We begin the telling of our story by lifting up the matzah, opening wide the door to our seder and offering an invitation to anyone who can hear us to come join in our seder meal. The original version of this text is not in Hebrew, but in Aramaic, because it was the language that everyone would understand. As we say this, we imagine a time and place where this invitation could have actually brought in poor and hungry people off the street to celebrate side-by-side with seder-goers.

While a volunteer opens the front door to the room, one person from each table holds up the middle matzah as we recite out loud:

This is the bread of affliction
Which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.
All who are hungry, let them enter and eat.
All who are in need, let them come celebrate Passover with us. Now we are here. Next year in the land of Israel.
Now we are enslaved. Next year we will be free!

THE FIRST CUP OF WINE Hope, and Striving for Equity

The four cups of wine recall God’s four promises: “I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great miracles. And I will take you to be my people.” (Exodus 6.6-7) Just as the four promises and four cups speak to our redemption from Egypt, they symbolize the hope that, one day, all will be free – free from illness and worry, hunger and poverty, and free to determine the course of their lives.

Our land is blessed with material abundance, as well as the liberty to speak, gather, pray and so much more. Meanwhile, access to fundamentals, especially medical attention that includes reproductive care, is at great reach or beyond for many women and families still enslaved by the vicious cycle of poverty – even as some politicians labor to enshrine their personal faith restrictions, further denying the religious freedom of others by upending a woman’s private pregnancy decision as she seeks out the legal and safe medical attention she believes she needs. As we celebrate Passover, we renew a commitment to safeguard the deliberations and wellbeing of each woman and her family, that her goodness and conscience is honored as she determines the course and destiny of her life.

So we raise the cup and recall: Our heartaches, the four promises, their fulfillment and our commitment to establish fairness and freedom for all. And we recommit ourselves to strengthen and extend the promise of reproductive justice, thereby honoring the integrity and sanctity of each woman’s conscience and protecting her safe access to the legal medical attention that she and her doctor believes is right for her.

URCHATZ

Handwashing: The Importance of Water

As the water washes over our hands, we call to mind the promise we made when drinking our first cup of wine. Let us now focus on our individual water usage, and how we can make our water consumption more sustainable. Let us call to mind the importance of water to all life and be more aware of the amount of water we use daily.

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. 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:

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?

The matza represents brokenness. As the matza is broken in half, the broken piece is set aside for the afikoman, which when found toward the end of the seder, symbolizes renewed wholeness and redemption. In my broken-heartedness, have there been paths of healing form me? in my brokenness, have I found places of greater strength within me? Am I moving back towards a new kind of wholeness?

This is the Bread of Affliction - Ha Lachma Anya

Reader: In America, over 11 million undocumented immigrants live in our midst. We identify with their struggles from our memory as Jews freed from Egyptian servitude, and as Americans living in a country built by immigrants. As we look upon the broken middle matzah before us, this is our story - an immigrant story -- in three parts: Memory, Action, Vision.

Memory

[Leader uncovers and raises the matzah.]

All read: Ha lachma anya – This is the bread of poverty and affliction that our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.

Reader: We remember our ancestors’ fear and bravery in facing the new unknown, filled with dangers and opportunities. Poet Marge Piercy recalls our people’s past emigrations:

...The courage to walk out of the pain that is known
into the pain that cannot be imagined, mapless, walking into the wilderness, going barefoot with a canteen into the desert; stuffed in the stinking hold of a rotting ship sailing off the map into dragons' mouths.

Cathay, India, Serbia, goldeneh medina,
leaving bodies by the way like abandoned treasure.

So they walked out of Egypt. So they bribed their way
out of Russia under loads of straw; so they steamed out of the bloody smoking charnelhouse of Europe on overloaded freighters forbidden all ports--

out of pain into death or freedom or a different painful dignity, into squalor and politics...

Action

All read: Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in need, come and share this Pesach meal.

Reader: The Seder demands action! American Jewish poet Emma Lazarus’s words reflected real action when they were engraved on the Statue of Liberty one hundred years ago:

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

Vision

All read: This year we are still here – next year in the Land of Israel. This year we are still slaves – next year free people.

Reader: This year undocumented immigrants still live in fear in the shadows of a broken immigration system. Next year may over 11 million aspiring Americans step into the light of freedom and walk the path towards citizenship.

This year, our eyes are still clouded by the plague of darkness, as the Gerer Rav taught: “The darkness in Egypt was so dense that people could not see one another. This was not a physical darkness, but a spiritual darkness in which people were unable to see the plight and pain of their neighbors.” Next year, may we replace darkness with light and truly see our neighbors and be moved to act with them to fix our broken immigration system.

