Feinstein Family Seder 2010
A. Introduction
Sue: Welcome to our narrow place, our Egypt. It’s not quite as tight as last year because Eric could not make it. Tonight, as we do once each year, we will attempt to extricate ourselves from the narrow place in which we live and struggle to reach the promised land, the land of milk and honey. Each Passover Seder we relive the Exodus from Egypt. In doing so, we strive to liberate ourselves from our own slavery. Yet each year we return to try to do it again. Perhaps this year we can do it right.
Andy F. Over the past decade, we have explored various aspects of the Seder. One area we have ignored (or avoided) is the Four Children of the traditional Seder. I did not include this section because it is filled with bad child rearing advice, bad psychology, and is basically stupid. For that reason, tonight we will focus on that part of the liturgy.
Tonight’s seder does not have you play roles. Instead, the text assigns words for each of you to speak. The lines are distributed so that everyone has a roughly equal number of words and so everyone stays involved. The words I have put in your mouth have nothing to do with who you are or how I perceive you. By way of example, I did not make Carol the bossy, know-it all character in the script.
Before getting to the four children, we will conduct a fairly traditional Seder, so, in our quest for the original and the relevant, we do not forget the basics. The one major change we will make is to move up the Motzi Matzoh and the discussion and consumption of the Seder plate to the beginning so we do not suffer while we go through the rest of the Seder. Our ancestors in Egypt suffered enough; there is no need for us to suffer more.
B. Candle Blessing; Blessing of Children; Kohanim Kaddish
Rose Ann: Our God and God of our ancestors, may the light of these festival candles cast their glow throughout the world and bring light to all who dwell in darkness, bondage, oppression or war and to all who live in their own prisons of addiction and poverty and family discord. By lighting these candles, we are making a powerful statement about the human condition and our personal responsibility for it. In blessing the lighting of these candles we are committing ourselves to bringing light into the darkness of others who suffer. And, we are committing ourselves to bringing light into those areas of our own lives that we have, consciously or unconsciously, left in darkness. As we light these candles, ask yourself, “What do I know but refuse to admit that I know.”
Baruch attah Adonai, Elohenu melach ha’olam, asher kiddushanu bemitzvoh-tov, vitzivanu lhavlich near shel yom tov.
Laura: Praised be Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who has made us holy by imposing commandments on us, especially the commandment to illuminate festival lights. Our own holiness, our own worth in the world, depends fundamentally on our effort to shine the light of truth, the light of freedom, the light of hope into the dark corners of our lives and into the dark corners of our society.
Baruch attah Adonai, Elohenu melach ha’olam, shehechianu, v’keyamanu, v’higianu, lazman hazeh.
Praised be Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who has kept us alive, provided us with sustenance, and enabled us to reach this season. Note the juxtaposition of the two prayers. The Shehechianu thanks God for permitting us to make it to today. The blessing over the candles recognizes that our value as human beings is entirely based on what we do from here forward. We are thankful for the past but must act in the future.
Rhoda: On Shabbat, festivals, and any other occasions, Jews bless their children. Parents bless their sons by saying, May God bless you as God blessed Ephraim and Manasseh, and daughters by saying, May God bless you as God blessed Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah.
So place your hands over the child to the left of you, without regard to the age of that child, and say, with me: May God bless you as God blessed Ephraim and Manasseh
Now, place your hands over the child to the right of you, without regard to the age of that child, and say, with me: May God bless you as God blessed Sarah, Ephraim, Rebecca, Manasseh, Rachel and Leah.
And now hold your hands out in front of you let us say together the Priestly Benediction. Split your ring and little finger from you first and middle finger, Star Trek style. And let’s say this together:
May Adonai bless you and keep you;
May Adonai cause God’s face to shine on you and be gracious to you;
May Adonai turn God’s favor to you and grant you peace.
C. The First Glass of Wine
Jon: The Passover Seder is filled with fours:
Four glasses of wine.
Four questions.
Four types of children.
This is because four times in the Torah God promises to free the children of Israel from bondage. The four cups of wine are described as the cup of sanctification, the cup of deliverance, the cup of redemption and the cup of acceptance.
While we are at it, we should celebrate the Fab Four, the Final Four, the Four Tops, the Four Seasons, Four Seasons Hotels, Four Seasons Salad Dressing, 4 by 4’s, Four Roses Bourbon, Four Leaf Clovers, Piano Four Hands, the Four H, the Brothers Four, Four Freedoms and Four of a Kind. Does anyone have any additions?
Alison: The first glass of wine is the glass of sanctification. In drinking it, we elevate ourselves from prosaic and trivial existence and try to glimpse something more meaningful about our lives. This is a critical transition. We need to move ourselves away from our daily existence, our worries about family and money and jobs, the taxes due, the work we need to get done. We need to move to a new plain where we consider who we are, what it means to be free, why we are here. This glass of wine is our pivot point. We bless the first cup of wine in Hebrew:
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ri ha-gafen.
We praise you Adonai. You have called us for service from among all people and have elevated us by giving us commandments. In love, you have given us festivals for rejoicing, seasons for celebration, this Festival of Matzah, the time of our freedom, a day of sacred assembly commemorating the Exodus from the narrow place. We praise you for giving us this joyful heritage and for sanctifying the people of Israel and the festival days. God, we ask you to help us make more of ourselves, to permit us to live up to the potential within each of us. God, we ask us to recognize the goodness within ourselves and to be able to express that goodness.
