In the early 1980s, the Hillel Foundation invited me to speak on a panel at Oberlin College. While on campus, I came across a Haggadah that had been written by some Oberlin students to express feminist concerns. One ritual they devised was placing a crust of bread on the Seder plate, as a sign of solidarity with Jewish lesbians, a statement of defiance against a rebbetzin’s pronouncement that, “There’s as much room for a lesbian in Judaism as there is for a crust of bread on the seder plate.”

At the next Passover, I placed an orange on our family's Seder plate. During the first part of the Seder, I asked everyone to take a segment of the orange, make the blessing over fruit, and eat it as a gesture of solidarity with Jewish lesbians and gay men, and others who are marginalized within the Jewish community.

Bread on the Seder plate brings an end to Pesach-- it renders everything chametz. And it suggests that being lesbian is being transgressive, violating Judaism. I felt that an orange was suggestive of something else: the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men are contributing and active members of Jewish life. In addition, each orange segment had a few seeds that had to be spit out--a gesture of spitting out, repudiating the homophobia of Judaism.

When lecturing, I often mentioned my custom as one of many new feminist rituals that have been developed in the last twenty years. Somehow, though, the typical patriarchal maneuver occurred:

My idea of an orange and my intention of affirming lesbians and gay men were transformed. Now the story circulates that a man said to me that a woman belongs on the bimah as an orange on the Seder plate. A woman's words are attributed to a man, and the affirmation of lesbians and gay men is simply erased.

Isn't that precisely what's happened over the centuries to women's ideas? And isn’t this precisely the erasure of their existence that gay and lesbian Jews continue to endure, to this day?

- Excerpted from an Email from Professor Susannah Heschel

:קָרֵב יוֹם אֲשֶׁר הוּא לֹא יוֹם וְלֹא לַיְלָה

Bring [us] close [to] the day which is not day and not night.

As the sun sinks and the colors of the day turn, we offer a blessing for the twilight, for
twilight is neither day nor night, but in-between.

We are all twilight people. We can never be fully labeled or defined. We are many identities
and loves, many genders and none.

We are in between roles, at the intersection of histories, or between place and place.

We are neither day nor night. We are both, neither, and all.

May the in-between of this evening suspend our certainties, soften our judgments,
and widen our vision.

May this in-between light illuminate our way to a path transcends all categories and
definitions.

We cannot always define; we can always say a blessing. Blessed are You, Blessed are those, who dwell on, and celebrate Twilight!

- (Based on) Rabbi Reuben Zellman, TransTorah.org

What is Egypt? Everyone has their own Egypt, their own narrow place. An Egypt in which we are enslaved to the thirst for freedom. And at times, we are so lost, till we can no longer visualize that thirst for freedom. 

Tonight, we are commemorating the Exodus from our own personal Egypt:

We have shedded our personal idols we were taught to worship;

We no longer sell our bodies, souls, and lives, to a God that humans created for themselves, and our past imposed on us. 

Our essence now, our goal, is the fulfillment of a godliness, a divine inspiration that we constitute for ourselves and others, through the good and the light that we spread around us.

We have shedeed our enslavement to the opinions of others on us;

We no longer sell our bodies, souls, and lives, to what other people, friends and family from the past or the present, might say about us.

We are at peace with our decisions, and at peace with our path.

The path that we chose for ourselves from amongst the many paths we have explored and tried for ourselves!  

Pesach, Matzah, and Marror

We know what those symbols are for:

Remember the sacrifice,

Hold sacred the flight,

Taste the bitterness without any delight.

Each year at our seder on the table we add,

Items, in addition to those used traditionally.

We do this to encourage ourselves to ask and seek,

“What makes this night different?”

and “What is our task?”

We hope the sunflower will spark such a query,

So we can explain to all the weary,

So that we reflect on ourselves and around us.

That our sisters and brothers, both Jewish and other,

Want to live freely in peace with each other.

So why the sunflower this year on our table?

To hope for those who might not be able,

To celebrate Pesach this year as free Jews.

To remember all those people, who cannot, 

Through acts of tyranny, celebrate life as free people.

When all they want is the basic freedom,

To live in Ukraine however they choose.

We hope in this symbol that we will learn

That’s it’s peace we all want, it’s freedom we yearn.

On this seder night we hope and we act,

That the world will bring peace to Ukraine today.

So tonight as this sunflower graces our table,

Let us pledge to raise funds, to send food if we’re able.

So the freedom we celebrate and the story we hear,

Will inspire us to help others make this a better year.

לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה יִהְיֶה שָׁלוֹם

For next year, 

Let there be peace.

Blessed are you the Great Earth, 

And blessed are you the person who labored, 

That came together to give us the fruit of the vine.

Occasions to rejoice, Holidays and Festivals to delight in,

Let us dedicate this Festival of Matzot, 

The season of our liberation - a sanctified gathering, remembering

The Exodus from Egypt.

Feminine Language Blessing:

“We wash our hands, and we do NOT make the Hand-Washing Blessing!”

Traditionally, this handwashing is purely ritualistic and customary, to the extent that we are taught not to make the blessing we would make when we are commended to wash (such as before bread). This year however, as we are fighting the worst pandemic of the century, handwashing takes on a whole new meaning. One that isn’t for religious or ritualistic reasons, but simply to survive. 

We can set our intentions:

Passover, like many of our holidays, combines the celebration of an event from our Jewish memory with a recognition of the cycles of nature. As we remember the liberation from Egypt, we also recognize the stirrings of spring and rebirth happening in the world around us. The symbols on our table bring together elements of both kinds of celebration.

We now take a vegetable, representing our joy at the dawning of spring after our long, cold winter. Most families use a green vegetable, such as parsley or celery, but some families from Eastern Europe have a tradition of using a boiled potato since greens were hard to come by at Passover time. Whatever symbol of spring and sustenance we’re using, we now dip it into salt water, a symbol of the tears our ancestors shed as slaves. Before we eat it, we recite a short blessing:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruits of the earth.

We look forward to spring and the reawakening of flowers and greenery. They haven’t been lost, just buried beneath the snow, getting ready for reappearance just when we most needed them.

-

We all have aspects of ourselves that sometimes get buried under the stresses of our busy lives. What has this winter taught us? What elements of our own lives do we hope to revive this spring?

Yachatz

We break the middle Matzah. 

And why the middle one specifically?

For we are not escaping from the past (the bottom matzah)

And we are not afraid from the future (the top matzah)

We, our hearts and spirits are living the present. 

A present that combines the contemporary moments of grace

With the experience of the past, and the building of the future.

The answers to the first three questions are drawn from Michelle Alexander’s groundbreaking book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness (2010). Excerpts are cited with “NJC” and the page number.

Question #1

Why does America have the highest incarceration rate of any developed nation in the world?

Many factors have increased the incarceration rate, including the War on Drugs, the imposition of mandatory minimum sentencing, and privatization of prisons, which creates financial incentives for keeping people in prison.

“The impact of the drug war has been astounding. In less than thirty years, the U.S. penal population exploded from around 300,000 to more than 2 million, with drug convictions accounting for the majority of the increase. The United States now by far has the highest incarceration rate in the world.” (NJC, p. 6)

Incarceration is a tool of social control.

“[D]rug crime was declining, not rising, when a drug war was declared in 1972. From a historical perspective, however, the lack of correlation between crime and punishment is nothing new. Sociologists have frequently observed that governments use punishment primarily as a tool of social control, and thus the extent or severity of punishment is often unrelated to actual crime patterns.” (NJC, p. 7)

Question #2

Who is being locked up in the United States?

There is a strong racial dimension to the pattern of incarceration.

“No other country in the world imprisons so many of its racial or ethnic minorities. The United States imprisons a larger percentage of its black population than South Africa did at the height of apartheid. In Washington, D.C., our nation’s capitol, it is estimated that three out of four young black men (and nearly all those in the poorest neighborhoods) can expect to serve time in prison. Similar rates of incarceration can be found in black communities across America.

