Parashat HaShavua - Passover
מָזְגוּ לוֹ כוֹס שֵׁנִי, וְכָאן הַבֵּן שׁוֹאֵל אָבִיו, וְאִם אֵין דַּעַת בַּבֵּן, אָבִיו מְלַמְּדוֹ, מַה נִּשְׁתַּנָּה הַלַּיְלָה הַזֶּה מִכָּל הַלֵּילוֹת (פסחים 10:4)
They pour the second cup and here the child asks questions. And if the child cannot think of any questions, you teach him this question: “why is this night different from all other nights?”
I went to the Moth story slam last night (a gift from my adult children — Heschel kids do grow up pretty nicely). The person who won was an actor who shared a story about his and his wife’s fertility journey that was polished, funny, touching and well-delivered. I didn’t care for it at all. I preferred the story told by a woman who said she put her name in the hat (they draw names from a hat to decide who will have a chance to tell their story) because someone just broke up with her and as a way of moving on, she is working on being braver. Her hands shook and she said “um” a few times and the story was a bit meandering but you could tell she was speaking directly from the heart about her own life and I found it extremely moving.
Earlier that day, the High School Interfaith Club hosted a seder for two Catholic schools. It was a wonderful experience with singing, discussion and a scavenger hunt for the Afikoman. But when I asked my club leader what would stick with her most about the morning, she responded without pausing: the moment when we passed the picture of the hostages with our guests and one of the Mount St. Ursula students looked at their faces and began to cry.
When we gather for our sedarim, the youngest will ask the four questions, passing on a beloved tradition from generation to generation. But in fact in the mishna, these questions were created only as a backup plan. The mishnah is clear that the true role of the child at the seder is to ask genuine questions of curiosity about what they are witnessing. The four questions were originally only a provision for any children who may not have questions to ask.
The seder is a night filled with ritualized words and actions, and no one knows better than a rabbi how powerful ritual can be as a way of eliciting emotion and provoking thinking. But in addition to the keva (fixed parts) of the seder, I hope we all make room this year for kavannah: that which is spontaneous and comes from the heart. Ask people to tell a family story or describe a place in Israel where they feel a sense of special holiness (besides the kotel maybe), or share something that is budding in their own lives at this moment. As the Hasidic saying goes: words that come from the heart reach into the heart.
Hag Sameah,
Rabbi Anne Ebersman
