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For thousands of years Jewish people and their friends have gathered at this time to celebrate the coming of spring and tell a story of liberation. Our ancestors celebrated Passover in good years and bad, during peace and war, at home and in exile, in times of good health and previous plagues.
We find ourselves celebrating Passover during another such extraordinary time. When the world is transforming, it can be grounding to observe acient traditions. This pandemic-time seder has raised special challenges--seder-by-Zoom and homemade matzoh--but perhaps the memories will be all the more precious for those challenges. And this is my first time hosting a seder, so bear with me!
This blessing can be recited as we light the candles to begin the Passover Seder and to celebrate the arrival of spring:
Blessed is the light in the world.
Blessed is the light within humanity.
Blessed is the light of Passover.
Barukh ha-or ba-olam
Barukh ha-or ba-adam
Barukh ha-ror ba-Pesakh
(If this blessing is different or new to you: Judaism is a constantly evolving conversation, practice, and identity. This text has been used by tens of thousands of Jews over the past fifty years.)
The first cup represents the renewal of springtime, our love and gratitude for the natural world.
Traditional: Brukhim ha-adama ha-shemesh v’ha-geshem shehborim pre hagafen. Blessed are the earth, the sun, and the rains that bring forth the fruit of the wine.
I've noticed the quarantine has made me appreciate my time outdoors and the bit of nature we have access to more than ever. I've noticed the minute changes of springtime more than ever before. Has it been the same for you? What have you noticed in nature lately?
Scientists say that this pandemic may be a result of the way we've treated our natural world. What are your hopes for how humanity could change how we treat the natural world as a result of the pandemic?
Slaves eat quickly, stopping neither to wash nor to reflect. Tonight, we are free. We wash and we express our reverence for the blessings that are ours.
The COVID-19 crisis has shown us that washing hands is an act of love for our fellow humans. While traditionally, we would simply pour water over our hands, we know that soap and water or disinfectant is required to destroy dangerous germs and protect each other. So in this time of pandemic we pass a bottle of hand sanitizer, or head to the sink to wash our hands with soap and water!
[Greens held up for all to see.]
KARPAS - Parsley and celery are symbols of all kinds of spring greenery. The second time, the salt water and the green can help us to remember the ocean and green plants and the Earth, from which we get the water and air and food that enable us to live.
Leader: N'-varekh `et pri ha-`Adamah.
Everyone:
Let us bless the fruit of the Earth.
[Please dip your parsley into salt water two times and eat it.]
We break the matzah and hide one part (the Afikomen). We recognize that liberation is made by imperfect people, broken, fragmented — so don’t be waiting until you are totally pure, holy, spiritually centered, and psychologically healthy to get involved in tikkun (the healing and repair of the world). It will be imperfect people, wounded healers, who do the healing as we simultaneously work on ourselves.
The Bread of Affliction
Raise the middle matzah so that everyone can see it and say:
This is the bread of affliction. Let all who are hungry come and eat.
As we say that line, we remind ourselves that it is this spirit of generosity that is the authentic Jewish spirit. It is meant to be a contrast to the messages of class society, which continually try to tell us “there is not enough” and therefore that we can’t afford to share what we have with others. We are the richest society in the history of the human race, and we may be the stingiest as well — a society filled with people who think that we don’t have enough.
We who identify with Tikkun proudly proclaim: there is enough, we are enough, and we can afford to share.
Contributed by Society for Humanistic Judaism
(edited/adapted by Sim Kern)
The story we recall tonight is the product of Israelite imagination. It does not describe actual events. (See appendix for a more historical account)
There are aspects that are somewhat disturbing. Both Pharaoh and the God of the Israelites are responsible for much torment. Yet if we strip away these and other problematic elements, we are left with a theme that continues to inspire: the thirst for freedom.
The story reminds us that at their worst, people exploit each other with little regard for their shared humanity. But when people are at their best they are capable of performing great deeds of valor inspired by empathy and loving kindness.