“These stark racial disparities cannot be explained by rates of drug crime. Studies show that people of all colors use and sell illegal drugs at remarkably similar rates . . . This is not what one would guess, however, when entering our nation’s prisons and jails, which are overflowing with black and brown drug offenders.” (NJC, p. 6)

The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. (Deuteronomy 26:6, Haggadah)

Two Personal Stories

Michelle Alexander describes two experiences of harsh treatment in the criminal justice system:

“Imagine you are Emma Faye Stewart, a thirty-year-old, single African-American mother of two who was arrested as part of a drug sweep in Hearne, Texas. All but one of those people arrested were African- American. You are innocent. After a week in jail, you have no one to care for your two small children and are eager to get home. Your court-appointed attorney urges you to plead guilty to a drug distribution charge, saying the prosecutor has offered probation. You refuse, steadfastly proclaiming your innocence. Finally, after almost a month in jail, you decide to plead guilty so you can return home to your children. Unwilling to risk a trial and years of imprisonment, you are sentenced to ten years probation and ordered to pay $1,000 in fines, as well as court and probation costs. You are also now branded a drug felon. You are no longer eligible for food stamps; you may be discriminated against in employment; you cannot vote for at least twelve years; and you are about to be evicted from public housing. Once homeless, your children will be taken away from you and put in foster care.

“A judge eventually dismisses all cases against the defendants who did not plead guilty. At trial, the judge finds that the entire sweep was based on the testimony of a single informant who lied to the prosecution. You, however, are still a drug felon, homeless, and desperate to regain custody of your children.

“Now place yourself in the shoes of Clifford Runoalds, another African-American victim of the Hearne drug bust. You returned home to Bryan, Texas, to attend the funeral of your eighteen-month-old daughter. Before the funeral services begin, the police show up and handcuff you. You beg the officers to let you take one last look at your daughter before she is buried. The police refuse. You are told by prosecutors that you are needed to testify against one of the defendants in a recent drug bust. You deny witnessing any drug transaction; you don’t know what they are talking about. Because of your refusal to cooperate, you are indicted on felony charges. After a month of being held in jail, the charges against you are dropped. You are technically free, but as a result of your arrest and period of incarceration, you lose your job, your apartment, your furniture, and your car. Not to mention the chance to say good-bye to your baby girl.” (NJC, pp. 97-98)

Question #3

Why are so many African Americans, as well as other people of color, being treated like criminals?

Mass incarceration is a tool to reinforce a racial caste system in the United States.

“Slavery defined what it meant to be black (a slave), and Jim Crow defined what it meant to be black (a second-class citizen). Today mass incarceration defines the meaning of blackness in America: black people, especially black men, are criminals. That is what it means to be black.

“The temptation is to insist that black men ‘choose’ to be criminals; the system does not make them criminals, at least not in the way that slavery made blacks slaves or Jim Crow made them second-class citizens. The myth of choice here is seductive, but it should be resisted. African Americans are not significantly more likely to use or sell prohibited drugs than whites, but they are made criminals at drastically higher rates for precisely the same conduct. In fact, studies suggest that white professionals may be the most likely of any group to have engaged in illegal drug activity in their lifetime, yet they are the least likely to be made criminals. . . . Black people have been made criminals by the War on Drugs to a degree that dwarfs its effect on other racial and ethnic groups, especially whites. And the process of making them criminals has produced racial stigma. (NJC, pp. 196-197)

Question #4
Why do we, as Jews and friends of Jews, ask these questions on this seder night?

We cried out to the Eternal One, the God of our ancestors, who heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. (Deuteronomy 26:7, Haggadah)

There are Jews of color who have personal stories to tell about experiencing racism; there are Jews of all colors who have personal stories to tell about incarceration and the criminal justice system. But the issue affects us all, whether or not we have personal stories to tell. As the people of the Exodus, we are called to witness the suffering of our neighbors, to open ours eyes and to cry out in the name of justice.

