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1. Once upon a time our people went into exile in the land of Egypt. During a famine our ancestor Jacob and his family fled to Egypt where food was plentiful. His son Joseph had risen to high position in Pharaoh’s court, and our people were well-respected and well-regarded, secure in the power structure of the time. 2. Generations passed and our people remained in Egypt. In time, a new Pharaoh ascended to the throne. He found our difference threatening, and...

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When Israel went forth from Mitzrayim, The house of Jacob from a people of strange speech, Judah became God’s holy one, Israel, God’s dominion. The sea saw them and fled, The Jordan ran backward, Mountains skipped like rams, Hills like sheep. What alarmed you, O sea, that you fled, Jordan, that you ran backward, Mountains, that you skipped like rams, Hills, like sheep? Tremble, O earth, at the presence of Adonai, At the presence of the God of Jacob, Who turned...

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Psalm 126: A Psalm of Ascents When God returned us to Zion we were as dreamers. Then we were full of mirth, and our tongues were full of gladness. They said among the nations, "magnified is God, who has done these things." We will magnify God, who has done this for us! And we were joyful. Turn our captivity, O God, like dry streams in the Negev. We had planted seeds in tears, but our harvest was gladness. We went forth...

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We eat a green vegetable dipped in salt water. The green vegetable represents rebirth, renewal and growth; the salt water represents the tears of enslavement. בָרוּךְ אַתָה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ רוחַ הָעוֹלָם בּוֹרֵא פְרִי הָאֲדָמָה Baruch atah, Adonai, eloheinu ruach ha’olam, borei p’ri ha’adamah. Blessed are you, Adonai, Breath of Life, creator of the fruit of the earth.

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Before eating, we wash our hands, thanking God for the commandment which impels us to mindfulness. What does washing our hands tell us? That we can become clean; that our bodies are sacred and deserving of care. We wash our hands not to absolve ourselves of responsibility, but to affirm the need to make our hands holy. At this season of freedom and rebirth, we consecrate our hands to the task of building freedom for all who suffer. בָרוּךְ אַתָה יְיָ...

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Midrash teaches that, while watching the Egyptians succumb to the ten plagues, the angels broke into songs of jubilation. God rebuked them, saying “My creatures are perishing, and you sing praises?” As we recite each plague, we spill a drop of wine—symbol of joy—from our cups. Our joy in our liberation will always be tarnished by the pain visited upon the Egyptians. דָּם. Dam Blood צְפְַרדֵּעַ. Tzfarde’ah Frogs כִּנִּים. Kinim Lice עָרוֹב. Arov Insect swarms דֶּבֶר. Dever Cattle plague שְׁחִין. Sh'chin...

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Dayenu: It Would Have Been Enough What does this mean, "It would have been enough"? Surely no one of these would indeed have been enough for us. Dayenu means to celebrate each step toward freedom as if it were enough, then to start out on the next step. It means that if we reject each step because it is not the whole liberation, we will never be able to achieve the whole liberation. It means to sing each verse as if...

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[eat]

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Long ago at this season, our people set out on a journey. On such a night as this, Israel went from degradation to joy. We give thanks for the liberation of days gone by. And we pray for all who are still bound. Eternal God, may all who hunger come to rejoice in a new Passover. Let all the human family sit at your table, drink the wine of deliverance, eat the bread of freedom: Freedom from bondage and Freedom from...

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May the light of the candles we kindle together tonight bring radiance to all who live in darkness. May this season, marking the deliverance of our people from Pharaoh, rouse us against anyone who keeps others in servitude. In gratitude for the freedom we enjoy, may we strive to bring about the liberation of all people everywhere. Lighting these candles, we create the sacred space of the Festival of Freedom; we sanctify the coming-together of our friends and family. בָרוּךְ אַתָה...

