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TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Seder Plate
We place a Seder Plate at our table as a reminder to discuss certain aspects of the Passover story. Each item has its own significance.
Maror – bitter herb or horseradish, which represents the bitterness of slavery.
Charoset – A delicious mix of sweet wine, apples, cinnamon and nuts that resembles the mortar used as bricks of the many buildings the Jewish slaves built in Egypt
Karpas – A green vegetable, usually parsley, is a reminder of the green sprouting up all around us during spring and is used to dip into the saltwater
Zeroah – A beet represents the sacrifices we have made to survive. Before the tenth plague, our people slaughtered lambs and marked our doors with blood: because of this marking, the Angel of Death passed over our homes and our first-born were spared.
Avocado – which symbolizes creative power, our rebirth.
Orange - In the early 1980s, Susannah Heschel, a cool jewish lesbian, attended a feminist seder where bread was placed on the seder plate, a reaction to a rabbi who had claimed lesbians had no more place in Judaism than bread crusts have at a seder. “Bread on the seder plate…renders everything chametz, and its symbolism suggests that being lesbian is transgressive, violating Judaism,” Heschel writes. “I felt that an orange was suggestive of something else: the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians, gay men, and trans people are contributing and active members of Jewish life.” To speak of slavery and long for liberation, she says, “demands that we acknowledge our own complicity in enslaving others.” One additional item on our seder plate, therefore, is an orange, representing the radical feminist notion that there is—there must be—a place at the table for all of us, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation. May our lives be inclusive, welcoming, and fruitful.
Matzah
Matzah is the unleavened bread we eat to remember that when the jews fled Egypt, they didn’t even have time to let the dough rise on their bread.
Elijah’s Cup
The fifth ceremonial cup of wine poured during the Seder. It is left untouched in honor of Elijah, who, according to tradition, will arrive one day as an unknown guest to herald the advent of the Messiah. During the Seder dinner, biblical verses are read while the door is briefly opened to welcome Elijah. In this way the Seder dinner not only commemorates the historical redemption from Egyptian bondage of the Jewish people but also calls to mind their future redemption when Elijah and the Messiah shall appear.
Miriam’s Cup
The cup is filled with water and placed next to Elijah’s cup. Miriam was the sister of Moses and a prophetess in her own right. After the exodus when the Israelites are wandering through the desert, just as Hashem gave them Manna to eat, legend says that a well of water followed Miriam and it was called ‘Miriam’s Well’. The tradition of Miriam’s cup is meant to honor Miriam’s role in the story of the Jewish people and the spirit of all women, who nurture their families just as Miriam helped sustain the Israelites.
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 as we wash our hands to consider what we hope to get out of our evening together.
The karpas gives us the tension between the aliveness of Spring and the bitter tears we wept in the land of Egypt. We are refreshed by the greenness of the karpas, yet our tastebuds wince at the salt water to dip them in, as we recall our own experience of being strangers. Our tongues push our thoughts towards those who are made strangers in our present time, in this country.
We dip the karpas. The salt water is bitter tears running down the cheeks and seeping into the corners of the mouth; tears of all strangers everywhere. Taste them.
This brokenness is not just a physical or political situation: It reminds us of all those hard, damaged places within ourselves. All those narrow places from which we want to break to free. In Hebrew, Egypt is called Mitzrayim, reminding us of the word tzar, narrow. Thus, in Hassidic thought, Mitzrayim symbolizes the inner straits that trap our souls. Yet even here we can find a unique value, as the Hassidic saying teaches us: "There is nothing more whole – than a broken heart."
SHARE: Pass out a whole matza to every Seder participant, inviting them to take a moment to ponder this entrance into a broken world, before they each break the matza themselves.