Before we drink, we thank God for the wonder of life itself. We sing the Shehecheyanu together.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, she-heh-che-yanu, v’ki-y’manu, v’higi-anu lazman haze.
D. Wash Hands I
Liz: Twice we wash our hands at the beginning of the Seder. A little wash before we eat the Karpas. A bigger wash before the meal. The first wash with no blessing and no soap. The second wash with a blessing and soap. Go figure.
In this age of swine flu scares and Purell, the notion of hand washing has achieved a whole new cachet. This washing is both hygienic and spiritual. We remove both the bacteria, the germs, the filth of disease and we remove the bacteria, the germs, the filth of our daily lives. As we wash our hands, with these handy Wash & Dry’s, we want to think about how we have contaminated our pure essence. What behaviors, modes of thinking, habits, actions have fouled our souls? Can we, symbolically at least, wash them off just as we wash off H1N1 viruses?
E. Karpas
Claire: The green vegetable or Karpas is a symbol of spring, of rebirth. This is not just the season, of course. The idea of rebirth has to do with a spiritual rebirth. The freedom we seek tonight can only come if we can become reborn into the beauty and truth of our inner selves. The Karpas is the elixir to induce that rebirth.
Yet, we dip the vegetable in salt water to remember pain and suffering. Yes, we remember the pain and suffering of the Egyptians from whom we stole jewels and gold on the way out of Egypt and who we drown in the Reed Sea. And, we remember our old pain and suffering as slaves, as exiles, as victims of the Holocaust. More personally, however, we dip the elixir or rebirth into salt water to come to terms with our own wounds, the wounds we were born with, the wounds our parents inflicted, the wounds we inflicted on ourselves. We cannot hope to be reborn unless we understand how we got to where we are.
Let me lead the prayer:
Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melach Ha-Olam, Borei P’rei Ha’Adamah.
F. Yachatz
Andy F.: Now I lift up the middle matzah and break it into two. Matzah is the bread of poverty. One reason we break the middle matzah is to set aside a portion for the less fortunate. Our redemption is incomplete. By breaking it in two, we symbolically provide food to the poor.
Doug: Isn’t that sweet? Makes us feel good, doesn’t it? We arrive in our luxury cars, wear expensive clothes, give each other expensive gifts, and then we pretend we care about the poor by breaking the middle matzah in two. Either we can do better than that or we ought to just drop the pretense that we care.
Nancy: Boy, Doug, I didn’t know you had that in you. For years I have been coming to these seders and thinking what a bunch of hypocrites we are.
Arthur: Not now, kids. Let’s continue with the seder so we can eat. We break the middle matzah and hide the larger half, known as the Afikomen. You kids used to be so excited about finding it to end the meal and getting a reward from me. Of course, I gave you money whether you found it or not.
Lucille: We have set aside this special matzah of hope. Let me sing you the old Yiddish song: Zog Nit, which became the official hymn of the Vilna Partisan Brigade fighting the Nazis.
Never say that there is only death for you,
Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue.
Because the hour that we have hungered for is near,
Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: we are here.
We have the morning sun to set our day aglow,
And all our yesterdays shall vanish with the foe.
And if the time is long before the sun appears,
Then let this song go like a signal through the years.
Andy B.: Thanks, Lucille. That was beautiful. The Holocaust was critical to your generation and kept Judaism alive. Great synagogues were built in the 1950’s and 1960’s to release our pain and guilt and shame about the Holocaust. Judaism had a nice run for a generation or two. But now, synagogues are dying. Young families are not joining. The Holocaust has no purchase among my generation. It is lovely that we keep these traditions alive, but to what end? Are we really happy being a people that defines our identity by who hates us? Is that a religion I want to be a member of?
Carol: I have an answer to that question. I, frankly, agree that if Judaism is little more than another ethnic group keeping its age-old sense of victimhood alive, it is of little value to the world. I think that Judaism is more than that. Judaism was the first and is the most clear ethical monotheism in the world. It is purer than Christianity because our ethics come without eschatology. We are good, not because of some reward in the world to come. We are good not because we fear a vengeful God will strike us down. We are good because that is what it means to be a Jew. What a beautiful thing.
Katie: Excuse me, Carol. What evidence do you have to indicate that Jews are more ethical than anyone else?
Carol: I have no such evidence because none exists. My point is that Judaism is worthy of survival and our support because it provides a vital ethical framework, which, to my mind, is something of immense value to the world.
Katie: I have a bookshelf full of philosophy books providing vital ethical frameworks. Modern and ancient, from the east and from the west, religious and atheist. You want an ethical framework, I can provide you with plenty. Judaism has no monopoly on ethics. Unless Jews manifest a higher moral state in the world, I see no reason to believe that Judaism has any greater claim to value than does Greek god worship or witchcraft.
Donna: Sharing bread is one of the most ancient and most universal ways of creating a bond between people. By eating matzah together we create a bond with people in slavery throughout the world. We declare the equality of all people and we declare our responsibility for the liberation of all people. The larger piece of the matzah represents lachma anya, the bread of the poor. The message of Passover is that we should identify with those who are afraid to eat their bread, and always leave something for later. After all, weren’t we all wretched as slaves in Egypt?
