Empty whatever wine remains in the wine glasses into the empty bowls (see page ) then pour some water from the pitcher that has stood on the table into everyone’s wine glass.
We have escaped bondage and crossed the sea. We enter the arid land before us, made hesitant by generations of servitude—mixed with our recent struggle, and yet heady in our new freedom. We have thirsted for freedom, but now we thirst for water. As with so many people in the world who do not have water, we face bitterness and quarreling. Our ancient texts tell us that Moses was able to turn the bitter into sweetness and bring forth water. But many disputes over water remain. Further, we are told that Miriam, the midwife of our liberation has stood ready, waiting to sustain us in the time ahead as we come to grips with our tasks and responsibilities. Our Sages spoke of Miriam’s Well, created in the twilight of creation’s week. It now lies hidden in the sea of Galilee for Elijah to restore to us. Ishmael received water from it as “the well of living and seeing”; Rebecca drew from it when she greeted Eliezer; the well first appeared to our people when Moses struck the rock on Miriam’s account at the place of bitterness in Sinai—and it travelled with us throughout the desert years. Its waters, we are told, taste of old wine and new wine, of milk and of honey. This is the well of the Ancestors of the world: Abraham & Sarah, Isaac & Rebecca, Jacob & Leah and Rachel dug it; the leaders of olden times have searched for it; the heads of the people, the lawgivers of Israel, Moses, Aaron and Miriam, have caused it to flow with their staves. In the desert we received it as a gift and thereafter it followed us on all our wanderings: to lofty mountains and deep valleys. Not until we came to the boundary of Moab did it disappear because we squandered our freedom by not fulfilling our responsibilities. Now, as we begin a new season of renewal, may these cleansing, refreshing waters, reminiscent of Miriam’s well, recall for us a time of purity of purpose and help us focus on the tasks ahead.
All drink the water from Miriam’s well.
And the women dancing with their timbrels Followed Miriam as she sang her song. Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted,Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long. And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety, The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history, With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight,
A woman touched with spirit she dances toward the light. Chorus
When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea, The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe, Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land.
Chorus And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned, And Miriam raised her voice in song She sang with praise and might, We’ve just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight.
Said the parents to their children,
“From your bondage you’ll cut loose,
You will eat your fill of matzah,
you will drink four cups of juice.”
Now these parents had four children,
yes their kids they numbered four,
One was wise and one was wicked,
one was simple and a bore.
And the fourth was sweet and winsome,
was so young and also small,
While the other asked the questions,
this one could not speak at all.
Said the wise one to the parents,
“Would you please explain the laws...
Of the customs of the Seder,
will you please explain the cause?”
And the parents proudly answered,
“’Cause our forebears ate in speed,
Ate the Pesach lamb ’ere midnight,
and from slavery were freed.
“So we follow their example,
and ’ere midnight we must eat
The afikoman (O so tasty!)
which will be our final treat.”
Then did sneer the child so wicked,
“What does all this mean to you?”
And the parents’ voice was bitter,
as their grief and anger grew.
“If yourself you don’t consider
as a child of Yisrael,
Then for you this has no meaning,
you could be a slave as well.”
Then the simple child said simply,
“What is this?” And quietly,
The good parents told their offspring.
“We were freed from slavery.”
But the youngest child was silent,
and just could not ask at all,
but with eyes all bright with wonder,
listened to the details all.
Now dear children heed this lesson,
and remember evermore,
What the parents told their children,
told their kids that numbered four.
Every Seder tells a story that belongs to you and me,
You and I were slaves in Egypt.
Now we’re blessed with liberty.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes. And why not? We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
We begin our Seder and join our efforts with those everywhere who celebrate the Passover searching for its meaning in their lives; as an expression of our liberation so far... There are many possible modes for understanding the events retold in the Pesach Haggadah.
Of these, three are braided together so that, if we concentrate exclusively on any one of them, we diminish the special qualities of the entire story.
By participating in the symbolic actions built into the order of the Seder, we can share in: the experience of the rebirth of the natural world around us, the national liberation of our people, the spiritual redemption of each individual human being.
We begin this evening: some of us feeling shackled by the bonds of winter, some of our people—and other peoples of the world—persecuted, many of us confined by our own personal limitations.
Tonight we hope to set in motion: processes of growth that encourage within each of us the renewal of each person’s unique vision, and efforts to work for the freedom of our scattered—and all, oppressed— people, as we see about us the flowering of a new year.
Indeed, we begin our Seder here.
However, our goals are neither our renewal, our freedom, nor our flowering.
Pesach is but the pointer to the acceptance of our commitments to complete these tasks—in a harvesting of the fruits of our labors yet to come.