Think about your family history: What brought your family to this country? What did your family leave behind, and what opportunity did they seek? Does this help you understand today’s immigrants? Why or why not?

The formal telling of the story of Passover is framed as a discussion with lots of questions and answers. The tradition that the youngest person asks the questions reflects the centrality of involving everyone in the seder. The rabbis who created the set format for the seder gave us the Four Questions to help break the ice in case no one had their own questions. Asking questions is a core tradition in Jewish life. If everyone at your seder is around the same age, perhaps the person with the least seder experience can ask them – or everyone can sing them all together.

מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילות

Ma nishtana halaila hazeh mikol haleilot?

Why is this night different from all other nights?

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכלין חָמֵץ וּמַצָּה  הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלּוֹ מצה  

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin chameitz u-matzah. Halaila hazeh kulo matzah.

On all other nights we eat both leavened bread and matzah.
Tonight we only eat matzah.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה מָרוֹר

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin shi’ar yirakot haleila hazeh maror.

On all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables,
but tonight we eat bitter herbs.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אֵין אָֽנוּ מַטְבִּילִין אֲפִילוּ פַּֽעַם אחָת  הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה שְׁתֵּי פְעמים

Shebichol haleilot ain anu matbilin afilu pa-am echat. Halaila hazeh shtei fi-amim.

On all other nights we aren’t expected to dip our vegetables one time.
Tonight we do it twice.

שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָֽנוּ אוֹכְלִין בֵּין יוֹשְׁבִין וּבֵין מְסֻבִּין.  :הַלַּֽיְלָה הַזֶּה כֻּלָּֽנוּ מְסֻבין

Shebichol haleilot anu ochlin bein yoshvin uvein m’subin. Halaila hazeh kulanu m’subin.

On all other nights we eat either sitting normally or reclining.
Tonight we recline.

THE FOUR CHILDREN:

The Wise Child asks: “What are the statutes and laws in our country that protect individuals from discrimination based on race?”

The most important pieces of legislation aimed at addressing racial injustice in the United States, including the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. These laws were won through the efforts of individuals committed to social change, including many Reform Jews, and that the various protections they provide are critical to combatting discrimination on the basis of race. At the same time, the protections we already have are imperfect and, in many cases, are coming under attack. It is our responsibility as Reform Jews to fight against the erosion of existing civil rights laws and to advocate for reforms in education, criminal justice, voting rights and economic policies that advance true racial equality.

The Wicked Child asks: “Why must I be involved in pursuing racial justice?”

In asking this question, the wicked child has denied a basic principle of Judaism: that we have a collective responsibility to address injustice, even when we are not directly affected by that injustice or might benefit from it because of our own privilege. You should teach this child that it is for the sake of everyone that we advocate for racial justice. In protecting voting rights, improving access to education and calling for sensible criminal justice and law enforcement reforms, we affirm the fundamental Jewish belief that all people are created b’tzelem Elohim, in the Divine image, and thus are deserving of equal rights.

The Simple Child asks: “What do we even mean by racial justice?”

You should tell this child that racial justice is the pursuit of equality for all people, regardless of race. You should further explain that racial injustice can take many forms, from explicitly racist comments to laws and institutions that perpetuate racial inequalities. With a firm hand, we as Reform Jews must protect every single person’s civil rights, ensuring that no individual is excluded from the benefits of society or suffers under discriminatory laws and actions solely because of race or ethnicity. We must also consider the ways in which we are ourselves complicit in racial injustice and work to build communities that reflect our commitment to equality.

And the Child Who Does Not Know How to Ask:

We are not required to complete the work of racial justice, but neither are we free to desist from it. There are many ways that we can play a positive role in the campaign for racial justice. We can help make racial justice issues a priority in our by embracing Jewish racial diversity and by learning together about structural racism. We can build relationships across lines of faith and race. And we can initiate or participate in community, state and national efforts to advocate for civil rights laws. In all of these ways, we honor the legacy of our parents and grandparents – who in previous generations participated in acts of civil disobedience, marched arm-in-arm in support of equal rights for all Americans, and traveled to register voters – while at the same time ensuring that our children and future generations are granted an America in which our vision of racial justice is truly realized.

A GUIDED VISUALIZATION © Rabbi Susan Freeman, 2003

Reader: It saddens us that any struggle for freedom involves suffering. Generally, we drink wine to rejoice. Therefore, for each plague we take out a drop of wine from our cup. This way we do not rejoice over the suffering of others. The plagues that afflicted the Egyptians were:

 (Take a drop of wine out of your cup for each plague)

 ALL:

1- blood 

2- frogs 

3- vermin 

4-beasts 

5- boils  

6- cattle disease 

7- locusts 

8- hail 

9- darkness

10- slaying of first born

Reader: Our world today is still greatly troubled. For these plagues, let us repeat the same ceremony.