Jenny: As a sign of hospitality, we open the door to welcome into our seder anyone who is hungry, anyone who is needy. We recite the Aramaic call to Pesach:
Ha lachma anya dee a-cha-lu a-va-ha-sa-na b’ara d’mitzrayim.
This is the bread of affliction, the poor bread our ancestors ate as slaves in the land of Egypt.
Kol dichfin yay-say v’yaychul; kol ditzrich yay-say v’yifsach.
Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are needy share in the hope of this Passover celebration.
Ha-shata hacha, l’shana ha-ba’ah b’ara d’Yisrael.
This year we are here. Next year may we be in the land of Israel.
Ha-shata avday, l’shanah ha-ba’ah b’nay chorin.
This year we are all still in bondage. Next year may all be free.
You know, these are some of the most ancient words in the Haggadah. What would happen if some homeless person heard this and came in? Would we open our house to a stranger? Would we feed the hungry at our table? Could we relax and continue with the service if a poor family joined us? I suppose that is why we say this in Aramaic: to reduce the risk that someone might hear and take us up on the offer.
H. The Second Glass
Emma: The second glass of wine addresses deliverance, liberation. What can we do, as individuals or as a community, to free individuals from bondage? Bondage comes in many forms. Poverty is a form of bondage. Illiteracy is a form of bondage. Lack of health care is a form of bondage. Addiction is a form of bondage. Clueless parents and ungrateful children are forms of bondage. What are our resolutions for the coming year to liberate people from oppression? What are our resolutions for the coming year to liberate ourselves from oppression?
We bless the second glass of wine together:
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ri ha-gafen.
I. Rachtzah
Lily: Now we wash our hands for the second time, this time with a prayer:
Blessed are You, Lord, our God, Sovereign of the universe, who has sanctified us with commandments and commanded us concerning the washing of the hands.
Traditionally, no one, other than the leader, should not speak until after making the next two blessings and eating the Matzah.
J. Motzi/Matzah
David: We will now start work on our seder plates. Traditionally, this comes much later, just before the meal. But, we are hungry. So why wait? Me, I’m always hungry.
We bless the matzah with two blessings. The first is the regular motzi, thanking God for producing food. The second thanks God for giving us the commandment to eat matzah. I will break up the top and bottom matzot and distribute them for you to eat after I say the blessings.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, ha-motzi lechem min ha-aretz.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvo-tav v’tzivanu al a-chilat matzah.
Now you may take a bite of plain matzah, traditionally with salt on it. But save some for the maror, the horseradish or bitter herb. We mix some horseradish and some haroset, the bitter and the sweet, make a sandwich and eat after I say the blessing.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kidshanu b’mitzvo-tav v’tzivanu al a-chilat maror.
Daniel: Tradition adds one more custom to honor Hillel, the head of the rabbinic academy around the time of Jesus’ life. Hillel combined the pesach, or pascal lamb, the matzah and the maror and ate them together to fulfill the commandment that “They shall eat the Pesach lamb offering with matzah and maror together.” Because the destruction of the temple ended animal sacrifice, we omit the meat from the sandwich.
So, the modern Hillel sandwich combines the bland cardboard of matzah with the searing heat of the horseradish. What are we trying to say with this combination? Life is boring and monotonous flavored with a fair helping of pain? Or are we supposed to learn to love the taste of the horseradish? Are we meant to realize that life without pain and suffering, challenge and disappointment, frustration and anxiety is as boring and tasteless as the matzah? Are we saying that life is not about finding grace, peace, salvation, that it is not about redemption in the world to come or in some messianic age? Are we saying that life is not about the peaks, the highs, but rather about the peaks and the valleys, the highs and the lows? What matters is not just the good times but the journey, the path, the trek. Life, to Jews, is not about eternal joy, as some religions proclaim, or about suffering, as others teach. It is about living life, the good and the bad, in a way that honors who we are, the divine soul within us.
Dan: Before we consume the contents of the seder plate, we need to explain what is on it. We have talked about the parsley, the matzah and the maror. That leaves this chicken wing, the apple and nut mush, and this lovely hard-boiled egg. The chicken wing is supposed to be a roasted bone of the paschal lamb and is know as the Pesach. It recalls the animal sacrifices that our ancestors used for worship, not because we support animal sacrifices but it was a good change from the human sacrifices that went before. And, the blood of the lamb was used to mark the houses of the Israelites in Egypt so that when God was going around killing Egyptian first-born sons, He knew to skip the houses of the Israelites. Why does the all-knowing sovereign of the world needs houses marked in blood so He knows who to skip? I wish the writers of the Bible had stuck with one consistent view of who this God fellow was. So, this simple chicken wing is a symbol of murder, sadism, primitivism, and a confused god. Bon Appetit.
Betsy: Charoset, or the apple and nut mush as you so felicitously call it, comes from the Hebrew word for clay. The charoset is meant to remind us of the mortar the Israelites used to build pyramids for their Egyptian taskmasters. Parts of the Jewish Diaspora in Persia have a tradition of including forty different ingredients in the halegh, their version of charoset. The number forty signifies the forty years of wandering in the desert. Included are all the fruits mentioned in the Song of Songs: apples, figs, pomegranates, grapes, walnuts, dates with the addition of wine, saffron and cinnamon. To arrive at the magic number of forty, some recipes include five different varieties of apples, two different varieties of pears, three different varieties of grapes, two different varieties of dried figs, fresh ginger, grated, dates, dried apricots, dried peaches, dried cherries, prunes, red raisins, yellow raisins, currants, walnuts, almonds, cashews, pistachios, filberts, pomegranate juice, cinnamon, cardamom, allspice, nutmeg, fenugreek seeds, saffron, cloves, black pepper, white wine, red wine, rose wine, vinegar, and bananas. Is that forty? Our charoset, having only apples, wine and nuts, is tasty enough, but lacks the complexity and sophistication, not to say the Biblical significance, of the Iranian version.
