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2025 Passover Resources

Reflections from Community Leadership

Thanks to Tifereth Israel for gathering these reflections.

Rabbi Harold Berman | Congregation Tifereth Israel | The 1st Cup: Kiddush

The 1st Cup: Kiddush

The setting of the Passover Seder is so special in our eyes and so seemingly unique among our traditions that it is easy to forget how clearly it parallels the blessings of every other holiday or Shabbat meal. The recitation of blessings over wine (usually one cup suffices) and bread (on other occasions, as in the answer to that question, we eat all kinds of bread), hand washing, and blessings after a meal are all part of the ritual of every Shabbat and every Holiday. (Okay, we’ll leave Yom Kippur out of that…)

I sometimes note a bit sarcastically that perhaps the laws for keeping kosher on Passover are set in place so that when Passover is over (no pun intended), we will find that keeping kosher the rest of the year is rather easy. But the same may be said of the Seder meal. We gather family, we offer our prayers and our blessings, we talk to our children about what it all means, and we are grateful to God for the privilege of celebrating our heritage.  

But we do that every week. Or we can. And we note that the exodus from Egypt is included in the Kiddush for Shabbat. Every week is a mini-Seder, or every Seder is only an expanded Shabbat/Yom Tov meal.

May Passover be a happy and healthy time of gathering for all, and an inspiration for more opportunities to celebrate throughout the year.

Hag Sameach,
Rabbi Harold Berman

Rabbi Harold Berman is Rabbi Emeritus of Congregation Tifereth Israel

Karen Mozenter and Tariq Tarey | JFS | 1st Question: Why Matzah?

1st Question: Why Matzah?

Karen: During the Passover Seder, we ask: On all other nights we eat chametz and matzah. Why on this night, only matzah? We respond that matzah is the bread of affliction, symbolizing deprivation during the years Jewish people were enslaved in Egypt and their haste when forced to flee for their lives. 

Tariq: The Jewish exodus from Egypt reminds me of what my family and so many of our Jewish Family Services colleagues and clients have experienced. We fled war and persecution, and many spent decades in refugee camps before finding safety in the U.S.

I began working at Jewish Family Services over 20 years ago, helping Jewish Holocaust survivors resettle. Over the past two decades, I have seen the ways JFS serves as a refuge for those who endured the horrors of genocide and a lifeline for countless others fleeing violence and persecution. Our agency’s dedication to welcoming and supporting refugees leaves a lasting imprint, as we help them build new futures.

Many refugees, particularly those from the Middle East, have shared how their experience with JFS changed their perceptions of the Jewish community. By providing compassionate services to people of all faiths and from all different backgrounds, we challenge harmful narratives, build connections, and combat antisemitism.

Karen: JFS helps refugees because the Jewish people have been refugees throughout our history. The Torah commandment to welcome the stranger is a core Jewish value. At JFS, we put that and other Jewish values into action every day.

During the Seder we recognize that matzah is not only the bread of affliction but also the bread of freedom. As we eat it, we say: This is the bread of affliction, which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in want share the hope of Passover. This year, may we share the hope of Passover with those seeking freedom.

Hag Sameach,
Karen Mozenter & Tariq Tarey

Karen Mozenter is CEO of Jewish Family Services.
Tariq Tarey is Senior Director of Refugee Services and the 2024 Recipient of the Larry S. Moses Award for Outstanding Young Professionals in Jewish communal leadership.

Julie Tilson Stanley | JewishColumbus | 1st Kid: Wise

1st Kid: Wise

Reading the four children at the Seder is a highlight for my family. My three boys usually argue over roles and who is assigned to be the wicked child. Some years we’ve questioned the idea that there are four children – and our discussions have led us to consider what types of children are left out, and if we are a mix of all four. A pointed question has stuck with me: what really differentiates the wise child from the wicked child? After all, they say nearly identical things, and yet one is praised while the other is shamed. 

