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TABLE OF CONTENTS
The seder officially begins with a physical act: lighting the candles. In Jewish tradition, lighting candles and saying a blessing over them marks a time of transition, from the day that is ending to the one that is beginning, from ordinary time to sacred time. Lighting the candles is an important part of our Passover celebration because their flickering light reminds us of the importance of keeping the fragile flame of freedom alive in the world.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Yom Tov.
Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with laws and commanded us to light the festival lights.
As we light the festival candles, we acknowledge that as they brighten our Passover table, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds brighten our days.
On seder night, there are two moments where we metaphorically open our doors and invite others in. One is at the opening of the Magid portion of the seder, when we say, “All who are hungry come and eat.” There is a beautiful message here: we were once slaves; poor and hungry, and we remember our redemption by sharing what we have with others.
The other, comes towards the end of the seder, when we have the custom of pouring a fifth cup of wine, which we claim is for Elijah the Prophet. This is a statement of faith, a statement that says that although we are a free people, our redemption is not yet complete, and we believe that it will come.
From the most downtrodden to the most celebrated, the message is clear: everyone is welcome and everyone is necessary. Why is it that we go out of our way to include all at our seder table? Perhaps it is because when we make room for others, we have the opportunity to make room for ourselves as well. In fact, the Mishnah (Pesahim 10:5) teaches us that:
בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they left Egypt
The seder presents us with the obligation of identifying with the generation that left Egypt and internalizing that experience. And through that internalization, we come to feel the redemption as if it was our own as well to - לראות את עצמו. Further, the reliving of the story of the Exodus affords us the opportunity see one’s true self. It is only when we are able to see ourselves clearly, that we are able to be redeemed. But perhaps the only way we are able to see ourselves, is when we are truly able to see those around us. This message of inclusion is Pardes’s message too, and our hope is that this Haggadah Companion which offers something for everyone, will add new meaning to your seder and help bring the Jewish people a little closer together.
by Stosh Cotler
I had danced for D before- a leather butch who came into my club with her old school, high femme wife and their entourage. That particular night, the Saturday before Passover, I sat with their crew after my table dance for D, and was shocked when D’s lover started talking about Seder arrangements. Immediately, I outed myself as a Jew, which caused a huge burst of excitement at the table- imagine the odds, not only of randomly running into other Jews in a goyim-dominated city like Portland, but of meeting freaky Jews at a sex club. It was beautiful. I was invited to their Seder, and I accepted.
A few days later I wasn’t so sure about my decision. A Seder, after so many years of no Seders and few Jewish celebrations, what was I thinking? And with total strangers? I called my dad. “ Dad, there was a bunch of leather dykes who came into my club last weekend and invited me to their Seder. What should I do!?” And his response “ Of course you have to go! How could you not go? Go already!”
Wavering about my decision until the very last moment, I arrived at D’s house feeling nervous and little sorry I had taken his advice. I approached the door and saw the mezuzah, along side the rainbow flags and pink triangle stickers. I walked in and was greeted by the requisite cache of dogs, and then when I looked up I was surrounded by a surreal combination of 40’s –something, primarily white, butch-femme couples with a handful of dazzling leather daddy’s and Lavender Lesbians thrown in the mix.
I was introduced to everyone and took my seat with the others. We began the evening reading from the hand-made haggadah prepared for the seder, written specifically because so many of these people had been invisibilized, marginalized, traumatized or otherwise neglected by their mainstream Jewish upbringing. As we experienced the meal together, I think I was in shock- it had never occurred to me that Judaism could be contemporary, that my childhood religion and culture could have any relevance in my adult life, or that I could possibly bring my whole self to the table- without having to make excuses or justifications for who I am. It had never occurred to me that being Jewish was a revolutionary spiritual and political path to personal and community liberation.