Natalie: The egg or beitzah, is a relatively recent addition to the seder plate and is fraught with symbols. An egg is a symbol of fertility and birth. The egg is like the Jews, allegedly, in that it is one of the very few foods that gets harder when heated. The egg is a perfect yellow globe surrounded by pure whiteness. It is the world surrounded by the majesty of God. It is our troubled, guilt-ridden suffering selfs surrounded by a universe of love and forgiveness. A hard-boiled egg, symbolizes the korban chagigah (festival sacrifice) that was offered in the Temple in Jerusalem and roasted and eaten as part of the meal on Seder night. Although both the Pesach sacrifice and the chagigah were meat offerings, the chagigah is commemorated by an egg, a symbol of mourning (as eggs are the first thing served to mourners after a funeral), evoking the idea of mourning over the destruction of the Temple and our inability to offer any kind of sacrifices in honor of the Passover holiday. Since the destruction of the Temple, the beitzah serves as a visual reminder of the chagigah. Does anyone associate hard-boiled eggs with mourning? Of course, I associate eggs generally with morning, but that is another matter. Note, there is no prayer or ritual surrounding the egg.
Arthur: You may now join me in consuming everything on your seder plate.
K. The Four Questions
Sue: We now move to the really big show, the Four Questions or Mah Nistanah. In honor of her 13th birthday, which occurs today, we will give Natalie take the honor of chanting the Mah Nistanah in Hebrew while the youngest verbal child at the table, Lily, will tell us what they mean in English.
Natalie:
Lily: Why is this night different from all other nights?
On all other nights, we eat either leavened or unleavened bread. Tonight, only unleavened.
On all other nights, we eat all kinds of vegetables. Tonight, only horseradish.
On all other nights, we do not dip our vegetables. Tonight, we dip them twice.
On all other nights, we eat sitting upright. Tonight, we recline on pillows.
Rhoda: That was beautiful.
Nancy: And stupid. If we are going to ask four questions tonight, why ask about matzah, vegetables, salt water, and pillows? I mean, who gives a crap? Why don’t we ask questions worth asking? Let me offer four questions that really are worth asking:
Number One: Judaism preaches sobriety, yet we are commanded to drink four glasses of wine tonight to synthesize the joy that we cannot bring ourselves to feel naturally. What is that all about?
Number Two: Why is it that every single commandment in the Torah is contradicted by some action within a few pages in the book? We should not murder, but Moses murders an Egyptian slave supervisor. We should not steal, but Jacob steals the birthright from his brother. What is the lesson? That we are supposed to be hypocrites?
Number Three: What is the point of religion? Does it make us better people? Does it answer important questions in the world? Or does it just provide some feeling of security to the ignorant and employment to clergy and Jewish professionals?
Number Four: Why is there evil in the world if our God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-good?
And, if you don’t like those four, I have plenty of others.
Malcolm: Arthur, what is with these kids tonight? It seems like the younger generation has given up on Judaism.
Arthur: I just want to get through this damn seder and eat. Every year it is the same. We know what the Haggadah says. Let’s just get through it for the sake of tradition.
Carol: Do you guys have any idea what it means to be a Jew? It means that we wrestle with God. That is what we are doing. And, that is what you are not doing by trying to stifle those who are questioning what the seder is all about.
Rhoda: I am not trying to stifle anyone. I am just trying to get dinner on the table. The brisket is drying out in the oven. Andy, please shorten the service. Do you think that the story of the Exodus is going to come out different this year?
Sue: We are commanded to tell the story. Can you kids do it quickly?
Zoe: Sure. We can do it in tweets. I’ll go first: Israelites were slave of @pharoah in Egypt.
Alison: @moses arrived, got po’ed, killed slavemaster.
Emma: @moses splits town, sees burning bush, returns.
Andy B.: Plays 10 plagues with @pharoah. Kills Egyptian kids.
Natalie: Israelites flee to Reed Sea. Get mad at @moses.
Laura: LOL, no food. No bed.
Jenny: Freedom. BFD.
Katie: @moses splits sea. @miriam sings.
Lily: Live HEA. Cool.
L. The Plagues
Doug: In the Haggadah we recite the ten plagues, one at a time, spilling a drop of wine on our plates after each plague.
Why do we dip a finger in wine and spill a drop for each of the plagues? To signify our compassion for the Egyptians who were victims of arrogant, narrow-minded leaders. They were also, of course, the victims of the vengeful and hyperactive Jewish God. So, are we celebrating their defeat by carefully reciting the depredations we subjected them to? Are we mourning the evils of war? Are we ashamed of what we did? Are we pleading guilty to committing war crimes, to collective punishment, to genocide?
If so, let’s not stop with the Ten Plagues. How about our use of unmanned aerial vehicles to kill participants in weddings in Afghanistan and Iraq? How about our depriving poor Americans of health care? How about torturing suspects in secret, foreign prisons run by foreign intelligence services? Why don’t we spill gallons of wine to confess our guilt, as Americans, to the war crimes and inhumanity of our country?