The evening shadows lengthen. We prepare ourselves to light the holiday candles. In this act we unite and identify ourselves in time and space with all Jews in other periods and places of our history. Albert Einstein stood in awe of the universe as he struggled to formulate his theory of a unified field. He was not ready to assign consciousness to the unity he proposed. But our ancestors taught us of a Divine Unity: the Source of all things who unites us all as one family. From this idea they developed the concept of ethical monotheism.
Our prophets claimed that the unity of creation called us to act. We still hear their voices, calling us to work for social justice as the foundation for community peace. I come tonight because I want to join this process, as we build a creative and fulfilling Jewish life. I hope each person who participates in this Seder will add their efforts, as we learn, understand, and enrich the traditions of our past, making them meaningful for our future.
As we foster the beauty and uniqueness of our own heritage, so we support those who further the beauty and uniqueness of their respective traditions.
We unite with other Jews and with all who act so that people around the world can live in peace and freedom and develop so they can reap the fruits of their lives as human beings. We know that as long as we live a light glows within us. Even when we close our eyes we experience it. The world itself fills with light and we humans have the ability to increase or decrease its presence.
Look! The day ends. The earth turns from sunshine to dusk and then to darkness. As so often before, we assume for ourselves the task of kindling candles in the night, to enlighten the dark corners of our world. We still live in perilous times. Behind us, though receding into the memories of even the oldest among us, we can still sense the fires of Auschwitz and Hiroshima. Before us, on all sides we face a terror of towers falling and the potential of thermonuclear clouds rising. We gather tonight to create from fire, not the heat of destruction, but the light of instruction; indeed to see more clearly the wisdom, strength and caring that glows from within each of us. Many peoples of the world marked significant events with fire. We Jews also associate lighting fires with special occasions. Like other peoples who regarded fire as a gift to be used wisely and with respect, we also focus our attention on the Source of the lights we use in our ceremonies.
May these candles, lighted on the Festival of Freedom, bring light into our hearts and minds. May they renew our courage to act for justice and freedom here and now. May they illumine the path to truth, justice and peace. And so we repeat the ancient blessing:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kiddishanu b’mitzvotav,v’tzivanu lehadlik neir shel [Shabbat v'shel] Yom Tov.
Blessed are You Adonai our God, Sovereign of all space and time, who has made us distinct through Your directives and has directed us to kindle the [Shabbat and] holiday lights.
Empty whatever wine remains in the wine glasses into the empty bowls (see page ) then pour some water from the pitcher that has stood on the table into everyone’s wine glass.
We have escaped bondage and crossed the sea. We enter the arid land before us, made hesitant by generations of servitude—mixed with our recent struggle, and yet heady in our new freedom. We have thirsted for freedom, but now we thirst for water. As with so many people in the world who do not have water, we face bitterness and quarreling. Our ancient texts tell us that Moses was able to turn the bitter into sweetness and bring forth water. But many disputes over water remain. Further, we are told that Miriam, the midwife of our liberation has stood ready, waiting to sustain us in the time ahead as we come to grips with our tasks and responsibilities. Our Sages spoke of Miriam’s Well, created in the twilight of creation’s week. It now lies hidden in the sea of Galilee for Elijah to restore to us. Ishmael received water from it as “the well of living and seeing”; Rebecca drew from it when she greeted Eliezer; the well first appeared to our people when Moses struck the rock on Miriam’s account at the place of bitterness in Sinai—and it travelled with us throughout the desert years. Its waters, we are told, taste of old wine and new wine, of milk and of honey. This is the well of the Ancestors of the world: Abraham & Sarah, Isaac & Rebecca, Jacob & Leah and Rachel dug it; the leaders of olden times have searched for it; the heads of the people, the lawgivers of Israel, Moses, Aaron and Miriam, have caused it to flow with their staves. In the desert we received it as a gift and thereafter it followed us on all our wanderings: to lofty mountains and deep valleys. Not until we came to the boundary of Moab did it disappear because we squandered our freedom by not fulfilling our responsibilities. Now, as we begin a new season of renewal, may these cleansing, refreshing waters, reminiscent of Miriam’s well, recall for us a time of purity of purpose and help us focus on the tasks ahead.
All drink the water from Miriam’s well.
And the women dancing with their timbrels Followed Miriam as she sang her song. Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted,Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long. And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety, The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history, With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight,
A woman touched with spirit she dances toward the light. Chorus
When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea, The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe, Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land.
Chorus And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned, And Miriam raised her voice in song She sang with praise and might, We’ve just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight.
Said the parents to their children,
“From your bondage you’ll cut loose,
You will eat your fill of matzah,
you will drink four cups of juice.”
Now these parents had four children,
yes their kids they numbered four,
One was wise and one was wicked,
one was simple and a bore.
