Welcome back to The Voices of BBYO Haggadah! We’re thrilled you’ve chosen to order this cherished resource that assembles a century of tradition, reflection, and unity. As we come together to celebrate Passover, this Haggadah will once again serve as a guide for meaningful conversation, connection, and celebration of our shared heritage.
During our centennial year, the BBYO Haggadah was crafted with the intention of making the Passover experience accessible and engaging for all who gather around the Seder table. Continuing to engage with this text brings with it the opportunity to reflect on the past two years, celebrate our collective accomplishments, and continue to build the future of BBYO and the Jewish community.
As we celebrate this Passover and the new century of our Movement, the traditions and stories within these pages remind us of the strength of our identity and the power of coming together to ask the questions that guide us forward.
Whether you are hosting a Seder with family and friends or joining a community gathering, we hope this Haggadah will inspire you to deepen your connection to the story of Passover, to each other, and to the values that unite us all.
Thank you for being part of this incredible journey. May this Passover be a time of reflection, renewal, and joy for you and your loved ones.
Chag Pesach Sameach!
The BBYO Team
March 2026/Nissan 5786
Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in need come and share the Passover meal.
—Introduction to Maggid, the telling of the Passover story
BBYO was founded to build a place in which all Jewish teens, everywhere and anywhere, can feel at home and belong.
—Introduction to the BBYO Movement section of the members’ handbook
This Haggadah would not have been possible without the partnership of so many throughout the BBYO Movement, as well as our teen leadership, past and present. We are especially grateful for the editorial oversight of Arielle Katz, the Jewish guidance of Rabbi Meir Tannenbaum, the design work of Melinda Diachenko, and the gracious help of our vendors.
THE PASSOVER ORDER SEDER PESACH |
Page 08 Sanctifying the Day Kadesh
Page 11 Washing the Hands Urchatz
Page 11 Dipping Greens in Salt Water Karpas
Page 13 Breaking the Middle Matzah Yachatz
Page 14 Telling the Story Maggid
Page 46 Washing the Hands Rachtzah
Page 46 Blessing Over the Bread Motzi
Page 46 Blessing Over the Matzah Matzah
Page 47 Eating the Bitter Herbs Maror
Page 48 Making the Sandwich Korech
Page 49 Eating the Festive Meal Shulchan Orech
Page 50 Eating the Afikoman Tzafun
Page 51 Blessing After Meals Barech
Page 61 Reciting Praises Hallel
Page 73 Conclusion Nirtzah
Additional Content
Page 06 The Seder Plate
Page 07 Introduction to this Haggadah
Page 74 Counting the Omer
Page 74 Songs
Page 87 Commentary
Page 87 A Forward from the Editor
Page 88 General Passover Commentary
Page 100 Additional Haggadah Commentary
Page 131 Index of Contributors
THE SEDER PLATE | K’ARAH | הָרִָעְָקְ
Below is a common traditional depiction of the Seder plate, although traditions on arrangement and contents vary.
Maror
Bitter Root
Egg Karpas
Green Vegetable
Zro’a
Shankbone
Charoset
Dipping Mixture
Chazeret
Bitter Herbs
For commentary, see page 100. 3 Matzot
Beitzah
INTRODUCTION TO THIS HAGGADAH
Welcome to The Voices of BBYO Haggadah! The holiday of Pesach has its roots in antiquity and the Jewish people’s origin story—and we renew the dawning of our nation annually with this festival and all it entails. So, too, with BBYO; this organization may be celebrating 100 years, but our mission is renewed yearly, weekly, daily—each time a Jewish teen somewhere in our global (60+ countries) Movement has a meaningful Jewish experience, we honor our origins and renew them for the present.
Contained within this Haggadah are over 100 pieces of commentary on Passover and the Pesach Haggadah from members of the BBYO community across the globe and throughout the generations. Our wish for this beautiful Kehilah Kedoshah, holy community, is that this Haggadah earns a place at your table, sparks your curiosity, and makes you feel connected to our united Movement.
Chag Sameach and Happy 100th Birthday, BBYO—we’re grateful you’re here.
The BBYO Team April 2024/Nissan 5784
SANCTIFYING THE DAY | KADESH | שׁ
Each guest should have a cup of wine or grape juice. Some have the tradition that those at the Seder should not pour their own cup; rather, neighbors at the table should pour for one another. This symbolizes the freedom we all gained from the events of the story we are about to tell. All lift their cups as the leader recites the Kiddush.
(When Seder falls on Shabbat, add the words in parentheses.)
(Vay’hi erev vay’hi voker yom hashishi. Vay’chulu hashamayim v’ha’aretz v’chol tzva’am. Vay’chal Elohim bayom hashvi’i m’lachto asher asah vayishbot bayom hashvi’i mikol m’lachto asher asah. Vay’varech Elohim et yom hashvi’i vay’kadeish oto ki vo shavat mikol m’lachto asher bara Elohim la’asot.)
(And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day. Now the heavens and all their host were completed. And God finished on the seventh day the work which [God] had made, and rested on the seventh day from all the work which [God] had made. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, for on it God rested from work which in creating [God] had made.)
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who has chosen us from among all nations, and raised us from among all languages, and made us holy through [God’s] commandments. You gave us, Adonai, our God, in love (Sabbaths for rest and) seasons for happiness, and festivals and special times for celebration, this (Sabbath day and this) day of the Festival of Matzot, the time of our freedom, (in love) this holy gathering in memory of the Exodus from Egypt. You have chosen us, and you have made us holy from among all nations, and granted us (Sabbath and) Your festivals of holiness, (with love and favor,) with happiness and joy, as an inheritance. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who sanctifies (the Sabbath), Israel, and the seasons.
(When Seder falls on Saturday night, include the following section. The candles lit for the festival should be in view.)
(Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who created the lights of fire. Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who distinguishes between the holy and ordinary, between light and darkness, between Israel and the nations, between the seventh day and the six working days, between the holiness of the Sabbath and the holiness of the festival You distinguish, and You have sanctified the Sabbath from the six working days; You have distinguished and made holy Your people Israel with Your holiness. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who distinguishes between holy and holy.)
Regardless of the nights on which Seders fall, continue with the following blessing:
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who has granted us life, sustained us, and brought us to this moment.
Drink the first cup while reclining (a slight lean is fine) to the left.
The Shehecheyanu is a prayer I have used liberally throughout my life. At moments that require blessing, whether premeditated or spontaneous, I reach to the words of Shehecheyanu to invite people to mark the gratitude of the moment. For me, the words are especially brought to life when set to music, climaxing with a drawn out “amen.” When sung in community, as much as my voice allows, I try to catch the harmony of that “amen” to fully enjoy the moment when individual voices become one.
Tradition tells us that the Shehecheyanu is a prayer marking “firsts,” particularly the first time something transpires in a new year, like a harvest. This also applies to each Jewish holiday in a given year, including those that bring a cessation from work. This includes the first two days of Passover, but not the last—marking the only holy day(s) that Shehecheyanu is not recited. Naturally, there are a handful of interpretations for this, one being that the last two days of Passover are the same holiday as the first two and therefore it is not necessary.
There are also interpretations suggesting that the story of Passover, culminating in the moment when our enemies are swept away and we are granted the freedom to pursue a homeland, is neither the end nor the beginning of the story. Rather, we must save the Passover Shehecheyanu for the moment when the Jewish people and all humanity can live in peace together. Until that time, I will continue to say Shehecheyanu at those moments in life that inspire an expression of gratitude, while awaiting a harmonious "amen" bringing together the voices of all people.
MATTHEW GROSSMAN, BBYO CEO
Traditionally, the Seder’s four cups represent blessings over wine, completing our meal, the telling of our Passover story, and the celebratory festival Psalms (Hallel). However, perhaps even more meaningful, the 16th century rabbi Isaiah Horowitz saw the cups as a reflection of our four matriarchs—Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah.
1. The cup of Kiddush represents Sarah, the mother of converts, believers by choice.
2. The cup of Maggid is for Rebecca, who mothered both Esau and Jacob, two opposing natures.
3. The cup of the Blessing after Eating represents Rachel, whose son Joseph provided the whole family of Jacob with bread in a time of great famine.
4. The cup of Hallel is for Leah, who realized one must appreciate what one has. When her fourth child, Judah, was born, she praised God: “This time I will thank God” (Genesis 29:35).
So much of the Seder’s power is in its charge to recreate and reimagine the story as happening to us directly. Here, we see one of our sages doing just that, playing with the Seder’s themes and rituals to create even greater meaning.
Similarly, part of what makes BBYO so special is the opportunity it provides teens to grapple with Jewish life and programming themselves, elevating them while deepening their own identities. Passover’s charge and BBYO’s engagement model reflect the same winning recipe. When we allow individuals to infuse their own lives into their Jewish practice, we collectively gain a fuller product and richer experience.
WASHING THE HANDS | URCHATZ |
Wash the hands in a ritual manner (typically with a cup), but recite no blessing. Some have the tradition that only the person who is leading the Seder washes their hands.
DIPPING GREENS IN SALT WATER KARPAS |
Take the green vegetable of choice in hand (traditions as to which vegetable vary) and say the following blessing. One should also keep the maror, which will be eaten later in the Seder, in mind while reciting:
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the earth.
Dip the karpas into salt water and eat without reclining to the left.
One meaning of the Passover ritual of dipping karpas in salt water is to symbolize the tears of our people during their time of slavery in Egypt. Today, unlike our ancestors in Egypt, we are blessed to be freer than ever. In the digital age we are living in, we feel endless freedom and constant connection. Is it possible that the platforms meant to connect and free us actually enslave us into their digital prisons? Our attraction to connectivity, information, and entertainment has woven
RABBI WILL HALL, Class of 2010, Lonestar Region, former chapter Godol, Moreh, and Gizbor, Assistant Rabbi at Temple Beth Shalom in Austin, Texas
a web that binds us to our devices, shaping the fabric of our daily existence.
We wake to the sound of notifications, our reflexes instinctively reaching for our digital companion that dictates the rhythm of our days. From the moment our eyes meet the screen, a world of endless possibilities unfolds, yet it comes at the cost of our time, attention, and presence.
In the palm of our hands, we hold a portal to the vast expanse of human knowledge, social networks that bridge continents, and a stream of curated content designed to captivate our minds. Yet, this virtual utopia often morphs into a digital prison, dictating our priorities and altering the landscape of our relationships.
In our lives today, face-to-face interactions are replaced by emojis, and genuine connections are sacrificed at the altar of virtual validation. Our enslavement to screens is marked by moments stolen from reality, where the beauty of the present is eclipsed by the need to capture and share it with an unseen audience.
As we scroll through endless feeds, our attention span shrinks, and the boundaries between work and leisure blur into an indistinguishable haze. The once-liberating devices become chains that tie us to a relentless cycle of notifications, emails, and the perpetual quest for digital affirmation.
The karpas ritual, the eating of a springtime vegetable, also symbolizes spring and new beginnings. Breaking free from this modern-day enslavement can be our new beginning. It requires a conscious effort to reclaim our time and attention. It necessitates moments of unplugging, rediscovering the joy of genuine human connection, and acknowledging the ways in which screens have become our silent overlords. As we navigate this digital landscape, let us strive for a balance that liberates us from the need for constant connectivity, allowing us to savor our here and now.
NOAM DAHARY, BBYO Director of Israel Enrichment
BREAKING THE MIDDLE MATZAH YACHATZ |
Take the middle matzah and break it into two. Set the larger piece aside to serve as the afikoman. This is traditionally hidden by the leader of the Seder for the children to “steal” or “find” and then bargain with for something at the end of the Seder. Put the smaller piece back between the other two matzot.
The Jewish people are no strangers to brokenness. As Moses came down from Mount Sinai he was so angry that B'nei Yisrael worshiped a golden calf in his absence that he shattered the tablets he was holding containing the Ten Commandments.
At each Jewish wedding, in the height of our communal joy, we smash a glass into pieces to remember that destruction is as much a part of our reality as wholeness and happiness.
It makes perfect sense, then, that as we retell the story of our people’s freedom at Passover, we break the middle piece of matzah. After all, there was much brokenness in our redemption story. Our backs broke under the difficult labor of our enslavement in Egypt. Hearts broke when firstborn sons died. Pharoah broke his promise, changing his mind after finally allowing B'nei Yisrael to go free. The sea itself broke so that we could cross into freedom.
Today, our world is broken in so many ways. Hunger and poverty threaten nearly 38 million lives in America each year. War and hatred have allowed for destruction beyond measure. Israeli homes are broken, their loved ones who were murdered or still held hostage are missing from their Passover tables this year.
We carry our brokenness with us. Moses carried the shattered tablets in the ark alongside a new and whole set throughout our people’s travels in the desert. Many married couples choose to fill mezuzot with the shards from their broken glasses as they build a new home together. Our broken matzah becomes the afikoman, a hidden dessert that leaves a lasting taste of freedom on our tongues.
We carry our brokenness with us to remind us that the world needs our help to put broken pieces back together. This year, as you break the middle matzah at your family’s Seder table, ask yourself: What is broken in my world that needs fixing? How can I start putting the pieces back together?
LARA RODIN, Class of 2013, Northwest Canada Region, former regional N’siah and BBYO staff member, rabbinical student at JTS and Rabbinic Intern at Beth Tzedec Congregation and Robbins Hebrew Academy in Toronto, Canada
TELLING THE STORY | MAGGID | דִיִִגִַּמָ
Uncover the matzot, raise the Seder plate, and say:
Halachma anya di achalu avhatana b’ara d’Mitzrayim. Kol dichfin yeitei v’yeichol kol ditzrich yeitei v’yifsach. Hashata hacha l’shanah haba’ah b’ara d’yisrael. Hashata avdei l’shanah haba’ah b’nei chorin.
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 need, come and share the Passover meal. This year, we are here. Next year, in the land of Israel. This year, we are slaves. Next year, we will be free.
Place the Seder plate down and cover the matzot. Refill the cups, but do not drink yet.
On Pesach, we tell our collective story—the story of the Israelites going out from Egypt. This story that we tell is a particular one; it is about a specific people at a specific moment in time. This is our story—so why do we open our Seder with a universal call to let all who are hungry come and eat? Why should we let others in to witness both our deep pain and our profound joy?
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks offers us this perspective: “Sharing food is the first act in which slaves become free human beings. One who fears tomorrow does not offer his bread to others. But one who is willing to divide his food with a stranger has already shown himself capable of fellowship and faith, the two things from which hope is born.”
We’re amid a time of profound division, where many are retreating inward, closing off their metaphorical doors. Fear of vulnerability drives this isolation—a fear that others won’t understand us, won’t empathize with our pain, or may even exploit it. Yet, Rabbi Sacks reminds us that true freedom isn’t dictated by fear. True liberation entails opening our hearts and homes, embracing those different from ourselves, and sowing seeds of hope with a resounding invitation: “All who are hungry, come and eat!”
JAMIE GOTTLIEB, Class of 2016, South Jersey Region, former chapter Sh'licha, Mazkirah, and N’siah, Engagement and Program Associate at College of Charleston Hillel
For additional commentary, see page 102.
The Four Questions | Mah Nishtanah
This paragraph is traditionally sung by the youngest person present at the Seder.
Mah nishtanah halaylah hazeh
mikol haleilot?
Sheb’chol haleilot anu ochlin chameitz umatzah—halaylah hazeh kulo matzah.
Sheb’chol haleilot anu ochlin sh’ar yerakot—halaylah hazeh maror.
Sheb’chol haleilot ein anu matbilin afilu pa’am echat—halaylah hazeh sh’tei p’amim.
Why is this night different from all other nights?
On all other nights, we eat either leavened or unleavened bread—on this night, only matzah.
On all other nights, we eat vegetables of all kinds—on this night, bitter herbs.
On all other nights, we do not dip even once—on this night, we dip twice. On all other nights, we eat either sitting or reclining—on this night, we all recline.
Nearly anyone who has participated in a Passover Seder remembers a time when they or a loved one were singled out to nervously chant the words, “Mah nishtanah halaylah hazeh mikol haleilot…” Even after years, many folks remember the tune and at least most of the words to the four questions meant to be asked by the children during the festive meal. It is one of those pieces of text that connect us to Jews around the world and even across time. But what if I told you that our four questions were not always the Four Questions?
Looking back through the centuries, we see that the Four Questions have indeed shifted. The earliest example is in the Mishnah, where the fourth question is not about reclining or sitting, as we have it, but instead says, “on all other nights we eat roasted, stewed, or cooked meat, but tonight it is only roasted meat.” So why the change? Maimonides explains that once the ancient Temple was destroyed, we don’t ask this last question since the roasted meat refers to the Passover sacrifice.
This is only one change among many, but why does it matter? It matters because the significance of this moment in the Seder is not about reading the script and memorizing the tune. It is an
opportunity for us to ask important questions about this sacred ritual—what it means and why we do it. The four questions are simply prompts, a suggestion on what to ask. It is up to us, each in our own way, to pose the questions that speak to our own times, and to listen to the many different answers we might hear. So, why is this night different?
RABBI ROSS Z. LEVY, Class of 2012, Delta Region, former regional Shaliach, Assistant Rabbi at Temple Israel in Memphis, Tennessee
We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, and Adonai, our God, freed us from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Had the Holy One of Blessing not brought our ancestors out of Egypt, then we, our children, and our children’s children would still be subjugated by Pharaoh in Egypt. And even if we were all wise, all people of understanding, all elders, all learned in the Torah, we are still commanded to tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt. And the more one dwells on telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt, the more praiseworthy.
Following the events of October 7, 2023, Israeli intelligence uncovered information that Hamas had intended to conduct its raid on Israel on the first night of Passover, last spring (April 5, 2023). The leaders of this terrorist organization fully understood the symbolism of that date; their intention was to destroy the Third Commonwealth of the Jewish people by enslaving our people just as the Egyptians had thousands of years earlier. Indeed, reports of hostages being abused confirms their intent.
Today, we are committed to retelling the Passover story, as it says, “The more one dwells on telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt, the more praiseworthy.”
History reminds us that the past informs and shapes the future. Even as we recite the tale of our redemption and liberation, we have a second story to share. In recognizing BBYO’s Centennial year, we celebrate the impact that AZA and BBG have had on 350,000+ alumni. Our pluralistic Movement prepares leaders, creates community, and works for social justice, even as we advance our special relationship with Israel.
In this moment we are holding these two stories, as they are both ours. Moses was instructed to redeem slaves and bring them to their land, just as today Israel must reclaim those who are held hostage and ensure the Jewish State’s safety and security. The establishment of BBYO has afforded generations of young people the opportunity to connect with their Judaism, with fellow Jews, and with Israel.
Each speaks to the affirmation of life and the continuity of our people.
STEVEN WINDMUELLER, Ph.D., Class of 1960, Eastern Region, Emeritus Professor of Jewish Communal Studies at HUC-JIR in Los Angeles, California
Mitzrayim kol oto halaylah ad sheba’u talmideihem v’amru lahem: Raboteinu higiya zman kri’at shema shel shacharit.
It once happened that Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Akiva, and Rabbi Tarfon were reclining [at the Seder] in Bnei Brak. They spent that whole night discussing the Exodus from Egypt until their students came and said to them: “Rabbis, it is time for us to recite the morning Shema.”
After beginning the Maggid section by recounting our enslavement to Pharaoh, the Haggadah then strangely chooses to recount the experience of a Seder night long ago in Bnei Brak, rather than continue with the Exodus story. The highly educated rabbis are said to have discussed the Exodus all night, until they are interrupted by their students in the morning. By placing the story of the rabbis before our own retelling, we are made to draw comparisons between our own experience and theirs, and to see our own Seder
as a continuation of their discussion. In the same way that even the educated rabbis strove to learn more from the story, we learn that Judaism can always teach us more, and that we should be curious in expanding our learning. To me, however, what is perhaps the key message from this section is how it relates to the unity of the Jewish nation. Every Seder night across the world will have vastly different traditions and attendees, yet each will read of the rabbis' Seder and through this, sit around the very same table. This night has the unique capacity to reach across borders and generations—with a young child experiencing their first night, and an elderly relative recalling their first many years prior, building the generational connection that holds Judaism together. Though at first glance the section about this Seder feels out of place, it serves to ground our own night in the context of Jewish history, and link us to Seder tables both past and present, uniting the Jewish nation as one.
For additional commentary, see page 109.
Amar rabi Elazar ben Azaryah: Harei ani k’ven shivim shanah v’lo zachiti shetei’ameir yitziat
Mitzrayim baleilot ad shedarshah ben Zoma shene’emar: L’ma’an tizkor et yom tzeitcha mei’eretz
Mitzrayim kol y’mei chayecha. Y’mei chayecha hayamim. Kol y’mei chayecha haleilot. Vachachamim om’rim: Y’mei chayecha ha’olam hazeh. Kol y’mei chayecha l’havi limot hamashiach.
Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said: I am like a seventy-year-old man and I have not succeeded in understanding why the Exodus from Egypt should be recited at night, until Ben Zoma explained it, as it says: "In order that you may remember the day you left Egypt all the days of your life” (Deuteronomy 16:3). "The days of your life” [means] the days; “all the days of your life” [means] the nights. But the sages say: “‘The days of your life’ [means] this world, ‘all the days of your life’ [means] in the days of the Messiah."
Baruch haMakom baruch hu.
Baruch shenatan Torah l’amo
Yisrael baruch hu.
Blessed is the Eminent; blessed is [God]. Blessed is the One Who gave the Torah to [God’s] people Israel; blessed is [God].
ZACK PLIENER, Class of 2023, BBYO United Kingdom & Ireland, former regional S’gan, student at University of Leeds
The line, “Blessed is the One Who gave the Torah to His people Israel” seems out of place. At this moment in the Seder shortly following a recounting of slavery and its horrors, it would make sense to instead bless God for bringing the Israelites out of bondage, as is the theme of the holiday. Instead, we thank God for giving us the Torah.
Passover marks the beginning of S'firat HaOmer, a 49-day counting period that precedes the harvest festival Shavuot. As Jews mark the counting each day, they inch closer to the more relevant theme of Shavuot, a celebration of the giving of Torah on Mount Sinai. The Aruch HaShulchan proposes that even in Egypt, Moses told the Israelites they would celebrate at Sinai on the 50th day after Exodus, following 49 days of waiting. Perhaps, the true culmination of freedom from Egyptian bondage is receiving of Torah on Sinai— the moment after slavery when B'nei Yisrael could embrace a life of Torah, mitzvot, and good deeds.
So, Passover is not only about freedom and its relevance today. It is also about the true culmination of the Exodus, the giving of the Torah, which is the basis for modern-day Judaism and Judeo-Christian society. For that, Jews rightfully sing: “Blessed is the One Who gave the Torah to His people Israel.”
JOSHUA DANZIGER, Class of 2024, Lonestar Region, former regional Shaliach
The Torah speaks of four types of children: One is wise, one is wicked, one is simple, and one does not know how to ask.
Chacham mah hu omeir? Mah ha’eidot v’hachukim v’hamishpatim asher tzivah Adonai Eloheinu etchem? V’af atah emor lo k’hilchot haPesach ein maftirin achar haPesach afikoman.
What does the wise one say? “What are the laws, statutes, and judgments that Adonai, our God, has commanded you?” (Deuteronomy 6:20). You should teach him all the laws of Passover [until the end], that we don’t partake of any dessert after eating the Paschal offering.
Rasha mah hu omeir? Mah ha’avodah hazot lachem? Lachem v’lo lo. U’l’fi shehotzi et atzmo min haklal kafar ba’ikar. V’af atah hakheih et shinav ve’emor lo ba’avur zeh asah Adonai li b’tzeiti miMitzrayim. Li v’lo lo. Ilu hayah sham lo hayah nigal.
What does the wicked one say? “What is this service to you?” (Exodus 12:26). “To you” and not “to him.” And since he excludes himself from our community, he is denying the foundations of our faith. And so you should shake his arrogance [lit. knock out his teeth] and say to him, “Because of this that God did for me when I came out of Egypt” (Exodus 13:8). “For me” and not “for him,” for had he been there, he would not have been redeemed.
Tam mah hu omeir? Mah zot? V’amarta eilav b’chozek yad hotzianu Adonai miMitzrayim mibeit avadim.
What does the simple one say? “What is this?” You should say to him, “With a mighty hand God took us out of Egypt, from the house of slavery” (Exodus 13:14).
V’she’eino yodei’a lishol at p’tach lo, shene’emar: V’higad’ta l’vincha bayom hahu leimor ba'avur zeh asah Adonai li b’tzeiti miMitzrayim.
And the one who does not know how to ask, you should open [the discussion] for him, as it says: “And you should tell your child on that day, saying, ‘Because of this that God did for me when I came out of Egypt" (Exodus 13:8).
The treatment of the “wicked” child has always troubled me. Why such harsh punishments for a child? First, should we “blunt the teeth” of a child? Secondly, how could a child not be redeemed? The tradition considers the child wicked because he wants nothing to do with the Passover service. But is this the fault of the child?
Many things can turn someone off to Judaism, including growing up in a home where Judaism is practiced in a shallow, hollow, or hypocritical way. What are some examples? Pushing a child to give her all for soccer but never expecting her to learn any Hebrew. Demanding that a child love Israel but never discussing the Jewish state’s importance. Expecting a son or daughter to establish a Jewish home without having made Judaism come alive in the family.
These and similar actions lead to an estrangement from Judaism. Perhaps this child’s “wickedness” is the fruit of a sour Jewish education at home? The “cure” would not be “blunting his teeth” but creating a meaningful Judaism together.
We can start by creating an inspiring Passover Seder. Will you lead the same old Seder you have been for years? Or, instead, can you infuse excitement, joy, and innovation into the evening? Will your Seder be a rote reading of the same old Maxwell House Haggadah? Or, instead, can you use a modern-day Haggadah that brings our ancient story to life? Will you only discuss baseball or football during the meal? Or, instead, can you explore what it means to be free today and how we can work together to bring freedom to others in need?
Let’s not waste the valuable opportunities the Passover Seder provides. If we are blessed to celebrate a Passover Seder with our young, let’s do all we can to make the night enjoyable, significant, and memorable. Bringing new life to classic holidays like Passover helps our young not look at their Judaism with disdain. Instead, it helps them become engaged Jews interested in learning more about their faith tradition. It encourages them to become intellectually curious Jewish adults who, like the wise child, will always ask, “What is the meaning of the testimonies, statutes, and judgments we learn through the Passover story?”
RABBI BRIAN STRAUSS, Class of 1990, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former chapter and regional Godol, Senior Rabbi of Congregation Beth Yeshurun in Houston, Texas
It could be from Rosh Chodesh [that one should discuss the Exodus. However,] we learn [otherwise, since] it says, “On that day.” If it is “on that day,” it could be while it is still daytime. We learn [otherwise, since] it says, “Because of this.” “Because of this,” means only at the time when matzah and maror are resting in front of you.
Mitchilah ovdei avodah zarah hayu avoteinu v’achshav keirvanu Hamakom la’avodato shene’emar: Vayomer Y’hoshua el kol ha’am
koh amar Adonai Elohei Yisrael b’eiver hanahar yashvu avoteichem mei’olam Terach avi Avraham va’avi Nachor vaya’avdu elohim acheirim. Va’ekach et avichem et Avraham mei’eiver hanahar va’oleich oto b’chol eretz Canaan va’arbeh et zaro va’etein lo et Yitzchak va’etein l’Yitzchak et Ya’akov v’et Eisav va’etein l’Eisav et Har Sei’ir lareshet oto v’Ya’akov uvanav yar’du Mitzrayim.
At first our ancestors were idol-worshipers, but now God has brought us near to [God's] service, as it says: “Joshua said to all the people: So says Adonai, the God of Israel: Your ancestors have always lived beyond the [Euphrates] River, Terah the father of Abraham and Nahor; they served other gods. I took your father Abraham from the other side of the river and led him through all the land of Canaan. I multiplied his family and gave him Isaac; to Isaac I gave Jacob and Esau; to Esau I gave Mount Seir to inherit, and Jacob and his children went down to Egypt” (Joshua 24:2-4).
Baruch Hu chishav et hakeitz la’asot k’mo she’amar l’Avraham avinu bivrit bein hab’tarim shene’emar: Vayomer l’Avram yado teida ki geir yihyeh zaracha b’eretz lo lahem va’avadum v’inu otam arba mei’ot shanah v’gam et hagoy asher ya’avodu dan anochi v’acharei chein yeitzu birchush gadol.
Blessed is the One Who keeps a promise to Israel; blessed is [God]. The Holy One of Blessing predetermined the time of the end [of our slavery] in order to fulfill what had been said to our father Abraham in the Covenant between the Portions, as it says: “[God] said to Abram, know surely that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and they will be enslaved and afflicted by them [the people there] for four hundred years, but I will also judge the nation that enslaved them, and afterwards they will come out with great wealth” (Genesis 15:13–14).
Cover the matzot, lift the cups, and recite the following:
V’hi she’amdah la’avoteinu v’lanu.