The MaNishtana traditionally asks us, “What is unique or different about tonight?” and, “Why do we eat Matzah, why do we dip and eat Bitter Herbs not just once, but twice and why do we recline?” These elements are symbolic themes that mirror the reflection our ancestor’s liberation from slavery, the hardships they experienced and the oppression that infringed on their freedoms. Tonight at this Queer Liberation Seder we incorporate a fifth question and answer. “What is unique or different about tonight’s seder, why tonight do we have Pride?” Pride is an importance concept in the queer community. We are taught to feel the exact opposite - to feel ashamed for who we love, for who we are, for how we are born. Tonight, we use this word often to demonstrate we reject homophobia and transphobia, within the Jewish community and outside of it. Tonight, we are proud of our sexual orientations and gender identities.
מַה נִשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מכל ־הַלֵּילוֹת
שבכל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה
הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלּוֹ מַצָּה
שבכל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת
הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר
שבכל־הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּעַם אֶחָת
הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעָמִים
שבכל־הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין
הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּנוּ מְסֻבִּין
Mah nish-ta-na ha-lai-lah ha-zeh mi-kol ha-lei-lot!
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin ha-metz u-matzah. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-lo matzah?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin sh’ar y’ra-kot. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, maror?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot ein a-nu mat-bi-lin a-fi-lu pa-am e-hat. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, sh-tei fi-ah-mim?
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot a-nu och-lin bayn yosh-vin ou-vein mis-u-bin. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-la-nu mis- u-bin?
Why is this night different from all other nights?
On all other nights we eat either leavened bread or matzah. Why, on this night, do we eat only matzah?
On all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs. Why, on this night, do we eat only bitter herbs?
On all other nights we do not dip herbs. Why, on this night, do we dip them twice?
On all other nights we eat sitting or reclining on pillows. Why, on this night, do we eat only reclining upon pillows?
The fifth question:
Sheh-beh-chol ha-lei-lot sed-er a-nu o-seem sed-er ma-sar-ti. Ha-lai-lah ha-zeh, ku-la-nu ga-im?
On all other Seder nights we do a traditional Seder. Why, on this night, do we have Pride?
The Five Answers
Speaker 1: We were slaves in Egypt. Our ancestor in flight from Egypt did not have time to let the dough rise. With not a moment to spare they snatched up the dough they had prepared and fled. But the hot sun beat as they carried the dough along with them and baked it into the flat unleavened bread we call matzah.
Speaker 2: The first time we dip our greens to taste the brine of enslavement. We also dip to remind ourselves of all life and growth, of earth and sea, which gives us sustenance and comes to life again in the springtime.
Speaker 3: The second time we dip the maror into the charoset. The charoset reminds us of the mortar that our ancestors mixed as slaves in Egypt. But our charoset is made of fruit and nuts, to show us that our ancestors were able to withstand the bitterness of slavery because it was sweetened by the hope of freedom.
Speaker 4: Slaves were not allowed to rest, not even while they ate. Since our ancestors were freed from slavery, we recline to remind ourselves that we, like our ancestors, can overcome bondage in our own time. We also recline to remind ourselves that rest and rejuvenation are vital to continuing our struggles. We should take pleasure in reclining, even as we share our difficult history.
Speaker 5: We are proud to be trans, gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer, non-binary, gender fluid, and everything else under the rainbow. We are proud of historical queer Jewish resistance. Two generations ago we were forced to wear pink of black triangles as signs of shame in the camps. A generation ago, while enjoying our weekend escapes at bars, we would have been arrested, beaten, robbed, and raped. We honor our ancestors who fought back, and we channel their energy to continue fighting today. As a community we have come far, and while we are far from liberation, we should reflect proudly on our accomplishments. Tonight, let our hearts swell with pride at this Queer Passover Seder.
(This four people was written by the Jewish Multiracial Network)
Leader: On Passover, the Haggadah speaks about four sons; one who is wise, one who is evil, one who is innocent and one who doesn’t know to ask.
