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Haggadah - Page Text Content

1: This haggadah is dedicated to the extraordinary women in our lives-- past, present and future. | Lovingly prepared by Judy Greenwald (text and editing), Tania Kravath (illustrations) and Barbara Buloff (cover art)

2: Kadesh (blessing the fruit of the vine) Ur'chatz (washing of the hands) Karpas (dipping of the greens) Yachatz (breaking of the middle matzah) Magid (The telling of the story) Rohtzah (ritual washing of hands) Matzah(blessing the matzah) Maror (eating the bitter herbs) Koreich (hillel sandwich) Shulchan Orech (the festive meal) Tzafun (finding and eating of the afikoman) Bareich (Blessing after the Meal) Hallel (songs of praise) Nirtzah(concluding the seder) | 2

3: WELCOME We welcome you, our friends and family, as we usher in the Pesach holiday. Tonight, Jews all over the world gather to tell a variation of a story that has been told and retold for over 3000 years. It is a story about our ancestors who liberated themselves from the oppression of the Egyptian slave masters and began their march toward freedom. We know that the struggle for freedom is a constant one. In every age, some new freedom is won and established. At the same time, each age creates more Pharaohs and more enslavements, requiring new liberations. Mitsrayim means the narrow place—the place that squeezes the life out of a soul and body. We are still enslaved in mitsrayim when prejudice and bigotry and discrimination remain, when people in this world are homeless and hungry, when others are subjected to violence and war, and when women’s bodies are demeaned and brutalized. We remain enslaved when our planet itself and those who live upon it are not valued and treated with care and when, for whatever reason, any of us is less than she or he might be. As assimilated Jews in New York in the 21st Century, it is easy to lose sight of our connection to struggles for liberation, as if oppression were a thing of the past. We are obligated to tell this Passover story every year because it is all to easy to be asleep-- to close our eyes, to close our ears, to close our hearts. Pesach is our wake-up call. We come together on this day each year to remind ourselves and each other that freedom is a process-- that justice has to be won, meaning has to be achieved, values have to be practiced, and relationships have to be nourished. We come together to find hope in the midst of despair, light in the midst of darkness, vision in the midst of blindness. We come together in love and gratitude, relishing the community that we can share with each other and the support that we can offer one another at this time and at all times. | 3

4: We light this fire to affirm that the earth and all those who live upon it must be embraced by warmth, not destroyed by flame. We light this fire that it may become a beacon for peace and freedom and healing for all peoples and our planet. We light this fire so that we may see each other— each of us different, all of us precious. May our hearts be lifted, and our spirits refreshed as we light the Pesach candles. | 4 | Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik neir shel (shabbat 'vshel) yom tov. | B'ruchah at yah, eloheinu ruach haolam, Asher Kid'Shatnu b'mitzvo'teha v'tzivatnu L'hadlik ner shel yom tov | LIGHTING OF THE CANDLES

5: KADESH Tonight we will drink not one cup but four, as we recount the journey from exodus to liberation, a journey that stops in many places along the way. We set aside this time for attention and reflection. In the words of a Hopi elder: | Where are you living? What are you doing? What are your relationships? Are you in right relation? Where is your water? Know your Garden. There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and so swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel that they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly. Know that the river has its destination. The elders say that we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water. See who is in there with you and celebrate. | 5

6: We Raise our Cups in a Blessing: Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borai p’ree ha’gafen. Bless all these good things and rejoice! Bless all the people we have touched, Bless the gardens we have tended, and the battles we have won. Bless the steps we have taken, the decisions we have made. Bless our friends and allies. Bless this night of reflection and remembrance, as we celebrate, each of us, the liberation from Egypt, the liberation of each and all of us, and Bless our work for the liberation of all peoples! Amen. So be it! | WE DRINK THE FIRST CUP OF WINE TO SPRING AND RENEWAL For even as we tell a story of oppression and hardship , we recognize the possibility of rebirth, of transformation and change. | In time of silver rain The earth puts forth new life again, Green grasses grow And flowers lift their heads, And all over the plain The wonder spreads Of life, Of life, Of life In time of silver rain. The butterflies lift silken wings To catch a rainbow cry And trees put forth New leafs to sing In joy beneath the sky. When spring And life Are new. -Langston Hughes | 6

7: UREHATZ HANDWASHING One of the first rites of the Seder is urehatz, the ritual washing of the hands. We stand at a threshold in the evening. We are about to tell the story that reignites our imagination that the world can look different than it does—that every single human being can live with dignity and honor, that peace, justice and freedom can be realized, that prayers can be heard and hearts healed. Before we can truly hear this story, we must transition from the mundane and the cynical of our work lives to the holy and the hopeful of the holiday. The signpost of our transition is a symbolic hand washing. We must wash away our bitterness and our suspicion, our narrow-mindedness and our doubt, until we are prepared to embrace the profound possibility of shalom. (BOWL OF WATER AND TOWEL ARE PASSED AROUND) | 7