Shelo echad bilvad amad aleinu
l’chaloteinu ela sheb’chol dor vador omdim aleinu l’chaloteinu
v’HaKadosh Baruch Hu matzileinu miyadam.
And this has stood for our ancestors and for us. Not one alone has risen against us to destroy us; rather, in every generation they rise against us to destroy us, but the Holy One of Blessing saves us from their hands.
Put down the cups (without drinking) and uncover the matzot.
As we cruise through Maggid, we raise our cups and say/sing the "V’hi she’amdah." In this powerful paragraph, we remind ourselves of the hardships our people have experienced throughout our history. It is miraculous in each generation how we continue to rise up and overcome those who have stood to destroy us.
Beginning October 7, 2023, the entire Jewish world sprang into action. Those in the country of Israel, and its military, were gearing up to enter into its longest war in history since the War of Independence. Those outside of Israel were organizing pro-Israel rallies, raising money for the families of the Gaza Envelope, and collecting supplies for the war-bound soldiers. Throughout this dark and intense period, it did not matter where in the world you were, how you religiously defined yourself, or if you had even been to Israel before—the Jewish and pro-Israel world population banded together in this fight against evil.
As a reservist in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), I, along with all of my fellow soldiers, packed up my things and joined in the fight starting October 7. As we entered Gaza, I looked around at my friends—all of whom are fathers, doctors, teachers, people in high tech, even a DJ— and was finally able to understand the bigger picture. I understood that what we were fighting for was much more than land, history, or even a blue and white flag. Throughout our history, the Jewish people have been tested time and time again; yet, we continue to rise above any obstacle, stronger and better as a result. We fight, and we will continue to fight, for our continuity.
SAMMY ZOLLER, Class of 2017, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former regional Shaliach, student at Hebrew University and 55th BrigadeParatroopers Reserves
For additional commentary, see page 115.
Tzei u’lmad mah bikeish Lavan ha’Arami la’asot l’Ya’akov avinu.
SheParoh lo gazar ela al haz’charim v’Lavan bikeish la’akor et hakol shene’emar:
Go out and learn what Laban the Aramean tried to do to Jacob, our father. Since Pharaoh only decreed [death] on the males, but Laban sought to uproot the whole, as it says:
“An Aramean wanted to destroy my father and he went down to Egypt, and he resided there with a small number, and he became there a nation, great, powerful, and numerous” (Deuteronomy 26:5).
Vayeired Mitzraymah—ahnus al pi hadibur.
And he went down to Egypt—compelled by the [divine] word.
Vayagar sham—m’lameid shelo yarad Ya’akov avinu l’hishtakei’a b’Mitzrayim ela lagur sham shene’emar: Vayomru el Paroh lagur ba’aretz banu ki ein mireh latzon asher la’avadecha ki kaveid hara’av b’eretz Canaan v’atah yeishvu na avadecha b’eretz Goshen.
And he resided there—this teaches that Jacob, our father, did not go down to settle in Egypt, but rather to reside there [for a time], as it says: "And they said to Pharaoh, 'We have come to reside in the land, since there is not enough pasture for your servants' flocks, since the famine is heavy in the land of Canaan, and now please grant that your servants should dwell in the land of Goshen'" (Genesis 47:4).
With a small number—as it says: "With seventy souls did your ancestors go down to Egypt, and now God has made you as numerous as the stars of the sky" (Deuteronomy 10:22).
Great, powerful—as it says: "And the Children of Israel were fruitful and swarmed and increased and became very strong and the land became full of them" (Exodus 1:7).
And numerous—as it says: "I have made you as numerous as the plants of the field, and you increased and grew and became very beautiful; your breasts were firm and your hair grew, but you were naked and bare. And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you, 'In your blood live.' And I said to you, 'In your blood live'" (Ezekiel 16:7,6).
The Midrash explains that the Jewish people’s clothing, food, and language were different from that of the Egyptians. It was clear through these distinctions that they were a separate nation and this helped them preserve and even formulate their Jewish identity.
Looking back to more than 50 years ago when I was in BBYO, I realize that the organization aided us in a very similar way. While BBYO was mainly a social network for us to make friends and play sports, these were enough then to foster our own Jewish identity. We continued our Jewish friendships, later on joining Hillel on campuses, being proud of our Jewish identity, and being active in Jewish organizations.
This Jewish attribute, the awareness that we are a distinct people which first began in Egypt, is what is pivotal in keeping our people a Jewish nation even today! We need to know what it means to be Jewish to ensure and preserve our continuity. Our ancestors in Egypt prevailed under such harsh conditions to keep their Jewish identity and succeeded. Let them be our beacon to show us the way to keep our Jewish identity alive and at the forefront!
MARILYN BANDOS BRODER, Class of 1978, Wisconsin Region, former regional N’siah
"And the Egyptians were cruel to us and afflicted us and put upon us hard work" (Deuteronomy 26:6).
Vayarei’u otanu haMitzrim—k’mah shene’emar: Havah nitchachmah lo pen yirbeh v’hayah ki tikrenah milchamah v’nosaf gam hu al soneinu v’nilcham banu v’alah min ha’aretz.
And the Egyptians were cruel to us—as it says: "Come, let us deal cleverly with them, lest they multiply. And if war is called they too will join with our enemies and fight against us and go up from the land" (Exodus 1:10).
And afflicted us—as it says: "And they placed upon them taskmasters in order to afflict them with their burdens. And they built storage cities for Pharaoh, Pithom and Raamses" (Exodus 1:11).
And put upon us hard work—as it says: "And Egypt enslaved the Children of Israel with breaking work" (Exodus 1:11).
For as long as I can remember, one part of the Pesach story has confused me—why did God keep “hardening Pharaoh’s heart”? At a glance it seems quite ridiculous and honestly kind of cruel of God to keep making the Jews suffer under Pharaoh’s rule when God so easily could have had Pharaoh let us go; so, why did God do it? I think the answer lines up with how we Jews respond to crises.
Today, being Jewish is very hard—for many of us, it’s the hardest it has ever been, and yet, over the past few months we have seen very clearly how we come to each others' aid in times of crisis. After October 7, Jewish communities all across the world came together to support each other in all sorts of different ways—some held fundraisers for the families of the victims, some volunteered for Magen David Adom, and others came together to host prayers for Israel’s safety.
Here in the UK, the Prime Minister visited a prominent shul and a Jewish secondary school in London; the Chief Rabbi travelled up and down the country visiting Jewish university students; and my own
university’s Jewish Society hosted a 200-person Friday night dinner. The Jewish sense of community has never been stronger.
Now you’re probably thinking that this is all well and good, but how does any of it link to the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart? Well, I think that the reason God kept hardening his heart was to unite the Jewish people. Slavery under the Egyptians was the first major crisis faced by the Jewish people and one that truly made us a ‘people’. We were slaves for some 300 years to the most powerful empire in the world (at the time)—yet here we are, and here they aren’t—safe to say God’s plan of bringing us together worked really well.
Nobody likes being in a crisis, but if there is one thing we Jews can do in hard times, it is come together and rise above them. We outlasted the Egyptians, Romans, Persians, Seleucids, and Nazis by sticking together as a people and never abandoning each other—and these times are no different. We will rise above this dark period and our community will be all the stronger for it.
Vanitzak el Adonai Elohei avoteinu vayishma Adonai et koleinu vayar et anyeinu v’et amaleinu v’et lachatzeinu.
"And we cried to Adonai, the God of our ancestors; and God heard our voice and saw our affliction and our toil and our oppression" (Deuteronomy 26:6).
Vanitzak el Adonai Elohei avoteinu—k’mah shene’emar: Vay’hi vayamim harabim haheim vayamat melech Mitzrayim vayei’anchu B’nei Yisrael min ha’avodah vayizaku vata’al shavatam el haElohim min ha’avodah.
And we cried to Adonai, the God of our ancestors—as it says: "And it was in the course of those many days that the king of Egypt died; and the Children of Israel sighed because of their labor and cried. And their pleas rose up to God because of their bondage" (Exodus 2:23).
Vayishma Adonai et koleinu k’mah shene’emar: Vayishma
Elohim et na’akatam vayizkor
Elohim et brito et Avraham et Yitchak v’et Ya’akov.
ADAM LIEBERMAN, Class of 2022, BBYO United Kingdom & Ireland, former National SACO, student at University of Manchester
And God heard our cry—as it says: "God heard their groaning and God remembered the covenant with Abraham with Isaac and with Jacob" (Exodus 2:24).
As Passover nears each year, I am reminded that as members and alumna of BBG, we have an incredible opportunity to follow Miriam’s example in the Passover story. Miriam is usually remembered for leading the women of Israel in celebration as they crossed the Red Sea. Perhaps more significantly, Miriam raised her voice to speak up about a shortcoming she perceived in her brother’s actions.
It is fitting that the first night of Passover in BBYO’s Centennial year overlaps with BBG Founders’ Day. Like Miriam, we celebrate each other in times of accomplishment and raise our voices with strength when the need arises. As we celebrate 80 years of BBG history that have been marked by standing up for ourselves, one another, and our world, we must continue to be advocates and champions, recognizing that the ability to help others is a blessing and a responsibility.
REBECCA SEREBOFF, Class of 2017, Northern Region East: Baltimore Council, former council N’siah, 73rd International N’siah, Legislative Assistant at Holland & Knight
Vayar et anyeinu—zo prishut derech eretz k’mah shene’emar:
Vayar Elohim et B’nei Yisrael vayeida Elohim.
And saw our affliction—this refers to the disruption of family life, as it says: "God saw the Children of Israel and God knew" (Exodus 2:25).
And our toil—this refers to the sons, as it says: "Every son that is born you will cast into the river, but every daughter will live" (Exodus 1:22).
In the retelling of the Exodus story, the Haggadah offers a glimpse into the remarkable courage and defiance of Shifrah and Puah, two women whose names may not be as widely recognized as Moses or Pharaoh. Yet, their actions speak volumes about the pivotal role of women in shaping the course of history. They were Hebrew midwives who lived during the time when the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt
who secretly defied Pharaoh’s orders that all Hebrew baby males should be killed at birth, claiming to Pharaoh that Hebrew women gave birth before they could arrive to assist, and by the time they arrived, the babies were already born. By disobeying Pharaoh’s orders to kill Hebrew male newborns, Shifrah and Puah demonstrated the power of moral courage in the face of tyranny. As we recount their tale during the Passover Seder, let us not only honor their memory but also recognize the countless women whose contributions have been instrumental in our pursuit of justice and freedom as Am Israel
EMILY KOLODNEY, Class of 2019, Lonestar Region, 74th International S’ganit and 75th Anita M. Perlman International N’siah, BBYO AZA & BBG Movement Intern
"And God brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm and with great awe and signs and wonders" (Deuteronomy 26:8).
The Jewish people have survived for millennia because we prioritize action over passive faith. Perhaps this is derived from this passage in the Haggadah where we note that God took us out of Egypt "b’yad chazakah," with a strong hand. The Israelites cried out to the Heavens, praying for a reprieve from their generations of affliction, hardship, and enslavement. When God heard their calls, God did not send an angel. Or a messenger. Or a seraph. Instead, God intervened directly, as it is written: “I am the Lord, I am God and there is no other.” Honoring the covenant with our ancestors, God took action.
This Passover, as we remember that we were once slaves in Egypt, we should also think of the multitudes of people who are still not free today. Suffering from oppression, violence, and poverty, their cries of affliction should serve as our call to action. Don’t rely on an angel, or a messenger, or a seraph to perform miracles or mitzvot. Just as
God did for the Israelites in Egypt, reach out to those in need with an outstretched arm and fight all forms of hate with a strong hand. May we continuously rise up to act for good for generations to come.
DANNY FREEDMAN, Class of 2022, Northern Region East: Baltimore Council, 33rd Grand Aleph Shaliach, student at University of Virginia
Vayotzi’einu Adonai miMitzrayim lo al y’dei malach v’lo al y’dei saraf v’lo al y’dei shaliach ela HaKadosh Baruch Hu bichvodo uv’atzmo shene’emar: V’avarti v’eretz Mitzrayim balaylah hazeh v’hikeiti kol b’chor b’eretz Mitzrayim mei’adam v’ad b’heimah uv’chol elohei Mitzrayim e’eseh shfatim. Ani Adonai.
And God brought us out of Egypt—not by an angel and not by a seraph and not by a messenger but by the Holy One of Blessing, in glory, personally, as it says: "I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night and I will slay every firstborn in the land of Egypt, from people to animals. And on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments; I am God" (Exodus 12:12).
V’avarti v’eretz Mitzrayim balaylah hazeh ani v’lo malach. V’hikeiti kol
b’chor b’eretz Mitzrayim ani v’lo saraf. Uv’chol elohei Mitzrayim e’eseh shfatim ani v’lo hashaliach. Ani Adonai ani hu v’lo acheir.
I will pass through the land of Egypt on that night, myself and not an angel. And I will slay every firstborn in the land of Egypt, myself and not a seraph. And on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments, myself and not the messenger. I am God, I and none other.
With a mighty hand—this refers to the pestilence, as it says: "Behold the hand of God will be against your cattle that are in the field, on the horses, on the donkeys, on the camels, on the oxen, and on the sheep, a very severe pestilence" (Exodus 9:3).
And with great awe—this refers to the revelation of the Divine, as it says: "Or did God try to personally take for a nation from within a nation with miracles, with signs, and with wonders and with war and with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm and with awesome and great acts, like all that Adonai, your God, did for you in Egypt in front of your eyes?" (Deuteronomy 4:34).
Uv’otot—zeh hamateh k’mah
shene’emar: V’et hamateh hazeh tikach b’yad’cha asher ta’aseh bo et ha’otot.
And with signs—this refers to the staff, as it says: "Take this staff in your hand, with which you will perform the signs" (Exodus 4:17).
Uv’moftim—zeh hadam k’mah
shene’emar: V’natati moftim bashamayim uva’aretz.
And with wonders—this refers to the blood, as it says: "And I will show wonders in the heavens and on earth."
When reciting the three items below, it is traditional for each person to pour out a small amount of liquid from their cup.
Another interpretation is [each phrase is associated with two plagues]: With a mighty hand, two. And with an outstretched arm, two. And with great awe, two. And with signs, two. And with wonders, two.
Eilu eser makot sheheivi
HaKadosh Baruch Hu al ha’Mitzrim
b’Mitzrayim v’eilu hein:
This makes ten plagues that the Holy One of Blessing brought on the Egyptians in Egypt, and they are:
Once again, it is traditional for each person to pour out a small amount of liquid from their cups as each plague is named.
Blood Dam
Frogs
Tzfardeiya
Lice Kinim
Beasts Arov
Pestilence
Boils
Dever
Sh’chin
Hail Barad
Locusts Arbeh
Darkness
Choshech
Slaying of Firstborns Makat B’chorot
Rabi Yehudah hayah notein bahem simanim:
Rabbi Yehuda assigned them mnemonic signs:
Continue to pour out a small amount for each of the signs:
The 19th century philosophical rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch asserts that Rabbi Yehuda’s breakdown of the plagues into three sets of three is not at all arbitrary but is directly connected to the Covenant of Parts (Brit Bein HaBetarim). In Genesis 15:13–14, God tells Abraham, “Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years.” Hirsch explains that each of these terrible things (being made strangers, being enslaved, and being oppressed) align with the grouping of the plagues. The first group was meant to show the Egyptians that they were no better than the “strangers” in their own land. The second was meant to bring into focus their terrible nature as slave masters over people, animals, and produce. The third grouping was meant to make them truly feel forms of oppression that impacted them personally.
This is the beauty of the mnemonic—that it calls us to look past what the plagues are and start to wonder what did they mean and who was supposed to learn a lesson? Hirsch’s argument suggests that not only were the plagues meant to teach the Egyptians a harsh lesson but that we as the Israelite people were meant to be reminded of a promise that God made to Abraham so long ago and to feel some sense of comfort as we watched these miracles and tragedies happen before us.
While I deeply appreciate and resonate with Hirsch’s meaning of the mnemonic and the connection to our covenant with God, I struggle with the impact of the conclusion that Hirsch seems to suggest that through the plagues the Egyptians were getting some sort of “payback.” I ask myself, does this seem fully fair and just? Did every Egyptian need to learn these lessons? How do we minimize suffering as we fight righteously to save people from terror and oppression? How does this impact my view of justice today?
Part of our practice in reciting these plagues is to spill a drop of wine/ juice as we say them out loud. This is meant to remind us that in moments of deep gratitude for our freedom, we must not forget the pain and suffering that others endured to bring about our salvation. As you recite the plagues today, I invite you to grapple over these questions of justice, think about the lessons the oppressor and the oppressed were meant to learn, and how we can continue to dig deeper into the beautiful hidden meanings and lessons in our whole Haggadah.
RACHEL DINGMAN, BBYO Senior Director of Jewish Enrichment
For additional commentary, see page 119.
Rabi Yosei haG’lili omeir: Minayin atah omeir shelaku haMitzrim b’Mitzrayim eser makot v’al hayam laku chamishim makot? B’Mitzrayim mah hu omeir? Vayomru hachartumim el Paroh: Etzba Elohim hi. V’al hayam mah hu omeir? Vayar Yisrael et hayad hagdolah asher asah Adonai b’Mitzrayim vayyiru ha’am et Adonai vaya’aminu ba’Adonai uv’Moshe avdo. Kamah laku b’etzba? Eser makot. Emor mei’atah: B’Mitzrayim laku eser makot v’al hayam laku chamishim makot.
Rabbi Yose the Galilean says: From where can you derive that the Egyptians were struck with ten plagues in Egypt and struck with fifty plagues at the Sea? In Egypt, what does it say? "And the magicians said to Pharaoh: 'This is the finger of God'" (Exodus 8:15). And at the Sea, what does it say? "And Israel saw God’s great hand that was used upon the Egyptians, and the people feared God, and they believed in God and in Moshe, [God’s] servant" (Exodus 14:31). How many were struck with the finger? Ten plagues. You can say from here that in Egypt they were struck with ten plagues and at the Sea they were struck with fifty plagues.
Rabbi Eliezer says: From where can you derive that every plague that the Holy One of Blessing brought upon the Egyptians in Egypt was [composed] of four plagues? As it says: "[God] sent upon them the fierceness of [God’s] anger, wrath and fury and trouble, a mission of evil messengers" (Psalms 78:49). "Wrath" [makes] one; "and fury" [makes] two; "and trouble" [makes] three; "a mission of evil messengers" [makes] four. You can say from here that in Egypt they were struck with forty plagues and at the Sea they were struck with two hundred plagues.
Rabbi Akiva says: From where can you derive that every plague that the Holy One of Blessing brought upon the Egyptians in Egypt was [composed] of five plagues? As it says: "[God] sent upon them the fierceness of [God’s] anger, wrath and fury and trouble, a mission of evil messengers" (Psalms 78:49). "The fierceness of [God’s] anger" [makes] one; "wrath" [makes] two; "and fury" [makes] three; "and trouble" [makes] four; "a mission of evil messengers" [makes] five. You can say from here that in Egypt they were struck with fifty plagues and at the Sea they were struck with two hundred and fifty plagues.
At one of the peaks of telling the story of Passover during the reading of the Haggadah, we reach something unusual. We’ve just mentioned the 10 plagues and poured out a little wine in memory of the afflicted. We’ve listed them so that it’s clear what these punishments are. It’s almost time to sing Dayeinu, the song with which we show thanks for all the wonders around us... And suddenly, there’s a dispute.
Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Yose the Galilean, Rabbi Eliezer, and Rabbi Akiva have different views on how many individual plagues there were. Although just a minute ago we listed them and said 10, as Rabbi Yehuda claims, Rabbi Yose says that besides the original 10 plagues, when reaching the Red Sea the Egyptians were punished with an additional 50 plagues. His disciple Rabbi Eliezer, on the other hand, says that each of these plagues is composed of four separate plagues, making a total of 40 in Egypt and 200 at the Sea. Rabbi Akiva, a disciple of Rabbi Yose, adds that in reality, the plagues are composed of five parts, making it 50 in Egypt and 250 at the Sea.
Does such a text make sense? Don’t we all know how many punishments there were and what happened? Why does each subsequent generation, each subsequent disciple, add more and more to this story?
The truth is that the story of Passover is not static. It’s not just a certain number of events that happened to our ancestors, confined to a certain period of time. It’s a process. The process of punishment for oppressors and the process of deliverance from suffering. And like any other process, this one is continuous.
For some generations, it feels short. Like a moment. Like 10 pours from the cup of wine, and we’re ready to continue to Dayeinu and salvation. For others, it feels like longer and more difficult periods,
filled with many smaller events among them. For Rabbi Yehuda’s generation, there are just 10 plagues; for Rabbi Akiva’s generation, there are more than 250.
And this year, reading the Haggadah, I would ask us to reflect on how we see the path to freedom. As a short and easy path or as a long and obstacle-filled one. Like Rabbi Yehuda, like Rabbi Yose, like Rabbi Eliezer, or like Rabbi Akiva?
But no matter how each generation sees this path and how difficult it is, at some point, we will reach the other side of the sea and we’ll be able to sing Dayeinu
MAXIM DELCHEV, Class of 2006, BBYO Bulgaria, former chapter S’gan, Chairman of the Religious Community of Jews in Bulgaria
For additional commentary, see page 121.
It Would Have Been Enough | Dayeinu
Kamah ma’alot tovot laMakom aleinu.
Ilu hotzianu miMitzrayim v’lo asah bahem shfatim—dayeinu.
Ilu asah bahem shfatim v’lo asah vailoheihem—dayeinu.
Ilu asah vailoheihem v’lo harag et b’choreihem—dayeinu.
Ilu harag et b’choreihem v’lo
natan lanu et mamonam—dayeinu.
Ilu natan lanu et mamonam v’lo kara lanu et hayam—dayeinu.
Ilu kara lanu et hayam v’lo he’eviranu b’tocho becharavah— dayeinu.
Ilu he’eviranu b’tocho becharavah v’lo shika tzareinu b’tocho— dayeinu.
Ilu shika tzareinu b’tocho v’lo sipeik tzarkeinu bamidbar arba’im shanah—dayeinu.
Ilu sipeik tzarkeinu bamidbar arba’im shanah v’lo he’echilanu et haman—dayeinu.
Ilu he’echilanu et haman v’lo natan lanu et haShabbat—dayeinu.
Ilu natan lanu et haShabbat v’lo keirvanu lifnei Har Sinai—dayeinu.
Ilu keirvanu lifnei Har Sinai v’lo natan lanu et haTorah—dayeinu.
Ilu natan lanu et haTorah v’lo hichnisanu l’eretz Yisrael—dayeinu.
Ilu hichnisanu l’eretz Yisrael v’lo vanah lanu et Beit Hab’chirah— dayeinu.
How many favors has God granted us.
Had [God] brought us out of Egypt, and not executed judgments against them, it would have been enough.
Had [God] executed judgments against them, and not their gods, it would have been enough.
Had [God] executed judgments against their gods, and not put to death their firstborns, it would have been enough.
Had [God] put to death their firstborns, and not given us their riches, it would have been enough.
Had [God] given us their riches, and not split the Sea for us, it would have been enough.
Had [God] split the Sea for us, and not led us through it on dry land, it would have been enough.
Had [God] led us through it on dry land, and not sunk our oppressors in it, it would have been enough.
Had [God] sunk our oppressors in it, and not satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years, it would have been enough.
Had [God] satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years, and not fed us the manna, it would have been enough.
Had [God] fed us the manna, and not given us the Sabbath, it would have been enough.
Had [God] given us the Sabbath, and not brought us to Mount Sinai, it would have been enough.
Had [God] brought us to Mount Sinai, and not given us the Torah, it would have been enough.
Had [God] given us the Torah, and not brought us into the land of Israel, it would have been enough.
Had [God] brought us into the land of Israel, and not built the Temple for us, it would have been enough.
Al achat kamah v’kamah tovah k’fulah u’m’kupelet laMakom aleinu:
Shehotzianu miMitzrayim
v’asah bahem shfatim
v’asah vailoheihem
v’harag et b’choreihem
v’natan lanu et mamonam
v’kara lanu et hayam
v’he’eviranu b’tocho becharavah
v’shika tzareinu b’tocho
v’sipeik tzarkeinu bamidbar arba’im
shanah
v’he’echilanu et haman
v’natan lanu et haShabbat
v’keirvanu lifnei Har Sinai
v’natan lanu et haTorah v’hichnisanu l’eretz Yisrael u’vanah lanu et Beit Hab’chirah l’chapeir al kol avonoteinu.
How much more so is the good that is doubled and quadrupled that God bestowed upon us:
That [God] brought us out of Egypt and executed judgments against them and their gods and put to death their firstborns and gave us their riches and split the Sea for us and led us through it on dry land and sunk our oppressors in it and satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years and fed us the manna and gave us the Sabbath and brought us to Mount Sinai and gave us the Torah and brought us into the land of Israel and built the Temple for us to atone for all of our sins.
For commentary, see page 122.
Obligations of the Holiday
Rabban Gamlieil hayah omeir: Kol shelo amar shloshah d’varim eilu baPesach lo yatza y’dei chovato v’eilu hein: Pesach matzah umaror.
Rabbi Gamliel would say: Anyone who has not said these three things on Passover has not fulfilled their obligation, and they are:
The Paschal offering, the unleavened bread, and the bitter herbs.
al batei v’nei Yisrael b’Mitzrayim b’nagpo et Mitzrayim v’et bateinu hitzil vayikod ha’am vayishtachavu.
The Paschal offering which our ancestors ate at the time when the Temple stood; what is the reason for it? It is because the Holy One of Blessing passed over the houses of our ancestors in Egypt, as it says: "And you will say, 'It is the Paschal offering for God, Who passed over the houses of the Israelites in Egypt and struck the Egyptians, but our homes were saved. And the people bowed down and worshiped'" (Exodus 12:27).
Lift the matzah.
Matzah zo she’anu ochlim al shum mah? Al shum shelo hispik b’tzeikam shel avoteinu l’hachamitz ad sheniglah aleihem melech malchei ham’lachim HaKadosh Baruch Hu ug’alam shene’emar: Vayofu et habatzeik asher hotziu miMitzrayim ugot matzot ki lo chameitz ki gorshu miMitzrayim v’lo yachlu l’hitmahmei’ah v’gam tzeidah lo asu lahem.
The unleavened bread that we eat; what is the reason for it? It is because there was insufficient time for the dough of our ancestors to rise before the ruler of rulers, the Holy One of Blessing, was revealed to us and redeemed us, as it says: "And they baked the dough which they brought out of Egypt into cakes of unleavened bread which had not risen, because they were driven out of Egypt and they could not tarry, and they had made no provisions for themselves" (Exodus 12:39).
Lift the maror.
Maror zeh she’anu ochlim al shum mah? Al shum shemeir’ru haMitzrim et chayyei avoteinu b’Mitzrayim shene’emar: Vay’mararu et chayeihem ba’avodah kashah b’chomer uvilveinim uv’chol avodah basadeh et kol avodatam asher avdu vahem b’farech.
The bitter herbs that we eat; what is the reason for it? It is because the Egyptians embittered the lives of our ancestors in Egypt, as it says: "And they embittered their lives with hard labor, with mortar and with bricks, and with every form of labor in the field; and all the labor with which they enslaved them was breaking" (Exodus 1:14).
The symbols from the Passover Haggadah—Pesach, matzah, and maror—have brought the Passover story into our homes and onto our plates for generations. These traditions have been passed down through time and across regions, connecting Jewish communities worldwide, while revealing diversity in the local representations of these symbols. Where I live in Beijing, China, Passover has introduced me to a variety of Jewish traditions from Northern Africa, Eastern Europe, South America, and Israel. Each item serves as a reminder of our history, as well as an opportunity for reflection and self-discovery, enabling us to explore our identity and purpose today.
Pesach symbolizes the homes that were passed over, sparing our firstborns and marking the beginning of our liberation. It serves as a reminder of the protective shelter that guided us through challenging times and invites us to consider how we can help offer shelter to others in need today.
The matzah represents the urgency with which we left Egypt, leaving no room for the dough to rise. It reminds us of the sacrifices made and the determination to embrace freedom. Today, it invites us to reflect on how freedom is not something we can assume to be guaranteed, but rather something we must continually work towards for all people.
The maror serves as a reminder of the hardships our ancestors endured in Egypt. It signifies the bitter experiences of their lives and the strength they found to persevere. Their stories of resilience inspire me to be proactive about contributing towards positive change. Just as the parting of the Red Sea provided a pathway to freedom, the story of Passover encourages me to seek openness within myself and find the way forward.
ETHAN YANG, Class of 2026, Asia Pacific Region, BBYO Beijing
For additional commentary, see page 123.
B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza miMitzrayim
shene’emar: V’higad’ta l’vincha bayom hahu leimor ba’avur zeh asah Adonai li b’tzeiti miMitzrayim. Lo et avoteinu bilvad ga’al
HaKadosh Baruch Hu ela af otanu ga’al imahem shene’emar: V’otanu hotzi misham l’ma’an havi otanu latet lanu et ha’aretz asher nishba la’avoteinu.