I cried during the seder itself (you know, those tears that just well up in your eyes and you try to wipe them away before anyone else notices), and then I cried and cried for four days straight. I remember sitting on my bed, talking with my best friend, and not having the words to describe my confusion and grief and anger and desire after that Seder. I was so sad that I had missed out on so much of my Jewish upbringing, resentful that so many Jews are forced to assimilate into a watered down culture, fiercely bitter that so many Jews get pushed out of our own Jewish spaces because of intolerance within “our” community, and mostly just confused about how I was going to integrate this huge experience into my life. I truly felt like I had found my “home” in those short hours at the seder, and after being gone so long I felt scared and lost.
When something so deep happens, there is no going back. That Seder marked my return to Judaism and the beginning of my conscious and proud identity as a Jew. And for that reason, I think about Passover as my own personal Jewish anniversary as well as the time when we sit together with our loved ones and recount the story of liberation- our personal liberation, our people’s liberation, ALL people’s liberation.
May this haggadah be a reminder to us all that we are beautiful creatures who have a rightful place within our own tradition, and may we bring the radical spirit and vision of this holiday into our daily lives, minute by minute, as we work for love and justice for all people.
Love, Stosh
The four cups of wine are traditionally linked to the four promises God made to the children of Israel:
As it is written: "I will bring you out from under the burdens of Egypt. I will deliver you from bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and great judgements. I will take you to be my people and I will be your God" (Exodus 6: 6-7).
Tonight we dedicate the four cups of wine to important or inspirational women in our lives- individually or as a community- who have worked towards redemption and freedom in their own ways. Please take a minute to think about who you would like to dedicate the first cup to.
Traditional Masculine Blessing
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha'olam borei p'ri hagafen.
Traditional Feminine Blessing
B'rucha At Yah Eloheinu Ruach ha'olam boreit p'ri hagafen.
You are blessed, Our God, Spirit of the World, who creates the fruit of the vine.
Non-gendered Blessing
The following alternative kiddush was written by Marcia Falk, a prominent Jewish feminist liturgist. Her blessings avoid the problem of God’s gender because they do not reference God as a person-like being. In addition, they locate the power of blessing with the people ("Let us bless" rather than with God’s inherent blessedness ("Blessed are you")
N’vareykh et Eyn Hahayim matzmihat p’ri hagefen.
Let us bless the Source of Life that ripens the fruit on the vine.
Some of this clip originally appeared on Ritualwell.org.
As we remember this struggle, we honor the midwives who were the first Jews to resist the Pharaoh. our legends tell us that Pharaoh, behaving in a way common to oppressors, tried to get Jews to collaborate in murdering their own people. He summoned the two chief midwives, Shifra and Pu'ah, and commanded them to kill newborn Jewish males at birth. He threatened the midwives with death by fire if they failed to follow his commands.
But the midwives did not follow orders. Instead of murdering the infants, they took special care of them and their mothers. When Pharaoh asked them to account for all the living children, they made up the excuse that Jewish women gave birth too fast to summon midwives in time.
The midwives' acts of civil disobedience were the first stirrings of resistance among the Jewish slaves. The actions of the midwives gave the people courage both to withstand their oppression and to envision how to overcome it. It became the forerunner of the later resistance. Thus Shifra and Pu'ah were not only midwives to the children they delivered, but also to the entire Jewish nation, in its deliverance from slavery.
To wash your hands, you don’t need soap, but you do need a cup to pour water over your hands. Pour water on each of your hands three times, alternating between your hands. If the people around your table don’t want to get up to walk all the way over to the sink, you could pass a pitcher and a bowl around so everyone can wash at their seats… just be careful not to spill!
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 to consider what we hope to get out of our evening together tonight. Go around the table and share one hope or expectation you have for tonight's seder.
Passover, like many of our holidays, combines the celebration of an event from our Jewish memory with a recognition of the cycles of nature. As we remember the liberation from Egypt, we also recognize the stirrings of spring and rebirth happening in the world around us. The symbols on our table bring together elements of both kinds of celebration.