An answer I have come to appreciate is that the four children are different combinations of two traits: intelligence and values (Middot). The wise and wicked children share the trait of intelligence but depart in their value commitments. Wisdom is the product of values like humility and curiosity, traits that require someone to acknowledge that they don’t have all the answers, and the respect for others to seek out their counsel.  

As the late Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks noted, the seder exemplifies the very best teaching practices. Great teaching is inspiring students to ask questions of their own, by nurturing their curiosity. The seder models this pedagogy, encouraging parents and children to approach learning with humility and curiosity. 

Curiosity is a core value embedded in our work at JewishColumbus. Curiosity requires that we stay humble and ask questions like, “How do we become the best Jewish community in North America?” and “How do we do the best with the information we have now?” We know that the answers to these questions will come from all corners of our community, and I invite you to take up these questions at your seders.  

A special sentiment we often share with this holiday is “Next Year in Jerusalem.” But for our community, we can say “This Year in Jerusalem.” Oct 27-Nov 4 we’ll be traveling 250 strong to Israel to visit the land, speak to its people and connect with each other. It will be a deep and meaningful experience for all who participate, and we hope you will consider joining us. To learn more visit jewishcolumbus.org/israelmission or reach out to Robin Sysler, robin@jewishcolumbus.org.  

Julie Tilson Stanley is JewishColumbus’ President and CEO.

Rabbi Sharon Barr Skolnik | Wexner Service Corps | 2nd Cup: Maggid

2nd Cup: Maggid

“I’ll drink to that!”

After having recounted the whole story of our slavery and exodus from Egypt, we could sure use a drink! Thankfully, the second cup of wine appears right at the perfect moment, so we raise a glass and praise God who redeemed our ancestors and brought us to today, in the hopes that God will continue to redeem us even now.

At our family’s seder, we always take this moment to point out our extra special Kos Miriam (Miriam’s cup), that sits, filled with water, on our table, next to Elijah’s cup (which we later fill with a splash of each guests’ wine). Hillel and I got this cup in a fantastic Boston Judaica shop more than 20 years ago, when we were in college at Brandeis University. This cup is special, because it reminds me of joyful, younger days, but even more so because it has an idyllic picture of Miriam as she is classically thought of – with her tambourine in hand, connected to miracles that involve water. Around the mouth of the cup, there is even a chain of little bells that remind us of the musical moment when Miriam led the women in exuberant song and dance after having crossed the sea into freedom. Until this moment, the ancient Israelites were actively experiencing everything but weren’t able to fairly recognize the magnitude of the moment. Miriam stepped forward and led the people in their first outward display of gratitude and celebration for the gift of freedom and divine redemption.

Retelling the story of Passover seems simultaneously so familiar and so far from anything we could possibly imagine. In many ways we feel generations removed from the idea of being enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt, and in others we still experience so many different elements of enslavement today. While we surely experience more freedom as compared to the suffering of our trapped ancestors, we are by no means ALL free today. After sharing our people’s story of the suffering, the plagues, the miracles, the perseverance, and strength of our people, we then raise our glasses and praise God as the Redeemer of Israel. But these words are essentially an eternal challenge to God – “You redeemed us before, and your job isn’t finished yet. There’s still much more redeeming to do.”

As Miriam reminded us of our blessings through water, so too may we experience our cups overflow with blessings of plenty, nourishment and refreshment, may we be sustained until Passover next year, our thirst for freedom and peace quenched, and may we see ALL of our hostages returned.

Hag Sameach,
Rabbi Sharon Barr Skolnik

Rabbi Sharon is the program director of the Wexner Service Corps for local Jewish teens, and lives in Bexley with her husband, Rabbi Hillel Skolnik, and their three awesome kids.

Rabbi Hillel Skolnik | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 2nd Question: Why Maror?

2nd Question: Why Maror?

