Welcome to our Passover Seder.

Together we celebrate the festival of liberation of the Jewish people, who are linked throughout history with all peoples in the passion for justice and human liberty. We have come together today for many reasons:

• because we are a people with deep historic roots and memories
• because many centuries ago, our ancestors left slavery and began their march toward freedom
• because the struggles for freedom never stop, and because they provide inspiration in our time
• because spring is all around, the earth is reborn, and it is a time to celebrate with family and friends

As we retell this ancient story, let us remind ourselves of those people around the world who are living this story today. Let us celebrate our freedom and strengthen ourselves to join the fight against injustice wherever it exists. For as long as one person is oppressed, none of us are free. For it is said: Every person, in every generation, must regard his, her, or themselves as having been personally freed from bondage in Mitzrayim, the Hebrew name of ancient Egypt and a metaphor for a time of enslavement.

We imagine for ourselves today: What would the world look like if everyone was free? In the narrative of the haggadah, we wonder: what is the moment of freedom? Is freedom achieved? Are liberation and freedom the same? And: at whose expense does Israelite freedom come? Is the exodus of the mixed multitude from Mitzrayim a moment of collective liberation, involving Egyptians and other non-Israelites suffering under Pharaoh’s rule? Or does collective liberation also demand the liberation of Pharaoh from his hardened heart and the fortress of power around him?

הִנֵּה מַה-טּוֹב וּמַה-נָּעִים שֶֽׁבֶת אַחִים גַּם-יָֽחַד.

Hinei ma tov uma na’im / Shevet achim gam yachad

How sweet it is to be with our siblings, together in community.

This season, Jews all over the country and the world are observing Pesach at their own Seders. The word “Seder” means “order,” and “Haggadah” means “the telling.” The traditional Haggadah contains very specific things to do and say. Our Haggadah has retained much of the basic order but has adapted much of the content. This follows in an ancient historical tradition. Ever since Rabbi Akiba used the Passover Seder to plan a revolutionary struggle against the Romans, Jews have used
the Seder to begin work on “Tikkun Olam” (healing and transforming the world). For it is said: “Whoever enlarges upon the telling of the exodus from Mitzrayim, those persons are praiseworthy.”

As we light the candles and welcome the glow of Passover into our homes, we pray that all those suffering around the world find light in the darkness.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו, וְצִוָּנוּ
לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל יוֹם טוֹב

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu lehadlik ner shel yom tov.

We rejoice in our heritage, which gives us this tradition of lighting holiday candles. We pray that our experience tonight helps us to ignite the spark of justice within each of us.

And everyone 'neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid.
And everyone 'neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid.

And into ploughshares beat their swords
Nations shall learn war no more.
And into ploughshares beat their swords
Nations shall learn war no more.

Lo yisa goy el goy cherev
Lo yilmadu od milchama
Lo yisa goy el goy cherev
Lo yilmadu od milchama

Tonight, we gather around the Seder table to recount the ancient Israelites’ miraculous transformation from slavery to freedom. Their story began with an awakening: As our tradition teaches, Moses saw the burning bush and recognized that he was called to liberate his people from Egypt. Our journey, too, begins with an awakening: May this first cup of wine rouse each of us to the injustice that persists in our world today. May we recognize our own capacity to make a difference and commit ourselves to building a better world.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יי אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶה

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, she’hecheyanu v'ki'manu v'higi-anu laz'man hazeh.

Praised are you, Adonai, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who has sustained us, maintained us and enabled us to reach this moment in life.

Question for Discussion: 

What injustices are you awakening to this year--either in your own community or around the world? 

In washing our hands, we also think of those who don't get to share in the basic human right of abundant, clean water

of people deprived of water by the weather in Somalia, in India, in Texas

and those deprived of water by human action in places like Flint, Michigan

as well as those whose homes have been ravaged by wind and water in Colombia, in California, and here in New Jersey.

We wash our hands and accept our responsibilities to those threatened by the presence and absence of water

and pray that those with the human power to change things do not wash their hands of what the world needs them to correct.