We now take a vegetable, representing our joy at the dawning of spring after our long, cold winter. Most families use a green vegetable, such as parsley or celery, but some families from Eastern Europe have a tradition of using a boiled potato since greens were hard to come by at Passover time. Whatever symbol of spring and sustenance we’re using, we now dip it into salt water, a symbol of the tears our ancestors shed as slaves. Before we eat it, we recite a short blessing:
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הָאֲדָמָה
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree ha-adama.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who creates the fruits of the earth.
We look forward to spring and the reawakening of flowers and greenery. They haven’t been lost, just buried beneath the snow, getting ready for reappearance just when we most needed them.
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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?
We are about to take the middle matzah and divide it in half. This matzah which we break and set aside is a symbol of our unity with Jews throughout the world. We will not conclude our Seder until the missing piece (the Afikomen) is found and spiritually reunited. This is a reminder of the indestructible link which infuses us as a world family.
In unison we say…
We cannot forget those who remain behind in any land of persecution, fearful of a growing public anti-Semitism or bigotry. To those still seeking liberty of life, to those striving courageously to build a better Jewish life in the country of their choice and to those of all humankind that strive to live a free and equal existence with all people of the world regardless of gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation and gender identity and religion, we pledge our continued vigilance, support, and solidarity.
Later, we will search for the hidden piece of matzah. In much the same way, we seek to reconnect with our neighbors throughout the world. Once having found the missing half, we will be able to continue our Seder. So, too, will the continued bonding of Diaspora Jewry with our homeland allow Israel to grow and blossom as the eternal core of our collective Jewish identity.
In unison, we say…
We pray that they may live in peace, in a land at peace, with a world knowing war no more. We pray that the characteristics that make each human unique will be celebrated everywhere, with a world embracing diversity and knowing prejudice no more.
For the daily meal, there is one loaf of bread; but on the Sabbath there are two loaves as a reminder of the double portion of manna which fell on Friday for the Children of Israel as they traveled in the wilderness. (Exodus 16:22) In honor of Passover, a third matzah was added specifically for the Passover Seder experience.
אֲפִיקוֹמָן
We break the middle matzah in half and place the larger piece of matzah, the Afikomen, in a napkin and hide it.
The door is opened as a sign of hospitality.
The matzot are uncovered and held up.
Behold the matzah, bread of infliction, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat; all who are needy, come and celebrate the Passover with us.
Pour the second glass of wine for everyone.
The Haggadah doesn’t tell the story of Passover in a linear fashion. We don’t hear of Moses being found by the daughter of Pharaoh – actually, we don’t hear much of Moses at all. Instead, we get an impressionistic collection of songs, images, and stories of both the Exodus from Egypt and from Passover celebrations through the centuries. Some say that minimizing the role of Moses keeps us focused on the miracles God performed for us. Others insist that we keep the focus on the role that every member of the community has in bringing about positive change.
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.
At all other סדרים, our minds can be full of stressful anticipation for the night different from all other nights, whether we are surrounded by our nearest and dearest, our friends, or complete strangers. Tonight, may we enjoy a calming and empowering evening surrounded by our "sisters".
At all other סדרים, we can be concerned about food- whether we have eaten too much or too little, whether people find what we've prepared tasty, how we're going to survive the sheer quantities of matzot and our overall appearance. Tonight, may we all be free of food and body consciousness, anxieties and insecurities.
At all other סדרים, we read of the heroic struggles and soul-searching of our forebears as they left Egypt. Tonight, we will consider our personal acts of heroism as we struggle to break free from the shackles which imprison our respective souls, and celebrate the many Heroines in our daily lives.
As we tell the story, we think about it from all angles. Our tradition speaks of four different types of children who might react differently to the Passover seder. It is our job to make our story accessible to all the members of our community, so we think about how we might best reach each type of child:
What does the wise child say?
The wise child asks, What are the testimonies and laws which God commanded you?
You must teach this child the rules of observing the holiday of Passover.
What does the wicked child say?
The wicked child asks, What does this service mean to you?