In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see themself as if they left Egypt, as it says: "And you will explain to your child on that day, saying: 'Because of this that God did for me when I came out of Egypt'" (Exodus 13:8). Not only our ancestors did the Holy One of Blessing
redeem, but rather we were redeemed with them, as it says: "And [God] took us out from there in order to bring us, to give us the land which was sworn to our ancestors" (Deuteronomy 6:23).
Cover the matzah and raise the cups.
During the summer of 2015, the Perlman Madrichim built a new menorah outside the Katz building that would be used to welcome in Shabbat each week. On one side of the menorah, the words were carefully painted:
, from the verse in Genesis where Abraham cries out to God, “I am but dust and ashes.” On the other side was a quote from the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 4:5): םלְוַעה
, “For my sake the entire world was created.”
These quotes come from the story of Rav Simcha Bunim of Pesischa, who taught that every person should carry these two texts with them at all times, one in each pocket. Imagine what brilliant leaders we would all be if we were always aware that we were infinitely valuable and capable: “For my sake, the entire world was created…” and simultaneously aware that we are like the "dust and ashes"—tiny and insignificant—one of millions just like us.
But the Mishnah doesn’t say we should put this text in our pocket and use it if we find the right moment. Rather, the text is very clear: “Each and every person is obligated to say, for me the world was created.” That line echoes the one right here in the Haggadah, where we read another line from the Mishnah (Pesachim 10:5):
each generation, every person is obligated to see themselves as if they themselves came out of Egypt.”
Why does the Mishnah feel so strongly that each of us, individually, must see and say this to believe these words?
In 2024, on the 100th anniversary of BBYO, lifted by the legacy of a century of teen leadership, we know the answer: If you say it—say out loud that you know what it feels like to be a slave, that you know what it feels like to be other, to be less than, to be kept back and held down—and you also say that you are infinitely powerful and capable, that you are deserving of love and dignity—then you might also believe it. Once you believe it, deep down, you can do it.
That’s the story of Jewish leadership: we know we have work to do to make the world a better place, and we also know that we already have everything we need to do that work. We are infinitely capable of building a magnificent future where all people are free.
A blessing for this 100th year (and for every year after): May each of us believe that the world is ours in its entirety and may each of us remember that we have everything we need to care for it and all its
inhabitants. Remind us, every day and in every generation, that we deserve to be partners in creation, as we built a better future for those who come next.
RABBI EMILY HYATT, Class of 2003, Rocky Mountain Region, 59th International N’siah, Associate Rabbi at Temple Emanuel in Denver, Colorado
Therefore it is our duty to thank, praise, pay tribute, glorify, exalt, honor, bless, and acclaim the One Who performed for our ancestors and for us all these miracles: Who took us out of slavery into freedom, out of grief into joy, out of mourning into a festival, out of darkness into a great light, out of servitude into redemption. And we will recite before [God] a new song; praise God.
Place the cups back down, but do not drink.
We’ve sung some questions, tipped some plagues onto our plates, eaten symbolic foods, and, in some families, whacked each other with spring onions. Some of us have read each word faithfully, others have used the Haggadah as a springboard for deep discussions, and some of us have done both.
It can be tempting to feel like the “exciting” bits are over—soon comes the food and then we might just recline on our left side… right off our chairs and into a food coma! But this paragraph of “L’fichach” invites us to stay in the moment.
"L’fichach" opens with nine different types of gratitude. Nine ways to express how we feel about the way this story affects us today, surrounded by the people at our table tonight, all because we were saved from slavery in Egypt long ago. Do we want to give simple thanks, or take it further and offer praise or exalting? We might add
more intention to our thanking and praising and offer our blessings. What if we open ourselves up to a bigger idea—what if we start with simple thanks and travel through all nine steps to deepen our gratitude until we end this section ready to “bless, raise high, and acclaim He who made all these miracles for our ancestors and for us”?
"L’fichach" is a powerful invitation to close the Maggid section while keeping the stories we’ve told together this evening in our hearts and minds, so that we can embark on the second half of the Seder with gratitude and appreciation for the communities we are part of today, where we are free to be fully ourselves.
Just as "L’fichach" opens our hearts to every type of gratitude, BBYO opens its arms to every kind of Jewish teen, for which we can be all nine types of grateful as we celebrate our Seders tonight.
AVISHAG OHAYON, BBYO Finland Interim Regional Director
Halleluyah hal’lu avdei Adonai hal’lu et sheim Adonai. Y’hi sheim Adonai m’vorach mei’atah v’ad olam. Mimizrach shemesh ad m’vo’o m’hulal sheim Adonai. Ram al kol goyim Adonai al hashamayim k’vodo. Mi ka’Adonai Eloheinu hamagbihi lashavet hamashpili lirot bashamayim uva’aretz. M’kimi mei’afar dal mei’ashpot yarim evyon l’hoshivi im n’divim im n’divei amo. Moshivi akeret habayit eim habanim smeichah halleluyah.
Praise God! Praise, you servants of God, praise the name of God. Blessed be the name of God from this time forth and forever. From the rising of the sun to its setting, God’s name is to be praised. High above all nations is God; above the heavens is God’s glory. Who is like Adonai, our God, Who though enthroned on high, looks down upon heaven and earth. Who raises the poor out of the dust and lifts the needy out of the trash heap to seat them with nobles, with the nobles of God’s people. Who turns the barren wife into a happy mother of children; praise God.
In Israel’s going out from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people with a strange tongue; Judah became [God’s] holy one, Israel, [God’s] dominion. The sea looked and fled, the Jordan turned to the rear. The mountains danced like rams, the hills like young sheep. What is happening that you turn back, O sea, Jordan, why do you reverse your course? Mountains, why do you dance like rams, O hills like young sheep? Before your creator, tremble O earth, before the God of Jacob, Who turns the boulder into a pond of water, the flint into a spring of water.
At family Seder growing up, my uncle quizzed us annually. He asked the Epstein children not only how Seder night is different from all other nights but also how Seder Hallel is different from all other Hallels. The discussion of Hallel became our own Mah Nishtanah of sorts.
On all other Hallels, we sing in the morning. But this Hallel, we sing at night. On all other Hallels, we preface with the same introductory blessing. But this Hallel, we preface with a different introduction. On all other Hallels, we stand; but this one, we sit. And on all other Hallels, we say the prayer in one stretch. At the Seder, we split Hallel into two stretches.
The differences were fun to memorize. But they’re far from the end of this story. As we consider Hallel this year—in the spirit of the Seder night—let’s ask four more questions: Why do we say Hallel in the first place? What does the Haggadah’s special introduction mean? Is mixing up tradition a good thing? And why does any of this matter?
Hallel combines the stretch of Psalms 113–118 to form a prayer of joy and thanksgiving that Jews have used to celebrate miracles for years. We typically introduce it by blessing God Who, “commanded us to recite Hallel” But on Passover, we instead say: “Therefore we are obligated to thank, praise, laud, glorify, exalt, lavish, bless, raise high, and acclaim He Who made all these miracles…” The message is the same. Why do we need to keep elaborating? The answer, I believe, is the same reason why we shift so many elements of Hallel at the Seder.
At its core, Hallel is about gratitude. It’s a lifeline for our Judaism, and like BBYO, it’s full of tradition. We celebrate a heritage that has survived across time periods, places, and methods of ritual practice. But BBYO also reminds us that there’s more than one way to embrace our Judaism. There’s more than one way to forge our relationship with God, to remember important Jewish historical moments, and to consecrate these moments for generations.
Just as we shift our Hallel at the Seder, in BBYO we create a new tune for Havdalah or new song lyrics for a generations-old Movement song. We pass down the clothes and binders that built our chapters
and regions, then we add our own flair to the cycle. We make BBYO our own.
So, too, on Passover, the Haggadah gives us nine versions of praise to remind us of the infinite ways we can unlock our Judaism. What’s important isn’t whether we extol or we praise, it’s that we choose to do any of them at all.
Go back one paragraph before our list of praises and you’ll read: “In each and every generation, a person is obligated to see themself as if they left Egypt.” In each and every generation, Judaism is a gift we share with our community and a gift we must make uniquely ours. We build around the same core values but think critically to discover how tradition speaks to us, and how we’ll access its immense potential for meaning and fulfillment.
May God bless each of this year to find our own connection—to Hallel, to the Seder, to BBYO, and to our Judaism.
JORI EPSTEIN, Class of 2012, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former chapter S’ganit, author of The Upstander, Senior NFL reporter for Yahoo Sports
The Second Cup
Lift the cup and recite:
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam asher g’alanu v’ga’al et avoteinu miMitzrayim v’higianu halaylah hazeh le’echol bo matzah umaror. Kein Adonai Eloheinu v’Eilohei avoteinu yagi’einu l’mo’adim v’lirgalim acheirim haba’im likrateinu l’shalom smeichim b’vinyan irecha v’sasim ba’avodatecha. V’nochal sham min hazvachim umin hapsachim (b’Motzei Shabbat: min hapsachim umin hazvachim) asher yagia damam al kir mizbachacha l’ratzon v’nodeh l’cha shir chadash al g’ulateinu v’al p’dut nafsheinu. Baruch atah Adonai ga’al Yisrael.
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who has redeemed us and our ancestors from Egypt and enabled us to reach this night that we may eat matzah and maror. Our God and God of our ancestors, enable us to reach also the forthcoming holidays and festivals in peace, rejoicing in the rebuilding of Your city and joyful at Your service.
There we will eat of the offerings and Passover offerings (on Saturday night substitute: of the Passover offerings and of the offerings) whose blood will be placed on the wall of Your altar favorably. We will sing a new song of praise to You for our redemption and for the deliverance of our souls. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who has redeemed Israel.
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu
melech ha’olam borei p’ri hagafen.
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the second cup while reclining to the left.
WASHING THE HANDS | RACHTZAH |
Wash hands ritually (typically with a cup) and recite the blessing for washing the hands:
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who has sanctified us with commandments and commanded us to eat matzah.
All should eat matzah while reclining to the left.
Pesach is a wonderful example of hiddur mitzvah—the beautification of mitzvot. This principle commands us to recognize the beauty of holiness and to put effort into the outer and inner aesthetics of Jewish tradition. Whether it is the melodies and songs we sing, the creative illustrations of the Haggadah, or the Seder table. Generations come together and take the time to not only learn about the story of Pesach but to experience it through different senses.
This raises the question, why do we wait so far into the Seder to eat the matzah? The Talmud responds: so that we will eat matzah with a good appetite (Pesachim 99b). It is to raise our anticipation and excitement for the enjoyment of our Jewish traditions. And in the same manner, we take the time to create wonderful experiences in our communities and youth movements. Let us take hiddur mitzvah as an inspiration to build beautiful and long-lasting memories with each other, whether it be on Pesach or any other time we come together as a community to practice our Jewish faith.
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who has sanctified us with commandments and commanded us to eat the bitter herbs.
Dip the maror in the charoset (but not so much as to cover the taste of the bitterness) and eat without reclining to the left.
As we tell the story of the Exodus on Seder night, it always reminds us that any of us can be in a situation when we are forced to leave our homes very unexpectedly. Before October 7, the very idea that Jews in Israel would be displaced and forced out of their homes in their own homeland was so foreign, it was something that one thought could only happen in the Diaspora; yet October 7 shattered that notion. For perhaps the first time since Israel has come into existence, many thousands of Jews in Israel will have no other choice but to celebrate this Seder night in temporary homes while mourning their relatives and friends. This year at our Seder we will eat a double portion from the bitter herbs. We will remember not only the suffering
in Egypt but the suffering that our Jewish brethren are experiencing in Israel as well. We will not just tell over the stories from Egypt, but we will also tell one of the family stories from October 7.
—LINDA VERŐ BÁN, BBYO Hungary Director
For additional commentary, see page 127.
MAKING THE SANDWICH | KORECH | ךְֵרִוֹכָּ
Assemble a sandwich of maror between two pieces of matzah; before eating, recite:
Zeicher l’Mikdash k’Hileil. Kein asah Hileil bizman sheBeit Hamikdash hayah kayyam. Hayah korech pesach matzah umaror v’ocheil b’yachad l’kayyeim mah shene’emar: Al matzot um’rorim yochluhu.
In memory of the Temple, like Hillel. This is what Hillel would do during the time that the Temple stood. He would make a sandwich of the Paschal offering, matzah, and maror, and eat them together, in order to observe [what is in the Torah] as it says: “Eat it on matzah and bitter herbs” (Exodus 12:8).
After we recount the story of our Exodus, we first consume the matzah, the food of our redemption symbolizing the haste with which we were liberated from Egypt. We then eat the maror, the bitter herbs, symbolizing our bitter existence in Egypt during the cruel and painful slavery. However, we don’t suffice with consuming these items individually; we then proceed to make a sandwich of the two items, the korech. There is nothing new added to this sandwich, it is simply a repeat of the matzah and maror combined into one messy sandwich. If we just ate these two items individually, why must we then consume them again as one? How does this add to our understanding of the story of the Exodus? How does this add to our Seder experience?
The Haggadah scripts for us the words we say prior to enjoying our sandwich: “In memory of the Temple according to Hillel. This is what Hillel would do when the Temple existed: He would wrap the matzah and maror and eat them together…” I am sure Hillel had many unique customs for his family Seder; why are we particularly interested in replicating this one?
The Talmud in tractate Pesachim relates a dispute between Hillel and the rabbis regarding the consumption of the matzah and maror. While Hillel maintained that the two could be eaten together as a sandwich, the rabbis disagreed and maintained that if the two were eaten together, the two foods, the two mitzvot, would in effect cancel each other out and no mitzvah would be fulfilled. Hillel, who advocated for the two foods to be eaten together, maintained that the two foods would not cancel each other out.
Perhaps, this custom of Hillel more than any other custom of Hillel needs to be remembered on this Seder evening. Patient, gentle Hillel, the man who loved and respected all, gives us the secret to his greatness: tolerance. Matzah and maror, the two opposite food items—one symbolizing freedom and one symbolizing slavery—can still coexist in one sandwich without one nullifying the other. Similarly, people who are diametrically opposed to one another, whether in political perspective, religious beliefs, or even in personality traits, do not have to cancel each other; instead, they can learn from and with each other in a beautiful, pluralistic coexistence.
This sandwich is in memory of the Temple because that is the place where Jews from all different walks of life came united in one mission, the service of God. There is no place on earth that screams coexistence, pluralism, and tolerance more than the Temple. This sandwich reminds us that while tonight we celebrate our Exodus, that was only the beginning of our search for national identity. However, not until the Temple was completed centuries later was the search complete. It was then when we transcended our differences and united around shared values and goals that we finally became one nation and one people.
For additional commentary, see page 127.
EATING THE FESTIVE MEAL SHULCHAN ORECH |
Now is time to enjoy the festival meal and participate in lively discussion. Some have the tradition of beginning the meal with a hard-boiled egg, also dipped in salt water, and eaten with no blessing.
Shuljan Orej doesn’t require many words. At least that was what the rabbi who wrote my Pesach Haggadah thought. It usually only says that we are supposed to eat while talking with our loved ones. We eat dinner so often, it seems it requires no explanation. There are two a year and then, the Pesach table is missed for a whole year. The holiday only coming annually means that Pesach in reality starts way
RABBI MEIR TANNENBAUM, BBYO Director of Jewish Enrichment
before we can take a bite; it starts when we remember we have to clean our house, when we start cooking, when we make plans with family. Many times left in the dark, that process is equally important to the Seder dinner itself—it’s the foundation that allows us to practice our sacred traditions. I invite you this year, as you are savoring whatever delicious food you are eating, to take a moment and take in the moment, take in what it took for you to be where you are now.
GAL RUBEL, Class of 2025, BBYO Argentina, former chapter Sh’licha, current chapter Aym Ha’Chaverot
EATING THE AFIKOMAN | TZAFUN |
After the meal it is time to eat the afikoman while reclining to the left. It is traditional to refrain from eating or drinking anything (except the remaining two cups) after eating the afikoman.
Towards the end of the Seder, the children hunt for the afikoman which was hidden away at some point during the meal. Unlike the rest of the Seder, we don’t explain the significance. Is the afikoman just a game to entertain the kiddos or is there a deeper meaning? The afikoman is a piece of broken matzah, removed from the table, swaddled in a protective case, kept hidden away, only to triumphantly return at the end of the Seder to signal our redemption and guide us towards "next year in Jerusalem." What could it symbolize? Perhaps it could remind us of little Moshe, separated from his family, swaddled in his basket, hidden in the reeds, raised in the palace, only to return triumphantly to lead the Israelites to salvation.
In searching for the afikoman, we embody Pharaoh’s daughter, looking beyond her own needs and her status as royalty and noticing another human in need. She sees something out of place and takes action. In doing so, she not only saves the life of a child but also sets in motion the salvation of an entire nation. As Moshe grows, he inherits this characteristic. He leaves the table of royalty and ventures out to see the broken pieces of the world around him. When God calls to him, it’s not in words but a sign: a bush which burns without being consumed. In order to notice this miracle, he would have to pause and pay attention to the fire. Like his adoptive mother, he turns aside from his own needs and notices something out of the ordinary. This Passover, let the afikoman remind us to get up from the table and look around, to find the broken things in the world and reunite the pieces, and in doing so, to bring us all one step closer to salvation at the end of the Seder.
ARI SLOMKA, Class of 2020, Greater Atlanta Region, former regional Shaliach, student at JTS
For additional commentary, see page 128.
BLESSING AFTER MEALS | BARECH | ךְֵרִבֵּ
Pour the third cup.
Shir hama’alot: B’shuv Adonai et shivat Tzion hayyinu k’cholmim. Az yimalei s’chok pinu ul’shoneinu rina az yomru vagoyim higdil Adonai la’asot im eileh. Higdil Adonai la’asot imanu hayyinu s’meichim. Shuvah Adonai et sh’viteinu ka’afikim banegev. Hazorim b’dimah b’rinah yiktzoru. Haloch yeileich uvachoh nosei meshech hazara bo yavo v’rinah nosei alumotav.
A song of ascents: When God restored the exiles to Zion it seemed like a dream. Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with joyful song. Then they said among the nations, “God has done great things for them.” Yes, God is doing great things for us, and we are joyful. Restore our fortunes, God, as streams revive the desert. Then those who have sown in tears will reap in joy. Those who go forth weeping, carrying bags of seeds, will come home with shouts of joy, bearing their sheaves.
Some recite:
T’hilat Adonai y’daber pi vivareich kol basar shem kod’sho l’olam va’ed. Va’anachnu n’varech Yah mei’atah v’ad olam halleluya. Hodu l’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo. Mi y’maleil g’vurot Adonai yashmi’a kol t’hilato.
My mouth will speak the praise of God, and all creatures will bless the Holy Name forever and ever. And we will bless God now and forever more; praise God. Give thanks to God, for [God] is good, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Who can express the great acts of God or make all of [God’s] praises be heard.
(Include the words in parentheses when there is a minyan present.)
Blessed be (our God) Whose food we have eaten and by Whose good we live.
All together:
Baruch hu u’varuch sh’mo.
Blessed be [God] and blessed be [God’s] name.
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam hazan et ha’olam kulo b’tuvo b’chein b’chesed uv’rachamim hu notein lechem
l’chol basar ki l’olam chasdo uvtuvo hagadol tamid lo chasar lanu v’al yechsar lanu mazon l’olam va’ed. Ba’avur sh’mo hagadol ki hu Eil zan um’farneis lakol umeitiv lakol umeichin mazon l’chol b’riyotav asher bara. Baruch atah Adonai hazan et hakol.
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who nourishes the whole world. Your kindness endures forever. May we never be in want of sustenance. God sustains us all, doing good to all, and providing food for all creation. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who sustains all.
We thank You, Adonai, our God, for having given a beautiful, good, and spacious land; for having taken us out from the land of Egypt and redeemed us from the house of slavery; for Your covenant which You sealed in our flesh; for Your Torah which You taught us; for the life, grace, and kindness You have granted us; and for the food with which You always sustain us.
V’al hakol Adonai Eloheinu anachnu modim lach um’varchim otach yitbarach shimcha b’fi kol chai tamid l’olam va’ed. Kakatuv v’achalta v’savata uveirachta et Adonai Elohecha al ha’aretz hatovah asher natan lach. Baruch atah Adonai al ha’aretz v’al hamazon.
For everything, Adonai, our God, we thank and praise You. May your name be blessed by all forever, as it is written: “After you have eaten and are satisfied, you will bless Adonai our God for the good land [God] has given you.” Blessed are You, Adonai, for the land and the food.
Racheim na Adonai Eloheinu al Yisrael amecha v’al Yerushalayim irecha v’al Tzion mishkan k’vodecha v’al malchut beit
Adonai Eloheinu m’heirah mikol tzaroteinu. V’na al tatzricheinu
Adonai Eloheinu lo lidei matnat basar vadam v’lo lidei halva’atam ki im l’yadcha ham’lei’ah hap’tuchah hak’doshah v’harchavah shelo neivosh v’lo nikaleim l’olam va’ed.
Have mercy, Adonai, our God, on Israel Your people, on Jerusalem Your city, on Zion the abode of Your glory, on the kingdom of the house of David Your anointed one, and on the great and holy Temple that bears Your name. Our God, our parent, tend and feed us; sustain and support us and relieve us. Speedily, Adonai, our God, grant us relief from all our troubles. Our God, make us not rely on the gifts and loans of humankind but rather on Your full, open, and generous hand, that we may never be put to shame and disgrace.
(When Seder falls on Shabbat, include the following section:)
(R’tzeih v’hachalitzeinu Adonai Eloheinu b’mitzvotecha uv’mitvat yom hashvi’i haShabbat hagadol v’hakadosh hazeh. Ki yom zeh gadol v’kadosh hu l’fanecha lishbat bo v’lanuach bo b’ahavah k’miztvat r’tzonecha. U’virtzoncha hani’ach lanu Adonai Eloheinu shelo t’hei tzarah v’yagon va’anachah b’yom m’nuchateinu. V’hareinu Adonai Eloheinu b’nechamat Tzion irecha uv’vinyan Yerushalayim ir kodshecha ki atah hu ba’al hay’shuot uva’al hanechamot.)
(Favor us and strengthen us, Adonai, our God, with Your commandments, with the commandment concerning the seventh day, this great and holy Sabbath. This day is great and holy before You to abstain from work and rest on it in love according to Your will. In Your will, Adonai our God, grant us rest so that there be no sorrow and grief on our day of rest. Let us, Adonai, our God, live to see Zion your city comforted, Jerusalem your holy city rebuilt, for You are leader of all salvation and consolation.)
Eloheinu vEilohei avoteinu ya’aleh v’yavo v’yagia v’yeira’eh v’yeiratzeh v’yishama v’yipakeid v’yizacheir zichroneinu ufikdoneinu v’zichron avoteinu v’zichron mashiach ben David avdecha v’zichron Yerushalayim ir kadshecha v’zichron kol amcha beit Yisrael l’fanecha lifleitah l’tovah l’chein ul’chesed ul’rachamim l’chayyim ul’shalom b’yom chag hamatzot haze. Zachreinu Adonai Eloheinu bo l’tovah ufokdeinu vo livrachah v’hoshieinu vo l’chayyim. Uvid’var y’shuah v’rachamim chus v’chaneinu v’racheim aleinu v’hoshieinu ki eilecha eineinu ki Eil melech chanun v’rachum atah.
Our God and God of our ancestors, may the remembrance of us, of our ancestors, of the anointed son of David Your servant, of Jerusalem Your holy city, and of all Your people the house of Israel, ascend, come, appear, be heard, and be accepted before You for deliverance and good, for grace, kindness and mercy, for life and peace, on this day of the Festival of Matzot. Remember us this day, Adonai, our God, for goodness; consider us for blessing; save us for life. With a word of salvation and mercy spare us and favor us; have pity on us and save us, for we look to You, for You are a gracious and merciful God and ruler.
Rebuild Jerusalem the holy city speedily in our days. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who will rebuild Jerusalem in mercy. Amen.
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam ha’Eil avinu malkeinu adireinu boreinu go’aleinu yotzreinu k’dosheinu k’dosh Ya’akov ro’einu ro’eih Yisrael hamelech hatov v’hameitiv lakol sheb’chol yom vayom hu heitiv hu meitiv hu yeiytiv lanu. Hu g’malanu hu gomleinu hu yigm’leinu la’ad l’chein ul’chesed ul’rachamim ul’revach hatzalah v’hatzlacha brachah vi’shuah nechamah parnasah v’chalkalah v’rachamim v’chayyim v’shalom v’chol tov u’mikol tuv l’olam al y’chasreinu.
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe. God, You are our parent, our ruler and sovereign, our creator, our redeemer, our maker, the holy one of Jacob, the shepherd of Israel, the good ruler Who does good to all and has done good, is doing good, and will do good. You bestow favors on us constantly. You lavish on us kindness and mercy, relief and deliverance, success, blessing, salvation, comfort, sustenance, support, mercy, life and peace, and all goodness. May You never deprive us of any good thing.
Harachaman hu yimloch aleinu l’olam va’ed. Harachaman hu yitbarach bashamayim u’va’aretz. Harachaman hu yishtabach l’dor dorim v’yitpa’ar banu la’ad ul’neitzach n’tzachim v’yithadar banu la’ad ul’olmei olamim. Harachaman hu y’farn’seinu b’chavod. Harachaman hu yishbor uleinu mei’al tzavareinu v’hu yolicheinu kom’miyut l’artzeinu. Harachaman hu yishlach lanu b’rachah m’rubah babayit hazeh v’al shulchan zeh she’achalnu alav. Harachaman hu yishlach lanu et Eliyahu hanavi zachur latov vivaser lanu b’sorot tovot y’shuot v’nechamot.
May the Merciful One reign over us forever and ever. May the Merciful One be blessed in heaven and on earth. May the Merciful One be praised for all generations; may [God] be glorified in us forever and ever; may [God] be honored in us to all eternity. May the Merciful One grant us an honorable livelihood. May the Merciful One break the yoke from our neck; may [God] lead us upstanding into our land. May the Merciful One send ample blessing into this house and upon this table at which we have eaten. May the Merciful One send us Elijah the prophet of blessed memory who will bring us good tidings of consolation and comfort.
Harachaman hu y’vareich et
May the Merciful One bless
For one’s parents:
Avi mori (ba’al habayit hazeh) v’et imi morati (ba’alat habayit hazeh) otam v’et beitam v’et zaram v’et kol asher lahem
My father and teacher (the head of this house) and my mother and teacher (the head of this house), them, and their household, and their children, and everything that is theirs
For one’s family:
Oti (v’et ishti/ba’ali/zari) v’et kol asher li
Me (and my wife/my husband/my children) and all that is mine
Our (host and/or hostess), them, and their household, (and their children,) and everything that is theirs
For all others:
V’et kol ham’subim kan
And all who are seated here
Otanu v’et kol asher lanu k’mo shenitbarchu avoteinu Avraham Yitzchak v’Ya’akov bakol mikol kol kein y’vareich otanu kulanu yachad bivrachah sh’leimah v’nomar amein.
Us all together and all our possessions just as [God] blessed our forefathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with every blessing. May [God] bless us all together with a perfect blessing, and let us say, amen.
May heaven find merit in us that we may enjoy a lasting peace. May we receive blessings from God, justice from the God of our salvation, and may we find favor and good sense in the eyes of God and people.
(May the Merciful One cause us to inherit the day which will be all Sabbath and rest in the eternal life.)
Harachaman hu yanchileinu yom shekulo tov.
May the Merciful One cause us to inherit the day of total goodness.
Harachaman hu y’zakeinu limot Hamashiach ul’chayyei ha’olam haba.
May the Merciful One enable us to live in the days of the Messiah and in the world to come.
Migdol y’shuot malko v’oseh chesed limshicho l’David ul’zaro ad olam. Oseh shalom bimromav hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yisrael v’imru amein.
God is our tower of salvation, showing kindness to [God’s] anointed, to David and his descendents forever. May [God] Who creates peace in heavenly heights, grant peace for us, all Israel, and and all humanity, and let us say, amen.
Y’ru et Adonai k’doshav ki ein machsor lirei’av. K’firim rashu v’ra’eivu v’dorshei Adonai lo yachs’ru chol tov. Hodu l’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo. Potei’ach et yadecha umasbia l’chol chai ratzon. Baruch hagever asher yivtach ba’Adonai v’hayah Adonai mivtacho. Na’ar hayyiti gam zakanti v’lo ra’iti tzadik ne’ezav v’zaro m’vakesh lachem. Adonai oz l’amo yitein Adonai y’vareich et amo vashalom.
Revere God, you [God’s] holy ones for those who revere suffer no want. Lions may be famishing and starving, but those who seek God will not lack any good thing. Give thanks to God, for [God] is good; [God’s]
kindness endures forever. You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. Blessed is the person who trusts in God, and whose trust is in God. I have been young and now I am old, but never have I seen the righteous man forsaken, nor his children wanting bread. God will give strength to [God’s] people; God will bless [God’s] people with peace.