8: KARPAS Dipping of the greens Karpas is spring, new growth, rebirth, love and freedom. Salt water represents the tears of our ancestors, the bitterness of slavery, and the tears of women so long ignored in the telling of our story: | (Dip the parsley into salt water and say): Baruch atah, Adonai, eloheinu ruach ha’olam, borei p’ri ha’adamah. Blessed is the force of life that brings forth the fruits, grains and vegetable from the bountiful earth. | Rise up, my love, my dear ones and come away.... For the winter is past The rain is over and gone The flowers appear on earth The time of singing has come The voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land The fig tree puts forth her green figs and the vines in blossom give forth their fragrance Arise, and come with us! --Song of Songs | 8

9: YACHATZ Breaking the Middle Matzah (Break the middle matzah in two. Put the larger piece aside for the afikomen. With the remaining matzah say): This is the bread of liberation, of rebellion. It is poor people’s bread, made only of flour and water and hurriedly kneaded and baked by overworked women. It contains no luxury ingredients. Yet, in the world today, there are still some who are so oppressed that they have not even this bread of to eat. It is traditional to open the door at this point and say, “May all who are hungry come and share our matzah.” Yet we recognize that there are so many who are hungry that they cannot all come and eat with us tonight. To them we say, “this bread is a symbol that we owe you justice and that we will work to make it real.” (Hide the afikomen and say): Some do not get the chance to rise and spread out like golden loaves of challah, filled with sweet raisins and crowned with shiny braids. Rushed, neglected, not kneaded by caring hands, we grow up afraid that any touch might cause a break. There are some ingredients we never receive. Tonight, let us bless our cracked surfaces and sharp edges, unafraid to see our brittleness and brave enough to see our beauty. Reaching for wholeness, let us piece together the parts of ourselves we have found and honor all that is still hidden. --Tamara Cohen | 9

10: MA NISHTANA More than four questions. Passover is typically a time for asking questions. By doing so, we acknowledge that first and foremost we do not live in isolation. We need to think through things together. To ask questions is to signal our desire to grow and to learn. To ask questions is to signifiy our freedom. Tonight we will depart from the usual format of the seder to generate our own questions. We may not have answers but will try, as Rilke suggested to “love the questions themselves.” | 10

11: Ma nishtana ha-laila ha-zeh mi-kol ha-lelot? Why is this night different from all other nights? She-be-chol ha-lelot anu ochlin chametz u-matza, ha-laila ha-zeh kulo matza? Why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or matza, but on this night we eat matza? She-be-chol ha-lelot anu ochlin she-ar yetajit, ha-laila ha-zeh moror? Why is it that on all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables, but on this night we eat bitter herbs? She-be-chol ha-lelot en anu matbilin afilu pa'am echat, ha-laila ha-zeh shetay fe'amim? Why is it on all other nights we do not dip even once, but on this night we dip twice? She-be-chol ha-lelot anu ochlin bayn yoshvin u-vayn mseubin, ha-laila ha-zeh kelanu mesubin? Why is it that on all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining, but on this night we eat in a reclining position? | 11

12: PASSOVER Tell me: how is this night different From all other nights? How, tell me, is this Passover Different from all other Passovers? Light the lamp, open the door wide So the pilgrim can come in, Gentile or Jew; Under the rags perhaps the prophet is concealed. Let him enter and sit down with us; Let him listen, drink, sing and celebrate Passover; Let him consume the bread of affliction, The Paschal Lamb, sweet mortar and bitter herbs. This is the night of differences In which you lean your elbow on the table, Since the forbidden becomes prescribed, Evil is translated into good. We will spend the night recounting Far-off events full of wonder, And because of all the wine The mountains will skip like rams. Tonight they exchange questions: The wise, the godless, the simple-minded and the child. And time reverses its course, Today flowing back into yesterday. Like a river enclosed at its mouth. Each of us has been a slave in Egypt, Soaked straw and clay with sweat, And crossed the sea dry-footed. You too, stranger. This year in fear and shame, Next year in virtue and justice. -- Primo Levi, 1982 | 12

13: A Meditation on the Four Children by Rabbi Brant Rosen As Jews, how do we respond when we hear the tragic news regularly coming out of Israel/Palestine? How do we respond to reports of checkpoints and walls, of home demolitions and evictions, of blockades and military incursions? It might well be said that there are four very different children deep inside each of us, each reacting in his or her own characteristic way. The Fearful Child is marked by the trauma of the Shoah and believes that to be a Jew means to be forever vulnerable. While he may be willing to accept that we live in an age of relative Jewish privilege and power, in his heart he feels that all of these freedoms could easily be taken away in the blink of an eye. To the Fearful Child, Israel represents Jewish empowerment – the only place in the world that can ensure the collective safety of the Jewish people. The Bitter Child channels her Jewish fears into demonization of the other. This child chooses to view anti-Semitism as the most eternal and pernicious of all forms of hatred and considers all those “outside the tribe” to be real or potential enemies. She believes that Palestinians fundamentally despise Jews and will never tolerate their presence in the land – and that brute force is the only language they will ever understand. The Silent Child is overwhelmed with the myriad of claims, histories, narratives and analyses that emerge from Israel/Palestine. While he dreams of a day in which both peoples will live in peace, he is unable to sift through all that he hears and determine how he might help bring that day about. At his most despairing moments, he doesn’t believe a just peace between these two peoples will ever be possible. And so he directs his Jewish conscience toward other causes and concerns – paralyzed by the “complexities” of this particular conflict. The Courageous Child is willing to admit the painful truth that this historically persecuted people has now become a persecutor. This child understands and empathizes with the emotions of the other children all too well – in truth, she still experiences them from time to time. In the end, however, the Courageous Child refuses to live a life defined by immobilized by fear, bitterness or complacency. She understands it is her sacred duty to stand in solidarity with all who are oppressed, particularly when she herself is implicated in that oppression. At one time or another we have heard within ourselves the voices of any or all of these children. How will we respond to them? | 13

