Accept the Seder’s Invitation for Debate

People think that the Seder’s Haggadah has one uniform message. “We were slaves to Pharoah in Egypt. And God set us free.” In fact, it offers multiple messages. Its purpose is not messaging but instead to promote discussion.

Take but two examples.

After we finish the meal, we open the door for Elijah and read the Haggadah’s vengeful words: “Pour out your fury on the nations that do not know you, upon the kingdoms that do not invoke your name, for they have devoured Jacob and desolated his home. Pour out your wrath on them; may your blazing anger overtake them.” After centuries of antisemtism and persecution Jews living in medieval times added this reading to the Seder.

They were understandably afraid to open the door. And so, they recalled the fiery vengeance of the prophet Elijah. Blood libels and massacres were commonplace in their day. Their fears were understandable. Their anger becomes palpable in the words of this prayer. It was as if to say, “They are at our doors. They are here to kill us once again.”

But once again is today. After October 7th these words have become all too real. They have indeed desolated his home!

Have their ancient fears become our own? Can we muster the courage to open our doors?

And yet at the beginning of the Seder we proclaim, “This is the bread of poverty and persecution that 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.” Before we even taste the matzah, we remind ourselves of the point of eating this unleavened bread. It is so we might remember our slavery. We must taste it!

We recall the feelings of suffering. We eat matzah so that we might remember our pangs of hunger. Then we can become more sensitive to the pain of others. Welcome them in!

The Haggadah contradicts itself. We remain conflicted. The same door that opens to vengeance is also held open to the pain of others.

In this year of our own torment are we able to open the door so wide? Are we able to reach out with compassion or only with vengeance? Can we feel the pain of others when our pain is so near, when our suffering is so acute?

The Haggadah does not answer these questions. It does not speak with one voice. It is a compilation of centuries of discussions. There are disagreements within its pages.

Can we be open to the world and attuned to the suffering of others while wishing for the destruction of our enemies and an end to antisemitic hate?

The question is as old as the Haggadah itself. We are meant to debate it. We are intended to welcome the arguments. The Seder is an invitation to discussion.

My teacher, Rabbi David Hartman z”l, teaches: “Don’t let the printed word paralyze the imagination. Talk. Discuss the Exodus. You are free.”

Freedom means the luxury to debate questions. It is about the necessity of discussion.

The questions never go away. Accept the Seder’s invitation.