Then the Eternal One freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and signs and portents. (Deuteronomy 26:8, Haggadah)

Dismantling the system of mass incarceration and creating a system of justice and dignity for all Americans calls for wisdom, perseverance, hard work, and faith. We must raise our voices and build alliances. We pray for the ability to see clearly, to act with compassion, and to forgive ourselves for the ways we have unknowingly been agents of oppression. We pray for courage, guidance, and strength as we celebrate Passover, our festival of freedom.

We read together the words of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr, from his letter from a Birmingham, Alabama jail on April 16, 1963:

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

אֲרַמִּי֙ אֹבֵ֣ד אָבִ֔י

(Page 21)

Imaginary man, go. Here is your passport. 

You are not allowed to remember. 

You have to match the description:

your eyes are already blue. 

Don’t escape with the sparks

inside the smokescreen: 

you are a man, you sit in the train. 

Sit comfortably. 

You’ve got a decent coat now, 

a repaired body, a new name 

ready in your throat.

Go. you are not allowed to forget.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה

בִּקְשׁוּ מַלְאֲכֵי הַשָּׁרֵת

לוֹמַר שִׁירָה לִפְנֵי הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא

אָמַר לָהֶם

מַעֲשֵׂה יָדַי טוֹבְעִים בַּיָּם

וְאַתֶּם אוֹמְרִים שִׁירָה לְפָנַי

The Rabbis teach us (Babylonian Megillah 10b):

At the very hour that the Egyptians were drowning, 

The angels wanted to sing before the Divine.

She said to them:

“My children are drowning in the sea - 

Yet you want to sing in My presence?!”

As the hairs of slaves redeemed from Egypt’s violence,

We rejoice at the sight of oppression overcome. 

Yet, our triumph is diminished by the slaughter of the foe.

Therefore we take ten drops from the wine in within our cups:

One for each plague -

Whether modern or ancient, whether the plagued “deserved it” 

Or not. 

For while we wish and aim for liberty and justice for all, 

We did not wish pain on any.

2) 44% felt unsafe at school due to gender identification

3) 42% of LGBT youth have experienced cyber bullying

4) 42% of LBGT youth say the community in which they live in is not accepting of LGBT people

5) Only 77% of LGBT youth say they know things will get better

6) 60% LGBT students report feeling unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation

7) LGBT youth are 4 times more likely to attempt suicide as their straight peers

8) LGBT students are twice as likely to say that they were not planning on completing high school or going on to college

9) LGBT youth who reported higher levels of family rejection during adolescence are three times more likely to use illegal drugs

10) Half of gay males experience a negative parental reaction when they come out and in 26% of those cases the youth was thrown out of the home

The traditional Haggadah lists ten plagues that afflicted the Egyptians. We live in a very different world, but Passover is a good time to remember that, even after our liberation from slavery in Egypt, there are still many challenges for us to meet. Here are ten “modern plagues”:

Inequity - Access to affordable housing, quality healthcare, nutritious food, good schools, and higher education is far from equal. The disparity between rich and poor is growing, and opportunities for upward mobility are limited.

Entitlement - Too many people consider themselves entitled to material comfort, economic security, and other privileges of middle-class life without hard work.

Fear - Fear of “the other” produces and reinforces xenophobia, anti-immigrant sentiment, antisemitism, homophobia, and transphobia.

Greed - Profits are a higher priority than the safety of workers or the health of the environment. The top one percent of the American population controls 42% of the country’s financial wealth, while corporations send jobs off-shore and American workers’ right to organize and bargain collectively is threatened.

Distraction - In this age of constant connectedness, we are easily distracted by an unending barrage of information, much of it meaningless, with no way to discern what is important.

Distortion of reality - The media constructs and society accepts unrealistic expectations, leading to eating disorders and an unhealthy obsession with appearance for both men and women.

Unawareness - It is easy to be unaware of the consequences our consumer choices have for the environment and for workers at home and abroad. Do we know where or how our clothes are made? Where or how our food is produced? The working conditions? The impact on the environment?

Discrimination - While we celebrate our liberation from bondage in Egypt, too many people still suffer from discrimination. For example, blacks in the United States are imprisoned at more than five times the rate of whites, and Hispanics are locked up at nearly double the white rate. Women earn 77 cents for every dollar earned by a man. At 61 cents to the dollar, the disparity is even more shocking in Jewish communal organization.

Silence - Every year, 4.8 million cases of domestic violence against American women are reported. We do not talk about things that are disturbing, such as rape, sex trafficking, child abuse, domestic violence, and elder abuse, even though they happen every day in our own communities.

Feeling overwhelmed and disempowered - When faced with these modern “plagues,” how often do we doubt or question our own ability to make a difference? How often do we feel paralyzed because we do not know what to do to bring about change?

it would not be sufficient

If we were to end those bloody wars, but not disarm the nations

it would not be sufficient

If we were to disarm the nations, but not prevent some people from starving while others wallowed in luxury

it would not be sufficient

If we were to make sure that no person starved, but we were not to free the daring poets from their jails,

it would not be sufficient 

If we were to free the poets from their jails, but not train people's minds so that they could understand the poets,

it would not be sufficient

If were were to educate all the people to understand the poets, but not teach the people to share in the community of human kind. 

If would not be sufficient! 

The traditional Dayenu song proclaims what would have been enough, recognizing the many blessings given to us at every step of our struggles. Tonight, let us commit ourselves to the work ahead by telling ourselves,

Lo Dayenu!

It is not enough!

If we were proud of ourselves,

But were still afraid to come out at home to family and friends, 

And at school and at work,

Then it would not be enough for us. 

• Lo Dayenu, it would not suffice!

If we were not afraid to come out, 

But did not have many diverse spiritual homes that embraced us, 

And fully reflected our communities, in both leadership and group roles,

Then it would not be enough for us.

• Lo Dayenu, it would not suffice!

If we had diverse spiritual homes, 

But did not have full recognition and protections for our relationships

And families - in whatever way that family is - across all state and international borders,

Then it would not be enough for us.

• Lo Dayenu, it would not suffice!

If we had full recognition of our families, 

But many LGBTQ people still feared persecution, hate, or violence;

And other people suspected of being queer still feard the same.

Then it would not be enough for us.

• Lo Dayenu, it would not suffice!

If queer people everywhere had full rights, 

But we failed to recognize how class, race, and ethnicity intersects,

And how different people’s queer identities make it harder to thrive,

Then it would not be enough for us.

• Lo Dayenu, it would not suffice!

לֹא דַיֵּינוּ!

It Would Not Suffice!

The Passover Symbols

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.

The Orange

Even after one has encountered the collection of seemingly unconnected foods on the seder plate year after year, it’s fun to ask what it’s all about. Since each item is supposed to spur discussion, it makes sense that adding something new has been one way to introduce contemporary issues to a seder.

So how was it that the orange found its place on the seder plate as a Passover symbol of feminism and women’s rights?

The most familiar version of the story features Susannah Heschel, daughter of Abraham Joshua Heschel and scholar in her own right, giving a speech about the ordination of women clergy. From the audience, a man declared, “A woman belongs on the bima like an orange belongs on the seder plate!” However, Heschel herself tells a different story.

During a visit to Oberlin College in the early 1980s, she read a feminist Haggadah that called for placing a piece of bread on the seder plate as a symbol of the need to include gays and lesbians in Jewish life. Heschel liked the idea of putting something new on the seder plate to represent suppressed voices, but she was uncomfortable with using chametz, which she felt would invalidate the very ritual it was meant to enhance. She chose instead to add an orange and to interpret it as a symbol of all marginalized populations.

Miriam’s Cup

A decade later, the ritual of Miriam’s Cup emerged as another way to honor women during the seder. Miriam’s Cup builds upon the message of the orange, transforming the seder into an empowering and inclusive experience.