14: MAGGID: The Story We are descended from slaves, from people who staged the first successful slave rebellion in recorded history. Ever since, we have kept alive the story of liberation, and the consciousness that cruelty and oppression are not inevitable “facts of life,” but conditions which can be changed. The Exodus message is revolutionary: The way the world is now is not the way it has to be. In 1970, Rabbi Heschel said, " Prayer is meaningless unless it is subversive, unless it seeks to overthrow and to ruin the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism, falsehoods. The liturgical movement must become a revolutionary movement, seeking to overthrow the forces that continue to destroy the promise, the hope, the vision." And from Social Activist Leonard Fein: Each cup we raise this night is an act of memory and of reverence. The story we tell, this year as every year, is not yet done. It begins with them, then; it continues with us, now. We remember not out of curiosity or nostalgia, but because it is our turn to add to the story. Our challenge this year, as every year, is to feel the Exodus, to open the gates of time and become one with those who crossed the Red Sea from slavery to freedom. Our challenge this year, as every year, is to know the Exodus, to behold all those in every land who have yet to make the crossing. Our challenge this day, as every day, is to reach out our hands to them and help them cross to freedomland. We know some things that others do not always know - how arduous the struggle, how very deep the waters to be crossed and how treacherous their tides, how filled with irony and contradiction and suffering the crossing and then the wandering. We know such things because we ourselves wandered in the desert for forty years. Have not these forty years been followed by 32 centuries of struggle and of quest? Heirs to those who struggled and quested, we are old-timers at disappointment, veterans at sorrow, but always, always, prisoners of hope. The hope is the anthem of our people (Hatikvah), and the way of our people. For all the reversals and all the stumbling blocks, for all the blood and all the hurt, hope still dances within us. That is who we are, and that is what this Seder is about. For the slaves do become free, and the tyrants are destroyed. Once, it was by miracles; today, it is by defiance and devotion. | 14

15: Go Down, Moses When Israel was in Egypt's land, Let my people go! Oppressed so hard they could not stand, Let my people go! Chorus: Go down, Moses, Way down in Egypt's land. Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go! Thus spoke the Lord, bold Moses said Let my people go! If not, I'll smite your firstborn dead. Let my people go! No more shall they in bondage toil... Let them come out with Egypt's spoil... The Lord told Moses what to do... To lead the Hebrew children through... As Israel stood by the water side... At God's command it did divide... When they reached the other shore... They sang a song of triumph o'er... Pharaoh said he'd go across... But Pharaoh and his host were lost... We need not always weep and mourn... And wear these chains of slaves forlorn... O let us all from bondage flee... And let us all in life be free... | 15

16: MAGGID by Marge Piercy The courage to let go of the door, the handle. The courage to shed the familiar walls whose very stains and leaks are comfortable as the little moles of the upper arm; stains that recall a feast, a child's naughtiness, a loud blattering storm that slapped the roof hard, pouring through. The courage to abandon the graves dug into the hill, the small bones of children and the brittle bones of the old whose marrow hunger had stolen; the courage to desert the tree planted and only begun to bear; the riverside where promises were shaped; the street where their empty pots were broken. The courage to leave the place whose language you learned as early as your own, whose customs however dangerous or demeaning, bind you like a halter you have learned to pull inside, to move your load; the land fertile with the blood spilled on it; the roads mapped and annotated for survival. The courage to walk out of the pain that is known into the pain that cannot be imagined, mapless, walking into the wilderness, going barefoot with a canteen into the desert; stuffed in the stinking hold of a rotting ship sailing off the map into dragons' mouths, | 16

17: Cathay, India, Siberia, goldeneh medina, leaving bodies by the way like abandoned treasure. So they walked out of Egypt. So they bribed their way out of Russia under loads of straw; so they steamed out of the bloody smoking charnel house of Europe on overloaded freighters forbidden all ports -- out of pain into death or freedom or a different painful dignity, into squalor and politics. We Jews are all born of wanderers, with shoes under our pillows and a memory of blood that is ours raining down. We honor only those Jews who changed tonight, those who chose the desert over bondage who walked into the strange and became strangers and gave birth to children who could look down on them standing on their shoulders for having been slaves. We honor those who let go of every- thing but freedom, who ran, who revolted, who fought, who became other by saving themselves. | FOR A NEW BEGINNING | 17