To you and not to himself! Because he takes himself out of the community and misses the point, set this child’s teeth on edge and say to him: “It is because of what God did for me in taking me out of Egypt.” Me, not him. Had that child been there, he would have been left behind.
What does the simple child say?
The simple child asks, What is this?
To this child, answer plainly: “With a strong hand God took us out of Egypt, where we were slaves.”
What about the child who doesn’t know how to ask a question?
Help this child ask.
Start telling the story:
“It is because of what God did for me in taking me out of Egypt.”
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Do you see yourself in any of these children? At times we all approach different situations like each of these children. How do we relate to each of them?
Around our tables sit four daughters.
Wise Daughter
The Wise daughter understands that not everything is as it appears.
She is the one who speaks up, confident that her opinion counts. She is the one who can take the tradition and ritual that is placed before her, turn it over and over, and find personal meaning in it. She is the one who can find the secrets in the empty spaces between the letters of the Torah.
She is the one who claims a place for herself even if the men do not make room for her.
Some call her wise and accepting. We call her creative and assertive. We welcome creativity and assertiveness to sit with us at our tables and inspire us to act.
Wicked Daughter
The Wicked daughter is the one who dares to challenge the simplistic answers she has been given.
She is the one who asks too many questions. She is the one not content to remain in her prescribed place. She is the one who breaks the mold. She is the one who challenges the status quo.
Some call her wicked and rebellious. We call her daring and courageous. We welcome rebellion to sit with us at our tables and make us uneasy.
Simple Daughter
The Simple daughter is the one who accepts what she is given without asking for more.
She is the one who trusts easily and believes what she is told. She is the one who prefers waiting and watching over seeking and acting. She is the one who believes that the redemption from Egypt was the final act of freedom. She is the one who follows in the footsteps of others.
Some call her simple and naive. We call her the one whose eyes are yet to be opened. We welcome the contented one to sit with us at our tables and appreciate what will is still to come.
Daughter Who Does Not Know How to Ask
Last is the daughter who does not know how to ask.
She is one who obeys and does not question. She is the one who has accepted men's definitions of the world. She is the one who has not found her own voice. She is the one who is content to be invisible.
Some call her subservient and oppressed. We call her our sister. We welcome the silent one to sit with us at our tables and experience a community that welcomes the voices of women.
(Used with permission of the Temple Emunah Women's Seder Haggadah Design Committee)
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 baby boys be killed. Two midwives named Shifrah and Puah defied his orders. 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 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.
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, Moses 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. 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.
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.
As we rejoice at our deliverance from slavery, we acknowledge that our freedom was hard-earned. We regret that our freedom came at the cost of the Egyptians’ suffering, for we are all human beings made in the image of God. We pour out a drop of wine for each of the plagues as we recite them.
Dip a finger or a spoon into your wine glass for a drop for each plague.
These are the ten plagues which God brought down on the Egyptians:
Blood | dam | דָּם
Frogs | tzfardeiya | צְפַרְדֵּֽעַ
Lice | kinim | כִּנִּים
Beasts | arov | עָרוֹב
Cattle disease | dever | דֶּֽבֶר
Boils | sh’chin | שְׁחִין
Hail | barad | בָּרָד
Locusts | arbeh | אַרְבֶּה
Darkness | choshech | חֹֽשֶׁךְ
Death of the Firstborn | makat b’chorot | מַכַּת בְּכוֹרוֹת
The Egyptians needed ten plagues because after each one they were able to come up with excuses and explanations rather than change their behavior. Could we be making the same mistakes? Make up your own list. What are the plagues in your life? What are the plagues in our world today? What behaviors do we need to change to fix them?
As all good term papers do, we start with the main idea:
ּעֲבָדִים הָיִינוּ הָיִינו. עַתָּה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין
Avadim hayinu hayinu. Ata b’nei chorin.
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. Now we are free.
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and God took us from there with a strong hand and outstretched arm. Had God not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then even today we and our children and our grandchildren would still be slaves. Even if we were all wise, knowledgeable scholars and Torah experts, we would still be obligated to tell the story of the exodus from Egypt.