The history of the Jews has frequently revealed the worst in people. Their history of suffering came to an awful climax during the Holocaust. Yet today, for the first time in millennia, Jewish communities are flourishing throughout the world.
Does this not call for a special responsibility?
Sadly, we do not find that adversity leads inevitably to an elevated ethics of compassion. Sometimes pain creates so much bitterness that those who were once oppressed now become the oppressors.
So I think it's important we name that at this seder, we stand in solidarity with the liberation of the Palestinian people, and support the establishment of a free, independent Palestine as an essential step on the path to Tikkun Olam--the repair of the world.
No one person can change the world. To do so we must stand together. Great change requires no supernatural miracles. It requires only that we respond to the best part of our humanity.
Mah nishtanah ha-lailah ha-zeh mi-kol ha-leilot? mi-kol ha-leilot?
Why is this night different from all other nights?
She-b-khol ha-leilot `anu `okhlin hamets u-matsah, hamets u-matsah, ha-lailah ha-zeh ha-lailah ha-zeh kulo matsah?
On all other nights we eat either bread or matsah. Why, on this night, do we eat only matsah?
She-b-khol ha-leilot `anu `okhlin sh'`ar y'raqot, sh'`ar y'raqot, ha-lailah ha-zeh, ha-lailah ha-zeh maror, maror?
On all other nights we eat herbs of any kind. Why, on this night, do we eat only bitter herbs?
She-b-khol ha-leilot `ein `anu matbilin `aphilu pa'am `ehat, `aphilu pa'am `ehat, ha-lailah ha-zeh ha-lailah ha-zeh sh'tei ph'amim?
On all other nights, we do not dip our herbs even once. Why, on this night, do we dip them twice?
She-b-khol ha-leilot `anu `okhlin bein yoshvin u-vein m'subin, bein yoshvin u-vein m'subin, ha-lailah ha-zeh, ha-lailah ha-zeh kulanu m'subin?
On all other nights, we eat either sitting or leaning. Why, on this night, do we eat while leaning?
Leader:
As we continue our seder, we will answer these four questions about what makes this night different from all other nights.
This part of the seder always bothered me! Four Jewish children are discussed--a wise child, a wicked child, a simple child, and one who does not know how to ask. Modern interpretations have updated these to substitutions like "thoughtful child," "angry child," and "naive child," but it's the whole idea of categorizing a whole person as any one attribute that rankles me. When I was teaching, too often I saw kids labeled as "good" or "bad," "lazy" or "diligent," and the words were really just stand-ins for neurodiversity or teachers' biases. And these labels did a lot of harm.
I prefer the Buddhist notion that all kids (all people!) have the seeds of wisdom and naivete, kindness and wickedness, selfishness and generosity within them. We are charged to water the seeds of goodness within ourselves, and look for them and help water them in others.
The ultimate point of the four children story from the Haggadah is similar though--that the wise child cannot ignore his wicked and naive siblings, because we are all responsible for each other. The wise child should not think themself so superior to the other children, as we all have wickedness and ignorance to work on.
This is a DIFFICULT challenge when we think about some of the people in our society who are especially powerful and especially wicked.
Long ago, Pharaoh ruled the land of Egypt. He enslaved the Jewish people and made them work very hard building his cities.
Phaoraoh was afraid the Jewish people would multiply and take over, so he ordered the midwives, Shifra and Puah, to kill all newborn Jewish boys. One mother hid her baby in a waterproof basket in the river. His sister, Miriam, watched the cradle go down the Nile, and saw the Pharoah's daughter find him and take him home to live in the palace. The Pharoah's daughter named him "Moses," and his sister Miriam looked after him in secret.
As Moses grew up, he learned about the suffering of the Jews. While defending a Jewish man being beaten, he killed an Egyptian, and had to flee the city. He ran away to a small Jewish farming community, got married, and became a shepherd. While he was looking after the sheep, he saw a bush on fire that did not burn up and heard God's voice telling him to go back to Egypt, to tell Pharoah to let the Jewish people go.