Although Miriam, a prophet and the sister of Moses, is never mentioned in the traditional Haggadah text, she is one of the central figures in the Exodus story.

According to Jewish feminist writer Tamara Cohen, the practice of filling a goblet with water to symbolize Miriam’s inclusion in the seder originated at a Rosh Chodesh group in Boston in 1989. The idea resonated with many people and quickly spread.

Miriam has long been associated with water. The rabbis attribute to Miriam the well that traveled with the Israelites throughout their wandering in the desert. In the Book of Numbers, the well dries up immediately following Miriam’s death. Of course, water played a role in Miriam’s life from the first time we meet her, watching over the infant Moses on the Nile, through her triumphant crossing of the Red Sea.

There is no agreed-upon ritual for incorporating Miriam’s Cup into the seder, but there are three moments in the seder that work particularly well with Miriam’s story.

1) As Moses’s sister, Miriam protected him as an infant and made sure he was safely received by Pharaoh’s daughter. Some seders highlight this moment by invoking her name at the start of the Maggid section when we begin telling the Passover story.

2) Other seders, such as this one, incorporate Miriam’s cup when we sing songs of praise during the Maggid and later during the Hallel as a reminder that Miriam led the Israelites in song and dance during the Exodus.

3) Still others place Miriam’s Cup alongside the cup we put out for Elijah.

Just as there is no set time in the seder to use Miriam’s Cup, there is no set ritual or liturgy either. Some fill the cup with water at the start of the seder; others fill the cup during the seder. Some sing Debbie Friedman’s “Miriam’s Song”; others sing “Miriam Ha-Neviah.” As with all seder symbols, Miriam’s Cup is most effective when it inspires discussion.

What does Miriam mean to you? How do all of her roles, as sister, protector, prophet, leader, singer, and dancer, contribute to our understanding of the Exodus story? Who are the Miriams of today?

The Exodus: A Personal Coming Out, In Every Generation

“In our tradition leaving Egypt wasn’t an historical event alone. In our tradition, it was a personal and existential leaving as well.

"בְּכָל דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת עַצְמוֹ\עַצְמָהּ כְאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא\ה מִמִּצְרַיִם”
(In every generation a person must regard themselves as though they personally had gone out of Egypt)

Whenever we leave a narrow place, a place of constriction, painful servitude, a place where we are not authentically who we are, that leap taking, that transitioning, is an exodus. A freedom walk.

Rabbi David Ingber, Romemu

The tradition teaches us, that not only is coming out something that is acceptable in our tradition, but it is something to admire, to strive for, and to some extend, we have an obligation in every generation to take that leap, and Come Out!

הִגָּלֶה נָא וּפְרוֹס חֲבִיבִי עָלַי אֶת סֻכַּת שְׁלוֹמֶךָ

Please, be revealed and spread the covering, beloved, Upon me, the shelter of your tranquility.

Yedid Nefesh - ידיד נפש

As we start the evening, let's keep this in mind. Let us understand that resistance in our tradition isn't merely acceptable, but an obligation. It is something that we have learned through thousands of years, and resistance is what gave us the power to overcome relentless oppression.

We sing “Miriam’s Song,” by Debbie Friedman in honor of Miriam and the Israelite women at the crossing at the Sea.

Chorus: And the women dancing with their timbrels
Followed Miriam as she sang her song.
Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted.
Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long.

And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety.
The tapestry she wove was one, which sang our history. With every thread and every strand she crafted her delight. A woman touched with spirit, she dances toward the light.

[Chorus]

As Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea,
The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe.
Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom, and march to the Promised Land.

[Chorus]

And Miriam the Prophet took her Timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned. And Miriam raised her voice with song.
She sang with praise and might,

We’ve just lived through a miracle; we’re going to dance tonight.

