The word seder means “order,” and it is central to the Jewish concept of freedom. We become God’s “partners in the work of creation” when we create order in society – an order that honors all persons as the image of God. If God’s presence is to be found not just in rare moments of ecstasy, but in the daily transactions of society as a whole, then it must have a seder, a set of rules we all honor. Order turns individuals into a community and communities into a people. The seder night reflects the order that binds us to other Jews throughout the world and in previous generations.
At the same time, the seder leaves room for spontaneity. No two seder nights are the same. Ideally each family, each year, adds new insights as we reflect on our birth as a people and relate it to the present. “The more one tells…the more admirable it is.” Pesaḥ is a fine example of the Jewish counterpoint between structure and spontaneity. We all tell the same story in the same words, but we each add something uniquely ours. The rules are the same, but the commentaries and interpretations are always different. That is how an ancient story stays young.
THE SEDER PLATE
In ancient times, seder participants used to recline on couches, and each had a table. Nowadays, though we still recline to drink the wine, eat the matza, and tell the story, we group the ingredients of the seder on a single plate, often made and decorated specially for the occasion.
Its elements are these:
1. Matza – three matzot, representing the double portion of bread always eaten on Sabbaths and festivals, together with a third to represent the special duty of eating matza tonight.
2. Zeroa – a roasted shankbone, recalling the Paschal offering. The bone itself symbolizes the “outstretched arm” with which God rescued the Israelites.
3. Beitza – a roasted egg, reminding us of the ḥagiga, the other festive offering eaten on Pesaḥ.
4. Maror – the bitter herbs, recalling the bitterness of slavery in Egypt. Nowadays this usually takes two forms. (a) In the time of the Mishna, the food eaten as maror was usually lettuce (ḥazeret). Although this does not always taste bitter to our palates, lettuce begins by being sweet and ends by becoming bitter and hard. It thus epitomizes the experience of the Israelites in Egypt. Usually romaine lettuce is used. (b) The other form, horseradish, was the form of bitter herbs most readily available in Eastern Europe. Some have the custom to place both on the seder plate, eating both in combination, or using the lettuce for the first maror and the horseradish for the sandwich with matza.
5. Ḥaroset – a mixture of fruit and spices in which the maror is dipped. The custom of using ḥaroset on Pesaḥ dates back to mishnaic times, but since it is a custom, not an obligation, we do not say a blessing over it. There are two reasons for the ḥaroset. It recalls the mortar with which the Israelites made bricks when they were slaves. But it also recalls the verse from the Song of Songs, “Beneath the apple tree I woke you” (8:5), which the sages applied to the love between God and Israel that led to redemption. Thus the custom has developed of making ḥaroset with the various fruits mentioned in the Song of Songs – apples, pomegranates, figs, nuts, and dates – together with ground spices (cinnamon and ginger are the most common), which recall the grinding of straw in those days. Wine is added to the mixture until it has the consistency of mortar.
6. Karpas – the vegetable we dip in salt water at the beginning of the seder to arouse the interest of a child. The original karpas was probably celery, but other vegetables have been used by different communities at various times. A common custom today is to use parsley.
7. Salt water – in which the karpas is dipped, recalling the tears of the Israelites in Egypt.
THE ORDER
We owe to French Tosafist (sage of the school of Rashi, twelfth to thirteenth centuries) Rabbi Shmuel of Falaise the fifteen-word summary of the seder service:
1. Kadesh – the recitation of Kiddush
2. Urḥatz – washing before karpas
3. Karpas – eating a vegetable dipped in salt water
4. Yaḥatz – splitting the middle matza
5. Maggid – telling the story of the Exodus, set in motion by questions asked by a child
6. Raḥtza – washing the hands before the meal
7. Motzi – the blessing over food
8. Matza – the special blessing over matza
9. Maror – eating the bitter herbs
10. Korekh – (lit., wrapping) the sandwich of matza and maror
11. Shulḥan Orekh – the “set table,” the meal
12. Tzafun – the “hidden” matza, or afikoman, the last food to be eaten
13. Barekh – grace after the meal
14. Hallel – concluding Hallel along with other songs of praise
15. Nirtza – parting prayer that our seder be accepted by God and become a prelude to future redemption
These fifteen stages echo other “fifteens” – the fifteen Psalms headed “A Song of Degrees,” the fifteen steps between the Women’s Court and the Court of the Israelites on which, in Temple times, the Levites would stand and sing praises, and the fifteen occasions of God’s kindness to the Jewish people recounted in the song Dayeinu.
PESAḤ AND THE HOME
It is no coincidence that this, the oldest of Jewish rituals, takes place, as it did in Egypt, in the home. Judaism attaches immense significance to the family. The Book of Genesis is entirely devoted to families: Adam and Eve, Noah and his family, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob, Rachel and Leah, and their children. The family is the birthplace of a free society. It is where we learn the reciprocity on which the moral life depends. It is where, sharing our vulnerabilities, we discover strength. Through the bonds it creates, we learn ḥesed, the duty that flows from love. Above all it is where we learn who we are, where we came from, and what our story is.
Significantly, in the only place where the Torah explains why Abraham was chosen to carry the promise of the covenant, the reason is given in terms of parenthood: “For I have chosen him so that he will instruct his children and his household after him, that they may keep the way of the LORD, doing what is right and just” (Gen. 18:19). Abraham was chosen in order to be a parent. He was also chosen to be an educator. The two concepts, so different in many societies, including our own, are in Judaism inseparable.
Fatherhood and motherhood are two distinct phenomena, and Judaism attaches equal importance to both. A child derives its biological identity as part of the Jewish people from its mother. The Hebrew word for compassion, raḥamim, derives from reḥem, “womb.” A mother, more than a father, is bound to a child through unconditional love.
Fatherhood, by contrast, is a social construct. It belongs to culture rather than nature. There are animals – including primates, genetically close to human beings – in which fathers do not even recognize their children after a few months. Fatherhood, like fidelity, is not a constant across cultures. The supreme challenge of any civilization, said the anthropologist Margaret Mead, is to socialize males and persuade them to invest their energies in the home, the family, and children.
This was one of Judaism’s greatest achievements through the ages. The Hebrew word for male, zakhar, is closely related to the word for memory, zakhor. It is the task of fathers to hand on to their children the memories of the past. For we are related to the past not just biologically but also culturally, through the stories we tell and the history we relate (see “History and Memory”). That is what we do on Pesaḥ. Thus Pesaḥ, the festival of Jewish memory, is celebrated in the home, the birthplace of memory.
Families are a source of immense strength, but they can also be the source of narrowness, nepotism, and indifference to the world outside. There is a potential conflict between the family and the wider concerns that are needed to build a society of justice and compassion. For that reason a Jewish home must always be open – to the hungry, the lonely, and visitors. Abraham and Sarah, waiting at their tent to provide food and shelter to passersby, are an enduring symbol of this Jewish value. “Greater is hospitality,” said the sages, “than welcoming the Divine Presence” (Shabbat 127a). The Hebrew letter beit, whose name also means “house,” is open at one side, to show that a Jewish home must always be open to the needy. Thus the seder night begins with an invitation, “Let all who are hungry come in and eat.” In fact, in all ages, Jews celebrating Pesaḥ sought guests long before the meal began. The invitation, at this point, is simply to remind us that a free society exists only where families share their warmth with others.