 שֶׁבְּכָל הַלֵּילוֹת אָנוּ אוֹכְלִין שְׁאָר יְרָקוֹת – הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה (כֻּלּוֹ) מָרוֹר.

“On all other nights, we eat other kinds of vegetables, but on this night we eat Marror (bitter herbs)” – Translation from “A Night To Remember”

One conversation that we seem to have annually at our seder table is whether the “Four Questions” are actually four questions or one question with four examples. Without accidentally trampling the entire Jewish world that calls them the “Four Questions”, not to mention the premise of this reflection being about the second question, I actually tend to lean toward the argument that the Mah Nishtanah is one question with four examples.

If that is indeed the case, then this stanza about marror (bitter herbs) is not a question about why do we eat marror on Passover, it is a statement that while on all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables, tonight we purposely and intentionally eat marror to remind us of the bitterness of slavery. In fact, so critical is the eating of marror then when we arrive at the part of the seder when we dip the marror in the charoset, we say a b’racha of אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָנוּ בְמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ עַל אֲכִילַת מָרוֹר – “who has sanctified us by commanding us to eat marror”.  This is not just a practice nor is it a question. It is a commandment.

This year, however, it also feels like a statement of emotion, particularly when you notice that in the Hebrew text above, there is an extra word in parentheses. On all other nights, or more broadly in most other times, we eat all kinds of vegetables and feel a range of feelings from happiness and joy to sadness and bitterness.  However tonight, marror – it is the bitter herbs we taste and feel. And if we add the word in parentheses it becomes even more powerful because it means that tonight, or this year, it feels like the world is (כֻּלּוֹ)/all bitter, it is all marror.

Every day I open my eyes with the hope and prayer that there will be some positive news in the world to start my day. Perhaps while I was sleeping a deal to bring home the hostages still in Gaza will have been created out of thin air. Perhaps the turmoil unfolding in our own country will have abated. But instead, it is still הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה (כֻּלּוֹ) מָרוֹר – on this night  (it is all) Marror.

But somewhere between standing up and brushing my teeth I remember that while it is true we are commanded to eat marror, we do not eat it by itself. We dip the marror in the charoset – that delicious mixture of apples, nuts, wine, cinnamon and honey (at least that’s how we make it in our house) which I happily continue to eat as a side dish and snack for the rest of Passover. It is a reminder to us that no matter how much we feel the bitterness of our time, our lives still have great amounts of sweetness in them. We ourselves can be the charoset that doesn’t eliminate the taste of the bitter herbs, but curtails it enough so that we can make it through.  And when we might feel that we don’t have the strength to be that sweetening element in our own lives, we rely on our friends, our families and our Tifereth Israel community to be the charoset for us.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Hillel Skolnik 

Hillel Skolnik is the Senior Rabbi at Tifereth Israel.

Paige Richards | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 2nd Kid: Wicked

2nd Kid: Wicked

To help with my Passover reflection on the meaning of the Wicked Child, I asked some of the Samuel M. Melton Religious School students for help! 

We had so much fun talking about what someone who is wicked might act like, and how we can help someone join our seder even if they’re a little bit wicked, too. We even thought about the most wicked thing we could do at a seder table. I hope their answers give you some laughs. 

What makes someone wicked? 

  • Kindergarten and first grade:
  • “Someone who’s rude and doesn’t care about other people”
  • “They’re not necessarily a bad person, but they act selfish, foolish and they make potions”
  • “They keep everything to themselves and don’t share”
  • “They push others and body slam them”
  • Second and third grade:
  • “If their parents are bad, then they’re learning from them”
  • “If no one is actually catching them, then they don’t care if they’re doing something bad”
  • “They might have been bullied as a kid so they don’t like anyone and do bad things”
  • 7th grade
  • “They’re green”

If you knew a wicked kid, what would you do to help them join the seder?

  • Kindergarten and first grade:
  • “Make them watch TV to calm down”
  • “Help them be calm by meditating”
  • “Sit next to them and tell them how to act with a whisper voice”
  • ‘Bring them to a salon and help them feel comfortable”
  • Second and third grade:
  • “”You could say ‘try this’ to show them how to be nice”
  • “Write them an invitation to the seder”
  • “Ask them to be good for just a day”
  • “Be kind to them”

What is the most wicked thing you could do at a seder?

  • Kindergarten and first grade:
  • “Walk to the fridge and put whipped cream in everyone’s ear”
  • “Pie everyone with their food”
  • “Spill all the wine and grape juice all over the table”
  • “You could say ‘yuck I don’t like that!’”
  • Second and third grade:
  • “Knock the table over and spill applesauce everywhere and have a food fight”
  • “Have a food fight, but throw water first”
  • “Put whoopie cushions on every person’s chair”

All jokes aside, in our conversations, the students and I were able to dive deep and think about what it really means to be wicked. Together, we explored how we can help someone who has a hard time being present and well behaved at the seder. We spoke about being kind to that person and how to remind them to be mindful. Finally, we talked about whether or not doing something bad once makes a person wicked for their whole life. 

What do you think? 

I wish you a Chag Sameach and I hope your kiddos don’t start a food fight! 
Paige

Paige Richards is the Director of Family Life & Learning at Tifereth Israel.

Nancy Gurwin | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 3rd Cup: Birkat HaMazon

The 3rd Cup: Birkat HaMazon

The third cup. Are you having Reisling or Moscato? Pinot Noir or Merlot?

OK, ok, time to get serious.

The Talmud teaches:

“Ravina said: The Sages instituted four separate cups, each of which is consumed in a manner that demonstrates freedom. Therefore, each and every one is a distinct mitzva in its own right. ” (Pesachim 110a)

We always talk about the four cups of wine as if they are one group together. Ravina is telling us that they are four individual cups and each cup is its own mitzvah. The third cup, according to Rava (another Talmudic sage), is for blessing, and that is why it comes at the end of Birkat HaMazon, when we thank God for the food we have just eaten. Saying Birkat HaMazon at any time is a mitzvah, and adding the third cup at the end gets us another mitzvah.

When I think about my family’s upcoming Passover dinner and the food for which we will be thanking God, many things come to mind. I feel fortunate to have all of our children, grandchildren, and both my mom and mother-in-law, sitting at our seder table. I hope we are creating the memories for our grandchildren, just like my parents did for me and my brother. I remember many childhood sedarim at the homes of family members and friends. I don’t exactly remember drinking all four cups of wine (well, I probably had grape juice at the time), but I remember learning about the Israelites getting their freedom, family members laughing together and, of course, trying to be the first to find the afikomen.

When you are ready for the third cup of wine, after you have thanked God for the special dinner that everyone has enjoyed, remember this cup of blessings. Think about all of those that need some extra blessings right now, as I know most of us have some that we can share.

Chag Sameach,
Nancy Gurwin

Nancy Gurwin is the Executive Director at Congregation Tifereth Israel

Amanda Cohen | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 3rd Question: Why Do We Dip Twice?

3rd Question: Why Do We Dip Twice?
Nearly every tradition within Judaism invites us to engage with contrasting elements, allowing us to hold space for differing perspectives and opinions — and the tension that arises when we must reconcile them. Our traditions are designed to challenge us, to stretch us toward a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us. Nowhere is this more evident than in our observance of Pesach.
 
The “two dips” we ask about in the second of the Four Questions — dipping the karpas in saltwater and mixing charoset with maror — provide poignant opportunities to reflect on the emotional complexities that shape our lives, especially in today’s world. These symbols not only represent our past but continue to speak to our present, urging us to wrestle with the dichotomies that surround us.
 