The Ramban states that blessing God for the food that He has given is not a particularly difficult mitzvah to fulfill, especially if we remember the lean and hungry years that we might have experienced in the past. We as Jews have an obligation to remember our history, whether that is recent or 3,000 years in the past. Remembering and recognizing where we have come from and what we are doing is vital to our existence as modern Jews. We remember not only through our prayers and our songs, but also through our food and culture. Sometimes it is matzah ball soup and sometimes it is the holiday brisket, but there is something special to our Judaism that science cannot really explain. Perhaps, it is a collective memory. We remember those moments when we stood at Mount Sinai and received the Torah. We remember when we marched out of Egypt with just what we were wearing and the bread that did not have time to rise. So as we are surrounded by friends and family and having our festive meal today, it is particularly important that we also remember those moments when we had nothing. So, we conclude our meal by thanking God for bringing us here today and putting food on the table; we also always remember that even though we are no longer slaves in Egypt with nothing to eat, there are still so many who are hungry.
JUDAH MOSKOVITZ, Class of 2024, BBYO Vancouver, 35th Grand Aleph Shaliach
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, Who creates the fruit of the vine.
Drink the third cup while reclining to the left.
Opening the Door for Elijah
There is traditionally a Cup of Elijah on the table—some fill this cup as part of the set up before the beginning of the Seder, others will fill it now. Once the cup is filled, open the door and recite:
Shfoch chamatcha el hagoyim asher lo y’da’ucha v’al mamlachot asher b’shimcha lo kara’u. Ki achal et Ya’akov v’et naveihu heishamu. Shfoch aleihem zamecha vacharon ap’cha yasigeim. Tirdof b’af v’tashmideim mitachat shmei
Adonai.
Pour out Your fury on the nations that do not know You, upon the kingdoms that do not invoke Your name, they have devoured Jacob and desolated his home. Pour out Your wrath on them; may Your blazing anger overtake them. Pursue them in wrath and destroy them from under the heavens of God.
Shut the door.
We open the door for Elijah and read these words each year, but they sound very disturbing. By any moral standard, it seems terrible to wish for the death of others, especially based on their religion. However, it is important to contextualize what is occurring here. This phrase was added to the Haggadah during the Crusades because Crusades often occurred around Passover/Easter. This was a phrase wishing for the destruction of those who were instigating violence against Jewish communities and brutally abusing and murdering them. But even with that, it appears here that anger is being expressed in a very direct way. And, according to traditional Jewish thought, anger is strongly condemned.
Maimonides believes that for all emotions there is the right middle balance between too much and too little: you can not be super sad but the right amount of sadness is important; this is the same with happiness, jealousy, etc., but not anger. Anger is the one emotion where even the smallest dose is only harmful.
And while this text seems to embolden anger, maybe it has a different role. We read that, “The life of those who can’t control their anger is not a life” (Pesachim 113b). Basically, this is saying that anger is terrible but especially when it is not controlled. At this time, it was totally unreasonable to expect Jewish communities to not have even a drop of anger! They were living in constant fear of being murdered and destroyed—of course they were filled with rage. But these communities could not act or live in a state of anger, as we have seen that means that they have no life. So what did they do? They controlled their anger and added it to the Haggadah. Instead of living angry lives and harming each other (or non-Jewish communities), they channeled their anger.
According to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, “The best way of defeating anger is to pause, stop, reflect, refrain, count to ten, and breathe deeply. If necessary, leave the room, go for a walk, meditate, or vent your toxic feelings alone.” But victims of the Crusades did not have this
information, so they used the Haggadah as their journal. Instead of being mad, they are asking Hashem to be mad for them.
Today, we are once again filled with anger. This time, not by the Crusades, but by terrorists who invaded Israel and murdered, kidnapped, and raped our family and friends in Israel. It is impossible to have no anger. But, as we learn from Maimonides, it is important to channel that anger and not act upon it. We can channel it by writing down our feelings, taking helpful action, and leaving it up to Hashem to take care of our anger. These words are not a request; they instead represent the feelings and the emotional processing of Jews throughout history when we have had to combat endless hate and did not always have access to ways to process it.
JULIA LEVIN, Class of 2025, Northern Region East: Baltimore Council, former chapter Sh’licha
For additional commentary, see page 128.
RECITING PRAISES | HALLEL | לֵלֵַּה
Pour the fourth cup.
Lo lanu Adonai lo lanu ki l’shimcha tein kavod al chasd’cha al amitecha. Lamah yomru hagoyim ayeih na Eloheihem. V’Eiloheinu bashamayim kol asher chafeitz asah. Atzabeihem kesef v’zahav ma’aseih y’dei adam. Peh lahem v’lo y’dabeiru. Einayim lahem v’lo yiru. Oznayim lahem v’lo yishma’u. Af lahem v’lo y’richun. Y’deihem v’lo y’mishun. Ragleihem v’lo y’haleichu. Lo yehgu bigronam. K’mohem yihyu oseihem kol asher botei’ach bahem. Yisrael b’tach b’Adonai ezram umaginam hu. Beit Aharon bitchu ba’Adonai ezram umaginam hu. Yirei Adonai bitchu ba’Adonai ezram umaginam hu.
Not for us, God, not for us, but for Your name bring glory, for the sake of Your kindness and Your faithfulness. Why should the nations say, “Where is their God?” Our God is in the heavens; all that is willed is accomplished. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak; they have eyes, but they cannot see; they have ears, but they cannot hear; they have a nose, but they cannot smell; they have hands, but they cannot feel; they have feet, but they cannot walk; they can utter no sound with their throats. Those who fashion them,
whoever trusts them, will become like them. Israel, trust in God; [God] is your help and shield. House of Aaron, trust in God; [God] is your help and shield. Those that fear God, trust in God; [God] is your help and shield.
Adonai z’charanu y’vareich. Y’vareich et beit Yisrael y’vareich et beit Aharon. Y’vareich yirei
Adonai hak’tanim im hag’dolim. Yoseif Adonai aleichem aleichem v’al b’neichem. B’ruchim atem la’Adonai oseih shamayim va’aretz. Hashamayim shamayim l’Adonai v’ha’aretz natan livnei adam. Lo hameitim y’hal’luyah v’lo kol yordei dumah. Va’anachnu n’vareich Yah mei’atah v’ad olam halleluyah.
God is mindful of us and will bless us; [God] will bless the house of Israel; [God] will bless the house of Aaron; [God] will bless those who fear God, small and great. May God bring increase to you, you and your children. You are blessed by God, maker of heaven and earth. The heavens are God’s heavens, but earth has been given to humankind. The dead cannot praise God, nor can any who go down into silence. We will bless God now and forever; praise God.
Ahavti ki yishma Adonai et koli tachanunai. Ki hitah ozno li uv’yamai ekra. Afafuni chevlei mavet um’tzarei sh’ol m’tza’uni tzarah v’yagon emtza. Uv’sheim Adonai ekra. Ana Adonai maltah nafshi chanun Adonai v’tzadik vei’Eloheinu m’racheim. Shomeir p’ta’im Adonai daloti v’li y’hoshia. Shuvi nafshi limnuchai’chi ki Adonai gamal alai’chi. Ki chilatzta nafshi mimavet et eini min dimah et ragli midechi. Ethaleich lifnei Adonai b’artzot hachayyim. He’emanti ki adabeir ani aniti m’od. Ani amarti v’chofzi kol ha’adam kozeiv.
I love that God hears my pleas because of an inclined ear to me whenever I call. The bonds of death encompassed me, the torments of the grave have overtaken me; I found trouble and sorrow. Then I called upon the name of God: “O God, save my life!” God is gracious and righteous and our God is merciful. God protects the simple; I was brought low and God saved me. Be at rest, my soul, for God has been good to you. You delivered me from death, my eyes from tears and my feet from stumbling. I will walk before God in the land of the living. I kept faith in God even when I spoke, I suffered so greatly, I said in my haste, “All humankind are false.”
Mah ashiv la’Adonai kol tagmulohi alai. Kos y’shuot esa uv’sheim
Adonai ekra. N’darai la’Adonai ashaleim negdah na l’chol amo. Yakar b’einei Adonai hamavtah lachasidav. Ana Adonai ki ani avdecha ani avd’cha ben amatecha pitachta l’moseirai. L’cha ezbach zevach todah uv’sheim Adonai ekra. N’darai la’Adonai ashaleim negdah na l’chol amo. B’chatzrot beit Adonai b’tocheichi Yerushalayim halleluyah.
How can I repay God for all that has been favored to me? I raise the cup of deliverance and call upon the name of God. My vows to God I pay in the presence of all [God’s] people. Grievous in God’s sight is the death of [God’s] faithful followers. O God, I am your servant, your servant, the child of your maidservent; You have undone what bounds me. I sacrifice a thanksgiving offering to You, and call upon the name of God. I pay vows to God in the presence of all [God’s] people, in the courtyards of God’s house, in the midst of Jerusalem; praise God.
Hal’lu et Adonai kol goyim shab’chuhu kol ha’umim. Ki gavar aleinu chasdo ve’emet Adonai l’olam halleluyah.
Praise God, all you nations; praise [God], all you peoples, for [God’s] kindness to us is overpowering, and the truth of God is everlasting; praise God.
Hodu la’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo.
Yomar na Yisrael ki l’olam chasdo.
Yomru na veit Aharon ki l’olam chasdo.
Yomru na yirei Adonai ki l’olam chasdo.
Give thanks to God, for [God] is good, [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Let Israel declare, [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Let the house of Aaron declare, [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Let those who fear God say, [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Min hameitzar karati Yah anani vamerchav Yah. Adonai li lo ira mah ya’aseh li adam? Adonai li b’ozrai va’ani ereh v’sonai. Tov lachasot ba’Adonai mibtoach ba’adam. Tov lachasot ba’Adonai
mibtoach bindivim. Kol goyim s’vavuni b’sheim Adonai ki amilam. Sabuni gam s’vavuni b’sheim Adonai ki amilam. Sabuni chidvorim do’achu k’eish kotzim b’sheim Adonai ki amilam. Dachoh d’chitani linpol va’Adonai azarani. Ozi v’zimrat Yah vay’hi li lishuah. Kol rinah vishuah b’aholei tzadikim y’min Adonai osah chayil. Y’min Adonai romeimah y’min Adonai osah chayil. Lo amut ki echyeh va’asapeir ma’asei Yah. Yasor yisrani Yah v’lamavet lo n’tanani. Pitchu li sha’arei tzedek avo vam odeh Yah. Zeh hasha’ar la’Adonai tzadikim yavo’u vo.
From the narrow I called to God, God answered me from the wide space. God is with me, I have no fear, what can humankind do to me? God is with me as my helper, I will see the defeat of all my foes. It is better to take refuge in God than to trust in people. It is better to take refuge in God than to trust in nobles. All nations have surrounded me; in the name of God, I have cut them down. They have surrounded me and also encircled me, but in the name of God, I cut them down. They swarmed like bees about me, but they were extinguished like a fire of thorns; but in the name of God, I cut them down. You pushed me and I nearly fell, but God helped me. God is my strength and song; [God] has become my salvation. The voice of rejoicing and salvation in tents of the righteous resound, “The right hand of God is triumphant! The right hand of God is exalted! The right hand of God triumphs!” I will not die, but live to proclaim the works of God. God has severely punished me, but [God] has not handed me over to die. Open the gates of righteousness, that I may enter and praise God. This is the gateway to God, the righteous will enter through it.
Od’cha ki anitani vat’hi li lishuah.
Od’cha ki anitani vat’hi li lishuah.
Even ma’asu habonim haytah l’rosh pinah.
Even ma’asu habonim haytah l’rosh pinah.
Mei’eit Adonai haytah zot hi nifla’ot b’eineinu.
Mei’eit Adonai haytah zot hi nifla’ot b’eineinu.
Zeh hayom asah Adonai nagilah v’nism’chah vo.
Zeh hayom asah Adonai nagilah v’nism’chah vo.
I thank You for You have answered me, and have become my salvation. I thank You for You have answered me, and have become my salvation.
The stone which the builders rejected has become the major cornerstone. The stone which the builders rejected has become the major cornerstone.
This is God’s doing; it is marvelous in our sight. This is God’s doing; it is marvelous in our sight. This is the day which God has made; let us be glad and rejoice on it. This is the day which God has made; let us be glad and rejoice on it.
Eil Adonai vaya’er lanu isru chag ba’avotim ad karnot hamizbei’ach.
Eil Adonai vaya’er lanu isru chag ba’avotim ad karnot hamizbei’ach.
Eili atah v’odeka Elohai arom’meka.
Eili atah v’odeka Elohai arom’meka.
Hodu la’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo.
Hodu la’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo.
Blessed be the one who comes in the name of God; we bless you from the House of God.
Blessed be the one who comes in the name of God; we bless you from the House of God.
God is our God, Who has illuminated us; bind the festival offering with cords, up to the corners of the altar.
God is our God, Who has illuminated us; bind the festival offering with cords, up to the corners of the altar.
You are my God and I thank You, my God, I will exalt You.
You are my God and I thank You, my God, I will exalt You.
Give thanks to God, for [God] is good, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Give thanks to God, for [God] is good, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Y'hal'lucha Adonai Eloheinu kol ma'asecha vachasidecha tzadikim osei r'tzonecha v'chol am'cha beit Yisrael b'rina yodu vivar'chu vishab'chu vifa'aru virom'mu v'ya'aritzu v'yakdishu v'yamlichu et shimcha malkeinu. Ki l'cha tov l'hodot ulshimcha na'eh l'zameir ki meiolam v'ad olam ata Eil.
All Your works will praise You, Adonai our God, and Your devoted ones— the righteous who do Your will, together with all Your people the house
of Israel—will joyously thank, bless, praise, glorify, exalt, revere, sanctify, and proclaim the sovereignty of Your name, our ruler. For it is good to thank You and fitting to sing psalms to Your name, for from eternity to eternity You are God.
Hodu la’Adonai ki tov ki l’olam chasdo. Hodu lEilohei ha’elohim ki l’olam chasdo.
Hodu la’Adonei ha’adonim ki l’olam chasdo.
L’oseih nifla’ot g’dolot l’vado ki l’olam chasdo.
L’oseih hashamayim bitvunah ki l’olam chasdo.
L’roka ha’aretz al hamayim ki l’olam chasdo.
L’oseih orim g’dolim ki l’olam chasdo. Et hashemesh l’memshelet bayom ki l’olam chasdo.
Et hayarei’ach v’kochavim l’memsh’lot balaylah ki l’olam chasdo.
L’makeih Mitzrayim bivchoreihem ki l’olam chasdo.
Vayotzei Yisrael mitocham ki l’olam chasdo.
B’yad chazakah uvizro’a n’tuyah ki l’olam chasdo.
L’gozeir Yam Suf lig’zarim ki l’olam chasdo.
Vehe’evir Yisrael b’tocho ki l’olam chasdo.
Veni’eir Paroh v’cheilo b’Yam Suf ki l’olam chasdo.
L’molich amo bamidbar ki l’olam chasdo.
L’makeih m’lachim g’dolim ki l’olam chasdo.
Vayaharog m’lachim adirim ki l’olam chasdo.
L’Sichon melech ha’Emori ki l’olam chasdo.
U’le’Og melech haBashan ki l’olam chasdo.
V’natan artzam l’nachalah ki l’olam chasdo.
Nachalah l’Yisrael avdo ki l’olam chasdo.
Sheb’shifleinu zachar lanu ki l’olam chasdo.
Vayifr’keinu mitzareinu ki l’olam chasdo.
Notein lechem l’chol basar ki l’olam chasdo.
Hodu l’Eil hashamayim ki l’olam chasdo.
Give thanks to God, for [God] is good, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Give thanks to the God of gods, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Give thanks to the ruler of rulers, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who does great wonders, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who made the heavens with understanding, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who spread the earth above the waters, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who made great lights, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. The sun to reign by day, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. The moon and stars to reign by night, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. To the One Who smote Egypt through their firstborns, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
And took Israel out from among them, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. With a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who split the Red Sea into sections, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
And led Israel through it, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. And threw Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who led [God’s] people through the desert, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
To the One Who smote great kings; for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. And slew mighty kings, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. For Sihon, king of the Amorites, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. And for Og, king of Bashan, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. And gave their land as a heritage, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. A heritage for Israel, [God’s] servant, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Who remembered us in our low state, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. And delivered us from our adversaries, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Who gives food to all creatures, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting. Give thanks to the God of heaven, for [God’s] kindness is everlasting.
Hallel is said on Rosh Chodesh and holidays, but on Passover Hallel looks a little different. Rather than saying all of the verses as a means to praise Hashem, during Passover Hallel is used as a way to tell the story of us leaving Egypt. On Passover, we say an extra Hallel called Hallel HaGadol, which includes many additional verses of praise. Leaving Egypt was a miracle, and on Passover the central focus is how Hashem brought us out of Egypt, which is why Hallel HaGadol being separate is so special. If we say Hallel to recognize the miracles of leaving Egypt, but that is our central focus of the evening, do we suddenly lose a space to praise Hashem? Hallel HaGadol gives us the ability to have both regular Hallel as a means of telling a story, and a space to praise Hashem for all of the miracles in our lives. Hallel HaGadol is a moment we are given to reflect on the miracles in our lives, both big and small. We are given an opportunity to zoom out and look at all of the miracles in our world, from the sun rising in the morning to the stars shining in the evening. Each phrase of Hallel HaGadol concludes with “ki l’olam chasdo,” meaning "His kindness is everlasting." Hashem’s kindness is forever and didn’t end after He took us out of Egypt. We have so much to be thankful for and it is so important to take a moment and be grateful for all of the goodness in our lives and recognize the miracles, both big and small, we witness every day.
KAYLEE ZAVEDUK, Class of 2021, Great Midwest Region, former chapter S’ganit, BBYO Jewish Enrichment Intern and student at University of Maryland
Nishmat kol chai t’vareich et shimcha Adonai Eloheinu v’ruach kol basar t’fa’er u’tromeim zichr’cha malkeinu tamid. Min ha’olam v’ad ha’olam atah Eil u’mibaladecha ein lanu melech go’eil u’moshia podeh u’matzil u’m’farneis u’m’rachem b’chol eit tzarah v’tzukah. Ein lanu melech ela atah. Elohei harishonim v’ha’achronim Elo’ah kol briot Adon kol toldot ham’hulal b’rov hatishbachot hamnaheig olamo b’chesed uv’riyotav b’rachamim. Va’Adonai lo yanum v’lo yiyshan ham’orer y’sheinim v’hameikitz nirdamim v’hameisi’ach ilmim v’hamatir asurim v’hasomeich noflim v’hazokeif k’fufim. L’cha l’vadcha anachnu modim.
The soul of every living being will bless Your name, our God the spirit of all flesh will ever glorify and exalt Your remembrance, our ruler. Throughout eternity You are God. Besides You we have no ruler who redeems and saves, ransoms and rescues, sustains and shows mercy in all times of trouble and distress. We have no ruler but You, God of the first and of the last, God of all creatures, leader of all generations, One acclaimed with a multitude of praises, Who guides the world with kindness and [God’s] creatures with mercy. God neither slumbers nor sleeps; [God] rouses those who sleep and wakens those who slumber; [God] enables the speechless to speak and loosens the bonds of the captives; [God] supports those who are fallen and raises those who are bowed down. To You alone we give thanks.
Ilu finu malei shirah kayam ul’shoneinu rinah kahamon galav v’siftoteinu shevach k’merchavei raki’a v’eineinu m’irot kashemesh v’chayarei’ach v’yadeinu frusot k’nishrei shamayim v’ragleinu kalot ka’ayalot ein anachnu maspikim l’hodot lecha Adonai Eloheinu vEilohei avoteinu u’l’vareich et shimcha al achat mei’elef alfei alafim v’ribei r’vavot p’amim hatovot she’asita im avoteinu v’imanu. MiMitzrayim g’altanu Adonai Eloheinu u’mibeit avadim peditanu b’ra’av zantanu u’v’sava kilkaltanu meicherev hitzaltanu u’midever milat’tanu u’meichalim ra’im v’ne’emanim dilitanu. Ad heina azarunu rachamecha v’lo azavunu chasadecha v’al titsheinu Adonai Eloheinu lanetzach. Al kein
eivarim shepilagta banu v’ruach u’n’shamah shenafachta b’apeinu v’lashon asher samta b’finu hein heim yodu viyvarchu viyshabchu viyfa’aru viyrom’mu v’ya’aritzu v’yakdishu v’yamlichu et shimcha malkeinu. Ki chol peh lecha yodeh v’chol lashon l’cha tishava v’chol berech l’cha tichra v’chol komah l’fanecha tishtachaveh v’chol l’vavot yiyra’ucha v’chol kerev uchlaiyot y’zameiru lishemecha kadavar shekatuv kol atzmotai tomarna: Adonai mi chamocha matzil ani meichazak mimenu v’ani v’evyon migozlo. Mi yidmeh lach u’mi yishveh lach u’mi ya’aroch lach ha’Eil hagadol hagibor v’hanora Eil elyon koneih shamayim v’aretz. N’halelcha u’n’shabeichacha u’n’fa’eircha u’n’vareich et sheim kadshecha ka’amur: l’David barchi nafshi et Adonai v’chol kravai et sheim kadsho.
Were our mouth filled with song as the ocean, and our tongue with joy as the endless waves; were our lips full of praise as the wide heavens, and our eyes shining like the sun or the moon; were our hands spread out in prayer as the eagles of the sky and our feet running as swiftly as the deer—we should still be unable to thank You and bless Your name, Adonai our God and God of our ancestors, for one of the thousands and even myriads of favors which You have bestowed on our ancestors and on us. You have liberated us from Egypt, Adonai, our God, and redeemed us from the house of slavery. You have fed us in famine and sustained us with plenty. You have saved us from the sword, helped us to escape the plague, and spared us from severe and enduring diseases. Until now Your mercy has helped us, and Your kindness has not forsaken us; may You, Adonai, our God, never abandon us. Therefore, the limbs which You have given us, the spirit and soul which You have breathed into our nostrils, and the tongue which You have placed in our mouth, will all thank and bless, praise and glorify, exalt and revere, sanctify and acclaim Your name, our ruler. To You, every mouth will offer thanks; every tongue will vow allegiance; every knee will bend, and all who stand erect will bow. All hearts will revere You, and people’s inner beings will sing to Your name, as it says: “All my bones will say: Adonai, who is like You? You save the poor from one that is stronger, the poor and needy from one who would rob him.” Who may be likened to You? Who is equal to You? Who can be compared to You? Great, mighty, and revered God, supreme God is the leader of heaven and earth. Let us praise, acclaim and glorify You and bless Your holy name, as it is said: “A Psalm of David: Bless God, O my soul, and let my whole inner being bless [God’s] holy name.”
God in Your mighty acts of power, great in the honor of Your name, powerful forever and revered for Your awe-inspiring acts, ruler seated upon a high and lofty throne.
Who abides forever, exalted and holy is [God’s] name. And it is written: “Rejoice in God, you righteous; it is pleasant for the upright to give praise.” By the mouth of the upright You will be praised, by the words of the righteous You will be blessed, by the tongue of the pious You will be exalted, and in the midst of the holy You will be sanctified.
U’v’makalot riv’vot amcha beit
Yisrael b’rinah yitpa’eir shimcha malkeinu b’chol dor vador shekein chovat kol hay’tzurim l’fanecha
Adonai Eloheinu vEilohei avoteinu l’hodot l’halel l’shabei’ach l’fa’eir l’romeim l’hadeir l’vareich l’aleih u’l’kaleis al kol divrei shirot v’tishb’chot David ben Yishai avd’cha m’shichecha.
In the assemblies of the multitudes of Your people, the house of Israel, with song will Your name, our ruler, be glorified in every generation. For it is the duty of all creatures to thank, praise, laud, extol, exalt, adore, and bless You; even beyond the songs and praises of David the son of Jesse, Your anointed servant.
melech gadol batishbachot Eil hahoda’ot adon hanifla’ot habocheir b’shirei zimrah melech Eil chei ha’olamim.
Praise be Your name forever, our ruler, Who rules and is great and holy in heaven and on earth; for to You, Adonai, our God and God of our ancestors, it is fitting to render song and praise, hallel and psalms, power and dominion, victory, glory and might, praise and beauty, holiness and sovereignty, blessings and thanks, from now and forever. Blessed are You, Adonai, God, ruler exalted through praises, God of thanksgivings, leader of wonders, Who chooses musical songs of praise ruler, God, lifegiver of the world.
One of my favorite parts of Passover is the singing of Hallel during the Seder. Not because it means the Seder is almost over, but because of the joy that it brings to those of us (still awake) around the table. It is easy to sing praises to God when things go well, and easy to blame God when things go off course, your life derails, and it is harder to see the good interwoven in the darkness. Hallel is a reminder to pause and celebrate—it forces you to remember that you are not alone, that these songs have been sung for thousands of years—and we are connected to the past and the present, never alone, not for a moment.
It is easy to get stuck and bring others down with you. It is easy to feel self-pity and give up. It is harder to look inwards and see the person you want to be, the way you want others to see you, when you feel like you will never emerge from your pain. These songs, sung so joyously, open a part of me that cannot help but smile, rejoice, and appreciate that there is still so much to be grateful for.
Hallel is recited at the end of the Haggadah, after we have read the story of slavery and despair turning into a story of freedom and hope. Within the words of the Haggadah is a lesson in refusing to give up, to move forward, and, at the end, to sing with our full minds and bodies the joy that once again has entered our lives. It is a call to action, to be a better person tomorrow than the one you are today. You believe you can be better, that it is possible, because there is still so much good in the world, you just have to want to find it. There are times when we all feel lost, but Hallel reminds us that healing is possible, one Psalm at a time.
STACEY APTER, BBYO Senior Director of the Executive Office
Blessed are You, Adonai, our God, ruler of the universe, for the vine and the fruit of the vine, and for produce of the field, for the beautiful and spacious land, which You gave to our ancestors as a heritage. Have mercy, Adonai our God, on Israel Your people, on Jerusalem Your city. Rebuild Jerusalem, the holy city, speedily in our days. Bring us there and cheer us with its restoration; may we eat Israel’s produce and enjoy its goodness; we praise You for Jerusalem’s centrality in our lives. (On the Sabbath add: Favor us and strengthen us on this Sabbath day) and grant us happiness on this Feast of Matzot, For You, Adonai are good and beneficent to all, and we thank You for the land and the fruit of the vine.
Blessed are You, Adonai, for the land and the fruit of the vine.
There are various interpretations of why we drink four cups at the Seder. Some say we drink four cups because of Pharaoh’s four evil decrees and others because of the four expressions of redemption promised to the Jewish people, but tonight in this Seder, let these cups and where we drink them throughout the Seder symbolize how we celebrate our Judaism today.
The first cup, the Kiddush, marks the sanctification of the Seder and a time to say that these moments will be special. While time continues
to move, we continue to recognize just how important each moment is. The second cup is where the story of our ancestors is told. As Jews, we are proud to share our stories of celebrating and exploring our Judaism. With the third cup, the meal concludes, and we appreciate our food. And the last cup is consumed after we conclude Hallel, with the focus on the future.
Throughout time, problems have faced the Jewish people and our responses continue to be one of resilience and strength as we deal with what stands in front of us so that we may continue forward. These cups signify that sense of resilience. With the moment met, it is on us to go out into the world and leave our legacy, to make our impact. And after all is said and done, in the future our story will be told again with just a little bit more of you in it. Next year, four more cups will be on the table just like this year.
LOGAN REICH, Class of 2025, Eastern Region: North Carolina Council, former chapter Godol and council Shaliach and Godol, 36th Grand Aleph Shaliach
CONCLUSION | NIRTZAH |
Chasal sidur Pesach k’hilchato k’chol mishpato v’chukato. Ka’asher zachinu l’sadeir oto kein nizkeh la’asoto. Zach shochein m’onah komeim k’hal adat mi manah. B’karov naheil nitei chanah p’duyim l’Tzion b’rinah.
The Passover Seder is concluded as commanded, in accordance with all its rules and statutes. As we were worthy to observe this Seder, so may we be in the future. Pure One Who dwells in the high places, raise up Your people countless in number. May You soon lead all those You planted with strength to sing in Zion joyfully.
L’shanah haba’ah biYerushalayim hab’nuyah!
Next year in the rebuilt Jerusalem!
Every year, we conclude our Seders with a cry of “L’shana haba’ah biYerushalayim”, “Next year in Jerusalem”. Traditionally, this phrase has been a wish for the Jewish people to return to our homeland of Israel and have our next Seders in the holy city of Jerusalem. In a literal sense, being able to celebrate our holidays in our ancestral home is a privilege which we desire for all Jews. However, I believe that it means so much more.
