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April 22, 2005
Reading the Haggadah
The retelling of Exodus teaches us about our history.
DVORA WAYSMAN
In Israel, and in thousands of Jewish homes around the world, the
eve of Passover will find us seated around a festive table, narrating
once again the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We recount it each
year as a moral duty to teach it to our children so that this important
lesson of history will never be forgotten.
The section of the night during which we read from the Haggadah
is called maggid. But we are not meant just to read it; we
are meant to use the text as a guide and basis of wide-ranging discussion.
On other nights, we just eat. On this night, we read and discuss
and talk and then we eat. Often you'll find guests surreptitiously
counting how many pages separates them from the chicken soup with
kneidels and the meal. This is why we should redirect our focus
to the maggid.
We begin by calling to all who are hungry to come into our open
door to share our food and celebration. Most of the words are in
Aramaic. Only the last sentence, "Next year as free men,"
is in Hebrew since, at the time, they did not want the local authorities
to understand that they were still hoping for their freedom.
The four questions, posed by the youngest child, is one of the most
popular parts of the seder. The children are given the important
task of asking (and answering) the questions because of the prominent
role children played in the Exodus story: the finding of Moses as
a baby, the slaying of the firstborn sons and the refusal of Pharaoh
to allow children to accompany their parents when Moses proposed
to have them leave are just a few examples.
The rest of the seder is meant to encourage questions from everyone,
not just the children. Among the questions are ones that relate
to being wealthy (the dipping, the wine, the reclining) and to poverty
and suffering (the matzah, bitter herbs, etc.).
There is one particularly interesting sentence: "Had God not
taken us out from Egypt, we would still have remained slaves."
The problem with this thought is that, in reality, no one remains
a slave for 3,000 years. But there is a psychological impact of
slavery: the longer you are enslaved, the longer it takes to eradicate
the feelings of slavery from within. If God had not taken us out
by force, and instead we'd been released by a benevolent Pharaoh,
then we would never have been "free" enough to accept
the responsibility of nationhood.
Five rabbis – Eliezer, Yehoshua, Elazar ben Azarya, Akiva and
Tarfon – were all telling the story of the redemption when
one of their students said, "It is morning and time to recite
the Sh'ma." What this means is that all these men, from all
walks of life, who clearly knew the Exodus story in depth, nevertheless
spent the whole night discussing it. Historically, it was a time
when the Roman Empire refused to let the Jews study Torah and perform
many of the commandments. They were warned by the sentry that daylight
was approaching and it was time to stealthily return to their own
houses. That night, the revolt of Bar Kochba, the second revolt
against Rome in 135 CE, was born. By the end of the revolt, many
of those sitting at this fateful meeting were no longer alive.
The Haggadah also teaches us a lesson in education, with the story
of the four sons. Each child needs a different approach, as in the
wise son versus the wicked son. Then there is the simple son and
the son who doesn't even know to ask. We have the responsibility
to explain the story to each in their own terms, with no one excluded
from the Haggadah experience.
We ponder why 10 plagues were needed when God could have done it
all with one grand zap. The plagues showed his might and his willingness
to accept anyone who repents.
The last part of the maggid, points out the three symbols of the
night – Pesach, matzah and maror. We haven't accomplished anything
unless we say the words and points to these objects. They represent
the entire history of our people. Pesach symbolizes our spiritual
freedom, which has led us to create Judaism as a way of life; matzah
also represents our spiritual freedom and maror represents the bitterness
of persecution. We must turn the dark experiences in our lives into
something positive.
As we retell this fascinating tale, we recall that it is the remembrance
of the Exodus that heralded the birth of Israel as a nation and
the understanding that as one people we share a common destiny.
Dvora Waysman is an Australian-born writer living in Jerusalem.
She is the author of nine books, including Woman of Jerusalem,
The Pomegranate Pendant and Esther: A Jerusalem Love Story.
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