18: Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed— Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek— And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. | I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean— Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. | 18

19: Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home— For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free." The free? Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay— Except the dream that's almost dead today. | O, let America be America again— The land that never has been yet— And yet must be—the land where every man is free. The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME— Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose— The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath— America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain— All, all the stretch of these great green states— And make America again! | 19

20: Then you shall take some of the blood, and put it on the door posts and the lintels of the houses . . .and when I see the blood, I shall pass over you, and no plague shall fall upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt. -Exodus 12: 7 & 13 They thought they were safe that spring night; when they daubed the doorways with sacrificial blood. To be sure, the angel of death passed them over, but for what? Forty years in the desert without a home, without a bed, following new laws to an unknown land. Easier to have died in Egypt or stayed there a slave, pretending there was safety in the old familiar. But the promise, from those first naked days outside the garden, is that there is no safety, only the terrible blessing of the journey. You were born through a doorway marked in blood. We are, all of us, passed over, brushed in the night by terrible wings. Ask that fierce presence, whose imagination you hold. God did not promise that we shall live, but that we might, at last, glimpse the stars, brilliant in the desert sky. ~ Lynn Ungar ~ | 20

21: WE DRINK THE SECOND CUP OF WINE TO LIBERATION Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p'ri ha-gafen. As we recall the liberation from slavery of our own people, we dedicate ourselves to the freedom of people around the world who continue to suffer enslavement, oppression, degradation and annihilation. When we say that this year we are slaves but that next year we will be free, we make a pledge. It is the same pledge we made last year and the year before that. And we will make it next year, too, for the road to freedom is not an easy road, and we will not stop until all can join in freedom’s song. | O FREEDOM O freedom, O freedom, O freedom over me, And before I'l be a slave, I'l be buried in my grave, And go home to my Lord and be free. No more moaning...No more weeping...No more kneeling... There'll be singing... | Martin Luther King, in his letter from Birmingham jail, said: "But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Was not Amos an extremist for justice: "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." Was not Martin Luther an extremist: "Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God." And John Bunyan: "I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience." And Abraham Lincoln: "This nation cannot survive half slave and half free." And Thomas Jefferson: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that an men are created equal ..." So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremist for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice?" | 21

22: THE TEN PLAGUES When Moses asked Pharaoh to free the Israelites, he refused. So god brought ten plagues on the Egyptians. They are not punishments upon the land or people but rather consequences of the Pharaoh's oppressive rule. They teach us: When rulers ignore human needs and destroy human lives, the earth itself writhes and rebels in agony. The damage falls not on the powerful alone, but on us all. While we fill our wine cups to remember our joy in being able to leave Egypt, our happiness is not complete because the Egyptians, who are also god’s children, suffered from Pharaoh’s evil ways. The rabbis taught that justice delayed or denied brings terrible consequences. We rejoice to see oppressors overcome but we cannot take pleasure in the slaughter of innocent people who are, themselves, subjected to tyranny. We spill a drop of wine from our cups as we recite the plagues of the ancient story. We invite you to call out the plagues of today that you associate with the plagues of the past: | Blood Frogs Lice Beasts Cattle disease | Boils Hail Locusts Darkness Slaying of the First-born | 22

23: Dayenu means to celebrate each step toward freedom as if it were enough, then to start out on the next step. Dayuenu means that if we reject each step because it is not the whole liberation, we will never be able to achieve the whole liberation. We sing each verse as if it were the whole song-- and then sing the next verse. Ilu hotsi, hotsianu,hotsianu mimitsrayim,hotsianu mimitsrayim,Dayeinu! Da, dayeinu! (3X)Dayeinu! Dayeinu! Ilu natan, natan lanu,natan lanu et hatorah,natan lanu et hatorah,Dayeinu! Ilu natan, natan lanu,natan lanu et hashabbat,natan lanu et hashabbat,Dayeinu! | We Pour Ten Drops For the Plagues of Our World: Against the making of war, and against the teaching of hate. Against the despoiling of the earth, and against the perverting of power. Against the fomenting of crime, and against the neglecting of human needs. Against the oppressing of peoples, and against the corrupting of culture, Against the subjugation of learning and against the erosions of freedom. | 23

