18 Doors The 15 Steps of the Seder
1. Kadesh: The blessing over the first cup of wine/grape juice (There are a total of four cups during the seder—so pace yourself accordingly!)
2. Urchatz: The ritual handwashing (without a blessing)
3. Karpas: Eating a vegetable, usually parsley (sometimes a boiled potato) dipped in salt water
4. Yachatz: Breaking the middle matzah
5. Maggid: Telling the Exodus story...
6. Rachtzah: Ritual handwashing before the meal (this time with a blessing)
7. Motzi: Blessing over matzah, the same one said over challah on Shabbat
8. Matzah: Another blessing over matzah, emphasizing the focus on eating matzah on Passover
9. Maror: Eating bitter herbs, usually horseradish or Romaine lettuce
10. Korech: Eating a sandwich of matzah and maror in remembrance of the Temple sacrifices
11. Shulchan Orech: The festive meal (many people’s favorite part)
12. Tzafun: “Dessert,” but actually just eating another piece of matzah which has been set aside as the afikomen
13. Barech: Grace after meals
14. Hallel: Singing psalms of praise
15. Nirtzah: Conclusion of the seder
1. Kadesh: The blessing over the first cup of wine/grape juice (There are a total of four cups during the seder—so pace yourself accordingly!)
2. Urchatz: The ritual handwashing (without a blessing)
3. Karpas: Eating a vegetable, usually parsley (sometimes a boiled potato) dipped in salt water
4. Yachatz: Breaking the middle matzah
5. Maggid: Telling the Exodus story...
6. Rachtzah: Ritual handwashing before the meal (this time with a blessing)
7. Motzi: Blessing over matzah, the same one said over challah on Shabbat
8. Matzah: Another blessing over matzah, emphasizing the focus on eating matzah on Passover
9. Maror: Eating bitter herbs, usually horseradish or Romaine lettuce
10. Korech: Eating a sandwich of matzah and maror in remembrance of the Temple sacrifices
11. Shulchan Orech: The festive meal (many people’s favorite part)
12. Tzafun: “Dessert,” but actually just eating another piece of matzah which has been set aside as the afikomen
13. Barech: Grace after meals
14. Hallel: Singing psalms of praise
15. Nirtzah: Conclusion of the seder
(ח) וְאֵין מַפְטִירִין אַחַר הַפֶּסַח אֲפִיקוֹמָן.
(8) One does not conclude after the Paschal lamb with an afikoman.
אַחַר הַפֶּסַח הוּא דְּלָא, אֲבָל לְאַחַר מַצָּה — מַפְטִירִין!
It is after the Paschal lamb that one may not conclude with an afikoman; however, after matza one does conclude with an afikoman.
(2) One may not conclude the pesah meal with an afikoman. Saul Lieberman, the great Talmudic scholar of the past century, explained that “afikoman” refers to a Greco-Roman custom to engage in revelry at the conclusion of the symposium, the formal meal. People would go from house to house, drinking and carousing.
(א) דיני אכילת האפיקומן. ובו ב' סעיפים: לאחר גמר כל הסעודה אוכלים ממצה השמורה תחת המפה כזית כל אחד זכר לפסח הנאכל על השובע ויאכלנו בהסיבה ולא יברך עליו ויהא זהיר לאכלו קודם חצות:
After one finished the meal they should eat Shmurah Matzhah that is under a cloth - one kzayit for each person - as a memorial for the Passover offering that was eaten to satiety. And we eat it reclining and we do not say a [separate] blessing upon it. And one should be careful to eat it before midnight.
The Meaning of the 'Afikomen'
Helen Plotkin
We focus on the middle matzo, representing the human situation. First, we acknowledge that the center does not hold: The middle matzo is broken. We put aside the larger half; what remains is small and ragged. We call it lachma anya—the bread of affliction, the bread of impoverishment and enslavement. We begin the Seder by recognizing that, like the Israelites in Egypt, our need for redemption is great. The world that we inhabit is broken, incomplete, full of suffering and despair. With our first bite of the middle matzo, we internalize this truth...