The message of Passover carries a sense of humbleness to the self, placing one’s frame of mind in a more balanced proportion relative to one’s immediate surroundings and to the universe as a whole. Self-centeredness can magnify one’s view of the world to the point where one can only see oneself more than one can see one’s environment and those in it. The Feast (and Feat) of Freedom, called Passover, is a shining example of a meaningful story showing God’s intent to convey a psychological balance between the Israelite’s self-concerns and the concerns of their enemies, the Egyptians.

Similarly today we recognize both our society’s evolution in embracing the GLBT community and the challenges still to come. We strike a balance between celebrating our victories and recognizing the pain and hardships that we have endured. We thank our allies for their unending support and God for providing us with the strength to seek a just world.

Have a participant open the door for Elijah. Make sure that all participants have an extra wine glass that has not been used for the previous three cups of wine and will not be used for the fourth cup of wine. Pour a cup of wine into the additional wine glass. Raising the additional cup of wine and read as a group:

Gathered around the Seder table, we ultimately pour four cups, remembering the gift of freedom that our ancestors received centuries ago. We delight in our liberation from Pharaoh’s oppression.

We drink four cups for four promises fulfilled.

The first cup as God said, “I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians.”

The second as God said, “And I will deliver you from their bondage.”

The third as God said, “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with great judgments.”

The fourth because God said, “I will take you to be My People.”

We know, though, that all are not yet free. As we welcome Elijah the Prophet into our homes, we offer an additional cup, a cup not yet consumed.

An additional cup for the more than 68 million refugees and displaced people around the world still waiting to be free – from the refugee camps in Chad to the cities and towns of Ukraine, for the Syrian refugees still waiting to be delivered from the hands of tyrants, for the thousands of asylum seekers in the United States still waiting in detention for redemption to come, for all those who yearn to be taken in not as strangers but as fellow human beings.

This Passover, let us walk in the footsteps of the One who delivered us from bondage. When we rise from our Seder tables, may we be emboldened to take action on behalf of the world’s refugees, hastening Elijah’s arrival as we speak out on behalf of those who are not yet free.

Place this additional cup of wine down untasted.

SUNFLOWERS By Natalia Senchenko

Sunflowers are blooming, sunflowers
in Ukraine, in the boundless fields…
From them stem calm and sunlight
In our homeland, in our heartbeats….

In the spring thick little black grains
Will fall on soft wet soil;
And on strong stems, fused under sun
Will flower baskets of honey blossom….

In each stem - might and spirit unbreakable
Grow under the sun in splendor and shine….

For good, wealth, and for joy
From flowers will ripen sapid grains….

Our flower is the blossom of sunshine
In the field of clear sky blue
A sign of peace, unity, prosperity
A sign of the might of Ukrainian land….

Sunflowers are blooming, sunflowers
in Ukraine, in the boundless fields
From them stem calm and sunlight
In our homeland, in our heartbeats.

Vinnytsia, 28 March 2022

Natalia Senchenko is a Ukrainian songwriter, published poet, social activist, and trained medical doctor based in her hometown of Vinnytsia.

Translated by Alex Yakubson with Shawn Landres for @sunflowersonyourtable
Art by Anna Abramzon Studio 

L'Shana Haba'ah, Next Year - לשנה הבאה

Traditionally, the Seder is wrapped up with “Next Year in Jerusalem,” whether Jerusalem as the physical location, or a spiritual manifestation. Regardless if we relate to that or not, this is also a place to express different wishes for the next year.

Over the past two years, as the Covid pandemic raged, many of us were saying “Next Year In Person,” to indicate a hope for a post pandemic world, where it’s safe to be together. While the pandemic isn’t over, we have the ability to come together safely. Given that, this “L'Shana Haba'ah”, hoping and wishing to be able to keep coming together in joy, seems fitting. 

לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה יַחַד בְּרִינָּה

Next Year, Together in Joy

אֶל־גִּנַּ֤ת אֱגוֹז֙ יָרַ֔דְתִּי,

לִרְא֖וֹת בְּאִבֵּ֣י הַנָּ֑חַל. 