We spill the ten drops of wine to manifest our sadness. Our tradition prohibits us from celebrating the defeat of the enemy.
These were the ten plagues that the Holy One, praised by God, brought upon the Egyptians in Egypt.
Jon: Lighten up, Doug. This is not the ten plagues. This is the Top Ten List of how to have a really bad day if you are an Egyptian.
Natalie: Number Ten: Dam or Blood, actually all the water of the Nile was turned to blood. As in, would you like a nice, refreshing glass of blood with that sandwich? Or, does water softener help when you are washing you shirt in blood?
Zoe: Number Nine: Tz’fardea or Frogs. “The river shall swarm with frogs; they shall come up into your palace; into your bedchamber and your bed, and into the houses of your officials and of your people and into your ovens and your kneading bowls.” Honey, I sure hope that is your hand on my stomach? Or, mom, you know I don’t like frog in my cherry pie.
Emma: Number Eight: Kinnim or Vermin. More accurately translated as gnats. Sure is a nice night for a cookout except for this swarm of gnats. My fog lights really don’t help when driving through a swarm of gnats.
Katie: Number Seven: Arov or Wild Beasts. I think they were rhinos. Did I tell you these:
How can you tell that a rhinoceros has been in your fridge? By the footprints in the custard.
Why do rhinos paint their feet yellow? So that they can hide upside-down in the custard.
Did you ever find a rhinoceros in your custard? No? Well, it must work.
How do you know there is a rhinoceros in the oven? You cannot shut the door.
How do you make a rhinoceros float? With two scoops of ice-cream, a bottle of root beer, and a rhinoceros.
Lily: Number Six: Dever or Cattle Disease. “A deadly pestilence” will strike the “livestock in the field: the horses, the donkeys; the camels, the herds and the flocks.” God protected the livestock of Israel from the disease. I would like my diseased steak medium rare. May I have a pestilence burger please? Gives the term “chicken pox” a whole new meaning.
Natalie: Number Five: Sh’hin or Boils. This is the first plague to strike humans directly. For the first time, after this plague, the Torah tells us that God stiffened Pharaoh’s stubbornness. Darling, you look lovely, except for that enormous boil on your forehead.
Jenny: Number Four: Barad or Hail. Actually, thunder and lightening too. God gave the Israelites notice so they could protect themselves and their animals. This is the origin of the Weather Channel. I wonder whether the Egyptians blamed it on climate change. Of course, if God had really wanted to punish the ancient Egyptians, he could have given them Al Gore.
Emma: Number Three: Arbeh or Locust. The locust not only destroyed the Egyptian’s crops but were also generally considered to be a ill omen. This list sounds like a modern farmer: the harvest was lousy: bad water, locust, hail, blight. Luckily, Egyptians could go to Whole Foods and get spelt bread because no self-respecting locust would ever attack spelt. Is spelt bread like spilled milk? Is my bread misspelt?
Zoe: Number Two: Hoshekh or Darkness. Light is the symbol of freedom; so darkness is the symbol of enslavement. That is, God is giving the Egyptians a taste of their own medicine. You know, you can only handle so much nightlife. Of course, the really serious effect was that, with more nighttime, the networks increased prime time programming from four hours to fourteen. The Egyptians lost their minds watching hour after hour of Lost, House, NCIS, and Desperate Housewives. The entire civilization collapsed when the networks starting showing Survivor reruns.
Katie: And the Number One Way to Make Life Bad for an Egyptian: Makat B’khorot or Killing of the First Born. Before the final plague is administered, an additional warning is provided. The word used here for plague has the same root as touch and connotes death by disease. When big brother is killed, who will take out the trash? Sibling rivalry is one thing, but I didn’t want him killed.
Laura: It is curious how much the book of Exodus has God bragging of killing innocent children. Why does God mention it so often? Is God proud of it? One will study Midrash and Talmud in vain for an explanation. Is God teaching us a lesson? That God alone has the right to kill? That no human has the right to imitate God? If so, is a god who revels in the killing of innocent children a god who is worthy of our love and obedience?
M. The Third Glass
Donna: The third glass of wine is the glass of redemption. What is redemption? The dictionary says it is the act of redeeming, or of buying back. We have all been through much in our lives. Those experiences have made us wiser but that have also made us more brittle and cynical. With the third glass of wine, we wash off the cynicism and buy back the simplicity, the openness, the curiousness, the acceptance of our inner selves.
Why do we want to buy back our true selves? Because the more we deny who we are, the more we engage in conduct that is destructive and painful and alienating. We need to know who we are and what our hearts desire to have any chance of getting what we need and living freely and happily.
We say the prayer:
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ri ha-gafen.
N. Elijah
David: While we drink our third glass of wine, we must not forget the prophet Elijah’s cup. Tradition holds that the greatest miracle-maker among the prophets visits all Jewish homes to drink wine from his own cup. Elijah is a friend and companion to all who need friendship and comfort. He is the mysterious stranger who arrives at precisely the right moment, to bring hope to those in despair. We have no better defender in heaven that Elijah. He is the chronicler, the historian of Jewish distress. He records every tragic event, every upheaval, ever tear; thanks to him, nothing is lost. His most glorious role is that of witness. He is the memory of the Jewish people.