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Why do we eat maror? Maror represents the bitterness of bondage. Why do we eat haroset? It symbolizes the mortar for the bricks our ancestors laid in Egypt. Though it represents slave labor, haroset is sweet, reminding us that sometimes constriction or enslavement can be masked in familiar sweetness. Eating the two together, we remind ourselves to be mindful of life with all its sweetness and bitterness, and to seek balance between the two. בָרוּךְ אַתָה יְיַָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶר...

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This symbolic hand-washing recalls Miriam's Well. This well followed Miriam, sister of Moses, through the desert. Filled with waters of life, the well was a source of strength and renewal to all who drew from it. One drink from its waters was said to alert the heart, mind and soul, and make the meaning of Torah more clear. When we wash hands again later, we will say blessings to sanctify that act. This hand washing is purely symbolic, and therefore the...

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Tonight we have acknowledged our ancestors. We vow that we will not allow their stories, their experiences, their wisdom to fade. These are our legacy, which we will study and teach to our friends and children. The task of liberation is long, and it is work we ourselves must do. As it is written in Pirke Avot, a collection of rabbinic wisdom: “It is not incumbent upon us to finish the task, but neither may we refrain from beginning it.” Next...

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[Open the door as a sign of hospitality; lift up matzah for all to see.] Are all who are hungry truly able to eat anywhere, let alone with us? How many of us would really invite a hungry stranger into our house today? How can we correct the systemic problems that create hunger, poverty, and oppression? (Rabbah Emily Aviv Kapor). The Bread of Affliction This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all...

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Why do we eat matzah? Because during the Exodus, our ancestors had no time to wait for dough to rise. So they improvised flat cakes without yeast, which could be baked and consumed in haste. The matzah reminds us that when the chance for liberation comes, we must seize it even if we do not feel ready—indeed, if we wait until we feel fully ready, we may never act at all. בְָרוּךְ אַתָה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיא לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ...

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[Find the afikoman and distribute it to all who are seated at the table.] When the Temple still stood in Jerusalem, it was customary to make an offering of a paschal lamb at this season. Now we eat the afikoman in memory of the offering. Tzafun means “hidden,” and the afikoman is usually hidden for children to find. Why end the meal thus? Because we want the dinner to end with the taste of slavery/freedom in our mouths—thus the taste of...

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When the founder of Hasidism, the Baal Shem Tov, saw misfortune threatening the Jews, it was his custom to go into a certain part of the forest to meditate. There he would light a special fire, say a special prayer, and the trouble would be averted. Later, when his disciple, the Rabbi Maggid of Mezritch, had occasion for the same reason to intercede with heaven, he would go to the same place in the forest and say: "Master of the Universe,...

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The sage Hillel originated the tradition of eating matzah and maror together, combining the bread of liberation with a remembrance of the bitterness of slavery. [Everyone eats a Hillel Sandwich: maror between two pieces of matzah.]

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Tonight we have acknowledged our ancestors. We vow that we will not allow their stories, their experiences, their wisdom to fade. These are our legacy, which we will study and teach to our friends and children. The task of liberation is long, and it is work we ourselves must do. As it is written in Pirke Avot, a collection of rabbinic wisdom: “It is not incumbent upon us to finish the task, but neither may we refrain from beginning it.” Next...

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May the light of the candles we kindle together tonight bring radiance to all who live in darkness. May this season, marking the deliverance of our people from Pharaoh, rouse us against anyone who keeps others in servitude. In gratitude for the freedom we enjoy, may we strive to bring about the liberation of all people everywhere. Lighting these candles, we create the sacred space of the Festival of Freedom; we sanctify the coming-together of our friends and family. בָרוּךְ אַתָה...

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[Find the afikoman and distribute it to all who are seated at the table.] When the Temple still stood in Jerusalem, it was customary to make an offering of a paschal lamb at this season. Now we eat the afikoman in memory of the offering. Tzafun means “hidden,” and the afikoman is usually hidden for children to find. Why end the meal thus? Because we want the dinner to end with the taste of slavery/freedom in our mouths—thus the taste of...