24: Once we were slaves in the land of Egypt. Let that memory of that time teach us to value freedom for everyone. Dayenu. BUT if we cherish freedom, yet forget political prisoners and those unjustly imprisoned here and abroad, it will not be enough... AND if we work for those unjustly imprisoned, but ignore those who are denied their full opportunities and respect by racism, it will not be enough... If we work toward a world where civil rights belong to all, but hunger remains, it will not be enough... AND if we dream of a peaceful and well-fed world, but ignore the fate of those who must live in violence and in danger, it will not be enough... AND if we demand freedom and peace, but we neglect women’s struggles for safety and dignity, it will not be enough... AND if we struggle for the rights of women everywhere, but we are callous to the rights of other living beings with whom we share the land and sea, it will not be enough... If we cherish the environment here but permit our government to export destruction and pollution abroad, it will not be enough... If we work to prevent exploitation and sweatshops in underdeveloped countries, but neglect to preserve the State of Israel, it will not be enough... AND if we cherish the State of Israel, but we neglect our responsibility to help create a safe and peaceful Palestinian homeland, it will not be enough... FOR if we talk about ending domination and despair, but we fail to act on our beliefs, it will not be enough. In truth, it will only be enough when we have put an end to human misery and suffering. As Rabbi Tarfon said, “It is not your obligation to complete the task but neither are you free to desist from it.” And none of it matters if we invade other nations on faked excuses to gain power and riches and we bring down terror and death on others, as we do not wish to be done to us. But if we do not give up but try always to change what needs changing and fix what needs fixing, as much as it is in our power and ability, then it is enough. Dayenu. | 24

25: Where Do We Go from Here by Martin Luther King, Jr. We still have a long, long way to go before we reach the promised land of freedom. Yes, we have left the dusty soils of Egypt, and we have crossed a Red Sea that had for years been hardened by a long and piercing winter of massive resistance, but before we reach the majestic shores of the promised land, there will still be gigantic mountains of opposition ahead and prodigious hilltops of injustice... Let us be dissatisfied until the tragic walls that separate the outer city of wealth and comfort from the inner city of poverty and despair shall be crushed by the battering rams of the forces of justice. Let us be dissatisfied until those who live on the outskirts of hope are brought into the metropolis of daily security. Let us be dissatisfied until slums are cast into the junk heaps of history, and every family will live in a decent, sanitary home. Let us be dissatisfied until the dark yesterdays of segregated schools will be transformed into bright tomorrows of quality integrated education. Let us be dissatisfied until integration is not seen as a problem but as an opportunity to participate in the beauty of diversity. Let us be dissatisfied until men and women will be judged on the basis of the content of their character, not on the basis of the color of their skin. Let us be dissatisfied until from every city hall, justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream. Let us be dissatisfied until that day when the lion and the lamb shall lie down together and every man (and woman) will sit under her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid.... | 25

26: SEDER PLATE Why did our ancestors eat the Pesach offering at their seder? We include the lambshank to remember the time when our ancestors were spared the tragic fate of the Egyptians, whose first-born were slain. We are grateful for this gift of life. This unleavened bread is matzah. Why do we eat it? The matzah is a symbol of the simple bread of poverty our ancestors took when they fled from Egypt. It reminds us of a time when all people had little but none had more—when equality prevailed among the Israelites. It reminds us that many people do not have the basic necessities of life and that we must work toward peace with equality and justice for all. This bitter vegetable is Maror. Why do we eat it? The maror reminds us of the bitterness of slavery. It helps us to understand the bitterness of people around the world who are tyrannized and oppressed. Why is this egg on the seder plate? Because springtime is a time of rebirth, when we can bring new possibilities, new freedom, into our lives. | According to Rabbi Gamliel, those who do not consider the meaning of three things-- Pesach, matzah, and maror-- have not fulfilled the purpose of the seder. | 26

27: Why, this year, do we include an olive on the seder plate? For millennia, the olive branch has been the symbol of peace, and we seek to make peace where there has been war. And because today in the land of Abraham, Hagar, Sarah, Isaac, and Ishmael, living olive trees bring sustenance to families. When they are uprooted, these olive trees cry out to be planted anew for the sake of life and peace and justice. Why is there a boiled potato on the seder plate? In 1987, thousands of Ethiopian Jews were transported to Israel. They came from a land of famine and, because their starving bodies could tolerate nothing else, their first meal was boiled potatoes. Even this potato is more than many people have to eat today. Let it be a symbol of our resolve to share our bounty with the hungry. Why is there an orange on the Seder plate? In olden days there was no orange on the seder plate. It was said that “outsiders”—gay men and lesbians, transgendered people, converts, those who lack some important ability or skill, the unlearned—all these no more belonged in the community than an orange belongs on the Seder plate. So we include an orange to say unequivocally that all belong in our communities. | 27

28: MOTZI Raise the top and bottom matzah and say: Blessed is the labor which has brought us this bread from the earth. (You may eat the matzah) MAROR We dip the maror into the charoset to recall that our ancestors were able to withstand the bitterness of slavery because it was sweetened by the hope of freedom. Dip the horseradish into the charoset and recite: Bless both the bitter and the sweet in our lives. (You may eat the maror dipped in Charoset). KORECH (HILLEL SANDWICH) Sandwich maror between two pieces of the bottom matzah Our sages asked: why did we taste the matzah-- which represents freedom-- before the maror which represents slavery? After all, the historical events happened in precisely the opposite sequence. The reason they gave is that only after we have had a taste of freedom do we begin to understand the bitterness of our slavery. As Rabbi Hanoch said, "The real slavery of the Jews in Egypt was that they learned to endure it." (You may eat the Hillel Sandwich) | 28