Before the birth of modern Israel, this was a cry for a safe and welcoming home for our people all year round. Our homeland, our holy land, where we could live freely without fear of persecution. And yet today, especially, these words mean more. It’s about peace. When we exclaim, “Next Year in Jerusalem”, we are also saying “next year, let us have peace”. Not just in the Middle East, but across the world. Peace between nations, between peoples. Freedom from conflict—the ongoing war in Israel or hostility between local communities.
“Next year in Jerusalem” is not only about being in Jerusalem physically but how next year, we pray for peace, for the world to be a welcoming place where we can celebrate being Jewish. Being “in Jerusalem” is more than just the location. When we conclude our Seders, we are calling for the world to be like our “Jerusalem”, that wherever we are, we can live together with our neighbours, foster a sense of harmony, and ourselves be a proud Jewish people.
Counting the Omer
On the second night of Passover, we begin to count the Omer.
Vayasar Yisrael l’malach vayuchal lo laylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah. zera b’chorei patros machatzta bachatzi halaylah, cheilam lo matzu b’kumam balaylah, tisat n’gid charoshet silita b’kochvei laylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah. Ya’atz m’chareif l’nofeif ivuy, hovashta f’garav balaylah, kara beil umatzavo b’ishon laylah, l’ish chamudot nigla raz chazot laylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah. Mishtakeir bichlei kodesh neherag bo balaylah, nosha mibor arayot poteir bi’atutei laylah, sina natar agagi v’katav s’farim balaylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah. Orarta nitzchacha alav b’neded shnat laylah, purah tidroch l’shomeir mah milaylah, tzarach kashomeir v’sach ata voker v’gam laylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah. Kareiv yom asher hu lo yom v’lo laylah, ram hoda ki l’cha hayom af l’cha halaylah, shomrim hafkeid l’ircha kol hayom v’chol halaylah, ta’ir k’or yom cheshkat laylah, vay’hi bachatzi halaylah.
And so, it was in the middle of the night.
Then, most of the miracles did You wondrously do at night, at the first of the watches this night.
A righteous convert [Abraham] did You make victorious when it was divided for him at night, and it was in the middle of the night.
You judged the king of Gerar [Abimelech] in a dream of the night; You frightened an Aramean [Laban] in the dark of the night; and Yisrael dominated an angel and was able to withstand Him at night, and it was in the middle of the night.
You crushed the firstborn of Patros [Pharaoh] in the middle of the night, their wealth they did not find when they got up at night; the attack of the leader Charoshet [Sisera] did You sweep away by the stars of the night, and it was in the middle of the night.
The blasphemer [Sennacherib] counseled to wave off the desired ones, You made him wear his corpses on his head at night; Bel and his pedestal were bent in the pitch of night [in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream]; to the man of delight [Daniel] was revealed the secret visions at night, and it was in the middle of the night.
The one who got drunk [Balthazar] from the holy vessels was killed on that night, the one saved from the pit of lions [Daniel] interpreted the scary visions of the night; hatred was preserved by the Agagite [Haman] and he wrote books at night, and it was in the middle of the night.
You aroused Your victory upon him by disturbing the sleep of night [of
Ahasuerus], You will stomp the wine press for the one who guards from anything at night [Esau]; He yelled like a guard and spoke, “the morning has come and also the night,” and it was in the middle of the night. Bring close the day which is not day and not night, High One, make known that Yours is the day and also Yours is the night, guards appoint for Your city all the day and all the night, illuminate like the light of the day, the darkness of the night, and it was in the middle of the night.
And so, “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
The boldness of Your strong deeds did You wondrously show at Passover; at the head of all the holidays did You raise Passover; You revealed to the Ezrachite [Abraham], midnight of the night of Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
Upon his doors did You knock at the heat of the day on Passover; he sustained shining ones with cakes of matzah on Passover; and to the cattle he ran, in commemoration of the bull that was set up for Passover.
“And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
The Sodomites caused Him indignation and He set them on fire on Passover; Lot was rescued from them and matzot did he bake at the end of Passover; He swept the land of Mof and Nof on Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
The head of every firstborn did You crush on the guarded night of Passover; Powerful One, over the firstborn son did You pass over with the blood on Passover; so as to not let the destroyer come into my gates on Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
The enclosed one [Jericho] was enclosed in the season of Passover; Midian was destroyed with a portion of the omer barley on Passover; from the fat of Pul and Lud was burnt in pyres on Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering’”
Still today to stand in Nov, until he cried at the time of Passover; a palm of the hand wrote to rip up the deep one [Balthazar] on Passover; set up the watch, set the table on Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
The congregation did Hadassah [Esther] bring in to triple a fast on Passover; the head of the house of evil [Haman] did you crush on a tree of fifty [cubits] on Passover; these two [plagues] will you bring in an instant to the Utsi [Esau] on Passover; embolden Your hand, raise Your right hand, as on the night You were sanctified on the festival of Passover. “And you will say, ‘it is the Passover offering.’”
To God Praise is Good, To God Praise is Becoming Ki Lo Na’eh, Ki Lo Ya’eh |
Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Adir bimlucha, bachur kahalcha, g’dudav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Dagul bimluchah, hadur kahalachah, vatikav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Zakai bimluchah, chasin kahalachah, taf’srav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah.Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Anav bimluchah, podeh kahalachah, tzadikav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Kadosh bimluchah, rachum kahalachah, shinanav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Takif bimluchah, tomaich kahalachah t’mimav yomru lo: l’cha ul’cha, l’cha ki l’cha, l’cha af l’cha, l’cha Adonai hamamlachah. Ki lo na’eh, ki lo ya’eh.
Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Mighty in sovereignty, rightly select, His minions say to Him:
“Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Exalted in sovereignty, rightly glorious, His faithful ones say to Him:
“Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Blameless in sovereignty, rightly powerful, His generals say to Him:
“Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Singular in sovereignty, rightly strong, His learned ones say to Him: “Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Exalted in sovereignty, rightly awesome, those who surround Him say to Him:
“Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Humble in sovereignty, rightly saving, His righteous ones say to Him: “Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours,
Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Holy in sovereignty, rightly merciful, His multitudes say to Him: “Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Strong in sovereignty, rightly supportive, His perfect ones say to Him: “Yours and Yours, Yours because it is Yours, Yours and only Yours—Yours, Adonai, is sovereignty.” Because it is proper for Him, because it benefits Him.
Mighty is God | Adir Hu
Adir hu, yivneh beito b’karov. Bimheirah, bimheirah, b’yameinu b’karov. Eil b’nei, Eil b’nei, b’nei beitcha b’karov.
He is mighty, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon. God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon!
He is distinguished, He is great, He is exalted, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon. God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon!
He is glorious, He is faithful, He is faultless, He is righteous, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon. God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon!
He is pure, He is unique, He is powerful, He is wise, He is ruler, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon.
God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon! He is awesome, He is sublime, He is all-powerful, He is redeemer, He is all-righteous, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon. God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon! He is holy, He is compassionate, He is almighty, He is omnipotent, May He rebuild His house soon. Speedily, speedily in our days, soon. God, rebuild. God, rebuild. Rebuild Your house soon!
Who Knows One? | Echad Mi Yodei’a? | ?עָדִוֹיִ
Echad mi yodei’a? Echad ani yodei’a. Echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz. Shnayim mi yodei’a? Shnayim ani yodei’a. Shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Shloshah mi yodei’a? Shloshah ani yodei’a. Shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz. Arba mi yodei’a? Arba ani yodei’a. Arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Chamishah mi yodei’a? Chamishah ani yodei’a. Chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Shishah mi yodei’a? Shishah ani yodei’a. Shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz. Shivah mi yodei’a? Shivah ani yodei’a. Shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Shmonah mi yodei’a? Shmonah ani yodei’a. Shmonah y’mei milah, shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Tishah mi yodei’a? Tishah ani yodei’a. Tishah yarchei leidah, shmonah y’mei milah, shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba
Achad asar mi yodei’a? Achad asar ani yodei’a. Achad asar kochvayah, asarah dibrayah, tishah yarchei leidah, shmonah y’mei milah, shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Shneim asar mi yodei’a? Shneim asar ani yodei’a. Shneim asar shivtayah, achad asar kochvayah, asarah dibrayah, tishah yarchei leidah, shmonah y’mei milah, shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Shloshah asar mi yodei’a? Shloshah asar ani yodei’a. Shloshah asar midayah, shneim asar shivtayah, achad asar kochvayah, asarah dibrayah, tishah yarchei leidah, shmonah y’mei milah, shivah y’mei shabta, shishah sidrei Mishnah, chamishah chumshei Torah, arba imahot, shloshah avot, shnei luchot habrit, echad Eloheinu shebashamayim uva’aretz.
Who knows one? I know one. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows two? I know two. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth.
Who knows three? I know three. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth.
Who knows four? I know four. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth.
Who knows five? I know five. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth.
Who knows six? I know six. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are
the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows seven? I know seven. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows eight? I know eight. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows nine? I know nine. Nine are the months of childbirth. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows ten? I know ten. Ten are the Ten Commandments. Nine are the months of childbirth. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows eleven? I know eleven. Eleven are the stars [in Joseph’s dream]. Ten are the Ten Commandments. Nine are the months of childbirth. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows twelve? I know twelve. Twelve are the tribes. Eleven are the stars. Ten are the Ten Commandments. Nine are the months of childbirth. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth. Who knows thirteen? I know thirteen. Thirteen are the attributes of God. Twelve are the tribes. Eleven are the stars. Ten are the Ten Commandments. Nine are the months of childbirth. Eight are the days for circumcision. Seven are the days of the week. Six are the orders of the Mishnah. Five are the books of the Torah. Four are the matriarchs. Three are the patriarchs. Two are the tablets of the covenant. One is our God in heaven and earth.
After what is usually a several hours-long Seder filled with eating, singing, and storytelling, you might think that your Seder is over when we say “L’shana haba’ah”—but many communities are not quite done yet, instead adding a few more songs to finish the evening. “Echad Mi Yodei’a?” ("Who Knows One?") is a cumulative song—meaning we progressively add another verse and repeat what we have already sung—and therefore it begins and ends by mentioning the Oneness of God. Sandwiched in between this reminder of Oneness are shoutouts to other parts of our Jewish history: the two tablets containing the Ten Commandments, the three forefathers, the four foremothers, etc., and ultimately ending with the thirteen attributes of God.
But why, after what has already been a long evening, do we add yet another song, not to mention one that seems to go on forever? Well,
as with most Jewish questions, the only real answer is: “it depends who you ask.” But, if you ask me, then I would tell you that it is an important reminder of community and togetherness.
The concept of Oneness is not unique to the Seder—we already know this from the Shema! But in singing this song at our table together, in one voice, we are able to embody that Oneness and understand it differently. “One is God in the heavens and the earth,” the song tells us, and similarly, we are reminded that we are one community as we come together to celebrate Passover and sing this song together. No matter how different we are, no matter how long it’s been since we last saw each other, no matter if we are long-time friends or if we just met—we are here together now, celebrating freedom and singing a song of Oneness. We are connected to one another by our culture, our history, and the very table we sit around for our Seder.
As you sing this song at your Seder, I invite you to reflect on the question: What makes you feel connected to the people around you, to God, and to your Jewish ancestors and history?
NIKKI GOLOMB,
Class of 2013, Northern Region East: Baltimore Council, rabbinical student at Hebrew College
Chad gadya, chad gadya, d’zabin aba bitrei zuzei, chad gadya, chad gadya.
V’ata shunra, v’achlah l’gadya, d’zabin aba bitrei zuzei, chad gadya, chad gadya.
V’ata chalba, v’nashach l’shunra, d’achlah l’gadya, d’zabin aba bitrei zuzei, chad gadya, chad gadya.
V’ata chutra, v’hika l’chalba, d’nashach l’shunra, d’achlah l’gadya, d’zabin aba bitrei zuzei, chad gadya, chad gadya.
V’ata nura, v’saraf l’chutra, d’hikah l’chalba, d’nashach l’shunra, d’achlah l’gadya, d’zabin aba bitrei zuzei, chad gadya, chad gadya.
One little goat, one little goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The cat came, and ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat
The dog came, and bit the cat, that ate the goat,
which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The stick came, and beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The fire came, and burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim. one little goat, one little goat.
The water came, and extinguished the fire, that burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The ox came, and drank the water, that extinguished the fire, that burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The slaughterer came, and killed the ox, that drank the water, that extinguished the fire, that burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
The angel of death came, and slew the slaughterer, who killed the ox, that drank the water, that extinguished the fire, that burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
Then came the Holy One of Blessing, and smote the angel of death, who slew the slaughterer, who killed the ox, that drank the water, that extinguished the fire, that burned the stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the goat, which my father bought for two zuzim, one little goat, one little goat.
As we sing Chad Gadya, we find ourselves singing about a baby goat and how it was bought by a father. Is there a deeper meaning behind this playful song?
If you can recall in the times of Avraham, there is a Midrash where he is faced by the Armenian king Nimrod. In a ploy to challenge
Avraham’s monotheistic beliefs, Nimrod demands him to pray to fire. Avraham goes on to explain that water quenches fire, clouds bring water, wind blows away clouds, and humans can create wind through breath, and so instead of worshiping fire he may as well worship himself. Nimrod, flustered, sends Avraham to his death by fire; however, Hashem saves him and Avraham simply emerges unscathed.
This song goes through a series of events where a father buys a goat, who was eaten by a cat, who was bitten by a dog, who was beaten by a stick, which was burned by fire, which was put out by water, which was drunk by an ox, which was killed by a slaughterer, who encountered the angel of death. It concludes by saying that Hashem smote the angel of death. This all shows that Hashem is so great that He is above all forces of nature, even the concept of death itself.
So Chad Gadya isn’t just a fun song; rather, it is an appreciation for the all-encompassing power of greatness of Hashem.
KOLMAN, Class
For additional commentary, see page 129.
and
LIOR
of 2022, BBYO South Africa, former chapter
regional Morah, student at the University of Witwatersrand
COMMENTARY
A Forward from the Editor
How often does an editor get moved to tears in the course of reviewing a piece? In the case of The Voices of BBYO Haggadah, the answer is many times over.
I was first moved by the collective love our people have for our shared heritage. As I combed through the many submissions for this Haggadah, the themes were wide-ranging, the generations varied broadly, and the geographies spanned the globe. Some submissions were more scholarly, others more personal. But the throughline uniting them was the deep, abiding love each author felt for this holiday and these traditions. One of my favorite pieces of commentary on the Haggadah relates to the five rabbis celebrating Pesach together in Bnei Brak. If you look at it from a purely historical perspective, not one of them would have actually been enslaved in Egypt, as some are descended from the Levites who were not enslaved, and others from converts to Judaism. Yet, I believe they are named specifically for this reason—the Exodus from Egypt is our origin story as a nation, and it doesn’t matter who would have been there from a historical perspective. All Jewish people share this story, regardless of their origin or practice. We pass it from generation to generation, we’ve built traditions around it, and we see ourselves in it—and, as clearly shown from the care put into this project, we have an abiding love for it all.
I was next struck by the profound impact BBYO as an organization has had on so many lives. While I was not in BBYO as a teen myself and only came into this world in a professional capacity, I can confidently say it is one of the warmest, most welcoming places a person can find themselves. It was a reminder of why I’m here—if generations of alumni answered the call to write a bit of commentary in a BBYO Haggadah, how many more are carrying around a piece of this organization in their hearts in all corners of the world. To think that I’ve been able to play a small part in showcasing that impact is humbling.
Lastly, this project sparked so many warm memories of my own Pesach celebrations and traditions. I loved reading about the specific ways so many people have Pesach worn into the grooves of their hearts (and I hope you do, too), and I can’t help but think of my own most special memories of this holiday: my grandmother sitting at our kitchen table munching on matzah and drinking coffee; my 2-year-old son, her namesake, now in the midst of learning about the holiday; my parents sharing their wisdom; my brothers, friends, and I hiding the afikoman and bartering it; working side by side with my mom in the kitchen; and now, my husband and I hosting our own Seder for extended family and friends, melding our traditions together.
More than any other holiday, Pesach is deeply rooted in sights, sounds, smells, and tastes. This immersive experience serves to not only fulfill the mandate of the day—making us feel as though we ourselves experienced the redemption from slavery to freedom—but it also serves to create the most lasting, poignant memories of our lives. Helping create The Voices of BBYO Haggadah is, for me, another true core memory of the holiday. I’m grateful for this Movement—for its wisdom and its warmth—and I’m grateful to all of you who hold this book in your hands. I hope at whatever time and place you are reading this, you find joy in all we share and that which makes us unique.
ARIELLE KATZ, BBYO Director of Marketing & Communications
General Passover Commentary
As Passover approaches, we are reminded of how the Haggadah serves as a map through our journey in time with marks of creativity and diversity at each and every Seder table. Passover reminds us of the struggles and liberation of those before us and serves as a reminder of our mutual responsibility, then and always, to repair the world, committing ourselves to values of justice and unity. As we reflect in the present about our connection through time and through shared memory in the Passover tale, we are also reminded of how connected our generations of BBYO current members and alumni are and how much we are mutually connected through our own shared narrative and the individual narratives that we are shaping for our own Jewish communities. As we ask the Four Questions, we can explore the past, present, and future of our collective narrative and our own community’s narratives as well.
JULIA BARRON, Class of 2017, Connecticut Valley Region, former chapter N’siah, Director of Engagement and Leadership at the Hillel Council of New England
Each Pesach, we come together with friends and family to tell the story of our Exodus from Egypt. We don’t just read the story to ourselves; we collectively tell it to each other so that our story is heard.
When not the storyteller, we have an equally important role at the Seder—listener. We listen deeply and connect with the experiences as if we, ourselves, went forth from Egypt. We step into our ancestors’ shoes and walk beside them. We feel their pain, witness their struggle, and celebrate their freedom as if it were our own. Our Passover Seder is essentially a practice of empathy: understanding and sharing the experiences and feelings of others.
We may not have had experiences identical to our ancestors. Still, through the telling and the listening, we can reflect on our own experiences of pain, fortitude, struggle, and redemption. We offer our ancestors, and each other, a deep sense of being heard.
How often do we listen deeply to each other in daily life? Do we rush to give solutions when our partners complain? Do we meet our kids’ gripes with dismissal? Both the busyness of life and our own unheard stories have a way of distracting us from heartfelt listening.
At Pesach, we do it differently: we tell and we listen. We can bring this same practice to the table every time we sit together. Hearing each others' stories with empathy just may help heal our world.
SARINA
BEHAR NATKIN, LICSW, Class of 1991, Evergreen Region, parent coach, author, speaker, and GROW Parenting Cofounder
The story of Pesach embodies the quintessential human narrative—a profound journey meticulously passed through generations. The Haggadah guides us through this testament to the human experience with actions and storytelling.
Surpassing a mere escape from slavery, Pesach embodies the breadth of human experience. From the constriction of slavery—the Hebrew word for Egypt means straits or narrowness—to navigating the wilderness, symbolizing shedding slave identity. This transformative process involves relinquishing dependence on Egyptian masters and embracing reliance on a higher power.
Lessons unfold, from cautionary tales like the golden calf to Miriam’s tzara’at, illustrating success’s nonlinear path. It’s a journey filled with twists, emphasizing that the joy of the promised land cannot be experienced without slavery’s pain. Passover, the inception of this transformation, becomes a metaphor for life, where our highest highs gain depth through the contrast of our lowest lows.
The Seder invites active engagement in collective history. Symbolic actions connect intimately with forebears’ trials. Biting into bitter herbs and partaking in the Paschal offering, we taste the bitterness of slavery and savor the sweetness of liberation.
Tradition, like therapy, provides a framework for navigating life’s complexities. The Passover Seder becomes a profound ritual, allowing us to assign meaning to stories and fostering a timeless connection between past and present. In this communal reenactment, we discover solace, lessons, and collective strength from shared ancestral experiences. The Passover story isn’t just recounted but actively lived, underscoring tradition’s enduring power in shaping the human spirit.
KEREN
BINYAMIN, Class of 2019, former chapter N’siah, student at University of Maryland
The Passover Seder is a ritual of reliving our redemption from slavery. We retell our Exodus story every year as if we were there, personally being freed by Moses. In each generation, we make it relevant to the moment asking, “What needs liberating today?” And it centers around the Jewish value of taking action.
This Jewish value of DOING is exemplified in a pivotal moment in the Exodus story. As the Israelites reach the shores of the Red Sea, they fear they are trapped with the sea in front of them and Pharaoh’s army behind them. They see no escape. They panic and yell at Moses, “Why did you bring us out to the desert to die?!” Moses even screams at God, but God replies, “Why do you call out to me? Raise up your staff!” Moses gathers his strength and then acts. He raises his staff over his head and that’s when the waters part, allowing the Israelites to flee to safety. It was only after Moses acted that our people were saved.
When I was young, we told the Exodus story calling for the liberation of Soviet Jews, then we marched, chanting, “Let my people go!” Over the years, our Seders were devoted to other timely issues: we rallied for marriage equality for the LGBTQ community; we protested for freedom from gun violence; we lobbied to stop Iran from developing nukes; and we supported Israel to be free from Hamas terrorism. Each of these acts were entwined in our Passover Seder that year.
The lesson is that Jewish life is about DOING. So, what actions will you take to make your Passover Seder relevant today?
ZACK BODNER, Class of 1994, Central Region West, President and CEO of the Oshman Family JCC, author of Why Do Jewish? A Manifesto for 21st Century Jewish Peoplehood
Growing up as an Ashkenazi Jew, now with a Sephardic stepmom, I have come to love the ways that Pesach manifests differently on each table. Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jewish traditions offer a diverse array of customs and flavors. Ashkenazi Seders are often characterized by a hearty spread, featuring matzah ball soup, gefilte fish, and brisket. The emphasis is on comforting, Eastern European-inspired dishes, reflecting the Ashkenazi Jewish experience. On the other hand, Sephardic Passover traditions boast a vibrant assortment of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern flavors. Dishes like lamb tagine, charoset with exotic fruits and nuts, and various spiced foods elevate the Seder table, showcasing the culinary uniqueness of Sephardic heritage. The differing melodies, customs, and even variations in Passover rituals create a unique experience for Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews, highlighting the beautiful diversity within the Jewish community. I am blessed to find joy in each of these expressions of Pesach and love the opportunity to bring Ashkenazi and Sephardic food, song, and prayer together uniquely when I open our door to all of our family and friends each year.
MELISSA BLOCK, Class of 2001, Mid-America Region: St. Louis Council, former council S’ganit, N’siah, and International S’ganit, Lactation Consultant (IBCLC) and owner of North Shore Lactation
Jews living in Western countries are part of both the Jewish and the Western liberal traditions. In many ways, they complement each other. In both traditions, for example, each and every person must be respected and protected, although for different reasons. In the Western tradition it is because we are born with “certain unalienable rights,” as John Locke wrote and as Thomas Jefferson enshrined in the United
States’ Declaration of Independence. In Judaism, individuals deserve respect and protections because each of us is created in the image of God. Similarly, both traditions insist that even the head of government is bound by the law (see Deuteronomy 17:18–20 for the requirement that Jewish kings know and obey the law).
In some important ways, though, the two traditions pull us in different directions. As citizens of Western countries governed by Enlightenment philosophy, we are each an individual with rights. The central Jewish story, though, is the Passover story, in which we leave Egypt not as individuals but as a community, and when we get to Mount Sinai, we do not get a single right; we get instead, by traditional count, 613 commandments. Sometimes rights and duties are reciprocal. So, for example, if I have a right to my shoes, you have a duty not to steal them. Rights and duties, though, are not always reciprocal. My duties to my parents, for example, are not the same as my duties to my children, and my duties to my country are not the same as its duties to me. More importantly, if I am a person with “unalienable rights,” then the country owes me, but if I am a person with duties, then I owe other people in my community and my nation. Furthermore, although it is hard to become a citizen in many Western countries if you were not born there, any citizen who has not committed a felony may renounce citizenship in any Western country (and some do, largely for tax reasons) because citizenship is voluntary. Once you are a Jew by birth or conversion, though, you are a Jew for life because Jewish identity is organic, not voluntary. It is like the relationship between your hand and the rest of your body, where your hand cannot decide to leave your body. So these two traditions we Western Jews inherit give us very different pictures of how we should think about ourselves—individuals with rights who voluntarily associate ourselves with various groups and a nation, or members of a community whose members are organically connected to each other and who are responsible for each other.
RABBI ELLIOT N. DORFF, Ph.D., Class of 1961, Wisconsin Region,
former chapter Godol and regional Shaliach, Rector and Distinguished Service Professor of Philosophy at American Jewish University
“From Pagers to Pixels: A Passover Tale of Teenagers Past and Present”
Once upon a time, in the 1980s/90s, a tribe of BBYO teenagers roamed the Earth, armed with Walkmans, neon scrunchies, and an insatiable appetite for adventure. Our world was a blend of analogue and anticipation—a place where mixtapes were love letters and the exodus was Russian refuseniks.
Fast forward to today, where the modern-day tribe swipes through life with the grace of a thousand emojis. They’ve never known a world without Wi-Fi, their thumbs dance across screens, and their hearts beat in sync with notifications. And yet, our BBYO tale weaves together the threads of past and present, connecting us across time and technology. Similar to the Pesach story which draws together Jewish lives of many generations, each, unfortunately, with their own stories of persecution and antisemitism. However, through every adversity we survive, and we thrive, and so we will again. We must not be downhearted at this time
but continue to celebrate our Jewish heritage in all its forms despite the challenges.
As we gather around the Passover table, let us reflect on the diversity represented on the Seder plate. Our ancestors tasted the bitter herbs of oppression, dipped in the sweet charoset of hope. Today’s teens, too, experience the bitter and sweet. They confront cyberbullying, mental health challenges, and the weight of global crises. But they also celebrate Pride Month, champion climate action, and embrace the diversity in each other.
So, dear BBYO members and families, let us raise our four cups. Let us honour the past, embrace the present, and toast to the future. For in the story of Passover, we find echoes of our own journey—a tale of liberation, resilience, and the eternal quest for connection.
ROBERT EPSTEIN, Class of 1989, BBYO United Kingdom & Ireland, former regional Godol, Channel Executive at Microsoft
Passover has always been my favorite Jewish holiday. The Seders, being with family, the food (yes, the food!). What I love most is that for eight days, I do something outside of my normal life—keep Kosher. For eight days out of 365, I use new plates, line my cabinets and fridge, and only eat items with a Kosher for Pesach hechsher. There’s something so beautiful to me about altering your daily routine in the name of Judaism. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not an easy change. When I have times of doubt during Passover, I remember the struggles of my ancestors before me. From the Exodus story, the horrors of the Holocaust, or so many other moments of peril in Jewish memory, thinking about this history gives me perspective. No matter what hardship our ancestors faced, they always emerged stronger. Every Passover, I feel closer to them as I recite the story of Passover and abstain from some of life’s everyday pleasures. Every Passover, I’m reminded how much I love and cherish my Judaism and my community.
This year, like so many of us, I have looked back to stories of Jewish resilience for comfort and guidance. While the safety of a Jewish existence appears threatened, I am empowered by my faith and love for this holiday. During times of vulnerability, I draw strength from reflecting on my heritage, knowing that the resilience of the Jewish people always perseveres.
SHELBY GADOL
, Class of 2013, North Texas Oklahoma Region, Assistant Regional Director at ADL, Washington, DC Region
Passover teaches us many things, from leadership and decision making to the importance of freedom and how to start over. Passover customs and traditions play a definitive part in Jewish culture, like the spring cleaning and the peculiar foods we’re obligated to eat. The Seders all teach us to not just look at the story as part of our history, but to act as if we were there, to relive what happened. Passover lets us pause our lives and think differently for a moment. It lets us connect with our ancestors and the people in our lives. It urges us to be together and
be a united community. Passover shows us the power that lies within community.
No matter where in the world one is celebrating Passover, every Jew recites the same prayers, has a Seder plate on their table, and is surrounded by friends and family. My favorite childhood memory of Passover was with my cousins and lots of family around us singing the Passover prayers and banging on tables. As cousins, we raced to find the hidden afikoman and see who could spot it the fastest. I hold these memory dear as I now sit around a table of adults and watch my nephews run around creating the same memories I have. It’s a unique thing to have moments so powerful, that no matter where you are celebrating, you feel a part of the greater Jewish community and a sense of belonging. I am proud to be Jewish and sitting around tables my great-great-grandparents sat at, now creating a new generation of the Jewish people. It’s not easy to be Jewish in today’s world, but when I sit around the Passover Seder, I am reminded why it is so important to be Jewish. My great-great-grandparents fought to be Jewish and raise a Jewish family full of values and customs.
This year as you sit around the Seder with family and friends, ask yourself why is being Jewish important to you? Why is it significant to pass along our Jewish traditions and culture for future generations— l’dor v’dor?