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.

When we dip the karpas into the salt water, we see the tears of all who suffer injustice mingling with our hopes for life, rebirth and new possibilities for justice.

We break the matzah in two, reflecting the deep brokenness in our world and our commitment to repair it. 

Tonight we will also set aside the afikomen, the matzah that is traditionally eaten at the end of the meal. In a smaller Seder, we would now hide the Afikomen, but here it is already hidden. Later, when the children search for the Afikomen, it reminds us that the Jewish people, like the broken matzah, can never be lost or destroyed. The Afikomen also reminds us, the adults, that our children have a right to be heard.

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.

On other nights, we allow the news of tragedy in distant places to pass us by. We succumb to compassion fatigue – aware that we cannot possibly respond to every injustice that arises around the world. On this night, we are reminded that our legacy as the descendants of slaves creates in us a different kind of responsibility – we are to protect the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Let us add a fifth question to this year’s seder: How can we make this year different from all other years?

This Passover, let us recommit to that sacred responsibility to protect the stranger, particularly those vulnerable strangers in faraway places whose suffering is so often ignored. Let us infuse the rituals of the seder with action: When tasting the matzah, the bread of poverty, let us find ways to help the poor and the hungry. When eating the maror, let us commit to help those whose lives are embittered by disease. When dipping to commemorate the blood that protected our ancestors against the Angel of Death, let us pursue protection for those whose lives are threatened by violence and conflict. When reclining in celebration of our freedom, let us seek opportunities to help those who are oppressed.

At Passover each year, we read the story of our ancestors’ pursuit of liberation from oppression. When confronting this history, how do we answer our children when they ask us how to pursue justice in our time?

What does the activist child ask?
“The Torah tells me, ‘Justice, justice you shall pursue,’ but how can I pursue justice?”

Empower her always to seek pathways to advocate for the vulnerable. As Proverbs teaches, “Speak up for the mute, for the rights of the unfortunate. Speak up, judge righteously, champion the poor and the needy.”

What does the skeptical child ask?
“How can I solve problems of such enormity?”

Encourage him by explaining that he need not solve the problems, he must only do what he is capable of doing. As we read in Pirkei Avot—The Ethics of Our Ancestors, “It is not your responsibility to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist
from it.”

What does the indifferent child say?
“It’s not my responsibility.”

Persuade her that responsibility cannot be shirked. As Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel writes, “The opposite of good is not evil; the opposite of good is indifference. In a free society where terrible wrongs exist, some are guilty, but all are responsible.”

And the uninformed child who does not know how to ask...
Prompt him to see himself as an inheritor of our people’s legacy. As it says in Deuteronomy, “You must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

At this season of liberation, let us work toward the liberation of all people. Let us respond to our children’s questions with action and justice.

Adapted from Rabbi Rachel Barenblat's Velveteen Rabbi.

Once upon a time, 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 came to power. He found our difference threatening, and ordered our people enslaved. In fear of rebellion, Pharaoh decreed that all Hebrew baby boys be killed. Two midwives named Shifrah and Puah defied his orders. Through their courage, a boy survived.  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 Moses because she drew him forth from the water. Thanks to Moses' sister Miriam, Pharaoh's daughter hired their mother, Yocheved, as his wet-nurse. Thus he survived to adulthood, and was raised as Prince of Egypt.

As Moses grew, he became aware of the slaves who worked in the brickyards of his father. When he saw an overseer mistreat a slave, Moses struck the overseer and killed him.  He fled into the desert.   Moses encountered a burning bush in the desert, and a Voice called him to lead the Hebrew people to freedom.  Moses argued with that Voice, pleading inadequacy, but the Voice disagreed and saw potential where Moses only felt fear. Sometimes our responsibilities choose us.

Moses returned to Egypt and went to Pharaoh to argue the injustice of slavery. "Let my people go!" he demanded.  Pharaoh refused, and Moses warned him that his cruelty would cause great suffering. 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. 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 people of the earth. Even Pharaoh’s daughter came with us.