The plagues and our subsequent redemption from Egypt are but one example of the care God has shown for us in our history. Had God but done any one of these kindnesses, it would have been enough – dayeinu.
אִלּוּ הוֹצִיאָֽנוּ מִמִּצְרַֽיִם, דַּיֵּנוּ
Ilu hotzi- hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu
If God had only taken us out of Egypt, that would have been enough!
אִלּוּ נָתַן לָֽנוּ אֶת־הַתּוֹרָה, דַּיֵּנוּ
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.
The complete lyrics to Dayeinu tell the entire story of the Exodus from Egypt as a series of miracles God performed for us. (See the Additional Readings if you want to read or sing them all.)
Dayeinu also reminds us that each of our lives is the cumulative result of many blessings, small and large.
As students, it often feels as though we are inundated with things to do. Homework, clubs, and social obligations vie for our attention, and it is sometimes difficult to let go and remind ourselves that we are doing enough. Tonight, we take this opportunity to say
Dayenu.
If we attend two clubs a week but not three or four,
Dayenu!
If we join clubs but not their boards,
Dayenu!
If we go to one or two campus events per semester and not all of them,
Dayenu!
If we are there for our friends when they’re hurting but skip lunch with them sometimes,
Dayenu!
If we learn from a class but do not get an A,
Dayenu!
If we write the minimum page count for our essays and no more,
Dayenu!
If we turn in the assignment at 11:55 at night,
Dayenu!
If we get a good night’s sleep but don’t finish our reading,
Dayenu!
If we have tea or coffee in the morning but no real breakfast,
Dayenu!
If we do what we can and no more,
Dayenu!
בְּכָל־דּוֹר וָדוֹר חַיָּב אָדָם לִרְאוֹת אֶת־עַצְמוֹ, כְּאִלּוּ הוּא יָצָא מִמִּצְרָֽיִם
B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et-atzmo, k’ilu hu yatzav mimitzrayim.
In every generation, everyone is obligated to see themselves as though they personally left Egypt.
The seder reminds us that it was not only our ancestors whom God redeemed; God redeemed us too along with them. That’s why the Torah says “God brought us out from there in order to lead us to and give us the land promised to our ancestors.”
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We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt, enabling us to reach this night and eat matzah and bitter herbs. May we continue to reach future holidays in peace and happiness.
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.
Drink the second glass of wine!
We sing “Miriam’s Song,” by Debbie Friedman in honor of Miriam and the Israelite women at the crossing at the Sea.
Chorus: And the women dancing with their timbrels
Followed Miriam as she sang her song.
Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted.
Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long.
And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety.
The tapestry she wove was one, which sang our history. With every thread and every strand she crafted her delight. A woman touched with spirit, she dances toward the light.
[Chorus]
As Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea,
The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe.
Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom, and march to the Promised Land.
[Chorus]
And Miriam the Prophet took her Timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned. And Miriam raised her voice with song.
She sang with praise and might,
We’ve just lived through a miracle; we’re going to dance tonight.
The message of Passover carries a sense of humbleness to the self, placing one’s frame of mind in a more balanced proportion relative to one’s immediate surroundings and to the universe as a whole. Self-centeredness can magnify one’s view of the world to the point where one can only see oneself more than one can see one’s environment and those in it. The Feast (and Feat) of Freedom, called Passover, is a shining example of a meaningful story showing God’s intent to convey a psychological balance between the Israelite’s self-concerns and the concerns of their enemies, the Egyptians.
Similarly today we recognize both our society’s evolution in embracing the GLBT community and the challenges still to come. We strike a balance between celebrating our victories and recognizing the pain and hardships that we have endured. We thank our allies for their unending support and God for providing us with the strength to seek a just world.
We have now told the story of Passover…but wait! We’re not quite done. There are still some symbols on our seder plate we haven’t talked about yet. Rabban Gamliel would say that whoever didn’t explain the shank bone, matzah, and marror (or bitter herbs) hasn’t done Passover justice.