When Moses went to Pharoah, he said "Let my people go." Pharaoh said "No." So, God sent the 1st plague -The Nile river turned to Blood, so none of the crops would grow, no one could drink the water.
Moses went to Pharoah. He said, "Let my people go." Pharaoh said "No." So, God sent the 2nd plague - swarms of frogs.
And so it went. The 3rd plague was lice infesting the Egyptians. The 4th plague was wild beasts--lions and hyenas--invading the city. The 5th plague was cattle disease--all the livestock died. The 6th plague was painful boils, all over the Egyptian's bodies. The 7th plague was hail, destroying the crops and homes and infrastructure of the city. The 8th plague was locusts, devouring all plant life that was left. The 9th plague was darkness--a never-ending night and fog. And The last plague was death. The Jews were instructed to mark their doors with the blood of a lamb so the angel of death would pass over them, then all the firsborn children of Egypt were killed at the stroke of midnight.
Finally, Pharoah begged the Israelites to leave. They had to g et ready to leave very quickly, so quickly that their bread didn't have time to rise; it baked into matzah. They walked through the desert to the sea. But Pharoah changed his mind and sends soldiers to chase after the Jews. When the Jewish people got to the sea, Moses held up his his staff and the sea divided. The Jewish people walked through the sea to freedom and a new future. The sea closed behind, drowning the Egyptian soldiers.
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, we are told, 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
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
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.
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.
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.
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, we are told, 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
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- Covid-19 and other diseases
3- capitalism
4- white supremacy
5- hunger
6- housing crisis
7- fascism
8- destruction of wildlife
9- pollution
10- climate change
(raise second cup of wine)
The fate of every Jew is bound up with the fate of the Jewish people and the destiny of the Jewish people cannot be separated from the destiny of all humanity. Let us drink this cup of wine to symbolize our pledge to break the bonds of slavery for all who are not free.
L'CHAIM!
(Drink the second cup of wine)
At this point in our festivity, let us reflect upon the significance of Passover. Passover celebrates freedom. Can we be free while others are not? If there are people anywhere who are oppressed, then we cannot celebrate Passover with a clear conscience.
"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Injustice to any people is a threat to justice to ALL people.
I will not remain silent in the face of injustice."
— Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Dayenu means “it would have been enough.” The idea is to practice gratitude, in spite of all the crappy shit Jews are always dealing with. So thinking back over the trashfire of the past year, let's name some of the stuff we've felt grateful for and sing Dayenu!
We stayed healthy. Dayenu!
We had a safe home to live in. Dayenu!
etc.
Traditionally, we'd wash our hands in water again here, thanking god for teaching us to wash our hands before meals. And all this, for thousands of years before germ theory was discovered!
It's still a good idea. Probably, we've touched our face since the last we washed 'em. So let's wash again.
[Matsah held up for all to see.]
MATSAH - Why do we eat matsah?
Matsah is the symbol of our affliction and our freedom. Legend has it that when Moses and his followers fled Egypt, they moved so quickly that the bread they baked did not have time to rise.
However, scholars have noted that long before the Jews celebrated Passover, Middle Eastern farmers celebrated a spring festival of unleavened bread. This was a festival where unleavened bread was made from the fresh barley grain newly harvested at this time of the year.
The old fermented dough was thrown out so that last year's grain would not be mixed with this year's. Therefore, the new season began with the eating of unleavened bread - matsah. Later on, the Jewish people incorporated this agricultural festival into the celebration of freedom and renewal we now call Passover.
Leader:
Let us now say a blessing for the matsah.
A BLESSING FOR THE UNLEAVENED BREAD
NOTSI` MATSAH- LET US BRING FORTH MATSAH
Leader:
Notsi`matsah-lehem min ha-`arets
- k'dei she-nistapeq v'-nit-kalkelkula-nu.