That first bite of broken matzo is meant to put us into the story in the most visceral possible way. Like the Israelites at the first Seder, described in Exodus 12, we are in a place of brokenness. And like them, we are standing in the doorway, we are setting out on a journey. In the central section of the Haggadah, called Magid—Telling, we relate the story of a people once confined, held back, going nowhere, stuck in bricks and mortar, now transformed into a nation on its way, with a vision of a promised land.
The Magid section tells the story of an exodus—a leaving of slavery, not an arriving in the promised land. To feel that we ourselves have gone out from Egypt is to feel that we have the freedom to be on our way; not that we have arrived at our final goal. The longest section of the Telling is based on a passage from Deuteronomy 26, in which the Israelites are taught what they should say when they have finally reaped the first harvest of the promised land... But the Haggadah leaves out the final line (verse 9), stopping short of the arrival. The story we tell places us in the wilderness: We have the power to move forward. But we still have a long way to go.
Still in the wilderness, we eat our dinner.
As we approach the end of the Seder, we come to the section in which we find and eat the afikoman, the section called Tzafun, which means “hidden” or “stored away.” The implication is that the afikoman represents something inaccessible, something not available to us in our everyday lives—complete and ultimate freedom, true redemption. Sated with family, learning, laughter, and food, we finally act out the repair of our broken world. When we eat the afikoman, the broken pieces of the human realm will get put back together—they will recombine inside us—they will become us. The bridge between heaven and earth will be repaired.
And this is the secret of the afikoman ritual: Whom must we trust to bring the other half? The children. In the end, the most important piece, the point of it all, the future, our own redemption, is in the hands of the younger generation. We have no choice but to trust them to bring it to the table... We recognize that perfection is hidden away, but with the ritual of the afikoman we live into our hope—our confidence—that it will be found and unwrapped by our children, so they may eat fully of the bread of redemption. The Seder is about pointing forward. Only the children can taste the future.
Helen Plotkin
We focus on the middle matzo, representing the human situation. First, we acknowledge that the center does not hold: The middle matzo is broken. We put aside the larger half; what remains is small and ragged. We call it lachma anya—the bread of affliction, the bread of impoverishment and enslavement. We begin the Seder by recognizing that, like the Israelites in Egypt, our need for redemption is great. The world that we inhabit is broken, incomplete, full of suffering and despair. With our first bite of the middle matzo, we internalize this truth...
That first bite of broken matzo is meant to put us into the story in the most visceral possible way. Like the Israelites at the first Seder, described in Exodus 12, we are in a place of brokenness. And like them, we are standing in the doorway, we are setting out on a journey. In the central section of the Haggadah, called Magid—Telling, we relate the story of a people once confined, held back, going nowhere, stuck in bricks and mortar, now transformed into a nation on its way, with a vision of a promised land.
The Magid section tells the story of an exodus—a leaving of slavery, not an arriving in the promised land. To feel that we ourselves have gone out from Egypt is to feel that we have the freedom to be on our way; not that we have arrived at our final goal. The longest section of the Telling is based on a passage from Deuteronomy 26, in which the Israelites are taught what they should say when they have finally reaped the first harvest of the promised land... But the Haggadah leaves out the final line (verse 9), stopping short of the arrival. The story we tell places us in the wilderness: We have the power to move forward. But we still have a long way to go.
Still in the wilderness, we eat our dinner.
As we approach the end of the Seder, we come to the section in which we find and eat the afikoman, the section called Tzafun, which means “hidden” or “stored away.” The implication is that the afikoman represents something inaccessible, something not available to us in our everyday lives—complete and ultimate freedom, true redemption. Sated with family, learning, laughter, and food, we finally act out the repair of our broken world. When we eat the afikoman, the broken pieces of the human realm will get put back together—they will recombine inside us—they will become us. The bridge between heaven and earth will be repaired.
And this is the secret of the afikoman ritual: Whom must we trust to bring the other half? The children. In the end, the most important piece, the point of it all, the future, our own redemption, is in the hands of the younger generation. We have no choice but to trust them to bring it to the table... We recognize that perfection is hidden away, but with the ritual of the afikoman we live into our hope—our confidence—that it will be found and unwrapped by our children, so they may eat fully of the bread of redemption. The Seder is about pointing forward. Only the children can taste the future.