ZOE GOLDBERG, BBYO Senior Regional Director of Delta Region
Pesach is my favorite Jewish holiday. I suppose I have an old soul and I love the traditions and rituals; they’re comforting, reassuring, and reliable. No matter what is happening during my year, what has gone wrong, or what unknown lies ahead, I know (more or less) how to expect one night of the year to go. People I care about join around one large table, sharing in a collective story of our past, while passing around unusual food items like a boiled potato and parsley, or chopped apples with wine and nuts. This calms me. In a way, honoring and observing Shabbat does the same, as no matter how insane life is, it slows down a little bit for 25 hours a week.
I am so grateful for the traditions of Judaism. From the outside, one might see them as weird, or worse yet, oppressive. But to me, they offer comfort. They offer me something to expect, something to ground me in this busy world to a relative awareness of the calendar and of something bigger than myself. Knowing that over 1 million people are doing the same thing as me is comforting. We all sit down at the Seder table, read the same text, and eat the same foods.
I remember sitting in synagogue in Buffalo, New York, as an 8-yearold and thinking I was so cool that I realized the prayers are the same each week and I was starting to memorize them. I thought I found out a secret and a trick that there was repetition. So much of the secular world at large has written off tradition as a thing of the past. Judaism’s repetition is comforting.
When I was in college and I needed to choose where to study abroad, I knew if I went to a location with a Jewish community, even though I was on the other side of the world from my parents, I could find comfort with familiar tunes in a synagogue on Friday nights. This gift Judaism has given me of calm, community, and connectedness is priceless and is quintessentially reflected in the Pesach Seder.
ROBIN GRAHAM, Class of 2002, Eastern Region, former chapter N'siah, Founder of Support Single Parents Beit Shemesh
“L’chaim!” “To life!”
This quintessential Jewish phrase made famous by the Black Eyed Peas in their Bar Mitzvah classic, “I Gotta Feeling” is the ultimate expression of unity among the Jewish brothers and sisters of Am Yisrael. Just prior to giving the Torah on Mount Sinai, Hashem introduced Himself as the One who took us out of Egypt. Isn’t it a much greater accomplishment that Hashem created the entire universe? How could splitting the sea possibly compare to creating every single detail of that sea from the largest great white shark to the tiniest marine microorganisms? Hashem mentioned the Exodus from Egypt because it is personal and meaningful to us. “Nobody cares how much you know until they know how much you care,” perfectly encapsulates Hashem’s intention of demonstrating His personal love and care for us before giving us our road map to existence—the Torah.
Through this display of thoughtful personal connection, Hashem demonstrated to us the ultimate mission of a Jew—cultivate a deep, loving connection throughout our nation that will subsequently spread to the entire world. This is why schmoozing is deeply ingrained into the DNA of Am Yisrael—we love to connect with each other. Saying "l’chaim" and drinking the four cups at the Seder table is more than just a way of saying “let’s get this party started,” although that is also very important.
In Judaism we celebrate joyous occasions with the phrase “To life!” because life is the most precious thing we have to cherish in this world. “Chaim” is actually the plural form of life, “lives,” indicating that what actually gives life meaning is when we devote it to selflessly caring for others and uniting together.
I want to bless us all that this Pesach that we will truly have a yitziat Mitzrayim, an exodus from Egypt and exodus from anything that may be holding you back from expressing your truest self and connecting meaningfully to your Jewish brothers and sisters. Chag Sameach and L’CHAIM!
JOEL GUTOVITZ,
Class of 2015, Mid-America Region: Kansas City Council, former council Godol, intern physician at Sheba Medical Center in Ramat Gan, Israel
It’s not just freedom from slavery that we celebrate. It’s not just religious freedom. Tonight we celebrate identity—the freedom to tell the world who you are.
The freedom to know that you can be yourself and embrace your oneof-kind-ness, your true nature.
Freedom to love who and what you want.
Freedom to tell your friends and family that you care and what you care about.
It’s freedom to forge your own path—to do something that no one you know has done before.
Freedom to create something that’s never been created and to live outside of any bounds anyone placed on you.
Tonight we remember that we are free to paint the canvas of our lives with anything our minds can dream.
We remember our responsibility to fight for the freedom of those who yearn to be free, and we remember that every day we can inspire others to be more free with how we move through this lifetime.
Passover comes to teach us old and new lessons every year. What has it come to teach you this year?
As we remember the story of our people leaving Egypt, may we remember that each one of us has a unique role to play in writing this chapter.
May we write it with loving-kindness and freedom as our song.
HAPPIE HOFFMAN, Class of 2010, Delta Region, former regional S’ganit, Sh'licha, and International Sh'licha, singer and songwriter
When I think about Pesach, the Haggadah, and the Seder, I think about my grandfather, Menashe. He is 95-years-old, still works out every day, swims, paints, and picks tangerines from the trees in his backyard. Grandpa Menashe is a very special and wise man. I think about him because every year when we all march in with baskets full of food for the Seder, Grandpa Menashe comes carrying the box of Haggadot. Inside the box you will find a lifetime collection of Haggadot: a few from the Seder his brother did in the army (yes, Tzahal published a Haggadah), a few from when my father was a child, the curious one from the 1970s, a beautiful one with the best colorful drawings, the one with translation to English where you can find out how to say karpas (it’s just celery), and so many more from different times and circles of life. To me, this box holds the essence of the Haggadah itself.
These Haggadot hold our stories, and not only the one that is written inside them. Their pages have seen the faces of a few generations, collected the stains and matzah crumbs of joyful moments, and had the words they contain read out loud by all my family members at different ages throughout our lives.
The Haggadah does not only contain the story of B’nei Yisrael leaving Egypt, it holds the story of my people in the most vivid way. This year especially, I will open the one I will randomly get from the box and I’ll think about the people that keep our journey to freedom going forward. The teens who choose to be active members in their community hold great power, just like Grandpa Menashe who was a member of Maccabi Tzair, and his son Yuval, who is my father. We keep going forward.
NOAM IVRY, Class of 2014, Maccabi Tzair, BBYO Partnership Director of the Maccabi Tzair Youth Movement
What is freedom? Some will say, “Freedom is when I can do whatever I want.” Others will add: “Freedom is having your own opinion on any topic or issue.” Still others will shout: “Freedom is money and opportunities. Opportunities for myself and my loved ones.” But they all forgot to mention that freedom is responsibility.
When our ancestors came out of Egypt, God instructed them to slaughter a lamb, eat it, anoint the doorposts with its blood, and circumcise all of us. Why such a long list? To show the people of Israel that freedom is a choice, and a hard choice. Being a slave is easy and simple. You don’t have to be responsible. To be free is to make choices (including hard choices) and take responsibility for them.
IVAN (YISRAEL) KRAVCHENKO, Class of 2017, AJT: Ukraine
Reflecting on the story of Passover is a challenge for many Jewish folks, including myself, as we revisit its tale each year. It faces us with a challenging Jewish history marked by disrespect and oppression, where our ancestors ultimately triumphed over those who sought to oppress us. Looking at Passover through today’s lens, I struggle with the similarly profound depth of visible oppression in the world. I find comfort and inspiration, however, in the values Passover teaches us about supporting oppressed communities and liberation.
For me, Passover symbolizes more than just the liberation of our ancestors. Its story so nicely embodies a timeless call to action, echoing the wisdom of Pirkei Avot: “If I am not for me, who will be for me? And when I am for myself alone, what am I? And if not now, then when?”
During the story of Passover, our ancestors navigated the responsibility of cultural and religious self-preservation amid extreme adversity. Nowadays, we have a similar duty to show up for other marginalized communities—not only to honor the holiday by recalling our story—but to show kindness and support to those still fighting for freedom as well.
As we celebrate Passover this year and in the years to come, let’s think about who still needs to be set free, receive reparations (just like we were told to receive in Exodus 11:2), and have a friend in the Jewish community. Passover reminds us of our duty to champion justice and stand in solidarity with those who seek restitution and empowerment. May our Passover Seders be more than just that—an inspiration towards transformative action, embodying the most important Jewish values of justice, compassion, and solidarity.
DARA MOLOTSKY, Class of 2017, South Jersey Region, former regional N’siah, BBYO Associate of Movement Strategy and Operations
Passover has always been my favorite Jewish holiday! The first and foremost reason is the incredible joy in gathering beloved family and friends around the table. Lively discussions ensue as we weave together threads of our collective history, as well as raucous laughter when we race through who can sing all verses of Chad Gadya the fastest. The beautiful connection between us is most meaningful to me in addition to the significance of the holiday’s narrative of liberation, resilience, and faith.
I delight in preparing the Seder as fond memories flow when shining my Grandmother Anita’s silver candelabras and kiddush cup, caressing the delicately embroidered matzah covers and table runner that have been handed down to me through the generations, as well as assembling (and often re-taping together) the dozens of traditional Maxwell House Haggadahs that my family continues to use, with my father’s being the one his own father Lou wrote notes in and preserved names from past gatherings that we recall and reminisce about every year. Honoring our traditions and heritage resonates deeply with me.
Passover invites introspection. It reminds us to keep faith and persevere in difficult situations; to be grateful for the freedom we are so fortunate to have while acknowledging the enduring struggles worldwide today. There is great power in collectively praying for peace while individually striving for spiritual growth and making the most positive impact possible. Passover raises the vibration for healing on all levels.
RUTH PERLMAN, Centennial Chair and Vice Chair, BBYO Board of Directors
When Moshe led the Jewish people out of Egypt, we assume that everyone came with him. Who wouldn’t want to be free from Pharoah? Yet, Rashi and Pesiktah D’Rav Kahana 11:11 suggest that up to one-fifth of the Jewish population chose to stay in Mitzrayim. What was it like in those moments when people needed to make this decision? What kind of courage did it take for so many Jewish people to leave the life they had always known for something unknown? A decision that affected not just them but future generations of the Jewish people?
Today, it can be easy to stick with what is comfortable, to let others decide and follow even if it doesn’t align with your beliefs. Yet, when confronted with these questions, I think back to the Jews who were confronted with this same decision back in Egypt. They knew that the future of the Jewish people rested in their hands. Just as they had the courage to leave Mitzrayim, so too must we have courage today—the courage to fight for our future as the Jewish people so that we may live freely and openly for generations to come.
SARAH
POMERANTZ, Class of 2017, Rocky Mountain Region, former regional S’ganit, student at Columbia University
The Haggadah, the “telling” of the Jewish Exodus from Egypt, provides purposeful guidance of “L’dor v’dor,” the sharing of our story, prayers, and traditions from generation to generation. I reflect on the evolution of Haggadot that I’ve read from over the years: the Maxwell House version from my childhood, the Sammy Spider’s First Haggadah from when our children were young, the PJ Library “In Every Generation” Family Haggadah that has been a staple of our Passover celebrations the last few years through both in-person and virtual Seders, and now the celebratory addition of “The Voices of BBYO Haggadah." I also think about the inspiring journey of BBYO since the founding of AZA in 1924, the establishment of BBG’s first chapter, the transition to independence from B’nai B’rith International, and the incredible expansion of the International Order over the last 100 years, in both global membership and breadth of initiatives. And yet, even with the tremendous growth
of BBYO, I still feel the same continuity of spirit, connection, and ritual at International Convention today, with thousands of attendees from across the world, as I did back in 1999 under a tent at Camp Perlman with a few hundred other teen leaders. How meaningful, profound, and powerful that the Haggadah and BBYO, like Judaism, are rooted in tradition and community, strong yet nimble, evolving to meet the changes of our times and needs of the Jewish people—who cherish the tradition that connects us together across the world, denominations, backgrounds, and generations.
JESSICA SAPERSTEIN RUSH, Class of 2000, Wisconsin Region, former regional N’siah and International Mazkirah, HR Executive
As I read the pages of the Passover Haggadah, I reflect on its purpose—a narrative crafted to recount the history of the Hebrews’ enslavement and liberation in Egypt. Through the songs, culinary traditions, and texts, we are invited to collectively “remember” that moment in our history.
Yet, I also realize that there is an overlooked facet of the Passover Haggadah—the unspoken gaps within the narrative, the untold stories. Personal anecdotes, small details, the values that characterized the Hebrews, and the nature of their conversations remain shrouded in mystery.
But the Haggadah is designed for this purpose—to kindle our curiosity. For curiosity begets interest, and interest, in turn, fosters engagement. To be engaged with the Passover story is to be engaged with Jewish history—a connection spanning thousands of years, resonating from antiquity to our present, and with an eye toward continued involvement in the future.
My hope is that this Passover is brimming with inquiries, that we plumb the depths of sensitivity and curiosity, forging a personal connection with the Jewish people.
FANNY SEVILLA, BBYO Mexico Regional Director
Much like the Jews in Egypt, we are in a moment where our people and our communities need to stand united in strength and pride. I often draw on my BBYO experience to find this strength and pride as what I learned, lived, and loved while an active member were truly some of my proudest Jewish moments. Today’s BBYO members are incredibly lucky to have such a strong opportunity for community and connection, and I hope that each one of you finds pride and meaning in the organization you are in, the people you meet, and the lessons you learn. Stay close to each other, close to our people, and close to Israel.
NICOLE SOUSSAN CAPLAN, Class of 2002, Lonestar Region, former regional Sh'licha, N’siah, and International Sh’licha, Litigation Partner at Reed Smith LLP
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Even despite the lack of pizza and pasta over the period of Pesach, it will always be one of my favourite holidays. For me, Pesach is filled
with funny traditions, food, and family, and I don’t think it can get much better than that.
Seder nights in my house are always a huge family affair, with many highlights, but most notably, it is the only time when it’s considered socially acceptable to hit your grandparents with spring onions. We do this during the song Dayeinu, to act out ‘whipping the slaves in Egypt’. As well as it being pure chaos, it serves as a poignant reminder of the hardships endured by the Israelites.
Furthermore, Seder night for me always consists of a quiz which is prepared by some of the grandchildren, and the ‘quiz host’ dresses up as Pharaoh and has the role of making sure the competition doesn’t get too out of hand, which can definitely be challenging at times.
Whether it’s acting out the Ten Plagues, using Pesach as an excuse to bake a ton of cakes and cookies, or burning the last of the chametz, Pesach is always filled with so much special family time and fun traditions. Through these traditions, we honour our heritage, strengthen our identity, and pass down cherished values to future generations.
ARIANNA SULTAN, Class of 2020, BBYO United Kingdom & Ireland, former chapter and regional Sh'licha, student at Durham University
Passover is the ultimate family reunion as spring approaches here in New Jersey. The overall idea of order is what stands out to me most, as it means Jews all around the world are participating in this meaningful holiday in a similar way. The Haggadah is almost like a guidebook to lead us through the Seder, something that I personally connect with because I’ve always been a big rule follower.
Every year, we meticulously and methodically return to our origins and relive traditions as we tell the story of Passover. Throughout my life, I have witnessed different cousins and family members patiently wait for their favorite part, knowing it will come around again at the same time in the Seder as it does every year. Whether that is searching for the afikoman, telling the story of the Four Children and joking about which cousin is the wicked one, or the crowd favorite—the meal—we rejoice in knowing that it is the time we have marked on our calendar every year to be with each other.
On paper, order isn’t the most flashy concept, but the Haggadah follows a linear series of events that builds on the last, culminating in an epic scene where the Israelites literally cross the Red Sea on foot. Although this would be a miracle on its own, there is added value and meaning for those who followed the story from the beginning. This scene would not feel so much like a crescendo during a musical performance if we didn’t get the trials, tribulations, and the grueling stories of suffering and pleading leading up to it.
In a sense, our family members become the actors of a mythical (or is it?) chronicle that can be compared to Homer’s The Odyssey or Vyasa’s Mahabharata. There are different actors in the room some years, different sections being read or skipped over, new desserts; but what remains the same is the order in which the events unfold, the
connection we all feel to the plight of the Israelites, and the hope we have for a better future for our people and the world at-large.
KYLE WHITLOCK, BBYO Director of Immersive Talent
Passover has always held a special place in my heart. I often consider it my favorite Jewish holiday. In college, I took a class where we learned about the way Judeans hosted Seders in the first and second centuries. In that class we related our learnings to the way we celebrate Pesach today. For example, I add an orange to my Seder plate as a representation of women leading the Seder. In the past few years, I’ve led the Seder for my family. It’s been so special to go from being the child reading the Four Questions and scanning the house from top to bottom for the afikoman to hosting your own Seder and becoming a part of a tradition that spans millennia. I think that’s why I find such meaning and beauty in this holiday—it’s representative of not only my life but the lives of Jews for thousands of years all around the world. I encourage you to not only think about the role you play in your Seder but to think about the role of Jews like you for the last 20 centuries. How incredible that our ancestors and their ancestors and so on made a point to host Seders every year of their lives. I hope that connection is as meaningful to you as it is to me.
JESS ZIMMERMAN, BBYO Manager of Content Operations
Additional Commentary on the Seder Plate (page 06)
Pesach is a story of heroes, of turning the most horrific circumstances into opportunities to fight against oppressive regimes; these lessons are more imperative today than ever. Pesach is the time when we imagine our lives within the story, and today similar stories of resilience are at the forefront of every media outlet and all our minds. The simple addition of a modern Seder plate to my table reminds me that while the Jews have escaped from Egypt, the world around us is far from perfect. From a potato to represent the diversity of Jewish culture to a coffee bean for a ban on forced labour and slavery, from a banana to represent asylum seekers to an olive as a symbol for a peaceful future, the modern Seder plate is a representation of our continuously fractured world. Pesach forces us to reflect, and this year more than ever I am excited to reflect on how strong and incredible our community is.
—Ruby Borer, Class of 2024, BBYO Australia, former regional S’ganit, N’siah, and Aym Ha'Chaverot, current regional Sh’licha
The traditional Pesach Seder plate includes charoset (fruit and nut paste), zro'a (shankbone), beitzah (egg), maror (bitter herbs), karpas (parsley), and chazeret (lettuce). I grew up excitedly helping my mom prepare for our Seder meal: cutting apples, peeling eggs, and pouring saltwater for dipping. Passover has remained one of my family’s favorite celebrations. To this day, my dad leads a Seder that takes longer than
anyone wants it to, my rather serious uncle is tasked with reading a particularly poetic Haggadah passage, and our family and friends cook their best dishes.
In the last few years, we’ve updated our Seder plate. Since my parents became vegan several years ago, the shankbone has been replaced with a beet. We’ve added an orange to celebrate the contributions of Jewish women and the LGBTQIA+ community. We include fair trade chocolate to remind us that while we are no longer slaves in Egypt, forced labor still exists throughout the world. The opportunity to personalize our Seder plate is a beautiful exemplification of Judaism’s adaptability. We design our Jewish practice in a way that works for us, a way that matches our values and our priorities. The greatest lesson I’ve learned throughout my Jewish journey is the importance of “doing” Judaism my way. Passover is an opportunity to remember our past, recognize the present, and dream of a better future. We do all of that best when we do it in a way that honors who we are.
ILANA HAMER, Class of 2017, Central Region West, former regional N’siah, Senior Marketing Associate at itrek
The objects on our Seder plate symbolize the essence of our Jewish story. They represent the bitterness of slavery and the mortar that Hebrew slaves used in their labors. They remind us of the sacrifices made as the Israelites prepared to leave Egypt. They also bring forth thoughts of the rebirth of spring and the remarkable rebirth of the Jewish people. Each symbol tells a piece of the story—but Egypt wasn’t our only historical encounter with struggle, so through these symbols, we recall all our personal and communal moments of narrow escape, persecution, hunger, bitterness, and suffocating conditions that enslave us. We recall and connect our own feelings of worry, terror, hatred, and hope—so that we may fully connect to our people’s story and find a way to think and feel as though we ourselves, in every generation, experienced this liberation from Egyptian bondage. Most of us sit in relative freedom, so the symbols on our Seder plate call on our senses to help us see, smell, taste, touch, and hear what enslavement felt like. We do this not only to remember what was but to learn what needs to be. The deeper we delve into our memory and understanding of our people’s suffering, the stronger our determination to fight for freedom, for ourselves, and for the world.
While the concept of freedom should be foundational, it is but one of many Jewish values that modernity has turned controversial. For Jews, though, it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be contentious to stand up for those enslaved by hatred, poverty, and systemic disadvantages. Our Seder plate reminds us that the freedom we once desperately hoped for is as precious and worthy as the freedoms we and others still long for today. This is why the Seder plate has become a stage for innovation; because we take the essence of its lessons and utilize them to awaken us to modern day causes and the plight of currently enslaved, beaten down, and marginalized individuals. Whether it be an orange, an olive, an artichoke, a potato, a banana, or some fair-trade chocolate—many unique and creative items appear on modern Seder plates; each addition represents an important lesson or cause to highlight.
At the time of the creation of this BBYO Haggadah, our Jewish world is still learning to ride the shockwaves of Hamas’ horrific attack on Israel, which occurred on October 7, 2023. It will be imprinted in Jewish memory forever. Since that devastating day, we have once again been reminded of the unique connection of Am Yisrael. All Jews worldwide feel the terror perpetrated on our Israeli family in the Gaza Envelope. While there is little most of us can do personally to defeat Hamas, we can and should stand with our people. We can cry and mourn together; we can volunteer and mobilize together; we can offer our time, talent, and financial treasure to help those most deeply impacted. Whatever we do, wherever we are, we must stick together. So this year in my home, as a symbol of our connection to Am Yisrael, we will include a piece of Kosher for Passover chewing gum on our Seder plate. It will serve as a reminder that Am Yisrael, even when feeling chewed up, sticks together in an unbreakable connection. Now, I’m not saying you should all add gum to your Seder plate; you may if you want, but what I’m suggesting is that each of you, each year, find your own meaningful addition. Our Seder plate provides an invitation for value-based innovation—so innovate!
As BBYO has long been concerned with Jewish lessons, the cause of social justice, and the work of tikkun olam, there is a natural path for every Seder plate to connect the values of our tradition with a modern Jewish yearning. Make a connection to something meaningful; don’t go overboard, but thoughtfully consider one or two timely causes that you believe require urgent attention. Find an object that symbolizes the lessons that need to be taught and add it to your Seder plate. Use it—whatever it is—to remember not only the struggle for justice but the promise of rebirth that Passover makes. Each Seder should utilize its Seder plate to help participants internalize the values of freedom and Jewish peoplehood at the core of Passover. Not simply to remember but to be led to act… in every generation.
RABBI SAMANTHA O. KAHN, Class of 2001, former chapter N’siah and regional Sh'licha and S’ganit, 13th International Sh'licha, Senior Associate Rabbi at Congregation B’nai Israel in Boca Raton, Florida
Additional Commentary on Halachma Anya (page 14)
"Halachma Anya" is not just one of the world’s earliest recorded food reviews. This 28-word Seder segment illustrates the essence of Jewish identity and unfolds in fewer words than this intro. It stresses humility, an important trait in general but especially so when recounting the Exodus, reminding Seder participants of their slavery past before commemorating their liberation. (“This year we are slaves. Next year we will be free.”)
This juxtaposition—slavery with liberation—is critical for appreciating the depths of our relationship with almighty God, Who miraculously delivered us from bondage to the promised land, both spiritually and physically.
As we recite "Halachma Anya," we are nevertheless reminded that we are not yet in Israel. Rather, “we are slaves,” a parable reminding us to never surrender to spiritual complacency, while also affirming our people’s unbreakable ties to our homeland Israel (hence, “Next year in the land of Israel”).
As "Halachma Anya" recounts, “This year we are slaves. Next year we will be free.” As Jews, we must always remember the proximity between bad and good times, never taking the latter for granted, and remaining steadfast that with faith in God and humility in our deeds, we will prevail. And wherever we can, we must bring light to the world along the way; hence, “All those who are hungry, let them enter and eat. All who are in need, let them come celebrate the Passover.”
JORDAN
COPE , Class of 2014, North Texas Oklahoma Region, Director of Policy Education at StandWithUs
Why are we inviting people to our meal at this point? We’ve already made Kiddush and eaten the karpas. Surely, we can’t be inviting people now, we’ve already started and are sitting at the table! Rabbi Yedidiah Tiah Weil in his commentary on the Haggadah, the Marbeh Lesaper, can help us make sense of this seemingly out of place text. Rabbi Weil explains that this is not an invitation to others, but a lesson for ourselves. The Midrash teaches that the children of Israel were redeemed from Egypt on account of their tzedaka (charity). Seeing the bread of affliction at this moment is then supposed to remind us that just as our ancestors gave bread to the poor, so should we. Therefore, we remind ourselves of our obligation to feed the hungry, so that we may bring about the redemption where we will be free people in the land of Israel.
The Seder should not be a passive ritual experience, but a time to reflect on what we can learn from the Exodus for how we should conduct our own lives. By prefacing the story with this text, we are being asked to participate in leaving Egypt. We are told later in the Haggadah that every Jew must see themselves as if they left Egypt, but before that we are reminded of the good deeds that our ancestors, and now we must do before we begin the journey to redemption.
MATEO LEVIN, Class of 2022, Manhattan Region, former chapter and regional Shaliach, student at Brandeis University
Additional Commentary on Mah Nishtanah (page 15)
Mah Nishtanah is a special part of the Passover Haggadah, recited during the Passover Seder. I will always cherish the memory of singing it at the long table in my home, surrounded by family and friends. This song consists of four questions typically sung by the youngest member of the family. These traditional questions have helped keep our traditions and stories alive from generation to generation. Sure, our parents and grandparents can simply give us a history lesson, but that
may not bring our story to life. However, learning to ask and inquire of our elders to share their experiences and explain their unique Passover traditions helps keep our faith alive. Mah Nishtanah is not just the questions for Passover; it also reminds us to always ask for answers and be curious about our stories.
MERCEDES BENZAQUEN, Class of 2025, BBYO Spain, 35th International Sh'licha, 80th International S’ganit
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One of the first parts of the Passover Seder we learn as children is the Four Questions, which has always been my favorite part. I grew up in Dallas, Texas, and attended Akiba Academy, an Orthodox day school, in the mid-1970s. We learned the Four Questions in Hebrew, but even more meaningful was learning them in Yiddish. As we know, Yiddish is the language of the Ashkenazim, Central and Eastern European Jews, and their descendants. Written in the Hebrew alphabet, it became one of the Jewish world’s most widespread languages but has become a lost art in many ways. Learning the Four Questions in Yiddish meant we as children had a chance to keep the language alive in the next generation. To this day, if my sister or I are at the Passover table with my parents, we recite them in Yiddish.
Mah Nishtanah; why is this night different from all other nights? This question sets the stage for the retelling of the Exodus story and highlights the unique aspects of the Passover celebration. It encourages reflection on the significance of the holiday and the events it commemorates.
As you sit around your Passover table this year, whether you are the youngest and recite the Four Questions or the oldest and maybe the only one who knows them, think about the significance of historical events we have had this year and their impact on personal and collective identity. The opportunity to promote the value of storytelling in preserving cultural and historical narratives is in our hands.
MICHELLE BLUMENTHAL CAPLAN, Class of 1987, North Texas Oklahoma Region, 43rd International N’siah, former Advisor in Evergreen Region, Assistant Executive Director at Congregation Neveh Shalom in Portland, Oregon
Why is this night different from all the others? Judaism has maintained its traditions for thousands of years. Our tradition, passed down from generation to generation since the days of the first Adam, is also the core of our existence as Jews; the intergenerational and communal connection it symbolises for each of us is what motivates us to reform the world and create a society based on shared values that originate from the Torah given to us at Mount Sinai. And yet, we have always been a people who ask questions, a people who seek meaning and purpose in the world. The question of what will change is a profound one that accompanies us every year. Where is there change, and if there is, is it good?
The oldest and most powerful question of all is what changed on the night of the Seder, the story of the Exodus from Egypt—the story that gave the Jews the most defining identity of any people. In times
of oppression, it gave them hope of freedom. In the years of exile, it promised them a return. It taught two hundred generations of Jewish children who they were and how to be a part of our people. This story has become the super-story of freedom for the whole world, as it has been embraced by an incredible variety of groups, from Puritans in the 17th century to African Americans in the 19th century to Tibetan Buddhists today.
I believe that I am a character in the story of my people, with a chapter of my own that I am invited to write about, to question, and to delve into—and so are all of you. To be Jewish is to see ourselves as part of that story, to ask the questions that lead us to our essence, to live it in our own time, and to do all we can to pass it on to those who come after us.
RAZ DAGAN, BBYO Basel Emunah Chapter Director
In his commentary on the Haggadah, Dr. Joshua Kulp discusses the origins of the Mah Nishtanah. He explains that in the Talmud (Pesachim 115b), the Pesach Seder needed to include questions. Only if a question was not asked did someone (usually the parent) recite the Mah Nishtanah in order to prompt the children to get curious about what they were doing and why. Over time, this formula was crystallized into a mandatory text recited by children to lead into the telling of the Passover story. This idea, that a Seder is incomplete without questions, is, to me, emblematic of the centrality of learning and curiosity to the Jewish ethos. We are a people of questions, a people who prioritize the education of our young, and a people who care enough about these values to make them a central part of our ritual practice. This Pesach, I wish for us all to bring questions to the Seder and to continue searching for answers in meaningful and fruitful ways. May we all have a Pesach and a life of insatiable curiosity and fulfilling learning.
