Maggid
TELLING THE STORY
The matzot are uncovered and raised for all to see as we recite:
This is the bread of affliction
which our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt.
Let all those who are hungry come and eat with us.
Let all those who are in need come and share our meal.
This year we are here.
Next year may we all be in the land of Israel.
This year we are still slaves.
Next year may we all be free.
The matzot are covered.
A memory from my town, Sighet: Our Seder table was never without a stranger. I remember that we went from one synagogue to the other, from one house of study to the other, looking for a stranger without whom our holiday would be incomplete. And this was true of most Jews in my town and probably of most Jews in other towns. On Passover eve, the poor, the uprooted, the unhappy were the most sought-after, the most beloved guests. It was for them and with them that we recited: āThis year we are still slaves. Next year may we all be free.ā Without comforting our impoverished guest, our riches would shame us. And so we were grateful to him. In some towns, before Passover, Jews would raise funds discreetly: One by one, they would enter a room in the community house. There they would find a dish filled with money. Those who had money left some; those who needed money took some. No one knew how much was given or how much was taken. Thus, the needy were taken care of with dignity.
At this moment, the second cup of wine is poured. Then the youngest of the children asks the Four Questions:
How does this night differ from all other nights? On all other nights we eat either leavened or unleavened bread. Why on this night do we eat only unleavened bread?
On all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs. Why on this night do we eat only bitter herbs?
On all other nights we need not dip our herbs even once. Why on this night do we need to dip twice?
On all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining. Why on this night must we all recline?
These questions are simple and practical. As said before, the entire Seder has been conceived for children. We must teach them how to ask questions. And therefore, for guidance, we offer them the proverbial Four Questions. Then, it is up to each child to ask his own.
Commentators have found all kinds of secret meanings in the Four Questions. According to Don Yitzhak Abrabanel, the great Spanish sage, the questions deal with the contradictions that govern Jewish life in exile. More specifically, there are mystical scholars who assert that leavened bread symbolizes the evil spirit, whereas matzah represents purity of the soul. Perhaps. We are all entitled to our own interpretation. For the learned, the Seder offers the possibility of further study. For the novice, it affords the pleasures of a simple story. Children will begin by wanting to understand the nature of what they see and hear, what they touch and taste. Later their questions will become more complex: Why exile? Why suffering? Why evil? And who can explain why they prevail? Here, then, is the answer offered since the beginning of exile:
The matzot are uncovered.
We were all slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. And the Lord our God delivered us from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Had the Holy One, blessed be He, not brought our forefathers out of Egypt, then we, our children, and our childrenās children, would still be slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt. And even if all of us were scholars, all of us full of understanding, all of us masters, all of us learned in the Torah, we would still be commanded to tell the story of how we left Egypt. And the more one tells the story, with ever more detail and fervor, the greater oneās merit.
This statement expresses the essence of Jewish faith, of Jewish allegiance to a collective memory. It is as though we had all been in Egypt together, prisoners of the same enemy, suffering the same pain, the same anguish. It is as though we had all been carried by the same hope.
Even converts must affirm their connection with Egypt, with the experience that preceded our liberation. Is it possible for strangers, sons and daughters of strangers, to have lived in exile as we did? Yes, answers our tradition. In becoming Jewish, converts absorb our entire past, effectively making it their own. Thus we share our memory, going all the way back to Egypt. In exchange, like us, converts must proclaim their faith in divine strength and goodness.
āIf God had not brought our forefathers out of Egypt, then we, our children, and our childrenās children would still be slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt.ā What a strange statement. The Pharaoh has long ceased to exist. How could we still be his slaves? Clearly, this sentence is allegorical. Pharaohs are not necessarily Egyptian. And Egypt, is not the only place where exile is felt. Each generation has its own enemies, its own struggles andāsometimesāits own victories. We evoke Exodus not only to remember our suffering in Egypt, but also to relive the manner in which we overcame our suffering.
A tale: One Passover eve, Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Joshua, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, Rabbi Akiba, and Rabbi Tarfon reclined together at Bānai Brak. They told and retold the story of the Exodus from Egypt all through the night, until their disciples came running to tell them: āThe time has come to read the morning Shāma, the time has come to say the morning prayers.ā
Why do we tell this story? It teaches us an important lesson. These five sages, among the most illustrio...