In every generation
The night of the Passover seder is cloaked in an aura of sanctity and ancient times. The basic format of the evening is as follows: On the first night of the festival of Passover, one or more families gather together to recount the story of the Exodus from Egypt and to share a joyous family feast.
The structure of this celebration has its
roots in the original first night of Passover, when Israel left Egypt.
Such was its character in the days of the prophet Isaiah as well;
he speaks of “a night when a festival is hallowed” (Is. 30:29). This was
its basic nature during the Second Temple era, when the famed sage
Hillel would “wrap [the Pesacĥ offering] up with matzah and bitter herbs
and eat them together.”
Likewise, in the dark days that followed the
Destruction of the Holy Temple, R. Eliezer, R. Yehoshua, and their
colleagues sat together on this night in Bnei Brak. It continued in the
era of Yannai, the poet of the land of Israel who penned the hymn
entitled Az Rov Nissim while living under Byzantine rule. So it
was in the days of Rabbi Yosef Tuv-Elem in northern France, and in this
fashion its observance continued to the time when the classic song Ĥad
Gadya was composed, at the close of the Middle Ages.
This continuum of the Passover observance
endured not only in its basic appearance, but even in its finer details:
The child who asks the four questions (whether or not he can carry a
tune) voices words and phrases almost identical to those of the child
who asked those very same questions at his family’s seder when the Holy
Temple stood in Jerusalem almost 2,000 years ago.
Thus, the Passover seder enables the members
of every generation to emulate their ancestors in an act of retelling
that is constantly reinvigorated. An eminence of yore lingers over the
rhetorical, ornate ceremony, each detail filled with recollections and
significance. Raising and placing down the cup, covering and uncovering
the matzah, opening the door, breaking the matzah: all of these acts are
parts of an established ceremony, perhaps the most ancient ceremony
observed continuously by Jewish people throughout the generations.
However, at the same time it should be noted
that despite its sanctity, ritual and ceremony, the seder night is not a
time of pompous, frozen decorum, of the precise and heavy repetition of
what has already been performed repeatedly for thousands of years. For
like the other Jewish holidays and festivals, each seder night unites
within itself elements of austerity with intimacy, sobriety with cheer,
and a set text with the possibility of endless variations and styles.
Although the external format of the seder is
fixed, it is not rigid. It is designed to accommodate changes and novel
interpretations, and this approach is even ideal. Not only have various
additions and new sections occasionally been added to the text of the
Haggadah over the course of the years, but the text of the Haggadah
itself practically beckons to be perfected by the seder participants
themselves.
In every generation, Jewish parents and
children must contemplate anew the messages of the Haggadah. The
Egyptian bondage and the redemption from Egypt are subjects that need to
be discussed. Upon investigation, we will find that many aspects of our
life meet, identify with, and collide with the Passover Haggadah.
Essentially, all the seder participants are asked to make additions and
improvements to the Haggadah, to “[tell] of the Exodus from Egypt…all
that night” — at the very least.
For this reason, there are no set, restrictive
rules that dictate how the Haggadah should be read, or who should read
it. If everyone agrees, the family members may ask the head of the
household to read and explain; alternatively, they may all read in
unison. If they wish, the family may sing the Haggadah, or if they so
prefer, they may recite it without singing. Whoever would like to ask a
question — the wise son, the wicked son, or the simple-natured son
— whether young or old, is invited to do so. And whoever is able to
answer, to participate in the discussion, may do so as well — the more
the better.
The seder night expresses the character of
Judaism in the fullest sense, as taught concisely by one of the hasidic
masters. The Torah teaches, “You shall be holy people to Me” (Ex.
22:30). When shall this be? When your holiness is human. Thus, the
atmosphere at the seder should not be one of irreverence or silliness; a
feeling of respect for the sacred should permeate it — but with
humanity. One is allowed to laugh; one is allowed to question; one is
allowed to have fun. The afikoman is “stolen,” the Exodus from
Egypt is reenacted, and this Jewish family, now celebrating the Passover
seder, renews its connection with the entire Jewish people, in all
their exiles and throughout all generations. We recall the past, give
thanks for God’s goodness, grieve over misfortune, and anticipate the
future redemption, when “for you there shall be singing as on a night
when a festival is hallowed” (Is. 30:29).
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz