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.

When Israel was in Egypt Land - "Let my people go."
Oppressed so hard they could not stand - "Let my people go."
Go down Moses, way down in Egypt land,
Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.

"Thus saith the Lord" bold Moses said, "Let my people go."
If not I'll strike your first born dead, "Let my people go."
Go down Moses way down in Egypt land,
Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.

The Lord told Moses what to do, Let my people go.
To lead the children of Israel through, Let my people go.
Go down Moses way down in Egypt land,
Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.

O let us all from bondage flee, - "Let my people go"
And soon may all the earth be free - "Let my people go."
Go down Moses way down in Egypt land,
Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.

Praise rising up. Praise unlawful assembly.
Praise the road of excess and the palace of wisdom.
Praise glass houses. Praise the hand that cradles the stone.
Praise refusal of obedience. Praise the young on Raamses Street.
Praise Galileo. Praise acceleration.
Praise bombshells and en masse.
Praise sit-down strikes. Praise outside agitators.
Praise Red Emma. Praise her pistol and praise her restraint.
Praise living your life. Praise Joan of Arc.
Praise wayward daughters. Praise their wayward sons.
Praise the power of indulgence.
Praise Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses. Praise the nail
and the printing press. Praise the First Amendment.
Praise free verse. Praise yellow sunflowers.
Praise red wheelbarrows and transcendental leanings.
Praise illicit beauty. Praise the poets of Guantanamo.
Praise the poets of Burma. Praise the noisy streets.
Praise those who tear down walls and climb fences.
Praise Letters from Prison. Praise those who say yes.
Praise the bound notebook and what is within.
Praise Legal Aid attorneys. Praise kitchen-table conspiracies.
Praise insomnia. Praise our hunger. Praise days
we are the bread. Praise farmers’ markets.
Praise Al Gore and quantum physics.
Praise Schrödinger and his cat. Praise jumping in.
Praise talking snakes. Praise history & run-on sentences.
Praise what are the odds? Praise purposeful wandering.
Praise Walt Whitman and the self. Praise the body’s
wild intelligence. Praise ACT UP and Vagina Monologues.
Praise getting satisfaction. Praise Gertrude Stein.
Praise cross-dressing. Praise untouchables,
partisans and riffraff. Praise slackers. Praise those
who talk back. Praise sympathy for the devil.
Praise the oldest profession. Praise mothers of the disappeared.
Praise mothers of the found. Praise mothers not yet mothers.
Praise not looking away. Praise realists and Cubists.
Praise prohibitionists & remorse. Praise hitting your head
against the wall. Praise giving peace a chance.
Praise Zionist conspiracies. Praise free elections.
Praise Selma, Alabama and early voting. Praise mutiny.
Praise backyard whiskey and those who cook with fire.
Praise Priscilla the Monkey Girl. Praise her admirers.
Praise Freud and Marx and Sinatra. Praise Earhardt.
Praise those who remember what they are told to forget.
Praise agnostics. Praise what we are not supposed to praise.
Praise the electrical storm and the still small voice.
Praise all the proverbs of hell. Praise those
who see it coming. Praise those who do it anyway.
Praise whatever happens next.

--Sue Swartz

As we read the 10 plagues, we spill drops of wine from our cups, mourning the suffering the Egyptians endured so that we could be free. This year, as these drops spread across our plates, let us turn our hearts toward the millions of people around the world suffering today's plagues of hatred, prejudice, baseless violence and war. 

Blood | dam | דָּם   -- We comfort and mourn those whose blood has been spilled.                 

Frogs | tzfardeiya | צְפַרְדֵּֽעַ -- We protest the proliferation of violence. 

Lice | kinim | כִּנִּים -- We stop infestations of hatred and fear.

Beasts | arov | עָרוֹב -- We appeal to all people to act with humanity. 

Cattle disease | dever | דֶּֽבֶר -- We overcome the sickness of racism and bigotry.

Boils | sh’chin | שְׁחִין -- We tend to those who suffer from disease. 