Reader: Tonight, let’s speak about four people striving to engage in racial justice. They are a complicated mix of identity and experience; they are not simply good or bad, outspoken or silent. They are Jews of Color and white Jews. They are Mizrahi, Sephardi, and Ashkenazi; they are young, middle-aged, and elders. They are a variety of people who are at different stages of their racial justice journey. Some of them have been on this journey for their entire lives, and for some, today is the first day. Some of them are a part of us, and others are quite unfamiliar.
Reader: What do they say? They ask questions about engaging with racial justice as people with a vested interest in Jewishness and Jewish community. How do we answer? We call them in with compassion, learning from those who came before us.
Reader: What does a questioner say?
“I support equality, but the tactics and strategies used by current racial justice movements make me uncomfortable.”
Time and time again during the journey through the desert, the Israelites had to trust Moses and God’s vision of a just future that the Israelites could not see themselves. As they wandered through the desert, eager to reach the Promised Land, they remained anxious about each step on their shared journey. They argued that there must be an easier way, a better leader, a better God. They grumbled to Moses and Aaron in Exodus 16:3, “If only we had died by the hand of God in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the cooking pot, when we ate our fill of bread! For you have brought us out into this wilderness to starve this whole community to death.” Despite their grumblings, they continued onward in their journey.
Reader: As we learn in our Passover retelling, the journey toward liberation can be difficult to map out. There are times when we struggle to identify our own promised land. We see this challenge in various movements, whether for civil rights, women’s rights, LGBTQ rights, workers’ rights, and others. In our retelling of these struggles for justice, we often erase conflicts of leadership, strategy debates, or even the strong contemporary opposition to their successes. Only when we study these movements do we appreciate that all pushes for progress endure similar struggles, indecision, and pushback.
Reader: What does a newcomer say?
“How do I reach out and engage with marginalized communities in an authentic and sustained way?”
We tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt year after year; it is a story not only about slavery and freedom, but also a story of transition. At its core, the Passover story is about the process of moving from oppression to liberation. It informs us that liberation is not easy, but a process of engagement and relationship building.
As the Israelites wandered in the desert, they developed systems of interdependence. Every person contributed what they could given their skills, passions, and capacity to create the mishkan, the Israelites’ spiritual sanctuary in the desert.
Reader: Those of us engaging or looking to engage in racial justice work can learn from that example. We need to show up, and keep showing up. We can spend time going to community meetings, trainings, marches, protests, and other actions while practicing active listening and self-education. Only by each person exploring their own privileges and oppressions, whatever they may be, can we show up fully and thoughtfully in racial justice work.
Reader: What does a Jew of Color say?
“What if I have other interests? Am I obligated to make racial justice my only priority?”
The work of racial justice is not only for People of Color; it is something everyone must be engaged in. Most Jews of Color are happy to be engaged in racial justice, whether professionally, personally, or a mix of both. However, too often the burden of the work falls on our shoulders. The work of racial justice cannot only fall to Jews of Color.
Instead, all Jews who are engaged in tikkun olam, repairing the world, should be engaged in the work of racial justice. Following the leadership of Jews of Color, white Jews must recognize their own personal interest in fighting to dismantle racist systems. When white Jews commit to racial justice work, it better allows Jews of Color to take time for self-care by stepping away from the work or focusing on a different issue. As Rabbi Tarfon writes in Pirke Avot 2:21, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world, but you are not free to desist from it either.”
Reader: What does an avoider say?
“I am so scared of being called a racist, I don’t want to engage in any conversations about race.”
Engaging in conversations about difficult subjects takes time and practice. When Joseph first began having prophetic dreams as a young man, he rudely told his brothers that despite his youth, they would eventually bow down to him. In Genesis 37:8, Joseph’s brothers respond by asking, ‘“Do you mean to rule over us?” And they hated him even more for his talk about his dreams.’ However, as he matured, his dreams became his method of survival. As Joseph learned how to share his dreams with people in power, he was able to reunite with his family and create a period of incredible prosperity in Egypt.