The karpas, a vibrant symbol of spring, reminds us of the strength and renewal that can emerge from the earth’s roots. Yet, this renewal is not without its shadow. As we dip the karpas into saltwater, we are called to remember the tears of our ancestors, those who were enslaved, who suffered in the depths of their hardship. It is a powerful juxtaposition: the bright promise of new beginnings tempered by the sorrow of past struggles. This ritual invites us to embrace the possibility of spiritual and personal renewal, while simultaneously acknowledging the grief and pain that are part of our journey. As we dip, we reflect on our capacity to move forward, even as we sit with the sadness that remains in the world around us.
 
Similarly, the maror, the bitter herb, offers another contrast. Its sharp bitterness is softened only by the sweetness of the charoset. This tension between the harsh and the sweet mirrors the human experience—how we live amidst both joy and suffering, how the sweetness of life cannot be fully appreciated without the backdrop of its challenges. As we taste the maror, we are reminded not to shy away from the bitter parts of our lives but to integrate them with the sweetness, finding a balance in the coexistence of both.
 
The seder plate, with its carefully chosen symbols, asks us to hold these contradictions together—not as an exercise in denial or avoidance, but as a necessary and redemptive act. It is through this holding of opposites that we find a deeper wisdom, a more profound way of being in the world.
 
Chag Sameach,
Amanda Cohen
Amanda Cohen is the Director of Marketing and Communications at Congregation Tifereth Israel.

Susan Siegel | Columbus Jewish Day School | 3rd Kid: Simple

The 3rd Kid: The Simple Child
At CJDS, we see the Simple Child reflected in many of our students—curious, eager to understand, yet needing a clear and direct explanation. The Torah tells us that this child asks, “What does this mean?” and is given a straightforward response: “It was with a mighty hand that God brought us out from Egypt, the house of bondage.”(Exodus 13:14).
 
This exchange highlights an essential truth about education: not every learner requires complex analysis or deep discussion to feel engaged. Some children learn best through simplicity—through stories told clearly, concepts broken down, and ideas presented in ways that feel accessible. They may not yet have the vocabulary to ask a more intricate question, but their inquiry is just as meaningful.
 
As educators, our role is to honor this child’s approach to learning. We must recognize that simplicity does not mean a lack of depth—it is often the foundation upon which deeper understanding is built. A child who receives a clear answer today may ask a more profound question tomorrow. By providing responses that are both accessible and meaningful, we nurture curiosity and invite our students into a lifelong journey of Jewish learning.
 
As we prepare for Passover, let us take the lesson of the Simple Child to heart. How can we ensure that every student, regardless of their level of understanding, feels connected to the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim, the Exodus from Egypt? How can we present Jewish learning in ways that are clear, engaging, and welcoming to all? The seder reminds us that every child deserves an answer. Our task as Jewish educators is to make that answer one that inspires, invites, and opens the door for more.
 
Chag Pesach Sameach,
Susan Siegel
Susan Siegel is Head of School, Columbus Jewish Day School.

Cantor Jack Chomsky | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 4th Cup: Hallel

4th Cup: Hallel
It’s getting late!
It’s after the Festive Meal.
 
If you did Birkat Hamazon in connection with the Third Cup, do you have the strength to continue with the rest of Hallel (The first two Psalms were recited before the meal) and the Fourth Cup?
 
Aspects of the Hallel and the Fourth Cup can enhance your connection to liturgy year-round: Hallel is ALWAYS “popping up” (though often in the slightly abbreviated “half-Hallel” version practiced on Rosh Chodesh and the last 6 days of Passover. We abbreviate slightly after the first 2 days out of respect to the many Egyptians who died while we were being liberated from slavery in their land.)
 
Here’s one of the Hallel Psalms (Psalm 116.12-19) according to a beautiful melody that is very well known here in Israel….
 