Hail | barad | בָּרָד -- We respond to storms and disasters that claim lives. 

Locusts | arbeh | אַרְבֶּה -- We fill the air with voices for change. 

Darkness | choshech | חֹֽשֶׁךְ -- We bring light to hose who live in the shadows.

Death of the Firstborn | makat b’chorot | מַכַּת בְּכוֹרוֹת -- We inspire the next generation to carry on the struggle for a better world.

The second cup of wine represents God's promise to free us from slavery and our commitment to justice and human rights. 

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Dayeinu recalls every step in our path to redemption: departure from Egypt, the splitting of the sea; sustenance in the wilderness, the giving of the Torah, and our arrival in the land of Israel. And although we express gratitude for each moment by saying, "It would have been enough" (or "Dayeinu"), we know that all of these steps were necessary to achieve full freedom. Had the journey ended with the leavin of Egypt, we would not be free people. Today it is critical that we support survivors of disasters, wars and conflicts until they are able to rebuild their lives. 

So let us sing together: 

1. Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu!
Da-dayeinu, da-dayeinu, da-dayeinu, dayeinu, dayeinu.

If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!

2. Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Shabbat, Natan lanu et ha-Shabbat, Dayeinu

If God had only given us Shabbat, that would have been enough.

3. Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah , Dayeinu

If God had only given us the Torah, that would have been enough.

Let us say together: 

If the world hears the cries of the oppressed, but does not come to their aid....It will not be enough.

If we empower our brothers and sisters to escape violence, but fail to offer them refuge....It will not be enough.

However, if we persevere until stability, peace, and justice have been attained....Dayeinu! It will be enough.

MATZAH
This is matzah, the bread of liberation, of rebellion, that our foremothers baked and ate in a time when they had to be organizing more and cooking less. It is traditional to open our door at this time and say: “May all who are hungry come and share our matzah; may all who struggle for freedom come and share our spirit!”

EGGS
The eggs are a symbol of springtime, fertility, and the giving of life. We are reminded of Pharaoh's threat to kill newborn
Jewish babies, and of the courageous midwives who refused to carry out his orders. The egg also tells us, “The longer
things are in hot water, the tougher they become.”

PASCHAL "YAM"
Tradition directs us to hold up a roasted lamb bone (z’roa), which is symbolic of the animals sacrificed by early Jews. We are using a "yam" shank so that no animals are in fact sacrificed for our Seder plates, but the ancient symbol of that first Passover
is retained. In this way we affirm our ancient traditions, the importance of caring for all species of animals, and the ethical and ecological concerns about the eating of meat.

MAROR
The bitter herbs symbolize the bitterness of slavery.

SALT WATER
This represents the tears of our ancestors in slavery.

CHAROTSES
Charoses is a mixture of apples, nuts, wine, and spices, or in some other Jewish cultures, dates, figs, apricots, prunes, or oranges, peanuts, and bananas, that are made into a paste. It symbolizes the mortar that our ancestors used to build pyramids. The sweet taste of the Charoyses also reminds us that in the bitterest times of slavery, our people have always remembered the sweet taste of freedom.

KARPAS
The parsley and the salt water remind us that both the tender greens of the earth and the salt of the sea are joined together to sustain life.

ORANGE
One of the gifts of our tradition is that we are able to interpret and expand the customs that have been handed down to us. One new custom is the addition of an orange on the seder plate. Rabbi Susannah Heschel put an orange at her own Seder plate as a gesture of solidarity with Jewish lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, transpeople, and all others who are marginalized within the Jewish community. And there are those who add: We left Mitzrayim as slaves and were reborn as a free
people. So we bring to the Seder plate a fruit that carries, within itself, the seeds of its own rebirth.

OLIVE
We add the olive to our Seder plate to bring to mind the olive branch, which has long been a symbol of peace, and to remember the olive tree which evokes an ancient past, shared by generations, tied to the ritual of harvest and to the traditions of preparing and sharing food with family and friends. As we think of the tensions in the Middle East and the massive uprooting of Palestinian olive trees, we also celebrate the olive branch as a sign of hope and an enduring future
dating back to the time of Noah, the receding flood waters, and the beginning of a new life.