Everyone:
Let us bring forth matsah - food from the land -
so we all may be satisfied and sustained.
Leader:
Let us all now eat a piece of matsah.
[Maror held up for all to see.]
MAROR--Why do we eat maror?
Tradition says that this bitter herb is to remind us of the time of our slavery. We force ourselves to taste pain so that we may more readily value pleasure.
Scholars inform us that bitter herbs were eaten at spring festivals in ancient times. The sharpness of the taste awakened the senses and made the people feel at one with nature's revival. Thus, maror is the stimulus of life, reminding us that struggle is better than the complacent acceptance of injustice.
Leader:
As a blessing for the maror, let us all sing this song about striving to be fully human.
Then we will all take a taste of horseradish on a piece of matsah.
LIH'YOT `ISH - TO BE FULLY HUMAN (Mishnah, Pirqei `Avot 2.6)
Ba-maqomshe-`ein`anashim, hishtaddel lih'yot `ish.
Where people are less than human, strive to be fully human.
You will not find an orange included in any ancient Haggadah. It is a brand new tradition and it demonstrates just how quickly new traditions can spread.
Its origins lie in a fable that some university students invented for a feminist Haggadah in the 1980s. It tells the story of a girl who asks a rabbi about the placein Judaism for a lesbian. The angri rabbi retorts, "There's as much room for a lesbian in Judaism as there is for a crust of bread on the Seder plate."
When a prominent professor of Jewish studies came across the students' Haggadah, it gave her an idea for a new ritual. Placing bread on her Seder plate was out of the question. This, she believed, who suggest that people who were different violated Judaism. But maybe another symbol might do the trick. She selected the orange, noting that "it suggests the fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men are contributing and active members of Jewish life."
Today thousands of Jews around the world place an orange on their Seder plate. It serves as a proud statement of inclusivity.
The Afikomen is the last piece of matza to be eaten at the Seder. It is part of the middle matza that has been hidden at the beginning of the Seder. The Afikomen must be eaten before the Seder can be completed.
Traditionally, the children try to find it and are then in a good position to bargain with the leader to get it back. This symbolizes the right of children to be heard and to be involved in family decisions and of their importance in our future.
Lift the third cup of wine and read together.
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Emboldened to welcome refugees into our communities, may we remember that true welcome is not completed upon a person’s safe arrival in our country but in all the ways we help people to rebuild their lives. As God provided for our needs on the long journey from slavery to the Promised Land, let us give the refugees in our communities the tools they need not just to survive but to thrive: safe homes to settle into, quality education for their children, English language tutoring, access to jobs, and all of the things we would want for ourselves and our families. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, who gives us the opportunity to be your partner in ongoing redemption.
Drink the third cup of wine.
Third Question
Discuss as a group: What do you think makes some people stay and continue to experience unimaginable trauma and others flee in search of refuge and asylum? Can you understand both ways of thinking?
In the years of wandering in the desert, Miriam carried a magical well to sustain the Israelites. Accodring to tradition, Miriam's well is still with us, replenishing wells everywhere in the world. Miriam is present with us always, sustaining us as we work towards a better world.
Basically, Miriam represents the self-care that is essential in the long struggle for justice.
Normally, we'd all drink from Miriam's cup here, but due to the pandemic, let's each drink a glass of water from our own glasses.
What have we been doing for self-care during this difficult time?
Leader:
Let us all refill our cups.
Leader picks up cup for all to see.
This is the cup of hope.
The seder tradition involves pouring a cup for the Hebrew prophet Elijah. For millennia, Jews opened the door for him, inviting him join their seders, hoping that he would bring with him a messiah to save the world.
Yet the tasks of saving the world - once ascribed to prophets, messiahs and gods - must be taken up by us mere mortals, by common people with shared goals. Working together for progressive change,we can bring about the improvement of the world, tiqqun ha-olam - for justice and for peace, we can and we must.