Andy B.: Elijah is not the messiah, but he is alleged to be the herald of the messiah. Elijah is the one major biblical character who never died. He appears in the Hebrew Bible, Talmud, Mishnah, New Testament, and the Qur'an. According to the Books of Kings, Elijah raised the dead, brought fire down from the sky, and ascended into heaven in a whirlwind (accompanied by chariots, not in one). In the Book of Malachi, Elijah's return is prophesied "before the coming of the great and terrible day of the Lord," making him a harbinger of the Messiah and the eschaton in various faiths that revere the Hebrew Bible.
In Judaism, Elijah's name is invoked at the weekly Havdalah ritual that marks the end of Shabbat, and Elijah is invoked in other Jewish customs, among them the Passover seder and the Brit milah (ritual circumcision). He appears in numerous stories and references in the aggadah and rabbinic literature, including the Babylonian Talmud.
In Christianity, the New Testament describes how both Jesus and John the Baptist are compared with Elijah, and on some occasions, thought by some to be manifestations of Elijah, and Elijah appears with Moses during the Transfiguration of Jesus.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believes Elijah returned in 1836 to visit Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, and the Bahá'í Faith believes Elijah returned in 1844 in Shiraz, Iran, as the Báb.
Elijah is also a figure in various folkloric traditions. In Serbia and Bulgaria, he is known as "Elijah the Thunderer" and in folklore is held responsible for summer storms, hail, rain, thunder and dew.
So, we open the door and welcome Elijah by singing:
Eli-ahu Ha-Navi; Eli-ahu Ha-Tishbi; Eli-ahu Eli-ahu Eliahu Ha-Gil-a-Dee.
Bim-Hey-Ra B’Yamenu, Yiv Aleinu. Im Moshe-ah Ben David.
O. Fourth Glass
Betsy: The fourth glass of wine is the glass of acceptance. We drink it while reclining. And, it brings us to silence. There comes a time in spiritual practice when words are no longer important. Rather, we discover that we are one with some higher power. We accept that we are an essential part of the cosmos. None of us will reach such a state just by participating in this seder. We drink the fourth glass of wine, not just to simulate enlightenment, but as a statement that we know the importance of continuing our spiritual journeys.
We come to the fourth glass of wine: the one for acceptance, for reclining, for silence.
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ri ha-gafen.
In drinking this glass of wine, we wish the world, our friends, and ourselves peace. Not the peace of no conflict, but the peace of accepting conflict, of accepting the good and the bad, the peace of loving who we are.
P. Four Children
Sue: The traditional Haggadah says: Blessed is the Omnipresent One, blessed be God! Blessed is God who gave the Torah to the people Israel, blessed be God! The Torah speaks of four children: One is wise, one is wicked, one is simple and one does not know how to ask.
Carol: The wise one, what does the wise child say? "What are the testimonies, the statutes and the laws which the Lord, our God, has commanded you?" You, in turn, shall instruct him in the laws of Passover, [up to] `one is not to eat any dessert after the Passover-lamb.'
Daniel: The word statutes, chukim in Hebrew, means laws having no apparent rational reason, such as not mixing linen and wool. So, apparently, the wise child is capable of reasoning out the rationale for restrictions that make sense but needs help understanding the more obscure parts of Halakah, or Jewish ritual law. In other words, the wise child is a rationalist. He understands reason and logic but has trouble with the mystical, the spiritual, the emotional.
Dan: Here, the Haggadah confuses knowledge for wisdom. It may be tasty mind candy to debate the number of angels on the head of a pin or to try to figure out if circumcision was health-based or merely a intentional scarring for purposes of tribal identification. But that has little to do with wisdom. As Jimi Hendrix said, “Knowledge speaks but wisdom listens.”
Donna: And I suppose it is hardly worth noticing that the wise child’s question is in the second person, i.e. What are these laws that God has commanded you? The evil child is severely criticized for asking exactly the same kind of question. Is the difference that the wise child is asking out of real curiosity and the evil child is asking out of anger and confrontation?
Jon: The most important part is, of course, that in asking about the meaning of trivial and irrational laws, the wise child does not even think about the real questions, questions like why do bad things happen to good people, how can a good God permit evil, is there any proof of the existence of God, what does it mean to be a good person. Indeed, the sort of knowledge possessed by the wise child seems to mainly have to do with a way that the wise child can assert power over others.
Liz: The wise child lives entirely in the head. He or she represses and denies emotions. Those emotions surely exist but emerge in different, more destructive ways. The wise child lacks social skills, is devoid of empathy, is entirely self-centered. The wise child uses knowledge to separate himself or herself from others, to feel superior, to refrain from engaging. While playing the intellectual game, the wise child makes sure not to feel sad or insecure or lonely. The wise child considers emotions to be childish, weak, signs of frailty. The wise child is not smart enough to know that it is emotions that lead to happiness and peace.