לִרְאוֹת֙ הֲפָֽרְחָ֣ה הַגֶּ֔פֶן,

הֵנֵ֖צוּ הָרִמֹּנִֽים׃

צו דעם נוסגאָרטן בין איך אראָפ-געגאַנגען, 

צו באַקוקן די פײַכע גראָז פון די טאָל. 

צו זען אױב דער װײַנשטאָק האָט שוין געבליט, 

אױב די מילגרױמען האָבן שוין געצײַטיגט.

I went down to the garden of nuts,

To see the moist plants of the valley;

To see whether the vine had blossomed,

If the pomegranates had sprouted.

Over the past few years I have been adding a (halved) pomegranate to my Seder Plate. In addition to the traditional six Simanim (signs) on the Plate, plus the feminst tradition of the orange, and this year (5782/2022) sunflowers for Ukraine. 

As the above Shir Hashirim (Song of Songs) verse - traditionally recited after the Seder -   indicates, the pomegranate celebrates spring. The Singer of the Songs includes them along with nuts and grapes, both of which already have a traditional place in Pesach food, and Seder customs. Personally though, the pomegranate, or milgrom in its Yiddish name, celebrates something more: 

It celebrates our formerly Orthodox, our “Frei” (free) community.

It celebrates those Jews, and maybe “former” Jews to some, who have been told that we are “bad.” That we are sinners, heretics, or/and have no place celebrating Yom Tov (Jewish holiday) in our own way. 

In our own way we say - we are a worthy part within the rainbow of Jewish experiences and practices. 

Our Judaism isn’t just okay.

It is worthy of celebration. 

The Talmud equates the pomegranate to Jews who are called “Sinners of the Jewish People.” This term, in its Ashkenazi pronunciation of “Poshe’ei Yisro’eil” is often thrown at us, Frei Jews, as if it’s a negative term. 

The last lines of the tractate of Chagigah (27a) states:

פּוֹשְׁעֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁמְּלֵאִין מִצְוֹת כְּרִמּוֹן, דִּכְתִיב (שיר השירים ד,ג'): ״כְּפֶלַח הָרִמּוֹן רַקָּתֵךְ״, אַל תִּקְרֵי ״רַקָּתֵךְ״, אֶלָּא: רֵקָנִין שֶׁבָּךְ — עַל אַחַת כַּמָּה וְכַמָּה.

The sinners of Israel (here referring to the Jewish people) who are full of Mitzvot (good deeds) like a pomegranate; as it is written in Song of Songs (4:3), “Your temples are like a split pomegranate.” Do not read “Your temples,” rather the “empty among you.”

I do not think we are sinners.

I do not think we are the “Empty Ones” within the Jewish people.

Frankly, some, if not most, of the people who created the most inspiring, progressive, and inclusive movements within Judaism were people who grew up in more fundematlist/Orthodox communities, and left. People who the Orthodox community would say they were “OTD - Off The Derech” or “Frei” (free - which somehow is supposed to be negative, even though it sounds, and is, positive), but in reality were very much “OTD - On Their Derech.” Whether the founders of the Reform movement, or Heschel in the Conservative movement. Whether Kaplan in Reconstructionist Judaism, the leaders of Jewish Renewal, to some of the leaders and pioneers of Queer Judaism.

Yet, like terms such as Queer, Frei, and Dyke - we take words and ideas that are meant to be slurs imposed on us by haters, and turn them into a way of celebrating who we are, because of who we are.

The Talmud uses pomegranates as the symbol of positivity within each and every-one of us, the “sinners.” Just like that we see it as the celebration of the good in each and everyone of us. 

Not despite choosing our own “heretical” paths, but because of it. 

The Pomegranate tonight tells us that we are not just at this Seder in-spite of leaving, in-spite of being Frei. Rather, we are at this Seder because of it. 

Because - - - 

Choosing our own paths is beautiful.

Choosing our own paths, at its core, is exactly what Pesach and the Seder Nacht is about.

Being Frei is another beautiful identity!

A Frelichen - not a kosher - Pesach <3