The shank bone represents the Pesach, the special lamb sacrifice made in the days of the Temple for the Passover holiday. It is called the pesach, from the Hebrew word meaning “to pass over,” because God passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt when visiting plagues upon our oppressors.
The matzah reminds us that when our ancestors were finally free to leave Egypt, there was no time to pack or prepare. Our ancestors grabbed whatever dough was made and set out on their journey, letting their dough bake into matzah as they fled.
The bitter herbs provide a visceral reminder of the bitterness of slavery, the life of hard labor our ancestors experienced in Egypt.
There are a wide range of explanations given for why some Jews include an orange on the sader plate. The variety of narratives reflect how this practice, which has become popular in the last few decades, evolved over time to yield multiple tales and interpretations.
Rebecca Alpert tells of a 1979 session on women and Jewish law presented to the Jewish Women's Group at the University of California Berkley Hillel by the rebbetzin of the campus Chabad house. One student asked the rebbetzin her opinion about the place of lesbians in Judaism. The rebbetzin suggested that lesbianism was a small transgression, like eating bread during Passover. Something one shouldn't do, but for which there were few consequences. Some time later, when the Berkley students were planning their sader, they chose to place a crust of bread on their seder plate in solidarity with lesbians who were trying to find a place in Jewish life.
Others picked up this story, but struggled with the transgressive symbolism of bread on a sader plate. Professor Susannah Heschel was responsible for substituting a tangerine as a symbol for gay and lesbian solidarity. She then went on to share the story, and as it spread, it changed. The symbol became an orange, not a tangerine, and the focus on Jewish lesbians shifted to the place of women leaders and rabbis in Judaism. And this is the version that first began to appear in mainstream haggadot. Today, let our orange be a symbol of inclusivity to all genders and sexualities.
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. In Judaism, 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.
Some people distinguish between washing to prepare for prayer and washing to prepare for food by changing the way they pour water on their hands. For washing before food, pour water three times on your right hand and then three times on your left hand.
After you have poured the water over your hands, recite this short blessing.
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.
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, who made us holy through obligations, commanding us to wash our hands.
Matzah, like all bread, represents the culmination of the work of many hands. Others plant the seeds, harvest the grain, grind the flour, bake the bread and deliver the loaves to our homes. With this blessing over matzah we recognize that our journey is shared by others and that we are not alone.
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.
In our tradition, we lean to the left while eating the first bite of matzah. This was the action of free people. We sometimes have to act as if we are free in order to get a sense of what that is like. It is a "freedom-readiness" program.
Dipping the bitter herb in sweet charoset | maror |מָרוֹר
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?
בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, 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.
from "Earth Justice Seder" Haggadah
We sit tonight in a place of both freedom and comfort, while we remember the bitterness of the hardships of our ancestors.
The great sage Hillel provided us with the tradition of constructing the Hillel sandwich, combining the bitterness of the maror with the sweetness of the charoset between the fortitude of the two pieces of matzah--the symbol of freedom. Through this ritual, we think about mortar and brick. We think of the Israelites traveling through the desert with no homes, no place to land and build up their strong communities, and only the matzah as a reminder of their freedom. It is not until they came to the biblical Promised Land that they experienced the sweetness of their redemption.
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!
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.
Refill everyone’s wine glass.
We now say grace after the meal, thanking God for the food we’ve eaten. On Passover, this becomes something like an extended toast to God, culminating with drinking our third glass of wine for the evening:
We praise God, Ruler of Everything, whose goodness sustains the world. You are the origin of love and compassion, the source of bread for all. Thanks to You, we need never lack for food; You provide food enough for everyone. We praise God, source of food for everyone.
As it says in the Torah: When you have eaten and are satisfied, give praise to your God who has given you this good earth. We praise God for the earth and for its sustenance.
Renew our spiritual center in our time. We praise God, who centers us.
May the source of peace grant peace to us, to the Jewish people, and to the entire world. Amen.
The Third Glass of Wine
The blessing over the meal is immediately followed by another blessing over the wine:
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.