Claire: Indeed, the proper answer to the wise child is not to explain the statutes and regulations. The proper answer is to tell the wise child to walk in nature, to work in a homeless shelter, to visit the sick in the hospital. The wise child knows everything about matters of no import and nothing about what really matters in life. What the wise child misses is:
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
There's nothing you can do that can't be done. Nothing you can sing that can't be sung. Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game. It's easy. There's nothing you can make that can't be made. No one you can save that can't be saved. Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time. It's easy. All you need is love, all you need is love, All you need is love, love, love is all you need. Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love. All you need is love, all you need is love, All you need is love, love, love is all you need. There's nothing you can know that isn't known. Nothing you can see that isn't shown. Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. It's easy. All you need is love, all you need is love, All you need is love, love, love is all you need. All you need is love (all together now) All you need is love (everybody) All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Rose Ann: The wise child exists within all of us. We need to use our knowledge to be compassionate people who serve others. We need to guard against using knowledge for power and to deny our emotions. And, we need to understand that knowledge has nothing whatsoever to do with wisdom. Wisdom comes from engagement in the world, not from studying the laws.
Andy B.: The traditional Haggadah reads: What does the evil child say? "What is this service to you?!" The evil child says `to you,' but not to him! By thus excluding himself from the community he has denied that which is fundamental. You, therefore, blunt his teeth and say to him: "It is because of this that the Lord did for me when I left Egypt"; `for me' - but not for him! If he had been there, he would not have been redeemed!"
Rose Ann: Oy. It is responses like that which lead to the creation of child welfare agencies. Is it possible to develop a more counterproductive, psychologically more destructive response to a child? The evil one here is not the child who is questioning the meaning of the service. The evil one may be the rabbi who answers with anger and contempt. What is it in the rabbi’s heritage, training and perceived role that leads him to lash out with such anger when he is challenged? What leads each of us to react with anger and contempt when our deeply held views are challenged?
Doug: Many modern Haggadahs re-label the evil child as the rebellious child, I suppose to take the sting out of the moniker. But, this makes it far worse. Rebellion, questioning, refusal to accept conventional thinking are all hallmarks of Jews. Indeed, Israel means one who has wrestled with God. Unlike Islam, which is about obedience to divine law, Judaism is all about challenging divine law. The Haggadah writer appears to be in denial about his own Jewish heritage. And, what is a rebel? It is just a curious child with an edge of anger. Indeed, should we not venerate the child who seriously and emotionally challenges the accepted wisdom more than the child who passively accepts what she is told?
Jon: See the way he walks down the street
Watch the way he shuffles his feet
My, he holds his head up high
When he goes walking by
He's my guy
When he holds my hand I'm so proud
'Cause he's not just one of the crowd
My baby, oh he's the one
To try the things they've never done
Just because of that they say
He's a rebel and he'll never ever be any good
He's a rebel and he'll never ever be understood
And just because he doesn't do what everybody else does
That's no reason why I can't give him all my love
He is always good to me, always treats me tenderly
'Cause he's not a rebel, no no no
He's not a rebel, no no no, to me
Nancy: The question posed by the evil child is a good one. What is this service to you? Why do we sit through this? Aren’t there easier ways to get a brisket dinner? Are we here to reassemble with family? Perhaps but the fact is that, if we were not relatives, we would probably have little to do with each other. Are we here to worship God? I doubt it. Most of us have a hard time believing in God. Are we here because we have a need for a spiritual connection? Maybe, but there are better events for spirituality. Are we here to keep up tradition? Sure, but we have abandoned lots of traditions. Why keep this one up? The evil child asks, what am I doing here. It is an excellent question.
Claire: I am not so sure what I am doing here. To figure out what I am doing here, it helps me to hear why others are here. That is what the evil child is asking. Rhoda, why do you spend weeks poaching salmon and brewing chicken soup? Sue, why do you disrupt your life each year to rearrange your house, rent tables and chairs, and make Dan put his toys away? Daniel and Rose Ann, why do you fly half way across the country for this? Indeed, as the evil child asks, what is this service to you?
Donna: If we are alive, thinking human beings, we need to ask the hard, provocative question. We would be automatons if we merely accepted attending a seder as a God-given commandment with which we need to comply. So, let us praise and bless the evil child within each of us. Let us celebrate our need to understand what this service means to us. Let us delight in challenging others with the same question. And, let us repudiate and treat with utter contempt the rabbi who says that the one who challenges the seder would not have deserved to be redeemed.
Lucille: The traditional Haggadah reads: The simple child says, "What is this?" Thus you shall say to that child: "With a strong hand the Lord took us out of Egypt, from the house of slaves." The message is to answer the child on the child’s level. If the child is unable to understand difficult concepts, answer in simple ones. This is just good parenting.
Katie: 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
Laura: The simple child is the one who asks the basic question. The wise child may ask what the meaning of washing hands twice is. The simple child asks what this whole thing is about. The simple child is the one who has the real power to make us uncomfortable. She challenges our most basic presumptions.
How basic can we get? What is the seder? What is Passover? What is freedom? What is religion? What is God? Why do we need a seder? Why do we need Passover? Why do we need freedom? Why do we need religion? Why do we need God?
Andy B.: So, the advice to answer the simple child in simple terms is basically irrelevant. Maybe we need to answer the simple child in the deepest, most heart-felt terms we have. Or maybe we need to recognize that we have no answers whatsoever for the simple child. Look, I have a fairly good understanding of the laws of physics. I can tell you in very precise terms why the stars emit light and other electro-magnetic waves. But, I have no answer to the simple question of why the stars shine in the sky.
Rose Ann: If we have no answer to the simple child’s fundamental questions, we are left in a troubled place. Through her questions, the simple child has adroitly kicked the legs out from under us. We have all gone through a lot of trouble to get here, yet the simple child has made it clear to us that we have no clue why we are here, both at this seder and in this life. We learn more and more the how of life. At the same time, we know less and less about the why of life.