(Take a drop of wine out of your cup for each plague)

ALL:

1- war 

2- illiteracy 

3- hunger 

4- crime

5- bigotry 

6- injustice 

7- inequality  

8- tyranny 

9- poverty 

10- ignorance 

Reader: Many people perished during the plagues and the suffering was great. Pharaoh remained obstinate. However, with the tenth plague, the death of the first born, a great cry went up throughout Egypt. On that night, the Hebrews marked their door posts with the blood of the paschal lamb so the Angel of Death would 'pass over' their homes. Thus, the name Passover for this holiday. Pharaoh finally ordered Moses to take the Jewish people out of Egypt.

Reader: After the slaves hurriedly left, the Pharaoh had a change of heart and the Egyptian army pursued them. Legend has it that when Moses and his people came to the Red Sea, the waters parted to allow them to cross. The Egyptians followed and were engulfed when the waters returned. Thus, the Exodus from Egypt was complete.

Reader: Whether the waters actually parted overlooks the inner meaning of this event; when the Hebrews reached the edge of the desert and found the courage to continue, the Sea of Obstacles parted and they walked toward freedom.

THE SECOND CUP OF WINE

Deliverance, and Respect for Moral Agency

Why did the Israelites wander for a generation in the wilderness? It was clear to God (and Moses) that the Israelites who had been enslaved in Egypt were unprepared to be free. And why? Because the Egyptians had taken away their sense of self. By insinuating enslavement into the lives of the Israelites, the oppressors had removed their ability even to think of themselves as free and autonomous human beings.

Of course some communal standards are important. Torah recognizes that, left to ourselves, we might justify stealing and infidelity and dishonoring those we love. We are proud to be a part of a moral and compassionate people!

But when any government seeks to dismiss the capacity of a person to think of herself as a free and autonomous human being, that government wants to take us back to Egypt. It is no more the business of an outside authority to know what is inside a woman’s womb than it is to know what is inside her heart – unless she freely volunteers the information. When legislators by any name try to enter these very private places, they attempt to insinuate enslavement into the lives of a generation. We worked too hard to be free to go back, and there is no reason to wander in another wilderness when that freedom is already at hand.

Let this cup of liberation remind us that freedom is already within us and must not be taken away. No matter your age, your gender or your orientation (which is to say, no matter your practical concern), each of us and all of us were liberated from enslavement and none of us is going back.

Old and new, all of the seder plate items represent aspects of freedom, equality and springtime renewal.

The egg symbolizes rebirth and springtime. Just as we grew into a free nation through our exodus from Egypt, the egg symbolizes growth and new life. 

The and chives represents the spring season of the Passover holiday.

Bitter herbs are a symbol of the bitterness of slavery.

Charoset, like the mortar of bricks, which we laid as slaves in Egypt. It is also sweet, like freedom.

The shank bone is a symbol of the Passover lamb; our forefathers used its blood to mark their doorposts, and the angel of death passed over their homes in the Passover story. Steamed or roasted beets have a deep red color and serve as a vegetarian alternative.

An orange has come to symbolize LGBT and gender equality.

Fair-Trade Chocolate which can represent economic freedom, because most of the world’s chocolate production relies on underpaid or slave laborers, often children.

A tomato, representing solidarity with those suffering from slavery, underpaid labor and oppressive working conditions in American agriculture.

If society provided compassionate caregivers and did not provide medication, Dayenu.

If society provided medication and did not provide comprehensive health coverage, Dayenu.

If society provided enough group homes and did not eliminate ignorance, Dayenu.

If society elimnated ignorance and did not allocate resources for research, Dayenu.

If society allocated resources for research and did not provide family and community support, Dayenu.

If society provided family and community support and did not love us for us for who we are, Dayenu.

Then, how much are we grateful for being able to work together, To advocate for ourselves, our needs, for what we know and feel is right, When the broken shall be whole, our shattered hearts restored anew.

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. 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.

Anyone who wishes to is welcome to wash their hands.

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.

Blessed are you, spirit of the world, who made us holy through simple deeds like the washing of our hands.