Reader: We will make mistakes when engaging in racial justice. It is part of the process. Engaging in racial justice conversations can be painful and uncomfortable; it is also absolutely essential. We must raise up the dignity in others that we see in ourselves and our loved ones. Empathy for people of different backgrounds, cultures, religions, and races moves us to have these difficult conversations. Compassion for ourselves allows us to keep engaging through guilt or discomfort.
- Once upon a time our people went into exile in the land of Egypt. During a famine our ancestor Jacob and his family fled to Egypt where food was plentiful. His son Joseph had risen to high position in Pharaoh’s court, and our people were well-respected and well-regarded, secure in the power structure of the time.
- Generations passed and our people remained in Egypt. In time, a new Pharaoh ascended to the throne. He found our difference threatening, and ordered our people enslaved. In fear of rebellion, Pharaoh decreed that all Hebrew boy-children be killed. Two Egyptian midwives named Shifrah and Puah defied his orders, claiming that “the Hebrew women are so hardy, they give birth before we arrive!” Through their courage, a boy survived; midrash tells us he was radiant with light.Fearing for his safety, his family placed him in a basket and he floated down the Nile. He was found, and adopted, by Pharaoh’s daughter, who named him Moshe because min ha-mayim m’shitihu, from the water she drew him forth. She hired his mother Yocheved as his wet-nurse. Thus he survived to adulthood, and was raised as Prince of Egypt.
- Although a child of privilege, as he grew he became aware of the slaves who worked in the brickyards of his father. When he saw an overseer mistreat a slave, he struck the overseer and killed him. Fearing retribution, he set out across the Sinai alone. God spoke to him from a burning bush, which though it flamed was not consumed. The Voice called him to lead the Hebrew people to freedom. Moses argued with God, pleading inadequacy, but God disagreed. Sometimes our responsibilities choose us.
- Moses returned to Egypt and went to Pharaoh to argue the injustice of slavery. He gave Pharaoh a mandate which resounds through history: Let my people go. Pharaoh refused, and Moses warned him that Mighty God would strike the Egyptian people. These threats were not idle: ten terrible plagues were unleashed upon the Egyptians. Only when his nation lay in ruins did Pharaoh agree to our liberation.
- Fearful that Pharaoh would change his mind, our people fled, not waiting for their bread dough to rise. (For this reason we eat unleavened bread as we take part in their journey.) Our people did not leave Egypt alone; a “mixed multitude” went with them. From this we learn that liberation is not for us alone, but for all the nations of the earth. Even Pharaoh’s daughter came with us, and traded her old title (bat-Pharaoh, daughter of Pharaoh) for the name Batya, “daughter of God.”
- Pharaoh’s army followed us to the Sea of Reeds. We plunged into the waters. Only when we had gone as far as we could did the waters part for us. We mourn, even now, that Pharaoh’s army drowned: our liberation is bittersweet because people died in our pursuit.
- To this day we relive our liberation, that we may not become complacent, that we may always rejoice in our freedom.
Dom v’eish v’timrot a’shan.
Davar acher: B’yad chazakah – shtayim, u’v’zroah nituyah – shtayim, u’v’morah gadol – shtayim, u’v’otot – shtayim, u’v’moftim – shtayim.
Eilu eser makot sheheivi hakadosh baruch hu al hamitzrim b’mitzrayim, v’eilu hein:
Dom
Tzfardeyah
Kinim
Arov
Dever
Sh’chin
Barad
Arbeh
Choshech
Makat Bechorot
Rabi Yehudah hayah notein bahem simanim:
DTz”K AD”Sh BACh”B
The Ten Plagues
1. Poverty
Almost 58 percent of Palestinians live in poverty, and about half of this group lives in extreme poverty. About 50 percent of Palestinians experience or risk experiencing food insecurity. Food insecurity is particularly severe in Gaza, where the majority of the population relies on humanitarian assistance to survive.
