(Lift up the smaller half of the middle matzah and say:)

.הָא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא דִי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא בְאַרְעָא דְמִצְרָיִם
 .כָּל דִכְפִין יֵיתֵי וְיֵיכֹל, כָּל דִצְרִיךְ יֵיתֵי וְיִפְסַח
.הָשַׁתָּא הָכָא, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּאַרְעָא דְיִשְׂרָאֵל
.הָשַׁתָּא עַבְדֵי, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין 

Ha lachma anya dee achaloo ahavtanah be-arah de-Mitzrayim. 
Kol deechfeen yeytey ve-yeychol, kol deetzreech yeytey ve-yipsach. 
Ha-shata hacha, le-shana ha-ba’ah be-arah de-Yisra’el. 
Ha-shata avdey, le-shana ha-ba’ah beney choreen.

This is the bread of poverty that our ancestors ate in Mitzrayim. 
All who are hungry may come and eat, all who need may join us.
 This year we are here, but next year we will be in the world to come. 
This year we are slaves, but next year we will be free.

Pesach is called z’man cheruteinu, the time of our freedom. The basic mitzvah of the holiday is to celebrate our liberation from slavery. So why do we begin telling the story of the exodus with the declaration that “this year we are slaves?” 

The seder collapses the past, present and future into a single moment. It asks us to travel back in time to witness the bitterness of slavery and the miracle of liberation firsthand, and it compels us to imagine a better tomorrow. So much of the seder is spent in the distant past or the not-so-distant future, it’s easy to forget that some of its most poignant moments happen whole-heartedly in the present. 

We begin our retelling of the exodus with our feet firmly planted in the present, not by quoting Torah or asking grand philosophical questions, but by offering our meager bread to anyone who is hungry. Why are we slaves this year? Because there are people who are hungry, rejected, and alone this Pesach, we are not yet free. As it is written: “The stranger shall come and eat and be satisfied, so that all the work of your hands may be blessed.” (Deuteronomy 14:29)  

haggadah Section: Maggid - Beginning
Source: Min Ha-Meitzar: An Abolitionist Haggadah from the Narrow Place by Noraa Kaplan