The composer is Mordechai Ben David
How do I repay Adonai for all the reward God has laid upon me?
I will raise a cup of redemption and call out by name, Adonai!
I will fulfill my vows to God in the presence of all God’s people.
It is a precious matter for Adonai when God draws the pious ones toward death.
I beseech You, Adonai, for I am Your servant;
I’m your servant, the son of your woman servant.
You broke open my chains. I will sacrifice an offering of thanks to You
And call out by name, Adonai!
I will fulfill my vows to Go in the presence of all God’s people – in the courtyards of the House of God, in the midst of Jerusalem, Hal’luyah!
 
[Here’s a musical notation of the melody]: https://drive.google.com/…/1HQMGhu7jhJxQnc2vCzW…/view…
 
As to that 4th Cup, it is accompanied liturgically by Brachah Achronah – the blessing after meals when you HAVEN’T started your meal with bread (or matzah).
 
Maybe you won’t have the strength or attention to do this at your Seder, but here’s something worth ”upgrading to”:
 
Every so often, someone finds a way to turn “muzza-buzza-muzza” – the undistinguished mumbling of a text – into something with a melody. Moshe Nathanson, long-time Cantor of Society for the Advancement of Judaism (SAJ), the first major home of Reconstructionist Judaism alongside Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, did this with Birkat Hamazon. It is his melody that everyone knows across the Jewish world, from Reform to Orthodox, from the US to Israel to Europe and South America.
 
A young man named Joshua Gluckstern Reiss sought to do the same thing for Brachah Achronah in the 1990s, starting at Camp Ramah in the Poconos. His melody was catchy and LIKE Birkat Hamazon and DIFFERENT from it.
 
Josh was a passionate young Hazzan – but also, tragically, died young – in his 30s, in 1999, after a courageous short battle with leukemia.
 
His colleagues have tried to give his melody continued life, and I am honored to return to it at this moment – having introduced it “back in the day” at Camp Ramah in Wisconsin. I even came across a recording of Josh singing it himself:
 
Here is a musical transcription I wrote back when I introduced it at Camp Ramah in Wisconsin: https://drive.google.com/…/12e82P9gcxyWSjHF7Erg…/view…
 
There’s a passage toward the end that is particularly catchy and distinguishes it from Birkat Hamazon. Give a listen!
 
Maybe you can include it at your Seder – or SOMETIME in the year when Brachah Achronah is “called for” – when you might sing Birkat Hamazon – but didn’t have bread!
 
Zichrono livrachah – May his memory be for blessing – and for CHANTING blessings!
 
Chag Sameiach,
Cantor Jack Chomsky
Cantor Jack Chomsky is Cantor Emeritus at Congregation Tifereth Israel.

Rabbi Debbie Lefton | Wexner Heritage Village | 4th Question: Why Recline?

4th Question: Why Recline?
Why we recline with our communities on Passover:
 
We recline as a Jewish community at the seder because it is an opportunity to express that we understand the meaning of the Passover story. We not only transmit the story each year but put ourselves in the place of our ancestors. We place ourselves back in time and immerse ourselves in the exodus experience. We think about what it may have been like to NOT have the opportunity to sit at an elaborately decorated table as a family that is free and unworried. Having a meal without rushing with the worry of the taskmaster – imagine it – flowing foods and drink, conversation, love, and being treated like royalty.
 
The seder table at Wexner Heritage Village is an upscale and enjoyable experience where residents and families have the opportunity to feel cared for and experience a seder that is enriching in traditional foods as well as the soul. The festival of Pesach reminds us how we are to treat all people because our comfort could be eliminated in a moment’s time, just like our ancestors. It is the experience of how we treat each other as human beings that makes us truly created in God’s image. At WHV, I’m constantly reminded of how we interact with our elders that teaches the mitzvah of Hiddur Zaken, honoring our older generation.
 
Each Pesach, I have the gift of joining many multi-generational tables at Wexner Heritage Village during the seder. There is so much laughing, singing, and sharing of stories together. We are first all slaves who are kept from this freedom, feeling dehumanized. We go through the order of the Haggadah and transform into a free people. Teaching our history from generation to generation, especially with the fundamentals of the seder experience, through the myriad of Haggadot, brings the experience to life. By remembering, through the telling, and by treating each moment of our lives as sacred, we turn the hardness of life into a beautiful miracle, appreciating our chance to be alive! And so, we start by reclining and we end in an upright position seeing the beauty of the Pesach experience before us.
 