29: At this point in our seder, we traditionally call upon Elijah the prophet who, in his time, tirelessly advocated for the common people. Before he died, he declared that he would return once each generation in the guise of a poor or oppressed person. By the treatment offered this poor person, he would know whether the population was worthly of entering the messianic age. Tonight, like those who came before us, we set aside a cup for Elijah. We open our door and sing: Eliyahu haNavi Eliyahu haTishbi, Eliyahu Eliyahu Eliyahu haGil'adi - Bim'hera b’yameynu yavoh eleinu, im mashiach ben David. Im Mashiach bat Sarah. | KOS ELIYAHY/KOS MIRIAM Raise the third cup and say: Baruch Atah Adonai Elohenu Melech ha'olam borei p'ri hagafen | 29

30: Prospective Immigrants Please Note by Adrienne Rich Either you will go through this door or you will not go through. If you go through there is always the risk of remembering your name. Things look at you doubly and you must look back and let them happen. If you do not go through it is possible to live worthily to maintain your attitudes to hold your position to die bravely but much will blind you, much will evade you, at what cost who knows? The door itself makes no promises. It is only a door. | 30

31: CROSS THAT LINE Paul Robeson stood on the northern border of the USA and sang into Canada where a vast audience sat on folding chairs waiting to hear him. He sang into Canada. His voice left the USA when his body was not allowed to cross that line. Remind us again, brave friend! What countries may we sing into? What lines should we all be crossing? What songs travel toward us from far away to deepen our days? -- Naomi Shihab Nye | 31

32: Tonight, we follow a new tradition by honoring our prophet Miriam. Midrash teaches us that a miraculous well accompanied our ancestors through their journey in the desert, providing them with water. God gave Miriam this well to honor her bravery and devotion to the Jewish people. Both Miriam and her well were spiritual oases in the desert, sources of sustenance and healing. Her words of comfort gave our ancestors the faith and confidence to overcome the hardships of the Exodus. We fill Miriam’s cup with water to honor her role in ensuring the survival of the Jewish people. Like Miriam, Jewish women in all generations have been essential for the continuity of our people. We honor Miriam and all the women in our lives—our mothers, our grandmothers, our aunts, our sisters, our cousins, our partners and our friends—all those who have shaped us and inspired us and sustained us. We especially honor those we’ve lost this year. They are forever a part of our story, and we are deeply grateful to them. | 32

33: Still I Rise You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops. Weakened by my soulful cries. Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines Diggin' in my own back yard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I'll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I've got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history's shame I rise Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise. --Maya Angelou | 33

34: A Bridge Of Peace My Palestinian sister, Daughter of Abraham, like me, Let us build a sturdy bridge From your olive world to mine, From my orange world to yours, Above the boiling pain Of acid rain prejudice - And hold human hands high Full of free stars Of twinkling peace My Palestinian sister, daughter of Abraham, I do not want to be your oppressor You do not want to be my oppressor, Or your jailer Or my jailer, We do not want to make each other afraid Under our vines And under our fig trees Blossoming on a silvered horizon Above the bruising and the bleeding Of poisoned gases and scuds. So, my Palestinian sister, Let us build a bridge of Jasmine understanding Where each shall sit with her baby Under her vine and under her fig tree - And none shall make them afraid AND NONE SHALL MAKE THEM AFRAID. -- Ada Aharoni | With great courage, women in Israel and Palestine have created and sustained a peace movement and have acted to bridge their differences. | 34

35: WE DRINK THE THIRD CUP OF WINE TO RESPONSIBILITY AND REDEMPTION | Rabbi Heschel said: "The mark of Cain in the face of man has come to overshadow the likeness of God. There have never been so much guilt and distress, agony and terror. Ashamed and dismayed, we ask: Who is responsible? All may be guided by the words of the Baal Shem: If a man has beheld evil, he may know that it was shown to him in order that he learn his own guilt and repent; for what is shown to him is also within him. ... Let Fascism not serve as an alibi for our conscience. Where were we when men learned to hate in the days of starvation? When raving madmen were sowing wrath in the hearts of the unemployed? We have failed to fight for right, for justice, for goodness; as a result we must fight against wrong, against injustice, against evil. We have failed to offer sacrifices on the altar of peace; now we must offer sacrifices on the altar of war. ... In a free society, some are guilty. But all are responsible." | Sing: And every one 'neath her vine and fig tree Shall live in peace and unafraid(Repeat) And into plowshares turn their swords Nations shall have war no more(Repeat) And every one ‘neath her vine and fig tree Shall live in peace and unafraid. | 35