The blessing over the meal and matzah | motzi matzah | מוֹצִיא מַצָּה

The familiar hamotzi blessing marks the formal start of the meal. Because we are using matzah instead of bread, we add a blessing celebrating this mitzvah.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיא לֶֽחֶם מִן הָאָֽרֶץ

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, hamotzi lechem min ha-aretz.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who brings bread from the land.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתַָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מַצָּה

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al achilat matzah.

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to eat matzah.

Distribute and eat the top and middle matzah for everyone to eat.

This is the poorest,

the driest of bread.

It crinkles and crumbles

all over our beds.

This is the matzah

that Grand-Daddy ate

when he zoomed out of Egypt,

afraid he'd be late.

You're welcome to join us--

Come one or come many!

I'll give you my matzah.

I sure don't want any.

A Meditation on Maror By Ira Steingroot 

(from A Different Night:: The Family Participation Haggadah, by Noam Zion and David Dishon)

Personally, I cannot imagine Passover without horseradish. Its combination of intense pleasure and pain makes a good analog for the bittersweet nature of our memories at Passover. We remember good times with family and friends, often with those who are no longer with us or are far away. We give our brief lives added dimension by linking them to the pain and triumph of Jewish history. As the Irish fiddler Seamus Connolly once said in the name of this mother, "We're never so happy as when we're crying." We never enjoy the horseradish so much as when it brings tears to our eyes.

This second bitter herb represents the bitterness of abandonment. The Jews enslaved in Egypt were not only oppressed, they endured the added pain of feeling alone. Many who have survived genocide say that the idea that no one is coming to help can be more devastating than oppression itself. That is why hope is so powerful. People need to know, "We are not alone."

Syria is a world away. The refugees are, in many ways, nameless, faceless “strangers,” so it might seem easy to ignore their plight. But, when we turn our backs on people who are suffering, we are culpable as bystanders, enabling the oppressors. As Jews, we have frequently been the strangers, feeling isolated and forgotten by the world. Because we know how it feels, we cannot abandon Syria.

Chazeret question:

Have you ever stood by when someone was mistreated, humiliated, teased or ostracized? Upon reflection, would you act differently?

Although this mixture of chopped fruits and nuts represents the mortar of the bricks made in captivity, the sweetness reminds us that even in despair, there is hope. That is why we dip the bitter herbs in the charoset. Where we see injustice, pain and suffering, we must also look for hope, for a remedy, for a solution.

Be the light. As long as the people are driven from their homes, persecuted, raped and slaughtered, we will shine a light so the world cannot be indifferent and turn away. We pray with all refugees for the day when they can safely return to their land and rebuild their lives. We continue to work on all fronts for their safety, even when hope seems elusive. We are buoyed by the fact that even in these darkest times, they have not lost hope.

Charoset question:

What is it that enables one to find hope in the midst of despair?

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!

(When the Afikoman is found, the following is an alternative  or  supplementary reading on the part of all Seder participants:) "Tonight we read together: Lo!  This is the bread of poverty that our ancestors ate. Let all who are hungry come and eat! Let all who are in need share in the hope of Passover! This year we all are slaves, Next year may we all be free. Tonight, to redeem the Afikoman: We renew our commitment to help all who are hungry round the world, So that next year we may all be free.

THE THIRD CUP OF WINE: Redemption, and Safeguarding Access to Care

Over the course of tonight’s seder, we are commanded to imagine that we ourselves came out of Egypt – as if we ourselves were personally redeemed from slavery. Perhaps this is a lofty goal; few of us have experienced slavery in the way our Israelite ancestors did. Similarly, it can be hard to imagine the paralyzing confinement many women and families feel while seeking to access abortion care. We retell stories to transport our conscience back to the ‘narrow places’ of Mitzrayim and to rejuvenate our commitment to full redemption for all people. As Rabbi Weber’s story reminds us, unfortunately this day has not yet come:

“We really wanted children. Seven months after we were married, we learned that Shira was pregnant and we were overjoyed. But at 18 weeks we learned that our baby had multiple anomalies and would die at birth. After talking with our family and our rabbis (yes, rabbis have rabbis, too), we chose to have an abortion.

The doctor said the best way to ensure that we could try again was to have what is now called a “partial birth abortion.” We did, and after grieving for our loss we became the parents of three healthy (thank God) children, now adults.

The method we chose for the abortion is currently outlawed in 16 states. That’s right: 16 states now tell people – even married couples – that they do not have the right to the medical care which is best for them. And 32 states will not allow public funding for this kind of abortion, since Shira’s life was not in danger. The fact that she would have carried a dying baby for another five months doesn’t matter in those states. Any woman not able to afford private health insurance will have to live the nightmare of knowing her baby’s date of birth and date of death will coincide.