2. Restrictions on movement
There are many physical barriers, including 100 permanent checkpoints and the separation wall, to Palestinian movement within the West Bank, greatly complicating governmental and NGO efforts towards improved service delivery.
3. Water shortage
Hundreds of thousands of Palestinians suffer from a severe water shortage throughout the summer. This shortage of water affects every function that water plays in human life: drinking, bathing, cleaning, and watering of crops and animals.The water shortage violates the basic human rights of Palestinian residents of the Occupied Territories such as the right to health, to adequate housing, to equality, and to benefit from their natural resources.
4. Destruction of Olive Trees
Olive trees have long been a symbol of Palestinian culture and livelihood. The construction of the Wall and invasive settling of Palestinian territory have destroyed hundreds of thousands of Palestinian olive trees since 2000.
5. Home demolitions
Since 1967, over 18,000 Palestinian homes have been demolished in the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem, leaving tens of thousands of families traumatized and without shelter.
6. Family Separation
Over 120,000 permits for family unification pending. Palestinians are prevented from moving between Gaza, West Bank, or Jerusalem for visits, medical care, or to live together as a family.
7. Child prisoners
Systematic attacks on children and their parents, in Gaza and the West Bank, traumatizes an entire generation and violates international law in an attempt to limit Palestinian self determination.
8. Profiteering of Private Companies
Numerous private companies, including Caterpillar, engage in the destruction of Palestinian land and homes for monetary gain.
9. Denial of the Right of Return
The original Palestinian refugees and their descendants are estimated to number more than 6.5 million and constitute the world’s oldest and largest refugee population. However, Palestinians are not granted many of the same rights that are granted to other refugees. The plight of Palestinian refugees needs to be resolved equitably and in a manner that promotes peace and is consistent with international law.
10. Erasing histories
Many schools and communities wrongly teach that in 1948 Palestine was “a land without a people for a people without a land.” Yet this land was never empty or barren, it was home to almost one million Palestinians living in over 700 villages and cities, who share a vibrant history and culture.
--Rabbi Menachem Creditor, Congregation Netivot Shalom, Berkeley, CA
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, asher kidshanu bemitvotav vetzivanu al netilat yadayim.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶך הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל נְטִילַת יָדָיִּם.
Blessed are You ETERNAL our God, Master of time and space, who has sanctified us with commandments and instructed us regarding lifting up our hands.
Motzi Matza
The matzah that we eat on Passover has an even greater signi!cance than mere historical reminiscence. It is truly the bread of affliction, bread that was not eaten in luxury. For the people driven through the desert seeking God through great hardships and difficulty it was the very stuff of life - the foundation upon which they built their future. It is this same bread that we bring into our comfortable homes and our worldly lives. us it serves as a reminder to us that we are to be judged not by the opulence in which we live but by the ideals towards which we strive.
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, ha-motzi lechem min ha-aretz.
We praise You, God, who brings forth bread from the earth.
MATZOH - A Special Blessing for Matzoh
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kidishanu b'mitzvo-tav v'tzivanu al a-chilat matzoh We praise You, God, who hallows our lives with commandments, and enjoins us to partake in eating matzoh
Dipping the bitter herb in sweet charoset | maror |מָרוֹר
We recognize that even though we are so grateful for our journeys toward liberation, and that we experience so much joy through the process of freeing ourselves, there are also many parts of the journey that are difficult and unpleasant.
We acknowledge the mixture of pleasant and unpleasant experiences by mixing bitter and sweet flavors as we eat the maror with charoset.
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.
Rav Kook says each of us took something from that experience that the world needs before it can be fully redeemed. Our father Abraham knew well how to argue with God, but he didn't argue when told his descendants would be slaves for 400 years. We needed to live through the affliction, and come out onh the other side, in order to empower others to do the same. We remind ourselves, each year, of our history and our responsibility.
