We approach the seder's core, telling the story of the exodus, and most of us grind our teeth, grimace, and prepare for an hour-long slog-through. Few would argue that this isn't the seder's most boring part. Mounds upon mounds of hebrew verses that pile up like a chore, rabinic teachings that shove you back into a school-kid's desk when all you want is to be outside; the entire thing feels rather tedious. Yet this is only because we have removed ourselves from the story, locked in our modern timezone where anything earlier than 1970 has been snipped off. We don't connect with our ancestors' struggle in Egypt, and why should we? After all, most of us are privileged Jews living in rich western countries where slavery is about as pertinent as a saxophone at a punk rock show. Which is to say very pertinent, just few people realize so. The idea of the Exodus from Egypt is often portrayed as a metaphor to be tacked onto whatever bonds we feel ourselves ensnared in today.

One of the chains that bonds us all, even in our aforementioned cushy, privileged lives, is homophobia. Whether it produces executions in the middle east or teasing in a middle school, the hate facing LGBT people threads itself throughout the world. It metaphorically binds us, whether or not you are queer. Intolerance holds us all back. What would have happened had people known Allen Turing's sexual identity and not let him research his prototypal computer? Think of all the potential benefits society lacks because of the ingrained hate we are raised on. The following maggid section will scrutinize oppression in the modern day, with a stress on homophobia. However will not be limited to rainbow flags and glitter; we will plumb other social justice depths to look at the world and decide what metaphorical "Egypts" are still holding us back. 

haggadah Section: Maggid - Beginning