Jenny: The real challenge posed by the simple child within us is whether it is healthy and productive to ask the fundamental questions. At some point, we cannot function if we challenge all of our own beliefs, traditions, and habits. On the other hand, if those beliefs, traditions, and habits are not producing peace and happiness within us or if those beliefs, traditions, and habits are producing pain in others, we need to confront them, understand what needs they serve, and make changes. In AA terms, the simple child invites us to make a fearless moral inventory. As the serenity prayer puts it:
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Lucille: We need to keep the simple child alive and active within us. We cannot stifle her altogether. But, we cannot permit her to take over either. We need to know when it makes sense to scrape down to bedrock and when it does not make sense to do so. Tonight, at this seder, we have a safe place to reflect on what this is all about. We need to ask, “What is this?”
Zoe: The traditional Haggadah says: As for the one who does not know how to ask, you must initiate him, as it is said: "You shall tell your child on that day, `It is because of this that the Lord did for me when I left Egypt.'" Clearly, the idea is that Jewish children should be inculcated with the tradition from long before they are able to speak or understand. Right, Jacob?
Carol: This brings up the question of the effectiveness of Jewish education. As Jews have moved from self-contained ghetto settings into pluralistic society, fewer and fewer young Jews grow up to be adult Jews. Some convert away, but for the most, religion, any religion, plays no part in their lives. Some reject the memory of the old guy with the beard in the synagogue telling you what you cannot do. Some find Judaism to be meaningless and non-productive ethnicity. Many see God as having no role in their lives.
Emma: Synagogue membership is declining sharply. The massive structures built in the 50’s and 60’s are now standing nearly empty. Is this something to be concerned about? Is more and better Jewish education the answer? Does the fact that Jewish education over the last two generations has failed to stem the erosion mean we should do more or does it mean we should do something different or does it mean we should give up?
Liz: I would like to move back to the personal area. The idea of a child who does not know how to ask is a powerful concept. In order to know how to ask, we need to know what it is that we truly want or need. Often, because we are not clear on what we want or need, we fail to ask for it. Instead of asking for what we want, we manipulate others, we engage in passive aggressive behavior to express our frustration, we resort to addictions to hide the pain or loss.
Daniel: Passover is the festival of freedom. I am not a slave to an Egyptian taskmaster but I do not feel free. I have to rush back tomorrow to get to work. I work basically to pay the mortgage and buy food and put gas in my car. Quitting my job is not an option. Moving out of my house is not an option. I do not know what freedom looks like. I am not altogether happy bit I do not know how to ask for what I want because I cannot tell you what I want.
David: I live in a nice home, drive a nice car, ski, take vacations, go out to dinner with friends. All of this is good, but then I drive through Springfield or Hartford or the South Bronx and I ask myself how I can enjoy the good things in my life when there are some many people without adequate housing, without health care, without enough food to eat, without decent schools for their kids. I would like this to change. I would like to help bring about this change. But, I do not know what to ask for.
Dan: Externally, my life appears great. But, I do things that hurt my spouse. I do not pay attention. I eat too much. I drive too fast. I drink too much. I get angry for little reason. Clearly, something is eating at me. There is something I need, but I cannot define it. I am indeed a child who does not know how to ask.
Alison: We are all children who do not know how to ask for what we need. We do not know how to ask because we do not really understand what we need. We do not understand what we need because we suppress the simple child within us who wants to ask the hard and basic questions. Instead, we often use one of two common defense mechanisms. One is to be the wise child, the know-it-all, the one who has all the answers. The other is to be the angry, rebellious, oppositional child who externalizes the need, the anger, the frustration. Instead of looking within to understand what we need, we push it out on others.
Liz: So, we are all each of the four children. The rabbinic answers to each are pathetic, wrong-headed, irrelevant. Yet, the four attributes – wise, evil, simple, not knowing how to ask – are critical to all of us. Getting in touch with each of these attributes can bring us the freedom and the peace that the Passover promises.
Andy F.: Our last task before the meal is to sing Dayyenu. The reality is that we will never say Dayyenu, it would have been enough. We want more.
Carol: Elu, Hotzi, Hotzi Anu, If you just make me wise, it would not be enough.
Andy B.: Elu, Hotzi, Hotzi Anu, If you just make me rebellious, it would not be enough.
Lucille: Elu, Hotzi, Hotzi Anu, If you just make me simple, it would not be enough.
Zoe: Elu, Hotzi, Hotzi Anu, If you let me know what to ask for, that would be enough.
Q. Dayyenu
Andy F. We end the service with the singing of Dayyenu. Sadly, this group does not gel as a musical ensemble. It is surprising. Doug is a serious guitarist. Sadie had a beautiful voice. Jack was chazan at the Deep River shul. Malcolm was an accomplished violinist and Stanley played the trumpet. Yet, when we sing Dayyenu together, the sound is not lovely. Still, the singing of Dayyenu unites us and makes the statement that we have celebrated another Passover as one.
So, here is the drill: We will sing one chorus of Dayyenu. Then, each of us will offer a statement in the form of, “If God had only given us ____, Dayyenu.” In other words, we should list one thing which, by itself, makes life worth living. After everyone has contributed, we will sing the chorus again and then eat.
DAYYENU
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