(ה) וְעָנִ֨יתָ וְאָמַרְתָּ֜ לִפְנֵ֣י ׀ יקוק אֱלֹקֶ֗יךָ אֲרַמִּי֙ אֹבֵ֣ד אָבִ֔י וַיֵּ֣רֶד מִצְרַ֔יְמָה וַיָּ֥גָר שָׁ֖ם בִּמְתֵ֣י מְעָ֑ט וַֽיְהִי־שָׁ֕ם לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל עָצ֥וּם וָרָֽב׃ (ו) וַיָּרֵ֧עוּ אֹתָ֛נוּ הַמִּצְרִ֖ים וַיְעַנּ֑וּנוּ וַיִּתְּנ֥וּ עָלֵ֖ינוּ עֲבֹדָ֥ה קָשָֽׁה׃ (ז) וַנִּצְעַ֕ק אֶל־יקוק אֱלֹקֵ֣י אֲבֹתֵ֑ינוּ וַיִּשְׁמַ֤ע יקוק אֶת־קֹלֵ֔נוּ וַיַּ֧רְא אֶת־עָנְיֵ֛נוּ וְאֶת־עֲמָלֵ֖נוּ וְאֶת־לַחֲצֵֽנוּ׃ (ח) וַיּוֹצִאֵ֤נוּ יקוק מִמִּצְרַ֔יִם בְּיָ֤ד חֲזָקָה֙ וּבִזְרֹ֣עַ נְטוּיָ֔ה וּבְמֹרָ֖א גָּדֹ֑ל וּבְאֹת֖וֹת וּבְמֹפְתִֽים׃ (ט) וַיְבִאֵ֖נוּ אֶל־הַמָּק֣וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה וַיִּתֶּן־לָ֙נוּ֙ אֶת־הָאָ֣רֶץ הַזֹּ֔את אֶ֛רֶץ זָבַ֥ת חָלָ֖ב וּדְבָֽשׁ׃
(5) You shall then recite as follows before the LORD your God: “My father was a fugitive Aramean. He went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there; but there he became a great and very populous nation. (6) The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. (7) We cried to the LORD, the God of our fathers, and the LORD heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. (8) The LORD freed us from Egypt by a mighty hand, by an outstretched arm and awesome power, and by signs and portents. (9) He brought us to this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.
Yachatz - Breaking Our Hearts
Getzel Davis
In the mystical tradition, the middle matzah symbolizes the heart. It is broken by living amid the injustices in the world and witnessing so much suffering. In life, most of the time, we are unable to focus clearly on our heartbreak. It simply hurts too much and there is so much wrong. Instead, we cover it over and just try to move on. On Passover, as part of our freedom ritual, we reconnect with our own broken-heartedness. It is only from this connected place that we can begin to envision a perfected righteous world.
Sometimes, we adults are unable to reconnect with our broken hearts. That is what the role of children is at the Seder. Children (or our inner children) are not only are tasked with the important job of asking questions at the Seder, but also asked to seek out and find the afikoman. It is only then that we can move forward and sing the Halleluyah psalms that conclude the Seder. It takes the energy and open heart of a child to question the status quo and to reconnect us with what our hearts most yearn for. It is only from that place of wholeness that we and our world can truly become free.
Getzel Davis
In the mystical tradition, the middle matzah symbolizes the heart. It is broken by living amid the injustices in the world and witnessing so much suffering. In life, most of the time, we are unable to focus clearly on our heartbreak. It simply hurts too much and there is so much wrong. Instead, we cover it over and just try to move on. On Passover, as part of our freedom ritual, we reconnect with our own broken-heartedness. It is only from this connected place that we can begin to envision a perfected righteous world.
Sometimes, we adults are unable to reconnect with our broken hearts. That is what the role of children is at the Seder. Children (or our inner children) are not only are tasked with the important job of asking questions at the Seder, but also asked to seek out and find the afikoman. It is only then that we can move forward and sing the Halleluyah psalms that conclude the Seder. It takes the energy and open heart of a child to question the status quo and to reconnect us with what our hearts most yearn for. It is only from that place of wholeness that we and our world can truly become free.