Leader:
Let us now symbolically open the door of our seder to invite in all people of good will and all those in needto work together with us for a better world.Let us raise our fourth cup as we dedicate ourselves to tiqqun olam, the improvement of the world.
Everyone:
"L' Tiqqun Olam!"
All drink the fourth cup.
For centuries, at the Seder’s conclusion, Jews repeated the phrase “next year in Jerusalem”. They longed for their homeland. It would be comforting to end this story in the land of milk and honey. But, in fact, there will be no land of milk and honey until all groups can put aside their differences and come together in peace.
Leader: [Announces the name of the child or children who found the `afikoman.]
Let us continue our seder by eating one last little piece of matsah to leave us with a taste of freedom's struggles. As you eat, I invite you to close your eyes and dream of Tikkun Olam, the world of freedom. Some say, "it's easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism," to which I say, we must practice! Practice imagining a world free of inequality, violence, and greed.
[Everyone eat a last piece of matsah.]
Now, let us conclude our seder.
Everyone:
We have recalled struggles against slavery and injustice.
We revisited times of persecution and times of fulfillment.
Only half a century ago, Nazis committed the crimes of the Holocaust.
Today, the forces of xenophobia and fascism rise again.
We face a global pandemic, brought about by our enslavement and abuse of nature
And more consequences of climate change loom on the horizon
unless we change our ways and free the natural world.
Jewish history shows us that life is ever-changing, often very difficult.
and we must learn how to survive under all conditions.
When we are persecuted, we must struggle for our own freedom.
The more freedom we attain,
the more we must help others attain freedom.
This is the lesson of Passover.
When earlier we recalled the story of the Exodus, we acknowledged it as a work of fiction. Yet only one hundred years ago, most scholars still believed that the tale was true in many of its details.
Then they started digging … literally … with shovels and pails. It eventually became clear that the story we had told ourselves for millennia did not take place. There had been no mass flight from Egypt, no conquest of the land of Israel, otherwise known as Canaan. The Israelites were natives of the land; they were Canaanites themselves!
So how did the story come to be?
In the late second millennium B.C.E., Egypt dominated Canaan. The pharaohs demanded regular tribute from vassal kings who in turn exploited their own peasant populations.
According to some scholars, in the thirteenth century B.C.E. the region experienced significant upheavals and power shifts. Taking advantage of these changes, many peasants rebelled, throwing off the yoke of their vassal kings. Archeological remains reveal that some fled to and cleared Israel’s central highlands, where tribes and towns began to form. In a long, complicated and gradual process they became known as the Israelites. Did this contribute to inspiring our story?
If so, the Exodus tale may have served as an allegory about liberation from Egypt’s ongoing domination and exploitation of Canaan’s populace. The narrative may also reflect other ancient regional instabilities. Famines and droughts provoked repeated migrations. The Torah’s stories about Abraham and Sara’s journey to Canaan and their grandchildren’s descent to Egypt may disclose memories of these population shifts.
Other historians suggest an alternative possibility. They propose that the Exodus story was influenced by the experience of one tribe, the Levites, that may have come to Israel from Egypt. Many Levite names, including Moses and Aaron, are Egyptian in origin. The Levites were cultic experts and possessed no territory. Were they the outsiders who circulated the original Exodus tale?
The details are buried in history, but history gives wings to legends and legends yield heroes like Moses. Over hundreds of years, our story emerged with its account of one great man, dedicated to justice and to the liberation of his people. He challenged Pharaoh and led the Israelites to freedom. For millennia he has inspired many others who have been downtrodden or enslaved to bring about their own deliverance. And that’s why we told it tonight!
For more on these ideas, see S. David Sperling, The Original Torah: The Political Intent of the Bible’s Writers (New York: New York University Press, 1998); and Richard Elliott Friedman, The Exodus [New York: HarperOne, 2017].
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Rabbi Jeffrey L. Falick, Birmingham Temple Congregation for Humanistic Judaism