We are commanded not to oppress the alien in our midst. That alone requires much intention. But, like God and our neighbor, the Torah commands we love the alien, the stranger, the undocumented farmworker or nanny. Why? Because we were aliens in the Land of Mitzrayim. The Torah is explicit: our experience in Egypt demand us to empathize with those who are in similar states of vulnerability. That's our contribution to redemption.
Finding and Eating the Afikoman
In hiding and seeking the afikoman, we reunite the two parts separated at the beginning of the seder. At this moment, we have the opportunity to discover lost parts of ourselves, to become reconciled with relatives who have become distant and to find wholeness in aspects of Judaism which may not have been part of our lives. Finding that which is hidden is a powerful message when we feel loss and lost. Within our loss, we find ways of healing the broken part of our lives.
The Third Cup of Wine
A cup to the freedom fighters
this is a prayer for all freedom fighters, a prayer for the tired, the burnt out, the heartsick, the cynical
this is a prayer for all freedom fighters brave enough to cry, for the reaching around of arms, the firm handclaps of comradeship, the sanctuary of bodies when we need to hide our faces.
this is a prayer for wordless understanding, the flickering human eye flames of humor and warmth, compassion and mirth, the ridiculous, horrific, ecstatic worlds in our eyes, the volumes of untold stories.
this is a prayer for laugh lines and stretch marks, for the tough beauty of mothers and old folks, for skin gone leathery with the sun and the passage of years, for dirt stained knuckles and chapped lips.
this is a prayer for the road map scars, the burn marks, the tender new flesh of healing, the tattoos, the cuts and bruises, the patchwork of our hearts.
seeds watered with tears and summer thunderstorm torrents.
I am binding our stories together, blood and bone and sinew, stitch, solder, suture. I am building something with drill, paintbrush, knife, welding torch, needle, thread, time, garlic, hope, trash.
this is my prayer, this is my wish, this is my song under my breath and all the love in my heart, this is my loud cursing and giggling, this is my holiest silence.
Baruch atah Adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam boreh p'ri hagafen.
Blessed is the source that fills all creation and brings forth the fruit of the vine.
Three thousand years ago, a farmer arose in the Middle East who challenged the ruling elite. In his passionate advocacy for common people, Elijah created a legend which would inspire generations to come. Elijah declared that he would return once each generation in the guise of someone poor or oppressed, coming to people's doors to see how he would be treated. Thus would he know whether or not humanity had become ready to participate in the dawn of the Messianic age. He is said to visit every seder, and sip there from his cup of wine.
Let us rise and welcome Elijah to join our seder.
Tonight we welcome two prophets: not only Elijah, but also Miriam, sister of Moses. Elijah is a symbol of messianic redemption at the end of time; Miriam, of redemption in our present lives. Miriam’s cup is filled with water, evoking her Well which followed the Israelites in the wilderness. After the crossing of the Red Sea, Miriam sang to the Israelites a song. The words in the Torah are only the beginning: Sing to God, for God has triumphed gloriously; Horse and driver, God has hurled into the sea. So the Rabbis asked: Why is the Song of Miriam only partially stated in the Torah? And in midrash is found the answer: the song is incomplete so that future generations will finish it. That is our task.
Raise our glasses of water and let's all say together: You abound in blessings, g-d, creator of the universe, Who sustains us with living water. May we, like the children of Israel leaving Egypt, be guarded and nurtured and kept alive in the wilderness to understand that the journey itself holds the promise of redemption.
“I will take you as my own people.” Exodus 6:6
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בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheynu Melech Ha’Olam Borey P’ree Hagafen.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine.
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For the Children of Israel went out with a high hand." Exodus 14:8
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
Verse One
And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety
The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history.
With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight!
A woman touched with spirit, she dances toward the light
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
Verse Two
When 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 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
Verse Three
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 in song-
She sang with praise and might
We've just lived through a miracle
YELL: We're going to dance tonight!!