Chag Sameach,
Rabbi Debbie Lefton

Rabbi Alex Braver | Congregation Tifereth Israel | 4th Kid: The One Unable to Ask

4th Kid: The One Unable to Ask
I was shocked when, a number of years ago, someone pointed out something about the seder that I’d never noticed: Both the rasha [wicked child] and the she’aino yodei’a lish’ol [child who does not know how to ask] are answered with using the same exact verse: “It is because of what the Eternal did for me when I went free from Egypt,” (Exodus 13:8)!
 
The only difference is in emphasis: the parent of the wicked child is told to “blunt their teeth,” emphasizing that “it is because of what the Eternal did for ME” — and not for YOU. The child unable to ask is given the verse simply and directly, to open the story up to the child — and the child to the story.
 
Kalonymous Kalman Shapira, who wrote Eish Kodesh [Sacred Fire] in his years as a rebbe in the Warsaw Ghetto, shared an incredible bit of insight on this strange similarity between the second and fourth children. In the spring of 1940, he wrote:
 
In truth, the Torah’s intent is not to push away even the wicked child! Rather, both [the wicked child and the child who does not know how to ask] are types of children who “do not know how to ask,” and should therefore both be opened up with holiness. One doesn’t know how to ask at all, while the other has some not-so-good ideas but just doesn’t understand how to ask a “good” question.
 
So, the Torah gives us one verse with which to answer both, to open them up with holiness and to bring them close. It’s just that for the child who doesn’t know how to ask at all, the verse itself is enough to open them up; the “wicked” child with some not-so-good ideas doesn’t know how to ask in a holy way, so “blunting their teeth” is necessary first. Afterwards, you can open them up and bring them close.
 
For Shapira, “not knowing how to ask” leaves us in a state of openness, without preconceived notions or “not-so-good ideas” getting in the way of hearing and learning, of opening up the story and being open to holiness ourselves. We can think of it as a sort of “beginner’s mind,” an idea from Buddhist mindfulness meditation that pushes the practitioner to remain open, eager, curious, and humble — even if they’ve meditated hundreds or thousands of times.
 
Most of us, though, are probably closer to the “wicked” child, having built up all sorts of ideas about what’s right and wrong, how the world works, and what we are entitled to. Every now and then, a good (metaphorical) “teeth-blunting” might be what’s needed to smash through our calcified preconceptions. Only then can we come back with the humility and openness we need to truly learn.
 
Shapira himself, before being forced into the Warsaw Ghetto, was the head of a traditional yeshiva and a master of educational theory. His short book Chovat HaTalmidim (Students’ Obligation), written in the early 1930’s, was a remarkably progressive work that understood the importance of seeing and cultivating the unique gifts in each child. I’m sure in his years teaching, he dealt with many children who were “wise,” “wicked,” “simple,” and “unable to ask.”
 
For all of them — and for all of us — the goal is the same: to open up, and to be brought close.
 
Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach,
Rabbi Alex Braver

Dr. Daniel Frank | Associate Professor, Department of Near Eastern & South Asian Languages & Cultures

THE THIRD QUESTION, OR QUESTIONS ABOUT QUESTIONS
How many questions are there?
 
The standard haggadah enumerates four questions, of course, but there are old manuscripts that list only three. And the text of the Mishnah, upon which the haggadah is based, does not mention questions, but rather subjects of discussion:
 
“When the second cup has been poured, the child asks (questions). If the child is not knowledgeable, the parent teaches how this night differs from all (other) nights, that on all (other) nights, we dip (our food) only once, but on this night (we dip) twice; that on all (other) nights we eat leavened bread and matzah, but on this night, only matzah; that on all (other) nights we eat meat that has been roasted, boiled, or cooked, but tonight only roasted (meat). The parent teaches the child according to the level of his or her knowledge.”
 
