amen.
The Third Glass of Wine
The blessing over the meal is immediately followed by another blessing over the wine:
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 third glass of wine!
Singing songs that praise God | hallel | הַלֵּל
This is the time set aside for singing. Some of us might sing traditional prayers from the Book of Psalms. Others take this moment for favorites like Chad Gadya & Who Knows One, which you can find in the appendix. To celebrate the theme of freedom, we might sing songs from the civil rights movement. Or perhaps your crazy Uncle Frank has some parody lyrics about Passover to the tunes from a musical. We’re at least three glasses of wine into the night, so just roll with it.
Fourth Glass of Wine
As we come to the end of the seder, we drink one more glass of wine. With this final cup, we give thanks for the experience of celebrating Passover together, for the traditions that help inform our daily lives and guide our actions and aspirations.
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 fourth and final glass of wine!
The Cup of Elijah
We now refill our wine glasses one last time and open the front door to invite the prophet Elijah to join our seder.
In the Bible, Elijah was a fierce defender of God to a disbelieving people. At the end of his life, rather than dying, he was whisked away to heaven. Tradition holds that he will return in advance of messianic days to herald a new era of peace, so we set a place for Elijah at many joyous, hopeful Jewish occasions, such as a baby’s bris and the Passover seder.
אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַנָּבִיא, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַתִּשְׁבִּיאֵלִיָּֽהוּ, אֵלִיָּֽהוּ,אֵלִיָּֽהוּ הַגִּלְעָדִי
בִּמְהֵרָה בְיָמֵֽנוּ יָבוֹא אֵלֵֽינוּ
עִם מָשִֽׁיחַ בֶּן דָּוִד
עִם מָשִֽׁיחַ בֶּן דָּוִד
Eliyahu hanavi
Eliyahu hatishbi
Eliyahu, Eliyahu, Eliyahu hagiladi
Bimheirah b’yameinu, yavo eileinu
Im mashiach ben-David,
Im mashiach ben-David
Elijah the prophet, the returning, the man of Gilad:
return to us speedily,
in our days with the messiah,
son of David.
Freedom. It isn’t once, to walk outunder the Milky Way, feeling the rivers of light, the fields of dark—freedom is daily, prose-bound, routine remembering. Putting together, inch by inch the starry worlds. From all the lost collections.
"For Memory," A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far
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!
Next Year in Jerusalem
Jerusalem is more than a place, it is a feeling, it is a hope.
Please take a paper and envelope, and write a brief note to your future self inspired by "next year in Jerusalem."
As metaphor: what is your own personal Jerusalem where you hope to see yourself a year from now?
Put your note in the envelope and address it to yourself.