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.

בְָּרוּךְ 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.

In creating a holiday about the joy of freedom, we turn the story of our bitter history into a sweet celebration. We recognize this by dipping our bitter herbs into the sweet charoset. We don’t totally eradicate the taste of the bitter with the taste of the sweet… but doesn’t the sweet mean more when it’s layered over the bitterness?

ברוּךְ אַתָּה יְיַָ אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּֽנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מרוֹר:

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

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

When the Temple still stood, the sage Hillel originated the tradition of eating matzah and maror together, combining the bread of liberation with a remembrance of the bitterness of slavery. In following his example, we create a physical representation of the holiday's central tension. 

Enjoy! But don’t forget when you’re done we’ve got a little more seder to go, including the final two cups of wine!

Finding and eating the Afikomen | tzafoon | צָפוּן

The playfulness of finding the afikomen reminds us that we balance our solemn memories of slavery with a joyous celebration of freedom. As we eat the afikomen, our last taste of matzah for the evening, we are grateful for moments of silliness and happiness in our lives.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

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

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you...

-- W.S. Merwin

Now let us say together part of the traditional Hebrew blessing after meals:

Baruch atah Adonai, hazan et hakol.

Thank you, God, for the food we have eaten.

We fill the final cup of wine and open the door for Elijah. As we turn our gaze toward the door, let us pray for and work toward true redemption: a time when all people will live in freedom.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן:

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

We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

The extra cup of wine on the table is the Cup of Elijah. There is a story that Elijah, a great teacher who lived long ago, said that he would return in each generation disguised as someone poor or oppressed and come to people's door to see how he would be treated. For that reason, we open the door and invite Elijah to come in with this song: 

Eliahu hanavi, eliahu hatishbi

eliahu, eliahu, eliahu hagiladi

Bimhera b'yameinu yavo elenu

Im Mashiach ben David, Im Mashiach ben David

Eliahu hanavi, eliahu hatishbi

eliahu, eliahu, eliahu hagiladi

In The Leader's Guide to the Family Participation Haggadah: A Different Night, Rabbi David Hartman writes: “Passover is the night for reckless dreams; for visions about what a human being can be, what society can be, what people can be, what history may become.”

Now our seder is over, but we can ask ourselves what we can do to fulfill our reckless dreams? What will be our legacy for future generations?

 As we had the pleasure to gather for a seder this year, we hope to once again have the opportunity in the years to come. As we say…

לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשָׁלָֽיִם

L’shana haba-ah biy’rushalayim

NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM!

May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing views. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets’ towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottoes of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you—beyond that next turning of the canyon walls. So long.

- Edward Abbey

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine,
Let it shine,
Let it shine.

Repeat with verses: All around the world....Everywhere I go...Make up your own!

Chad Gadya

חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא

דְזַבִּין אַבָּא בִּתְרֵי זוּזֵי

חַד גַּדְיָא, חַד גַּדְיָא

Chad gadya, chad gadya

Dizabin abah bitrei zuzei

Chad gadya, chad gadya.

One little goat, one little goat:

Which my father brought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The cat came and ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The dog came and bit the cat

That ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The stick came and beat the dog

That bit the cat that ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The fire came and burned the stick

That beat the dog that bit the cat

That ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The water came and extinguished the

Fire that burned the stick

That beat the dog that bit the cat

That ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The ox came and drank the water

That extinguished the fire

That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The butcher came and killed the ox,

That drank the water

That extinguished the fire

That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The angle of death came and slew

The butcher who killed the ox,

That drank the water

That extinguished the fire

That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.

One little goat, one little goat:

The Holy One, Blessed Be He came and

Smote the angle of death who slew

The butcher who killed the ox,

That drank the water

That extinguished the fire

That burned the stick that beat the dog That bit the cat that ate the goat,

Which my father bought for two zuzim.