36: WE BELONG TO THE EARTH This we know. The earth does not belong to us; we belong to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. We did not weave the web of life; We are merely a strand in it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. -- Chief Seattle | In those years, people will say, we lost track of the meaning of we, of you, we found ourselves reduced to I, and the whole thing became silly, ironic, terrible: we were trying to live a personal life and yes, that was the only life we could bear witness to. But the great dark birds of history screamed and plunged into our personal weather. They were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drove along the shore, through the rags of fog where we stood, saying I — Adrienne Rich | 36

37: A TOAST OF THANKFULNESS TO US to where we’ve each come from to where we’re going and how we’re changing to being where we are and who we are to what we can share to what we can’t share...yet to our joys and our struggles which in full times we know are connected which in hard times isolate us to process, and the times when we lose sight of process to pain, to growth to painless growth, to painful growth to our efforts, our faith, our determination to our fears, tears, laughter, hugs and kisses to wisdom, to study alone and in groups to our books and tools, to toys to materials, raw and fine to work, to meetings, to sleep to our eyes, which fortunately read Haggadahs and see mountains and faces and flowers and bodies and occasionally sunshine to our ears, hands, noses, mouths, toes, breasts to caresses, to touch, to our senses to knees to the times we fall down and pick ourselves up and the times friends help us up to the shoulders we cry on to the arms that hold us to the strength in each of us, alone to our work to our play to our loving to our growth to life itself...l’chaim | 37

38: The Fourth Cup of Wine-- To the Future We dedicate the final cup of wine to our hopes and dreams for the future. We dream of a world not threatened by destruction. We hope for a time when Jerusalem will be a beacon of sisterhood and brotherhood. We dream of a world in which Jews and all other people are free to be themselves. We dream of a world at peace. Boruch aatah Adoni, eloheynu melech ha-olam, boray pree ha-gafen. Amen | 36 | 38

39: KADDISH by Marge Piercy Look around us, above us, below and behind. We stand in a great web of being joined together. Let us praise, let us love the life we are lent, passing through the bodies of nations, and our own bodies, and let us say Amein. Time flows through us like water. The past and the dead speak through us. We breathe out our children's children, blessing. Blessed is the earth from which we grow, blessed is the life we are lent, blessed are the ones who teach us, blessed are the ones we teach, blessed is the word that cannot say the Glory that shines through us, and let us say Amein. Blessed is light, blessed is darkness, but blessed above all else is peace, which bears the fruits of knowledge in its strong branches and let us say Amein. Peace that bears joy into the world, peace that enables love, peace over the nations, everywhere, blessed and holy is peace, and let us say Amein. | 39

40: OPTIONAL SONGS: | I'm On My Way I'm on my way to the freedom land I'm on my way to the freedom land I'm on my way to the freedom land 'm on my way, praise God I'm on my way. I asked my brother to come with me I asked my brother to come with me I asked my brother to come with me I'm on my way, praise God I'm on my way. I asked my sister to come with me I asked my sister to come with me I asked my sister to come with me I'm on my way, praise God I'm on my way. If they say no, I'll go alone If they say no, I'll go alone If they say no, I'll go alone I'm on my way, praise God I'm on my way. I'm on my way, and I won't turn back I'm on my way, and I won't turn back I'm on my way, and I won't turn back I'm on my way, praise GodI'm on my way. | FOLLOW THE DRINKING GOURD (A map and timetable for the Underground Railway: follow the Big Dipper; it points to the North—and freedom) (chorus) Follow the drinking gourd; Follow the drinking gourd. For the old man is a waiting for to carry you to freedom Follow the drinking gourd. When the sun comes back and the first quail calls, Follow the drinking gourd The old man is a waiting for to carry you to freedom Follow the drinking gourd. Now the river bank’ll make a mighty good road The dead trees will show you the way. Left foot, peg foot traveling on Follow the drinking gourd. Now the river ends between two hills Follow the drinking gourd There’s another river on the other side, Follow the drinking gourd. (chorus) | 40

41: Michael Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah! Michael, row the boat ashore, hallelujah! The Jordan River is deep and wide, hallelujah! Milk and honey on the other side, hallelujah! Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah! Sister, help to trim the sail, hallelujah! The river Jordan is chilly and cold, hallelujah! Chills the body but not the soul, hallelujah! | 41 | Morning Has Broken Morning has broken like the first morning; blackbird has spoken like the first bird. Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning. Praise for them springing fresh from the Word. Sweet the rain's new fall sunlit from heaven, like the first dew fall on the first grass. Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden, sprung in completeness where his feet pass. Mine is the sunlight! Mine is the morning born of the one light Eden saw play! Praise with elation, praise every morning, God's recreation of the new day!

42: 42 | GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN Go tell it on the mountain, Over the hills and everywhere. Go tell it on the mountain Let my people go! Who are the people dressed in white? Let my people go! Must be the children of the Israelite Let my people go! Who are the people dressed in red? Let my people go! Must be the people that Moses led. Let my people go! Who are the people dressed in black? Let my people go! Must be the hypocrites a-turning back Let my people go! | WE SHALL OVERCOME We shall overcome We shall overcome We shall overcome Some day Deep in my heart, I do believe That we shall overcome some day We'll walk hand in hand Some day We shall live in peace Some day We are not afraid Today The whole wide world around Some day | WOKE UP THIS MORNING WITH MY MIND Woke up this morning with my mind Stayed on freedom Woke up this morning with my mind Stayed on freedom Woke up this morning with my mind Stayed on freedom Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah. I'm walking and talking with my mind stayed on freedom I'm walking and talking with my mind stayed on freedom I'm walking and talking with my mind stayed on freedom Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah. Ain't nothing wrong with my mind Stayed on freedom Oh, there ain't nothing wrong with keeping my mind Stayed on freedom There ain't nothing wrong with keeping your mind Stayed on freedom Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah. I'm singing and praying with my mind Stayed on freedom Yeah, I'm singing and praying with my mind Stayed on freedom Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah.

43: 43 | JOE HILL I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, Alive as you or me Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead," "I never died," says he."I never died," says he." In Salt Lake, Joe," says I to him, Him standing by my bed, "They framed you on a murder charge, "Says Joe, "But I ain't dead,"Says Joe, "But I ain't dead." "The copper bosses killed you, Joe, They shot you, Joe," says I." Takes more than guns to kill a man, "Says Joe, "I didn't die,"Says Joe, "I didn't die." And standing there as big as life And smiling with his eyes Says Joe, "What they forgot to kill Went on to organize,Went on to organize." "Joe Hill ain't dead," he says to me," Joe Hill ain't never died. Where working men are out on strike Joe Hill is at their side, Joe Hill is at their side. "From San Diego up to Maine,In every mine and mill -Where working men defend their rightsIt's there you'll find Joe Hill.It's there you'll find Joe Hill.I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night,Alive as you or meSays I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead","I never died," says he."I never died," says he. | "From San Diego up to Maine, In every mine and mill - Where working men defend their rights It's there you'll find Joe Hill. It's there you'll find Joe Hill. I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night, Alive as you or me Says I, "But Joe, you're ten years dead", "I never died," says he." I never died," says he.

44: Humorous Songs | 44 | There's No Seder Like our Seder (By Rabbi Dan Liben, "There's no Business like Show business") There's no Seder like our Seder, There's no Seder I know. Everything about it is halachic Nothing that the Torah won't allow. Listen how we read the whole Haggadah It's all in Hebrew 'Cause we know how. There's no Seder like our Seder, We tell a tale that is swell: Moses took the people out into the heat They baked the matzah While on their feet Now isn't that a story That just can't be beat? Let's go on with the show! ................ | Our Passover Things To "My Favorite Things" from the "Sound of Music" ) Cleaning and cooking and so many dishes Out with the chametz, no pasta, no knishes Fish that's gefilted, horseradish that stings These are a few of our Passover things. Matzah and karpas and chopped up haroset Shankbones and kiddish and yiddish neuroses Tante who kvetches and uncle who sings These are a few of our Passover things. Motzi and moror and trouble with Pharaohs Famines and locusts and slaves with wheelbarrows Matzah balls floating and eggshell that clings These are a few of our Passover things. When the plagues strike When the lice bite When we're feeling sad We simply remember our Passover things And then we don't feel so bad. | The Eight Nights of Passover ('The Twelve Days”) On the first night of Passover my mother served to me 1) a matzo ball in chicken soup 2) two dipped herbs 3) three pieces of matzah 4) four cups of wine 5) five gefilte fish 6) six capons baking 7) seven eggs a boiling 8) eight briskets roasting

45: Elijah (By Rabbi Dan Liben, "Maria") Elijah! I just saw the prophet Elijah. And suddenly that name Will never sound the same to me. Elijah! He came to our Seder Elijah! He had his cup of wine, But could not stay to dine This year-- Elijah! For your message all Jews are waiting: That the time's come for peace and not hating-- Elijah-- Next year we'll be waiting. Elijah! ........... | 45 | Take Us Out of Egypt (By Ron Wolfson, “Take me out to the ball game") Take us out of Egypt Free us from slavery Bake us some matzah in a haste Don't worry 'bout flavor-- Give no thought to taste. Oh it's rush, rush, rush, to the Red Sea If we don't cross it's a shame For it's ten plagues, Down and you're out At the Pesach history game. | Pharaoh Doesn’t Pay (By Mary Ann Barrows Wark, “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad”) I’ve been working on these buildings; Pharaoh doesn’t pay. I’ve been doing what he tells me Like making bricks from clay. Can’t you hear the master calling, “Hurry up, make a brick!” Can’t you feel the master hurt me Until I’m feeling sick. Oh is this a mess, Oh is this a mess, Oh is this a mess, for Jews, for Jews. Oh is this a mess, Oh is this a mess, Oh is this a mess for Jews. Someone’s in the palace with Pharaoh –Someone’s in the palace we know, ow, ow, ow, Someone’s in the palace with Pharaoh –Does he know they treat us so? Keep singing work, work, work all day, Work all day and then some mo –ore, Work, work, work all day – Does he know they treat us so?

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  • Published: about 5 years ago