And the fourth was sweet and winsome,
was so young and also small,
While the other asked the questions,
this one could not speak at all.
Said the wise one to the parents,
“Would you please explain the laws...
Of the customs of the Seder,
will you please explain the cause?”
And the parents proudly answered,
“’Cause our forebears ate in speed,
Ate the Pesach lamb ’ere midnight,
and from slavery were freed.
“So we follow their example,
and ’ere midnight we must eat
The afikoman (O so tasty!)
which will be our final treat.”
Then did sneer the child so wicked,
“What does all this mean to you?”
And the parents’ voice was bitter,
as their grief and anger grew.
“If yourself you don’t consider
as a child of Yisrael,
Then for you this has no meaning,
you could be a slave as well.”
Then the simple child said simply,
“What is this?” And quietly,
The good parents told their offspring.
“We were freed from slavery.”
But the youngest child was silent,
and just could not ask at all,
but with eyes all bright with wonder,
listened to the details all.
Now dear children heed this lesson,
and remember evermore,
What the parents told their children,
told their kids that numbered four.
Every Seder tells a story that belongs to you and me,
You and I were slaves in Egypt.
Now we’re blessed with liberty.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes. And why not? We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
We begin our Seder and join our efforts with those everywhere who celebrate the Passover searching for its meaning in their lives; as an expression of our liberation so far... There are many possible modes for understanding the events retold in the Pesach Haggadah.
Of these, three are braided together so that, if we concentrate exclusively on any one of them, we diminish the special qualities of the entire story.
By participating in the symbolic actions built into the order of the Seder, we can share in: the experience of the rebirth of the natural world around us, the national liberation of our people, the spiritual redemption of each individual human being.
We begin this evening: some of us feeling shackled by the bonds of winter, some of our people—and other peoples of the world—persecuted, many of us confined by our own personal limitations.
Tonight we hope to set in motion: processes of growth that encourage within each of us the renewal of each person’s unique vision, and efforts to work for the freedom of our scattered—and all, oppressed— people, as we see about us the flowering of a new year.
Indeed, we begin our Seder here.
However, our goals are neither our renewal, our freedom, nor our flowering.
Pesach is but the pointer to the acceptance of our commitments to complete these tasks—in a harvesting of the fruits of our labors yet to come.
The evening shadows lengthen. We prepare ourselves to light the holiday candles. In this act we unite and identify ourselves in time and space with all Jews in other periods and places of our history. Albert Einstein stood in awe of the universe as he struggled to formulate his theory of a unified field. He was not ready to assign consciousness to the unity he proposed. But our ancestors taught us of a Divine Unity: the Source of all things who unites us all as one family. From this idea they developed the concept of ethical monotheism.
Our prophets claimed that the unity of creation called us to act. We still hear their voices, calling us to work for social justice as the foundation for community peace. I come tonight because I want to join this process, as we build a creative and fulfilling Jewish life. I hope each person who participates in this Seder will add their efforts, as we learn, understand, and enrich the traditions of our past, making them meaningful for our future.
As we foster the beauty and uniqueness of our own heritage, so we support those who further the beauty and uniqueness of their respective traditions.
We unite with other Jews and with all who act so that people around the world can live in peace and freedom and develop so they can reap the fruits of their lives as human beings. We know that as long as we live a light glows within us. Even when we close our eyes we experience it. The world itself fills with light and we humans have the ability to increase or decrease its presence.
Look! The day ends. The earth turns from sunshine to dusk and then to darkness. As so often before, we assume for ourselves the task of kindling candles in the night, to enlighten the dark corners of our world. We still live in perilous times. Behind us, though receding into the memories of even the oldest among us, we can still sense the fires of Auschwitz and Hiroshima. Before us, on all sides we face a terror of towers falling and the potential of thermonuclear clouds rising. We gather tonight to create from fire, not the heat of destruction, but the light of instruction; indeed to see more clearly the wisdom, strength and caring that glows from within each of us. Many peoples of the world marked significant events with fire. We Jews also associate lighting fires with special occasions. Like other peoples who regarded fire as a gift to be used wisely and with respect, we also focus our attention on the Source of the lights we use in our ceremonies.
May these candles, lighted on the Festival of Freedom, bring light into our hearts and minds. May they renew our courage to act for justice and freedom here and now. May they illumine the path to truth, justice and peace. And so we repeat the ancient blessing:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kiddishanu b’mitzvotav,v’tzivanu lehadlik neir shel [Shabbat v'shel] Yom Tov.
Blessed are You Adonai our God, Sovereign of all space and time, who has made us distinct through Your directives and has directed us to kindle the [Shabbat and] holiday lights.
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