Drink the third glass of wine!
Berich rachamana Malka de'Alma marey dehay pita. x2
You are the source of life for all that is
and your blessing flows through me.
Singing songs that praise God | hallel | הַלֵּל
This is the time set aside for singing. Some of us might sing traditional prayers from the Book of Psalms. Others take this moment for favorites like Chad Gadya & Who Knows One, which you can find in the appendix. To celebrate the theme of freedom, we might sing songs from the civil rights movement. Or perhaps your crazy Uncle Frank has some parody lyrics about Passover to the tunes from a musical. We’re at least three glasses of wine into the night, so just roll with it.
Fourth Glass of Wine
As we come to the end of the seder, we drink one more glass of wine. With this final cup, we give thanks for the experience of celebrating Passover together, for the traditions that help inform our daily lives and guide our actions and aspirations.
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.
Drink the fourth and final glass of wine!
Chad gadya, chad gadya
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the dog that bit the cat
That ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the stick that beat the dog
That bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the fire that burned the stick
That beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the water that quenched the fire
that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came ox that drank the water
That quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the butcher who killed the ox,
That drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the angel of death who killed the butcher
Who killed the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Then came the Holy One, Blessed Be God who killed the angel of death
Who killed the butcher who killed the ox that drank the water that quenched the fire that burned the stick that beat the dog that bit the cat that ate the kid,
My father bought for two zuzim.
Chad gadya, chad gadya
Who knows one? I know one!
One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows two? I know two!
Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows three? I know three!
Three are the papas
and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows four? I know four!
Four are the mamas
and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows five? I know five!
Five are the books of the Torah
and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows six? I know six!
Six are the orders of the Mishnah
and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows seven? I know seven!
Seven are the days of the week
and Six are the orders of the Mishnah and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas
and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows eight? I know eight!
Eight are the days to brit milah
and Seven are the days of the week and Six are the orders of the Mishnah and Five are the books of the Torah
and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows nine? I know nine!
Nine are the months to a child’s birth
and Eight are the days to brit milah and Seven are the days of the week and Six are the orders of the Mishnah
and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows ten? I know ten!
Ten are God's commandments
and Nine are the months to a child’s birth and Eight are the days to brit milah and Seven are the days of the week
and Six are the orders of the Mishnah and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas
and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows eleven? I know eleven!
Eleven are the stars in Joseph’s dream
and Ten are God's commandments and Nine are the months to a child’s birth and Eight are the days to brit milah
and Seven are the days of the week and Six are the orders of the Mishnah and Five are the books of the Torah
and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows twelve? I know twelve
Twelve are the tribes of Yisrael
and Eleven are the stars in Joseph’s dream and Ten are the commandments and Nine are the months to a child’s birth
and Eight are the days to brit milah and Seven are the days of the week and Six are the orders of the Mishnah
and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
Who knows thirteen? I know thirteen!
Thirteen are the attributes of God
and Twelve are the tribes of Yisrael and Eleven are the stars in Joseph’s dream and Ten are the commandments
and Nine are the months to a child’s birth and Eight are the days to brit milah and Seven are the days of the week
and Six are the orders of the Mishnah and Five are the books of the Torah and Four are the mamas and Three are the papas
and Two are the tablets
and One is our God! x3 In the heavens and the earth
I said Ooo Ahh Ooo Ahh Ahh x2
In every generation, we all should feel as though we ourselves had gone forth from Egypt, as it is written: “And you shall explain to your child on that day, it is because of what God did for me when, I, myself, went forth from Egypt.” (Exodus 13:8)
We end our Passover Seder by saying in unison:
May slavery give way to freedom.
May hate give way to love.
May ignorance give way to wisdom.
May despair give way to hope.
Next year, at this time, may everyone, everywhere, be free!
Next year in Jerusalem!
!לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בִּירוּשַָׁלָיִם
L’Shanah HaBa’ah B’Yerushalayim!