SOPHIA FINEBERG IMAR, Class of 2018, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former regional N’siah, MSW student at the Wurzweiler School of Social Work
Seder night is a time when we come together with our families and friends. Whether we spend a lot of time with them throughout the year or not, on Seder night we connect to pass on the stories of our ancestors and heritage. This is also a time to ask many questions and challenge and debate the world around us and how we can learn from the story of Passover in modern life. Traditionally, on Seder night the youngest at the table asks four questions in Mah Nishtanah.
Instead of the young listening and accepting what the older and wiser are telling them, they are staying curious and challenging what they are hearing. By asking questions we not only engage more effectively but we also have the opportunity to challenge what others have done and form our own points of view and ways of doing things. Making a point to ask questions and challenge others should not be restricted to Seder night and is important all year round. It is very easy to see someone we look up to or someone older than us and believe all they say is right
without questioning it. Whether a popular peer, celebrity, politician, or role model of any other kind, no one is always right. It’s important to step back and form our own viewpoints before following along with what someone has to say. Following a crowd may seem the easier option, but it can be harmful. Spreading gossip and false rumours, fake news, taking part in something we aren’t comfortable or don’t think is right can end up alienating individuals, a group of people, or ourselves.
Keep asking questions, challenge the world around you, and don’t be scared to stand out with your own viewpoints and stand up for what you believe is right—the person who came before you might not be.
NAOMI GERSHLICK, Class of 2021, BBYO United Kingdom & Ireland, former regional N’siah, student at University of Nottingham
Why is this night different from all other nights? Yes, of course, it’s because we eat chametz on other nights. It’s because tonight we eat maror and dip our vegetables twice! Sure, it could be that tonight we recline while we sit upright on other nights. These are the answers we’re used to offering and hearing. In that way, this night is not so different from Passovers gone by. What if, then, we considered these words as a challenge rather than a question? Why is this night different from all other nights? Not just the other nights of the year, but every Pesach we’ve celebrated in the past.
Let this be our challenge: how are you making this Pesach Seder different than any other? What new interpretation, story, activity, or song can you bring this year to inject new life into this age-old tradition? We ask “Mah nishtanah halaylah hazeh?” because it reminds us to set this time apart as unique and important. We must, however, remember to bring new life to our story every year!
I suggest this activity: As a part of the Maggid section, go around the table and give everyone the chance to notice one beautiful difference on this night! What have they heard, tasted, seen, or felt that is new and worthy of elevating?
On this night, we celebrate our ancestors’ escape from physical bondage in Egypt, but the question prompts us to consider: What forms of bondage do we, or others in our world, still experience? Are there ways in which we are enslaved by modern-day pharaohs—be it through systemic injustices, prejudices, or even the constraints we place upon ourselves? This night can become a mirror reflecting our yearning for freedom in its many forms: freedom from poverty, discrimination, and oppression; freedom to express our identity, to love, and to live with dignity. It challenges us to think about how we can contribute to the liberation of others, understanding that our freedom is intertwined with the freedom of all people.
More than that, this question can inspire us to reflect on the internal aspects of freedom. How might we liberate ourselves from the constraints of ego, from the narrow places in our minds that hold us back from achieving our fullest potential? Passover invites us to embark on a personal exodus, moving from limitation to expansiveness, from
fear to love, from judgment to acceptance. “Why is this night different from all other nights?” is not merely a question about rituals and historical events; it’s a call to action and introspection. May we better understand how to be agents of change in our journey toward a more liberated self and society.
ERIC
HUNKER, Class of 2006, Central Region East, former chapter and regional Mazkir, BBYO Director of Music and Aleph Enrichment _____________________
As a child, I memorized the Four Questions by listening to a recording of another child singing them. I loved the rhythmic, repetitive melody, the sound of the Hebrew, and recognizing some of the words—matzah, chametz, laylah. Later on, I learned Hebrew and could parse out the whole thing. But the closer I looked, the less it seemed to be a series of four questions and the more it looked like one question with several parts, or maybe no question at all, but rather a description of what makes the Seder different from a regular dinner party. Maybe you too have noticed this.
The Four Questions come from the second century rabbinic discussion called the Mishnah. The passage instructs a parent to point out the quirky and interesting elements of the Seder. Rather than teaching a formula to be memorized, the purpose is to provoke real questions and thoughts that enable us to fulfill the mitzvah of explaining to our children the meaning of Passover (found in Exodus 13:14). In this way, the Four Questions bring up an essential Jewish challenge: how to sustain beloved traditions while also keeping them fresh. One way to accomplish this at a Seder is to accompany singing the traditional questions with asking new questions about freedom, slavery, courage, faith, justice, leadership, or any of the other timeless human challenges that make the Exodus story so compelling. We can frame our questions carefully to avoid eliciting yes/no answers and instead to spark real conversations. Here are a few examples:
• The Torah teaches, “You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress them, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 22: 20). How can we cause our experiences of injustice to lead us toward compassion and courage rather than bitterness or fear?
• What symbolic food or object would you add to the Seder plate to provoke questions about an important current issue of justice or liberation?
• Why is it important to the story for Moses to have a speech impediment and be afraid to speak to Pharaoh?
How will your Seder this year be different from all other Seders?
RABBI JULIE SAXE-TALLER, Class of 1986, Central Region West, former chapter Aym HaChaverot and N’siah and regional Katvanit/Gizborit, Lead Organizer for the CA Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (RAC-CA)
Additional Commentary on Avadim Hayyinu (page 16)
One of the most incredible aspects of Passover to me is the continuity of tradition. I am incredibly grateful to have sat at the same Seder table as my parents and my grandparents. And they with their parents, etc. It is this rich history and connection to our heritage that links us all the way back to Moses. This is the secret of the Jewish people. Wherever we are in our lives, we always have these rituals and traditions to fall back on and connect us to who we are. The rich tapestry of tradition forms a powerful link to our heritage, grounding us in a shared history that extends back through the ages. During the Maggid portion of the Seder, we recount our Exodus from Egypt. This tradition of passing down the origin story of our people is the lifeblood that helps us maintain our national identity and reorients us towards our chosen relationship with God.
ZACH DENN, Class of 2018, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former chapter Shaliach, Moreh, and Godol and regional Godol, Analyst in Global Banking & Markets for Goldman Sachs
There is a certain kind of magic of living through the Jewish calendar cycle. Every year when you experience, celebrate, or observe a holiday or relearn the week’s Parsha you can almost guarantee that it will resonate differently depending on what is happening in the world, in your local current events, or in your own life.
We are commanded to tell and retell the story of our time as slaves to Pharaoh in the land of Egypt, as if we were slaves in Egypt ourselves, as if we are able to bear witness to the experiences of slavery, but also to the experience of overcoming our greatest of challenges and tragedies together. Psychology indicates that the act of bearing witness has the power to validate and repair trauma in order to heal. Every spring, Jews all over the world perform the Passover Seder and read the Haggadah and recounting details, dipping fingers in wine, eating and discussing the symbolic foods around the table as a way of bearing witness, and perhaps a prescription or instruction for how to overcome challenges in the future. As the Mishnah (Pesachim 10) says about retelling the Passover story:
“Begins with disgrace and concludes with glory.”
So, what is “enough” when bearing witness? And can we ever heal if, in fact, in every generation we bear witness to all the different atrocities that Jews have faced over time? In the Haggadah it reminds us that, “if the Holy One, blessed be He, had not taken our ancestors from Egypt, behold we and our children and our children’s children would [all] be enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt.” In the Torah, it is also repeated four times that we are to tell our children that we were once slaves in Egypt. Maybe it’s the repetition that moves us from passively bearing witness
to mobilizing us, inspiring us to take initiative if not for ourselves, then for the sake of our children.
LIRON LIPINSKY, BBYO VP of Enrichment Strategy
Being Jewish is filled with so many wonderful gifts: the food, the culture, the people, the history both good and bad. The mandate to help the world, however, is the best part. Avadim Hayyinu states simply that we once were enslaved, but now we are free. The insistence on using the first person in both cases is monumental. We were enslaved, but now we are free.
Placing us both physically there in Egypt and wherever we are currently free brings us personally into the narrative. As the granddaughter of immigrants from Eastern Europe, I have always known two things: our freedom is not guaranteed, and neither is the freedom of anyone else. Social justice is the bedrock of my Judaism, and this moment in the Seder highlights why. When I see people suffering, my religion tells me that I too am suffering. Emma Lazarus once said about assimilated American Jews not recognizing the immense trauma of pogroms in Eastern Europe, “Until we are all free, we are none of us free.” That statement is true not just about fellow Jews, but about anyone in the world who is hurting.
Regardless of how many years we have held Seders, or how learned and educated we are, we are told to retell the story of the Exodus and think of it in the first person. As BBGs have read in their meetings for generations, “We shall offer our help to those in need, recognizing that the ability to help others is a blessing and a responsibility.” This is the true story of Pesach, the true meaning of why we are Jewish.
SARAH YONAS, Class of 2000, Ohio Northern Region, former chapter Orechet, Sh’licha, Aym HaChaverot, and N’siah, former chapter advisor, BBYO Wisconsin Regional Director
Additional Commentary on Ma’aseh B’rabi Eliezer (page 17)
This story is narrated in the beginning of the Haggadah and talks about five rabbis who were discussing the exodus from Egypt with so much devotion and seriousness that their students had to interrupt them because it was time to recite the morning Shema.
This story is very telling since it underscores the importance of reading the Seder story seriously and shows that if five wise and very important rabbis thought it was important to talk about Pesach all night, then all of us should dedicate a lot of time to remember and discuss this important story. There are various interpretations about this section of the Haggadah and I’d like to write about a few of them.
A 17th century Polish scholar, Rabbi Naftali Hertz Ginzburg, recounts how the five rabbis were arguing over the importance of the Exodus redemption. He compares the Babylonian redemption to the Exodus one by saying that to a man who was initially saved from a lion but then saved from a snake, the lion story becomes secondary to the snake, just as the Exodus becomes of secondary importance compared to the Babylonian redemption since it happened before. The redemption that will trump them all is of course the final redemption, the coming of the Messiah.
According to a 19th century Moroccan scholar, Rabbi Eliyahu ben Harush, this story demonstrates how it is impossible to study the Haggadah without learning something new and different. Additionally, he talks about how the five rabbis analyzed all of Hashem’s acts of kindness and mercy in detail and shared their own wisdom.
In conclusion, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has talked about the importance of storytelling on numerous occasions. He explained how storytelling has always been central to the Jewish tradition, and in the Torah in relation to the Exodus it is written three times to tell the story of Pesach to our future generations. Rabbi Sacks also mentions how there is a strong link between stories and our identity. We understand who we are through the art of storytelling and the five rabbis undoubtedly knew this well.
JACOB
SHORE , Class of 2026, BBYO Italy
Additional Commentary on Arba’ah Banim (page 19)
The Haggadah mentions four children: The wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who does not know how to ask.
The wise son knows and understands the traditions, so he asks deeper questions about the Exodus and our story.
The wicked son knows the traditions, but does not feel represented by them, so he asks, “What does this mean to you? He says to you, not to us, meaning he excludes himself from the story.” To him, the Haggadah responds: “If you were in Egypt, you would have not been saved.”
The simple son knows nothing about Judaism. He knows he is Jewish, but he has never been exposed to the traditions. He asks, “What is this?”, representing his lack of knowledge.
And finally, the one who does not know how to ask. He knows nothing about his past as a Jew and why Passover is different from any other celebration. Therefore, the Haggadah says we must teach him. We need to explain to him the meaning of Passover, its symbolism, and its traditions. Despite not asking questions, it is our duty to share the story.
In BBYO, we must embrace those who already are involved in the Movement.
In BBYO, we must include those who feel left out.
In BBYO, we must introduce Jewish teens to all aspects of Judaism. In BBYO, we must guide the ones who feel lost.
It is our duty to embrace, include, introduce, and guide the Jews from all over the world. It always has been, for 100 years, for 5784 years and
for many generations to come. That is the meaning of being Jewish. That is the meaning of being part of BBYO.
ANONYMOUS*, BBYO Spain
*This contributor has elected to withhold their identity due to antisemitism in their local area.
There are two important “tikkunim” or “repairs” that I wish to suggest for the section of the four sons. The first of which is to see ourselves as one with the four sons. Note the Haggadah refers to them as “sons” and not “brothers,” which might imply that they are separate entities. What if each of the questions were asked by a different “face” of the same person? As is present in the story of Exodus, the human ability to contain multitudes also compels us to manage these different aspects of ourselves.
And as such, I believe we must redeem the wicked son. Many of us have asked ourselves “What does any of this have to do with me?” The rabbis punish this wicked son for removing himself from the Jewish people’s collective narrative. But I would also suggest that this removal and distance can be a meaningful exercise. What can we see from afar that does not appear when it is right in front of us? In which ways must we humble ourselves to put ourselves in the sandals of those who emerged from Egypt on foot or stood at the foot of Sinai?
The “wicked” son, whose only crime was inquisitiveness, reminds us of our individual responsibility when we empower ourselves with sacred embodied knowledge. We must become living reminders that if our ancestors could escape oppression to freedom, and that the march towards freedom is never ending, like in every year in which we read the Haggadah.
OZ FISHMAN, Class of 2012, Central Region West, 87th Grand Aleph Godol, instructor at Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design in Jerusalem, Israel
The four children in the Haggadah represent different personalities and ways of asking the same question, thus rephrasing the same question in different ways. The first one, the wise child, asks because he is interested in the answer. The second one, the wicked child, asks to demonstrate that he is not part of the community. The third one, the simple child, asks because he doesn’t understand and the last one does not ask because he doesn’t know how to ask.
These four sons remind me of the annual Seders we would have at the local Jewish community center in Bratislava with other families and led by our rabbi. We would read the Haggadah and the rabbi would invite other people to read certain parts. I, as an active participant, had my hand raised almost all the time, but later it became a tradition for me to read to one of the four children. Although I felt that I was the wise child, as I heard the story many times before, I would always read the child who does not know how to ask. I felt a responsibility and obligation to speak for those who didn’t know how to ask and were certainly not lucky enough to get any explanations.
The four children are not just a part of the Haggadah, they are a reminder that we are all different and we must constantly look out for those that are not as fortunate as we are, whether by choices they have made or by abilities they may not have. They show that we must always be there for others.
DAVID GOLDENBERG, Class of 2025, BBYO Slovakia, current regional Godol
We used to have Passover at my great-aunt Aileen and great-uncle Saul’s townhouse in Pikesville. The table fit about 20, so the kids would sit on the stairs of the dining room while the adults sat at the Passover table. If someone was misbehaving, Uncle Saul would make that person read the passage about the wicked son. There’s a paragraph in the Haggadah that lists long, hard-to-pronounce names of ancient rabbis—I can’t even remember what that section was about, but Uncle Saul would always give it to someone he was messing with.
Aunt Aileen would make matzah balls the size of baseballs. She’d ask, “Are the matzah balls fluffy this year?” and we’d always respond, “Yes, Aunt Aileen, they’re sooo fluffy.” This happened so often that now, if someone in my family is obviously fishing for compliments, we respond, “Yes, Aunt Aileen, your matzah balls are very fluffy.”
Uncle Saul passed away when I was in college, and Aunt Aileen passed last year. We haven’t had a Seder at their house since I was in middle school. But now my Uncle Buddy, Uncle Saul’s son, has whoever’s misbehaving read the wicked son. When my fiancé came to his first Passover Seder with the family as my then-boyfriend, Uncle Buddy gave him the passage with the long rabbi names. We still make matzah balls with Aunt Aileen’s recipe. My little brother, cousins, and I reminisce about sitting on the stairs.
Passover is a collection of these traditions. We pass the traditions down: we mold them to include new husbands, wives, and babies; we shape them to hold space for family we’ve lost. As my family has grown, Passover has grown along with it. It is a reflection of our community, a holding space of our memories.
SOFIE JACOBS, Class of 2014, Northern Region East: DC Council, 69th International Mazkirah, MBA candidate at Duke University’s Fuqua School of Business
The story of the four sons is among the most famous sections of the Haggadah and has been interpreted in many different ways over the years. To me, it’s a poignant lesson about inclusion and acceptance and reflects one of the most important life lessons I learned during my time in AZA.
Like so many, BBYO was where I learned what it means to be part of a truly caring community. In the process, it’s also where I found my own voice and my own sense of self confidence. Because let’s be honest: we AZAers were not always the coolest kids, and many of my fellow Alephs faced challenges being accepted at school. Yet when we came
to a BBYO program, everyone was welcomed and accepted for who they were. We embraced differences, welcomed diverse perspectives, learned to value people with different skillsets… and yes, even uncool kids like me had the chance to become BBYO-cool.
To me, the message of the four sons is that the world is a better place because some of us are wise, some of us are wicked, some of us are simple, and some of us don’t even know what to ask. Yes, we all bring our own approach and perspective and that’s not just okay, it’s important! Embracing differences is an important lesson I learned in my BBYO years and has continued to shape my worldview well beyond my days singing “Up, You Men”.
WALLY LEVITT, Class of 1985, BBYO Montreal, former regional Godol, CEO of Ramah Darom in Georgia
The wise child, the simple child, and the child who is unable to ask make up a spectrum of different levels of understanding of the Passover Seder, but the remaining child sticks out like a sore thumb; whatever they do or do not know is of little consequence. Their attitude is the real point of interest.
The Hebrew word used to describe this child is "rasha," meaning wicked or evil. How very harsh! They ask, “What does this service mean to you?” Because this so-called “wicked” child does not feel like it means anything to them. What’s so wicked about that? Hasn’t everyone felt some version of that at some point? Because of how they feel, they don’t ask what Passover means to us as a people, but to you people. They see others feel a connection that they do not and thus feel the need to separate themselves even more. The wicked child is nothing more than the embodiment of that apartness and the accompanying urge to push people further away. Which is why they get such a hostile response.
Though the dialogue with the other children is a lesson in teaching, the “wicked” child shows us a pitfall to avoid. When, like them, we feel alone and disconnected (which we will undoubtedly feel at one point or another), pushing away our culture, our traditions and, most importantly, our loved ones is not the answer. Instead, we must push to find our place and our people, and in Judaism not ask what it all means to another, but truly ask that to ourselves.
SAMUEL MISHKIN, Class of 2005, BBYO Uruguay, former chapter Shaliach
Each year at Seder, my cousins and I would try to figure out which one of us was the wise child, the simple child, the wicked child, and the child who does not know how to ask. No one wanted to be the child who does not know how to ask, because that child was thought to be uninterested, disengaged, and unintelligent. In recent years, I’ve developed a new appreciation for this child. This child, who might not have the language to form questions just yet, still comes to the Seder, pulls up a chair, and bears witness to the story of our people. This child teaches us about what it means to just be present, even when we might
not feel like we are “enough” or have anything to add. They teach us the importance of perseverance, of what it means to simply show up. If you ever find yourself in spaces where you feel less than, or where you feel you might not be “enough,” remember the lesson this child teaches— simply being there is enough. Continuing to show up is enough. One day the language will come. You’ll feel ready to ask the questions, and you might even pass on the lessons you learn to the children who come after you.
JULIA SABRA, Class of 2015, Gold Coast Region, former chapter N’siah, BBYO Song Leader and Educator, rabbinical and cantorial student at Hebrew College
Without question, I can affirm that I would not be a rabbi today were it not for the power, lessons, and love of BBYO in my life as a teenager. BBYO helped transform my life, as it has hundreds of thousands of others, to ensure that as a teenager I had a community filled with faith, love, and joy. The teenage years are no picnic and so to have a safe space, no matter one’s background, abilities, disabilities, personalities, or circumstances, BBYO’s doors were always wide open to all.
The Passover Seder does just the same—imagine the Seder having arms wide open to welcome all—even those disinterested. The inclusion of the Four Children in the seder demonstrates that Passover is for everyone; the wise child, the sassy one, the simple one, and the one who does even know how to articulate the questions… the Seder is open to them all, answers them all, and lets them know they are part of a greater whole.
I would never describe myself as a “cool” teenager. I am not sure what the description would be… but BBYO had a way of making us all feel “cool” because we were included. Anyone could run an event, be elected to office, volunteer their time, travel to Israel, go to ILTC or Convention, and that teenager would be embraced with a love that was hard to find in high school or in sports or in other places in the teenager’s life. BBYO is the living exemplification of what the Four Children are in the Passover Seder.
BBYO gave us all a structure by which to live our lives—equaling the playing field. From community service to Robert’s Rules of Order, to social action and so much more—we were part of something bigger than ourselves.
Of all the lessons BBYO taught me though, being inclusive was the most important. I hung out with kids who were just like me and some kids who were nothing like me. I was a Reform Jew (still am) and learned from my Orthodox and Conservative brothers and sisters without judgment, as they learned from me. I was an average student communing with students of the highest academic standards and those in special education—it didn’t matter! If you were an Aleph or a BBG, you were friends and included.
I am, in very large part, a congregational rabbi today trying to emulate the lessons I learned in BBYO. The four children, as I see it, in BBYO are those who are able to:
B—Bond in community
B—appreciate the Blessing of Judaism
Y—to be who You are without judgment
O—Open their hearts to the love of all things good
RABBI RICHARD STEINBERG, Class of 1986, Central Region West, former chapter and regional Godol, Senior Rabbinic Chair of Congregation Shir HaMa’alot in Irvine, California
The four children of the Passover Haggadah are derived from four separate instances in the Bible where parents are instructed to teach their children about the Passover story (three in Exodus 12–13, one in Deuteronomy 6). We have the wise child, the wicked child, the simple child, and the child who knows not enough to answer. Some famous Jewish commentators believe that these represent separate children, while others believe we have all four of these children within us. I see the four children both as emblems of the type of learners in our community, and the archetypes that we all empathize with. For instance, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (the late Chief Rabbi of Britain) determined that there is no such thing as a wicked child, and that “wicked” children are challenged by assimilation, vulnerable to persecution in the diaspora, and acting out their cry of rebellion. These children deserve compassion and need Jewish leaders to “own” our Judaism (and Passover rituals) before being able to impart the significance and ritualistic joy to those rabble-rousers. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, the famous mystical Hasidic rabbi, believes these four children are related to the four types of souls found in Jewish people. Each soul is needed to repair the world, for it is only by being together that we can integrate the positive elements, re-channel the negative, and make our Seder complete. Modern teachers look at these four children as different styles of learners, or different students who need to be educated in a way that is more natural to their personalities. I am sure at your BBYO Seder table right now, there are Jews who have fluency and understanding of the Passover ritual, Jews who are aware of some things (like the matzah and Seder plate) yet don’t know exactly what’s going on, Jews who view this dinner as strange and foreign, and Jews who may even question their Judaism (it’s a miracle they even showed up!). Everyone sitting around this table holds a sacred and valued piece of contemporary Jewish life. Without you, we would all be missing something!
RABBI SAM YOLEN, Class of 2008, Connecticut Valley Region, former chapter Godol, Rabbi of Kesher Israel Congregation in West Chester, Pennsylvania
Additional Commentary on V’hi She’amdah (page 22)
Every year at my Passover Seder I sit there listening and reading or speaking through every single word and ritual on the page of my Haggadah. I listen to some of the adults’ attempts at the Hebrew of Maggid or the story of the Exodus. However, every so often the words of the Haggadah form a song and we are able to sing the familiar
tune. One of these moments is V’hi She’amdah. We begin in a solemn tune that slowly becomes happier. I had never looked too closely in my Haggadah at this, but rather mindlessly sung it with the rest of my family, happy to be doing something rather than just listening. However, the more I look at the meaning of these words, the more and more relevant this feels to me and to the Jewish people today. This prayer reads, “This is what has stood by our fathers and us. That which stood for our ancestors applies to us as well. For it was not only one individual who stood up against us to destroy us. Rather, in every generation they stand up against us to destroy us. But the Holy One, Blessed Be He, redeems us from their hands.” Every day the statement, “In every generation they stand up against us to destroy us,” becomes reality as the Jewish people are fighting the ongoing battle in Israel to keep our homeland. We are also constantly facing people who want to delegitimize our pain and suffering by villainizing not only the State of Israel but the Jewish people as a whole. However, we are resilient people. This promise and protection, “Is what has stood by our fathers and us.” It specifically uses the word “us” to remind even future generations that God is still on our side and watching over us as a people and therefore we must never give up hope.
LIELLE BERKOWITZ, Class of 2025, Delta Region, former chapter Aym Ha'Chaverot and N’siah, current regional S’ganit
I still remember the feeling of standing on stage in Dallas, Texas, in February 2023 at International Convention. As I first stepped out from behind the curtain and walked up the stairs and looked at the thousands of Jewish teens from all corners of the globe, I felt something that day I never had before. A sense of hope, but different. A sense of pride, but to another degree. A sense of dedication, never felt before.
I still remember that feeling of rising from my chair as Hail to The Chief played and I saw a U.S. President for the first time in person. As he reaffirmed his dedication to the safety and security of the Jewish people around the world, I felt tears running down my face. I still remember the handshake and embrace of the Second Gentleman at the reception moments later. That day I felt something. A sense of security, but different. A sense of friendship, but to another degree. A sense of warmth, never felt before.
I still remember the feeling of being on a bus in Dallas, Texas, on that day hearing what happened. A day where I had no phone service and didn’t find out the full extent of the devastation until late into the evening. A moment in time I could not fully grasp the degree of what had happened until I finally returned back to my dorm room in Austin. That day I felt something. A sense of rage, but different. A sense of loss, but to another degree. A sense of failure, never felt before.
I’m sure you’ve felt a lot of emotions recently, and I know this year’s Passover is taking on a new meaning; but, in times like this, I remember V'hi She’amdah. In this poem from the Haggadah, we are reaffirmed in Adonai’s commitment to the Jewish people and dedication to the land of Israel and our connection to it. In times like this where Israel is under attack, we as a community remain united and stronger than ever.
AZA and BBG, life is full of moments where you feel. You feel pain and support. Love and hate. Dread and excitement. Hope and terror. Unity and division. How you go through life depends on how you view the world, but most importantly, what you feel. You have to allow yourself to feel no matter what. That’s what we do, not just as Jews, but as human beings. If there’s one thing I need each and every person to understand when they read this, especially teens who are still active members of BBYO—it’s that we’re powerful as a community. Our feelings as a community are what define us. Our humanity is our strength and our power comes from us. As we celebrate Passover, I wish you all a happy, healthy, and safe holiday. Am Yisrael Chai.
LEVI FOX, Class of 2022, Lonestar Region, 98th Grand Aleph Godol, student at University of Texas
“The Egyptians, the Babylonians and the Persians rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greeks and Romans followed and made a vast noise, and they were gone… [t]he Jew saw them all, survived them all…[a]ll things are mortal but the Jews; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?” —Mark Twain, 1897
While the answer to Mark Twain’s question is complex, the words of “V’hi She’amdah” may offer a clue. V’hi She’amdah can be interpreted as meaning that what oppresses us is also that which sustains us. In every generation, there have been those who have sought to oppress or destroy us. Yet, in every generation, the Jewish people have remained steadfast—both in opposition to those seeking our destruction, and in support of one another. Most importantly, we have remained steadfast in who we are—in our Jewish identity, customs, traditions, and beliefs. The words of V’hi she-am’dah—for better and for worse—continue to ring true in today’s world. In this generation, as in those that came before us and likely in those that follow, there are people who seek to oppress and destroy us. What gives me hope, and what partially answers Mark Twain’s question, is my knowledge that in this generation, and in those that will follow, the Jewish people will remain strong, united, and steadfast in who we are.
NOAH LEW, Class of 2015, Northwest Canada Region, former chapter S’gan and chapter and regional Godol, Articling Student at Goodmans LLP and board member of the Raoul Wallenberg Centre for Human Rights
To read this passage in the shadow of the horrors of Oct 7 is painfully prophetic. To realize that as long ago as the time of the Mishnah our leaders understood that tragedy and persecution would stalk the Jewish people from generation to generation is the worst kind of affirmation of their ancient wisdom. And yet, we are still here!
The first half of the verse so often overshadows the second, the assertion of divine intervention and redemption.
What strength can we draw from this historical echo that reverberates in every era? Yes, the Jew and the Jewish people have always been
and—according to our Haggadah—will always be a target for hate and genocidal violence. We are the world’s conscience bringing a quest for truth, justice, and empathy to social discourse. That is the gift of Jews and Judaism; we are the moral ethical voice that declares, “Justice, justice you shall pursue.” We call humanity to wake up, to live as we are created, in the image of God. This is our fulfillment of God’s call to Abraham and Sarah, to be a blessing. But, perhaps it’s also our burden, as Maurice Samuel’s once said when asked why people don’t like Jews: “No one likes his alarm clock.”
We are the ringing alarm that calls to wake humanity from its idolatry, narcissism, and callous hatred. We seek not the dominance of others but the betterment of all. That doesn’t sit well with some, a rebuke of their own theology or power, and thus antisemitism and Jew hatred have risen at the hands of modern day Pharaohs as far back as our Seder story and as recently as this past Simchat Torah.
There is no denying that hate, antisemitism, and worse have always be there, but miraculously so have the Jewish people. If our history of persecution teaches us anything it has taught us that we have survived through our faith in God and our dogged commitment to honour the blessing and miracle of our very existence. In spite of all attempts to the contrary, and maybe on some level because of them, we are still here saying the same prayers, around the same meal, eating this ancient bread of affliction, singing “Dayeinu/it would have been enough” in the same language that our ancestors said in their own times of existential dread and peril.
October 7 is new only in the sense that it is the first time for many Jews that they ever experienced violent antisemitism and Jew hatred in their lifetime; it is not new to the Jewish people—our Seder attests to that with every page—and neither is our perseverance and ultimate redemption. May we draw strength from the painful knowledge that we have been here before and from the inspiring realization that it is not by power, not might alone, but also by faith in the Divine that we are still here and, God willing, will be again next year in Jerusalem and in Jewish homes and communities around the world.
RABBI DAN MOSKOVITZ,
Maggid, the section of the Haggadah that retells the story of our delivery from Egypt, contains one of the most famous lines in the entire Haggadah: V’hi She’amdah. Not just in Egypt, but throughout Jewish history, the nations of the world have stood against Am Yisrael. The Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Crusaders, the Pogroms, the Nazis, and, today, Hamas. Despite this, Hashem is always there with us.
Why include this, though? Why, in the book detailing one of our people’s happiest moments, say that we’re always destined to be attacked?
Eighteenth century Rabbi Ya’akov Lorberbaum writes in his commentary on the Haggadah, “Even when others rose to destroy us, they could not destroy our sense of hope, which was a direct product of God’s interest in us. And even in exile, when we were seemingly cut off from God, that sense of hope sustained us in the face of overwhelming odds.”
Class of 1989, Central Region West, 65th Grand Aleph Godol, Senior Rabbi at Temple Sholom in Vancouver, Canada
This hope, this sustenance, is something I’ve personally experienced throughout the past few months. Despite the hardship and difficulty the Jewish people have been going through, we’ve come together like never before. Last November, 300,000—one out of every fifty Jews in the world—rallied together in Washington, DC, to stand with our siblings in Israel. This past February, a few friends and I went to a concert with Israeli artist Ishay Ribo (totally check him out if you haven’t), one of two shows hosted by Harvard Chabad, both packed and sold out. One of the things I remember most from both of these events was when we sang those same words together: V’hi She’amdah
Even though there are those around the world who would rather see our people weak and divided, I’ve never felt more united with the Jewish people than in those moments. I’ve never felt more proud. While there may always be people who stand against us, we will always stand stronger. The best way to fight Jewish hate is always through Jewish joy.
AARON PEROTTA, Class of 2023, Greater Jersey Hudson River Region, 98th Grand Aleph Mazkir, student at Brown University
It is said that in every generation, there is an enemy that rises up against us; and yet in every generation, our God also rises to deliver us from their hands. The Pesach Haggadah recounts the story of our ancestors’ journey out of slavery in Egypt, and into the desert where we receive the holiest of teachings from which our entire faith is derived. In the modern day, we too can acknowledge with heavy hearts that there continue to be enemies, both new and familiar, that rise against us. This past year alone we have witnessed new waves of antisemitism and ant-zionism following the atrocities of October 7, 2023, that have taken form in every corner of the world. We have watched as our brothers and sisters have had their lives stolen, Ziochronam L’bracha, we have listened as our enemies have attempted to defame our name and change our history, and we have been witness to horror after horror. Yet? In this same year we have watched as our brothers and sisters have risen to defend our holy land of Israel, we have listened to the communal voices of the Jewish people praying for peace and safety, and we have witnessed the Jewish community come together like no other. So, perhaps this passage remains true thousands of years later. Perhaps in every generation there will be an enemy that attempts to defeat us, yet in every generation our one and only God, too, will rise and guide us towards peace. Hashem too will raise our hands and enable us to continue to uplift and strengthen Am Yisrael
EMMA ZENTNER, Class of 2021, Red River Region, 77th Anita M. Perlman International N’siah, BBYO Global Engagement Intern, student at University of Manitoba
Additional Commentary on the Ten Plagues (page 32)
What would the Ten Plagues look like for teens today? These symbolic afflictions may not involve locusts or rivers turning to blood, but they
encapsulate the struggles and tribulations that many teens encounter in their everyday lives.
1. Social Media Obsession: The relentless pursuit of likes and validation, akin to the swarm of locusts, can devour a teen’s self-esteem.
2. Acne Outbreaks: Comparable to the boils that afflicted the Egyptians, acne can be a persistent and irritating plague for adolescents.
3. Eternal Homework: Just as the hailstorms battered Egypt, the relentless barrage of assignments can make teens feel overwhelmed and frozen in the midst of academic chaos.
4. Parental Pharaohs: Teens often feel the heavy hand of authority from their parents, similar to the Egyptians enduring the Pharaoh’s stubbornness.
5. Awkward Growth Spurts: Like the frogs that seemed to multiply endlessly, teens often experience rapid and awkward growth, leaving them feeling out of sync with their changing bodies.
6. Communication Breakdown: The darkness that enveloped Egypt can be likened to the breakdown in communication between teens and their parents, as they navigate the stormy waters of adolescence.
7. Fashion Faux Pas: Just as lice infested the Egyptians, teens may feel plagued by the social consequences of a fashion misstep.
8. Exam Stress: The death of the firstborn, a poignant plague, reflects the intense pressure and anxiety teens feel during crucial exams, fearing the death of their academic aspirations.
9. Peer Pressure Plague: Similar to the livestock epidemic, teens may find themselves swept away by the herd mentality, struggling to stand firm against peer pressure.
10. FOMO (Fear of Missing Out): The final plague, akin to the passing over of the Angel of Death, represents the fear of missing out on social events and experiences that define the teenage years.
JAYME DAVID, BBYO SVP of Philanthropic Engagement
Just imagine—sitting on the ground with your friends after a long day of class, sand between your toes, looking up at the sky, and seeing a dark, ominous cloud heading your way. It’s moving fast… so fast you can hear it buzzing louder and louder as it draws near. You wrap your arms around each other, protecting yourselves from this terrifying blackness overhead. It is a swarm of locusts, four miles long and two miles high, and it’s almost here.
This feels biblical. And of course, has been in the past—as locusts swarm Egypt in our beloved Passover narrative. But the story above is a firsthand account from Argentina in 2016, as the worst infestation of locusts in over 60 years destroyed millions of acres of farmland across the country.
We used to think of the plagues as a thing of the past—a divine punishment intended to persuade our enslavers to free our ancestors,
as we celebrate our exhaustive journey toward the promised land. And yet, today, our world is wrought with natural phenomena that feel overwhelmingly divine. There are pandemics, hurricanes, extreme cold spells, tornadoes, and wildfires. There are superbugs, droughts, crop failures, and species extinction.
The plagues of the Torah did not just affect the Egyptians. Our people were the most vulnerable in the land—hungry, overworked, and destitute. When the waters of the Nile turned to blood, and the livestock died, and darkness fell, and hail rained down from the heavens, the Israelites suffered alongside their oppressors. They may have felt the plagues even more keenly than their Egyptian neighbors living in safe, sturdy homes and palaces.
In our world today, it is often the most vulnerable who feel the effects of the choices of others. When corporations put financial gain over the health of our planet and governments fail to act, when food systems and use of land change the livability of our climate, the poorest among us suffer the most.
May we learn from the Torah, and use our strength to stand up for others.
May we learn from the Torah, and consider how our actions affect the lives of those around us.
May we learn from the Torah, and protect our beautiful world.
RABBI JEN LADER,
Class of 2003, Lonestar Region, former chapter and council N’siah, Rabbi at Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan
Additional Commentary on the Plagues at Sea (page 34)
A few years ago, I came across an anonymously attributed poem, which is actually based on a Midrash (Shemot Rabbah, 21:6), entitled “Moses Overcomes the Sea.” In it, the sea berates Moses for commanding it to split. “Why, Moses, are you doing this to me? After all, I was created on the third day, while you were created on the sixth; I am three days older than you, and yet you wish to pass through me? Remember, Moses, that I am wiser than you. Then how dare you say: ‘Divide before me!’” Moses doesn’t accept the response of the sea. The people of Israel are in danger, he says, and you will split. And then the sea does. This poem reminds me of one of the most profound lessons that I learned from my time BBYO—the power of audacity. As part of the Movement, we’re taught to challenge notions like, “you’re too young to create change,” or “it’s always been this way.” We’re taught that we can make a difference, and the time to do so is now.
Inevitably, we’ll each have moments where we are called upon to split our own seas. Hard moments—where the right thing to do is to follow our convictions, act audaciously, maybe even break a few rules…
NOGA HURWITZ, Class of 2018, Central Region West, 74th Anita M. Perlman International N’siah, Product Manager at Adobe
Additional Commentary on Dayeinu (page 36)
"A BBYO DAYEINU"
The word “Dayeinu” means “that would have been enough.” It is a litany of things that we as a Jewish people are to be thankful for. Had even one of them happened, it would have been enough to warrant gratitude. According to the great Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, it serves as a “tikkun,” a corrective to the litany of complaints the Israelites voiced in the Torah. Instead we have a litany of praise.
When I applied to rabbinical school in the late 1980s, BBYO didn’t necessarily have the best reputation with the rabbinical school admissions committees. It was seen as a purely social organization, so many of us were asked in our interviews why, given that it was primarily social and not religious, we felt drawn to serve Judaism as rabbis.
One of my classmates was said to have answered that question with the single word “Dayeinu,” that even being involved in a Jewish organization purely for social reasons would have been enough. The story may or not even be true, but it’s very much what I believe. And, as it turns out, BBYO was much more than that for so many of us.
So, if you choose to do so, read the following BBYO Dayeinu, getting progressively louder and faster as you go until it reaches a crescendo at the end.
If BBYO had only given us a safe environment to spend time with other teenagers without getting into too much trouble, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only enabled us to spend time with other Jewish youth in our area, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only allowed us to meet Jewish kids from all over the world, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only gotten us in the habit of dating nice Jewish partners, Dayeinu.
If BBYO had only given us leadership skills that would help us serve the Jewish community, Dayeinu.
If BBYO had only taught us, far beyond our Hebrew schools, to lead prayers and run services, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only taught us Birkat Hamazon (granted, the strangest version ever compiled) or the "Shehu noteh shamayim" part of the Aleinu, Dayeinu.
If BBYO had only taught us the mitzvah of bikkur cholim, visiting the sick, by arranging events where we visited residents of local nursing homes, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only taught us the mitzvah of pidyon shavuyim, of redeeming captives, when we wrote letters to our congressional representatives and demonstrated every fifth Sunday at the Soviet Consulate to free our Soviet Jewish brethren, Dayeinu
If BBYO had only made us think about and create a love for Jewish identity, the Jewish religion, the Jewish nation and the Jewish people, Dayeinu.
But BBYO did all those things and much, much more, and so we say: DAYEINU!
RABBI MARK BLOOM, Class of 1984, Central Region West, former regional Godol and Grand Aleph Dovair, Rabbi of Temple Beth Abraham in Oakland, California
Additional Commentary on Pesach, Matzah, Umaror (page 38)
What does it mean to have a Seder? It means to join together with Jews all over the world and all over history all at once. It is an incredible opportunity for time together while enjoying delicious food and telling our story. Interestingly, the basic parameters of the evening are all laid out in the 10th chapter of the Mishnah tractate Pesachim. The words of the Mishnah were codified in 200 CE and thus by observing Seder we are a link in a chain of unbroken tradition from at the very least 200 CE but much further back than that. The parameters of the Seder in the Mishnah are four cups of wine, telling the story of the Exodus, and lastly Pesach, matzah, and maror. Those last three central elements are what make up Raban Gamliel’s requirement of the Seder, namely that we discuss them and perhaps eat them. Why were these so essential to Raban Gamliel? Let us look at the three and see why they define a Seder and observance of Passover:
Pesach: This is the shankbone on your Seder plate. Some Haggadot will tell you to lift it, some will instruct you to point, and some will say to only speak about it. This is because since the destruction of the second Temple in 70 CE we have not been able to have the true Passover sacrifice and thus this is only a symbol or a memory of what we used to do and not the object itself. It symbolizes the mechanism of our liberation. On the 14th of Nissan we slaughtered a lamb and placed the blood of the lamb on our doorposts to alert the Angel of Death that we were inside and to “Passover” our houses. In subsequent years, either in the Tabernacle or in the Temple, we would slaughter the lamb as commanded by God without any blood being spread. When we point, lift, and/or mention the Paschal offering, we are recalling that transitional moment at which point we went from enslavement to freedom.
Question to ponder: How are you active in your Judaism? What sacrifices do you make to be a Jew? What has been a moment of great transition for you?
Matzah: The main star of the night. The bread of Passover has many different identities: bread of affliction, etc. Traditionally we understand that matzah was what we were able to produce in little time before we departed Egypt and thus it had no time to rise. But it was also commanded of us that we sit and eat the Paschal sacrifice with matzah and bitter herbs (coming next). I often think of the matzah as the most significant of the three items on Raban Gamiliel’s checklist. Matzah was something that we ate while slaves, it is something we ate at the time
of our liberation, and it is something that we ate as free people. We are only commanded to eat matzah on the Seder night itself but many of us eat it all week (I eat it for most of the year). Nobody eats the Pesach anymore and even when we had the Temple we only ate it on the first night. Nobody eats maror beyond the Seder nights and so matzah is this substance that carries all of the emotion of the holiday. When we eat matzah we are literally eating our history. When we eat matzah we are reliving the highest point and the lowest all at one time. It is this incredible substance that both symbolizes pain and freedom at the same time. For this reason one of the names of the holiday is actuallt "Chag HaMatzot," The Holiday of Matzah.
Questions to ponder: How does food have meaning? Do you think people who are struggling eat similar or different food from people who are not struggling? What does matzah mean to you?
Maror: The last of Gamliel’s three required parts of the Seder evening is the bitter herbs. On your plate you will have two varieties: רְוַרְמַ (maror) and תרְזְחַ (chazeret). We typically use romaine lettuce for the maror and horseradish root for the chazeret. Traditionally we understood the romaine lettuce to be more appropriate because it was sweet at first and became bitter with time. That is how our time in Egypt was… sweet for a time and ultimately bitter in the end. When Joseph rose to power in Egypt and then his brothers came and were reunited with him, he was saving the Egyptian people and a large portion of the known world. Joseph was second only to Pharaoh and thus all who were associated with him were held in high esteem. This is why in the early moments of the book of תוַמַשֶ (Exodus) we learn: עדיַ
תא—”and a new king arose over Egypt that didn’t know Joseph.” These words are all about the sudden and drastic change in the Hebrews’ experience in Egypt. The bitter herb that we eat is understood to be about the Egyptians making our lives bitter with slavery and rules. But it is also about the real world in which we live where bad things happen and nothing is permanent. We need to be more aware and more discerning in our world so that we see when something that might, indeed, be sweet, could change in a moment to something disastrous.
Questions to ponder: What is something that seemed great in the beginning but turned out bad in your life? Do you have an example of the opposite? When you eat the bitter herbs how does it feel? Is there a difference between the lettuce and horseradish? What can you do to remedy the sting of the bitter herb? What can you do in life to negate the bitterness of the hardships that you encounter?
RABBI JOSH HEARSHEN, Class of 1997, Michigan Region, former chapter Mazkir and S’gan, Rabbi of Congregation Or VeShalom in Brookhaven, Georgia
Additional Commentary on B’chol Dor Vador (page 40)
“Surely it is obvious that the real great men [sic] of history, the men [sic], that is, who have become forces in the life of humanity, are not actual, concrete persons who existed in a certain age. There is not a single great man [sic] in history of whom popular fancy has not drawn
a picture entirely different from the actual man; and it is this imaginary conception, created by the masses to suit their needs and inclinations, that is the real great man [sic]… this, and not the concrete original…” —Ahad Ha’am, “Moses,” 1904
I often pause Seders I am leading before we begin the Maggid section, in which we retell the incredible story of our Exodus (among other useful and delightful sojourns into rabbinic thought), and ask participants to raise their hands: “Who among you believe that the Exodus really happened? Who among you does not believe that the Israelites were ever slaves in Egypt? Who among you has a view that falls in some gray area between these two extremes?” I ask the question as a way of reframing Ahad Ha’am’s writing about the historical Moses as an important frame for our read of the Passover story at large. Whether or not we ever actually made an exodus from Egypt is immaterial. Our self-understanding as a people once enslaved and now blessed with the privilege of freedom and the responsibilities issuing there from is at the very core of what it means to be a Jew. The most important word in the Haggadah is a word that for many might be a throwaway: “K’ilu,” “as though.” In every generation we are each meant to see ourselves “k’ilu,” “as though,” we ourselves made the Exodus from Egypt. In so doing, whether or not all this “really” happened, we acknowledge this story’s very real historical impact. The Jewish people is one that centers within its ethos the collective responsibility to care for the vulnerable in our midst, for we know what happens when we forsake the stranger—we dehumanize them, and in so doing dehumanize ourselves. Regardless of its concrete historicity, the moral imperative the Exodus lays upon us all, to use the language of Ahad Ha’am, is the “real great story” of Passover. May we see it fulfilled speedily and in our days.
RABBI NOAH DIAMONDSTEIN, Class of 2011, Central Region East, former chapter Shaliach, Associate Rabbi at Temple Sinai in Washington, DC
My first time ever celebrating Passover in Israel, I joined my family’s seder outside of Tel Aviv. Also joining us was a guest, an undocumented immigrant from the Ivory Coast who worked for a cleaning service that cleaned my cousin’s art studio each week. We exchanged pleasantries, held the first part of the Seder, and when we began serving dinner, the conversation switched to English to include our guest who did not speak Hebrew.
Trying to be friendly, someone asked him if he had been to a Seder before, and what he thought of it. “I am jealous,” he said, which was not the answer we were expecting. He continued by explaining how lucky we were to be sharing our history like this. He told us how growing up in the Ivory Coast, he was taught French history at school. The names and stories of European kings, who did not look like him or share his culture, heritage, history, or beliefs, was a foreign experience. That history was not his story, it was the story of another people, a people that had conquered and colonized his people, and who had sought to erase his people’s story.
I learned from our guest what it means to see myself as if I had personally left Egypt. It is to see myself as part of this story, to understand that the story of Passover is my story, that I am a link in a
chain dating back to the Exodus from Egypt. I learned what it means to be the subject, and not the object, of that history. And I learned that it is a privilege, never to be taken for granted, to learn my own history, my own story, the story of who I am and how I came to be.
RABBI JOSH HERMAN, Class of 2005, Wisconsin Region, former regional Godol, Executive Director of Hillel Milwaukee
At every Passover and in every generation, we are commanded to imagine ourselves as if we are leaving Egypt, pushing ourselves into the wilderness of the unknown. While slavery was awful, it took a level of vulnerability and courage by our ancestors to thrust themselves into the wilderness, not knowing how long and how challenging the journey would be. And this journey was critical to our ancestors becoming am echad, one people and one nation.
For 100 years, leaders in BBYO have been charged with this same challenge. In a society that values a certain formula to success, our tradition teaches us an important lesson. Being in the wilderness of the unknown and vulnerability teaches more about ourselves than any other form of learning. Like the wilderness of our ancestors, our opportunities are limitless and without any boundaries.
As we celebrate BBYO's Centennial, may we recommit ourselves to leaning into the wilderness of life, constantly improving ourselves and our community through this timeless lesson taught at Passover.
RABBI DANIEL A. SEPTIMUS, Class of 1997, Lonestar Region, 73rd Grand Aleph Godol, CEO of Shalom Austin
Passover is a holiday filled with remembrances. Remembering when we were slaves in Egypt, remembering the Ten Plagues, remembering the parting of the Red Sea, and so on. Yet, beyond this historical recollection lies a deeper level of remembrance during Passover which urges us to reflect on the Jewish people’s journey. To reflect where we came from, how we suffered at the hands of our oppressors, and how ultimately, triumph was facilitated by the guiding hand of Hashem. Passover remembrance can be a powerful force in shaping our present actions through the lens of our past.
Embedded within the Haggadah’s passage, “In every generation, each person is obligated to see himself as if he or she had gone forth from Egypt,” is an invitation to empathize with the suffering of others. It instills in us a sense of obligation to acknowledge and help alleviate the plight of those less fortunate who are facing challenges we might call “modern-day plagues.”
Fundamentally, Passover’s remembrance isn’t simply a recollection of our past; it’s a call to action in the present. It compels us to consider how the events of our history can shape our behaviors and attitudes today, and foster empathy and compassion to those less fortunate around us.
DEBBIE SHEMONY, BBYO SVP of Marketing & Communications
Additional Commentary on Maror (page 47)
Rabbi Nachman of Bretzlov tells the story of a Jewish beggar traveling along with his non-Jewish friend. The Jewish beggar tells his friend that if he pretends to be a Jew he will be invited to a Seder and thereby have a large festive meal. The non-Jewish beggar does so and receives an invitation to a Seder. At the Seder, he patiently waits for the food—only to be served nothing but matzah and bitter herbs and leaves because he believes this is the meal. Later, when the Jewish beggar asks him how his meal was, he explains that all they gave him were bitter herbs, so he left.
Sitting through a long Seder, I am sure we all felt the same way this beggar did. We are promised food but left with hours of stories, songs, and bitter herbs, only to eat much later. If the beggar had only waited a little longer, he would have gotten to the portion of the night he had longingly waited for and been rewarded with a large meal. The maror not only represents the bitterness we experienced in Egypt but also is literally bitter. When we experience challenges, eat bitter food, or sit through a long Seder, how much more do we appreciate the sweet things or the meal at the end?
As Rabbi Nachman teaches us, it is important to get through the challenging, bitter times just as the Israelites in Egypt did to get to the sweet times. We can learn that experiencing the difficult things in life makes the good ones even better. So, during the Seder, be grateful for the bitter herbs and lengthy stories because they make the matzah ball soup taste even better.
ARI WEISMAN, Class of 2025, North Texas Oklahoma Region, 36th International Sh'licha
Additional Commentary on Korech (page 48)
Growing up, korech felt like a challenge. I refused to eat horseradish by itself for the maror part of the Seder but devoured the charoset. Korech challenged me to eat both, at the same time, and it felt like a reasonable compromise. I embraced the sweetness of the apples and cinnamon, while shuddering at the bitterness of the maror.
There have been many bittersweet moments in my life, during my BBYO days and ever since. From my final International Convention to graduating college in the middle of the pandemic, I see the value of korech, of pushing us to recognize at once all the joy and all the bitterness that a single moment or experience may hold. When we hold both parts of an experience together, we are able to understand it more. The sweetness allows us to endure the bitterness, and the bitterness reminds us how lucky we are to appreciate sweetness. This year, may we have the strength to embrace both the bitter and the
sweet, recognize the value of both, and be grateful for the ability to learn and grow from these moments.
RACHEL MITCHELL , Class of 2015, North Texas Oklahoma Region, former chapter Mazkirah and S’ganit, MBA graduate from Tel Aviv University
Additional Commentary on Tzafun (page 50)
The afikoman search is a wonderful tradition and a very interesting part of the Passover Seder. What makes it so memorable is the fact that it is both a fun and playful experience and it is connected to an ancient mitzvah. Almost every Jewish kid who has been to a Passover Seder will tell you that searching for the afikoman is one of their favorite moments, and it’s a great way to develop love and appreciation for Passover, its history, and its traditions in young kids. At the same time, the afikoman is a modern-day substitute for the Passover sacrifice, which gives it much more meaning than just being half of a matzah that kids have to search for; it serves as a showcase for the relationship between the Seder and holy Temple traditions. I’ve always loved the afikoman tradition, and it will forever hold a special place in my heart among the many different parts of the Passover Seder.
GABRIEL SHULMAN, Class of 2025, BBYO Latvia, current chapter Godol
Additional Commentary on Shfoch Chamatcha (page 59)
We are members of Hazakim AZA 1960, a group of 35 “brothers,” most of whom grew up together on the Jewish North Side of Minneapolis. As we progressed through elementary grades and into junior and senior high school, we were asked by our Hazakim predecessors to take over the mantle/charter of Hazakim.
We were grateful for BBYO giving us the opportunity to become close knit, in a way that has endured for most of us until the present. As we experienced the painful loss of some of our group, we decided to memorialize them yearly at a summer synagogue service. We have been celebrating memories of those who passed and the memories we shared from our high school years to the present. Twelve of our original 35 have now passed, as well as one of our leaders.
Most of the group of 18 regulars meet monthly via Zoom. These are “schmoozfests,” but we also discuss serious topics including the state of our planet, the desperate need for day care services for those families who need it the most, world upheavals, suggested books, and each other’s family stories, legacies, and well-being. Lately, as we are all in our early eighties, we have begun to discuss our legacy. In that context we revisit our roots, meaning our parents and BBYO—as we are asked to do in the Passover Haggadah.
One of our members has shared that his family adopted a Pesach tradition 30 or 40 years ago. Elijah’s cup was filled by each person at the Seder table, adding from their cup to Elijah’s cup. Furthermore, each would add a memory, a gratitude, an attribute, or any manner of fitting comment that will make the Elijah’s cup stronger. In that way the meaning of the ceremony was enhanced, and the tradition was passed on from generation to generation. Truly, then, the whole became greater than the sum of its parts. From generation to generation, we add ourselves to the Passover tradition with, as attributed to Elijah, “hope and redemption.”
Aligning our enduring friendships with the Pesach Seder, we feel continuity and meaning with each other, and it grows and enriches with each of our monthly meetings. While not formatted as a Seder, we also feel continuity with the evolving story of the Jewish people, from the ancient Exodus to the present.
HAZAKIM AZA 1960, 1940s–50s, Mid-America Region: North Star Council; learn more in the film “35 Brothers”
Some have the custom to add an additional Miriam’s Goblet on our Seder tables to join the traditional Goblet of Elijah the prophet. In Exodus 15:20, Miriam is called “prophetess” and her goblet is filled with water, the source of life.
Miriam guards her baby brother, Moses, floating in the Nile as he is rescued by Pharaoh’s daughter. Miriam offers Yocheved, his birth mother, as his wet nurse. This ensures Moses’ caretaking with family. As a Jewish woman, Miriam is a symbol for activism.
Miriam remained involved with the Hebrews, leading them in song and dance after they crossed the Red Sea out of Egypt. She is the source of the miraculous water that quenched thirst while also healing body and soul. Spiritually she was considered on such a high level that when she died it was by the kiss of God, and consequently Miriam’s well—and water—disappeared.
Additional Commentary on Chad Gadya (page 83)
You know that song, the one on the very last page of most Passover Haggadahs, the one where the one little goat gets eaten by a cat, which gets eaten by a dog, and so on. Well, this is the Passover song that symbolizes what I love and treasure most about our families’ special Seder traditions. Every year as we gather around the table, we follow the Seder as we take turns reading the Haggadah. My father adds props like little plastic goats and farm animals on the table along with other traditional symbols like frogs and little marshmallows to represent the plague of hail.
MARCIA GOREN WESER, Class of 1961, 17th International N’siah
When I was asked to contribute to the BBYO Centennial Haggadah And write a piece on something about Passover or a part of the Haggadah that stands out to me or means something to me, I was a little conflicted. At first I didn’t know what I was going to write about, but then I sat down and just thought about Passover. The first thought that came to me was Chad Gadya, and how it has and will forever be a multi-generational tradition in my family. This all started when I was little; I had just left the table to go do something with my cousins as a 6-year-old. Then I heard my family start singing a song about a goat, and something in me just knew I had to be at that table with my grandparents and make a goat sound. It became a cherished inside joke among us, symbolizing our shared connection and the bond we had around the Passover table. But Chad Gadya is more than just a lighthearted song; it carries profound meaning and symbolism. Through its playful narrative, we are reminded of life’s journey, with its ups and downs, joys and sorrows. Each verse serves as a reminder of the enduring presence of hope, culminating in the acknowledgment of the Holy One’s ultimate sovereignty. In our family, regardless of the length of the Seder or whether it’s been moved to the couches, we always make sure to include Chad Gadya. It’s a testament to our commitment to tradition and the importance we place on coming together as a family to celebrate our shared heritage and faith.
Reflecting on the significance of Chad Gadya in my family’s Passover celebration, I can’t help but think of the broader context of life’s uncertainties. When I chose to leave Israel during the war, I knew then, as I do now, that ultimately, it’s up to Hashem. Just as Chad Gadya reminds us of the cycle of life and the trust we place in the Divine, so too does it echo the understanding that at the end of the day, it’s up to Him. As I ponder the timeless values represented by Chad Gadya—unity, faith, and tradition—I am reminded of the strength we find in our shared history and beliefs. In the midst of life’s uncertainties, the spirit of Chad Gadya continues to resonate, a symbol of resilience and the enduring presence of family, faith, and tradition.
SHAWNDRA SAFFER-SPIRO, Class of 2023, Lake Ontario Region, former chapter Sh’licha and N’siah