What has happened here?
 
The haggadah is a rabbinic work, which was first compiled during the century and a half after the destruction of the Temple in 70 CE. From the outset, it was intended as a rough script to guide and stimulate discussion. It assigns roles (child, parent); identifies key subjects (the Exodus story, the paschal lamb, matzah, maror); and establishes a structure (cups of wine, symbolic actions, discussion, eating). The imperative to teach emerges directly from the biblical text:
 
“When, in time to come, your children ask you, ‘What mean the decrees, laws, and rules that the Lord our God has enjoined upon you us? You shall say to your children, “We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and the Lord freed us from Egypt with a mighty hand (Deuteronomy 6:20-21).
 
The Rabbis took their cue from this passage and drew up a set of questions.
 
Since dinners in Mediterranean lands included a course of appetizers with dips, but on Passover, it had also become customary to dip bitter herbs into a special mixture (haroset), they asked: “Why do we dip twice instead of once?” But since it wasn’t customary to dip appetizers in Babylonia, they asked: “Why do we dip twice on Passover, when we never dip during the year?”
 
The Babylonian community likewise replaced the question about roasted meat with a question about reclining, and added a question about bitter herbs, bringing the total to four, corresponding to four children, as well as four ritualized toasts.
 
But is dipping in haroset really required, when there is no explicit reference to it in the Bible? The Mishnah records a dispute concerning precisely this point; fortunately, the view of the haroset-loving Rabbi Eliezer prevailed! Why did he attach such importance to haroset? Probably because of the biblical verse, “Ruthlessly (the Egyptians) embittered the lives (of the Israelites) with harsh labor at mortar and bricks” (Exodus 1:14). Thus, symbolically, we dip bitterness (maror) in a bricks-and-mortar mixture (haroset). The Talmud adds that the spices (tavlin) used in preparing haroset allude to the straw (teven) with which the bricks were made.
 
Are there any old recipes for haroset?
 
Here is one given by Moses Maimonides, no doubt the way his family prepared it in Andalusia: “We make haroset by chopping up figs or dates, which we cook and mash before mixing with vinegar and flavoring with spikenard or wild thyme, left whole.” The chopped fruit represented the mud and the aromatics the straw. Perhaps worth adding to your list of favorite Passover recipes!

Rabbi Sharon Mars | Temple Israel Columbus

As we crunch on parsley, matzah, pasty haroset, and bitter maror, we imbibe the story of our people’s subjugation in slavery.  We hold in one hand the story of being made “the other,” of not having been our own masters, of having tasted on our tongues each day the agony of bondage.  And, because of this experience of having been slaves, we are commanded in the book of Leviticus:  “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens: you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the Land of Egypt” (Lev. 19).

In the other hand we hold an entirely different narrative: that of divine election.  While we suffered enslavement, we were ultimately saved by the God of our ancestors who poured down wrath upon our taskmasters, plaguing them with demons of their own making, drowning them in a sea of their own suffering.  We became God’s chosen people, elected to a unique relationship with holiness and a unique role in the world, to be a light unto nations. “I am the Lord. I will free you from the labors of the Egyptians and deliver you from their bondage. I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and through extraordinary chastisements. And I will take you to be my people, and I will be your God” (Ex. 6:6-7).

Is it possible to hold two truths at the same time?  Can it be possible to embrace both talessimultaneously and feel connected to each, without feeling one’s identities – as both slave and chosen one – in conflict?  I think it is, but the trick is making sure that we hold each of them with integrity, to note at all times the strange and beautiful blessing that is intrinsic to being part of the Jewish people.  And that requires us to never forget the reality of having been either one.

Wishing you a meaningful Passover,
Rabbi Sharon Mars
Temple Israel Columbus

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