In the landmark case, Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court decided that a woman’s right to privacy includes the right to choose what happens to her own body. Yet from laws which require a woman prove her life is in danger before getting permission to abort, to protesters outside clinics taking pictures of women exercising their right to choose, no part of a woman’s health is less private today. How could people we never met know better than we, what should happen to our bodies?”

As we drink our third cup of wine, let us reflect: why is this right different from all other rights? What can we do to help bring us out of the slavery of judgment and injustice and into the light of freedom that tonight’s seder celebrates and represents? What can we do to redeem and value the personal choices that women and families make and, in process, redeem ourselves and our community?

Traditionally, a series of prayers and blessings after eating are now recited in Hebrew. Together we say:

We have eaten this Passover meal as a free people and we give thanks to God for his many blessings. Preserve us in life, sustain us with good and honorable work and make us worthy. Bless this home, this table, and all assembled here; may all our loved ones share our blessings.

THE FOURTH CUP OF WINE
Liberation, and Acknowledging Those Still in Dark Spaces

This cup of wine is dedicated
To the women who do not find themselves
embraced by a community, as we are tonight

Women who endure injury, humiliation and
sexual assault and cannot talk about it.
women who suffered unspeakable abuses and did not live to tell. 

This is the cup for shattered souls who never dreamed it would happen to them...
the women who stay to protect children, avoid shame, 
and bear the burden of  shalom bayit   in a house with no peace.
the women who stay because they have no place to go.
the women who stay because they believe in love.
and the women who escaped, and now struggle to find homes,
build skills, and support their families.

This is the cup for women from whom everything has been taken --
their families, their friends, their homes, their communities,
their dignity, and their lives.

On passover, as we celebrate, as we celebrate liberation, we affirm our commitment 
to make all women safe in their homes and in their relationships.

This cup is for the women who find this night is no different from any
other night. They are sisters, they are ourselves, and they are not alone. 

The fourth cup of wine is poured

We now draw our attention to the two empty cups on the table--one of which is for Elijah the Prophet, and the other for Miriam the Prophetess.

As we confront the injustice of this world, may we be like Elijah, who in defense of justice, spoke truth to power. Jewish legends recall the mystical appearance of Elijah in times of trouble, to promise relief and redemption, to lift downcast spirits and to plant hope in the hearts of the downtrodden. Group The story has been told of a miraculous well of living water which had accompanied the Jewish people since the world was spoken into being. The well comes and goes, as it is needed, and as we remember, forget, and remember again how to call it to us. In the time of the exodus from Mitzrayim, the well came to Miriam, in honor of her courage and action, and stayed with the Jews as they wandered the desert. Upon Miriam’s death, the well again disappeared. Pharaoh's daughter who rescues Moses from the Nile. Pharaoh pays little mind to the women, yet it is their daring actions that began it all. It is because of them that we are here tonight. Just as Miriam led us in song to God after we crossed through the parted waters, we now honor all women. We commit ourselves to transforming all of our cultures into loving, welcoming spaces for people of all genders. 

Tradition teaches us that each of these characters plays an important task of bringing redemption.It is said that that Elijah the Prophet visits the homes of Jewish families on Passover, to check to see if we are all truly ready to welcome the stranger, and are thus prepared to enter as a people into the messianic age. To Elijah we each offer a little bit of wine from our own cups, as a symbolic gesture of our readiness for redemption.

To honor Miriam the Prophetess, we each pour not wine, but water into a cup. According to tradition, Miriam sustained the Israelites in the desert with water from her well, and to this day her life-giving waters still flow into wells everywhere, sustaining us all as we work to bring redemption and wait for Elijah.

Reader: At the end of the seder, Jews have always vowed to one another:“L’shana haba-a bi-Y’rushalayim/ Next Year in Jerusalem!” Why does the seder end with this vow?

Reader: For Jews, forced into diaspora two thousand years ago, wandering always in countries which were sometimes safe harbors and sometimes nightmares, the dream of Jerusalem was more than the city itself.

Reader: To dream that next year we would be in Jerusalem is to dream of a land and a time of autonomy, safety, self-determination, the right to one’s own culture and language and spirituality, to live on land that can’t be taken from you by the whim of an outside power. To live with the basic right to be who you are. Jerusalem comes from the same word root as “shalom” which is usually translated as “peace” but actually means “wholeness.”

Reader: But this year, in Jerusalem, wholeness is very far away, and the news seems to be worse with each passing day. Still, when we look for the sparks of resistance, we see them everywhere. Fed by an aching for justice, some sparks have already grown to small brush fires, and grow in strength each day.

This year we say instead: ???? This section is for you to choose!