With Passover approaching, I’m reminded of a session I went to at Taste of Limmud called “Mysteries of the Seder.” The session was led by Clive Lawton, co-founder of Limmud.
Lawton posits that seder—and more generally, the many, varied complexities of Judaism—is not just kids’ stuff. He pictures an amusement park: somewhere you take your kids because they like to go on the rides, but you wouldn’t choose to go to on your own. Eventually, your kids out grow the amusement park and you both wonder why you continue to come. The seder should not be like this. Instead, the seder should be thought of like the theatre. If your kids are too little, you hire a babysitter and leave the kids at home. Theatre is too sophisticated for a four-year-old, but too important for you to miss it. When your kids are old enough, you bring them to age-appropriate shows—Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz. Then, when they’re older still, you take them to more and more sophisticated plays—Romeo and Juliet, The Crucible, Waiting for Godot. So too with Jewish experiences. If you simplify them too much, your children will never grow to experience them in their full, beautiful complexity. Lawton puts it very well: “Judaism is something you grow into, not something you grow out of.”
With this as a backdrop, Lawton launched into a sophisticated yet warm discussion on the mysteries of the seder. He talked about the 10 plagues. Here in the middle of the seder, as the excitement has been building, we take a solemn pause to remember the suffering of the Egyptians. It is to remind us that many blessing are brought at the suffering of others. And we don’t simply say “The Egyptians suffered 10 terrible plagues,” but rather take the time to spell them out individually. Take a modern example. We might say: “We think of those who are suffering from the catastrophe in Japan.” But instead, we say, “We think of those who are suffering from the catastrophe in Japan. Those whose homes crumbled in the earthquake. Those whose possessions were washed away in the tsunami. Those who were exposed to nuclear radiation. Those who were afraid at the continuing aftershocks. Those who aren’t able to get clean water and food. Those who are separated from their loved ones. …” In this way, we more fully acknowledge their suffering. This is what the seder asks us to do.
Lawton stressed that the most important thing in the seder is not accuracy but meaningfulness. It doesn’t matter if you follow all the rituals in every detail exactly as they are outlined in the haggadah, so long as you make every bit of your seder meaningful. After all, this is where Judaism gives us room for creativity. Judaism often tells us what to do, but doesn’t often tells us what to think about it. He gave a beautiful illustration using tefillin. The two boxes of tefillin are in fact not identical. Both boxes contain four blessings. In the box you wear on your arm, all four blessings are on one scroll of paper and in one compartment. In the one you wear on your head, each blessing is on an individual scroll and in an individual compartment. This is to show that there is only one thing we are required to do (with our arm) but many ways to think about it (with our head).
Lawton helped answer why we dip twice on Passover. Once, we dip the parsley in salt water and once we dip the marror in charoset. The parsley in salt water reminds us that even when we are feeling fresh and young, like a sprig of parsley, we should remember that life sometimes brings salty tears. On the other hand, when we’re weighed down by bitterness, like the marror, we should remember than can again be sweet, like the charoset. It is to show both sides of one coin.
He gave a midrash to help explain why the charoset—supposed to represent the mortar of slavery—should taste sweet. There’s a midrash that when Pharoah ordered the death of all male Hebrew babies, the Hebrew men went into despair. “Why bother to continue to procreate if Pharoah is only going to kill them?” The men became very “flaccid.” The women, on the other hand, were brave. The dressed in their finest clothes, wore their finest make-up and perfumes, and went to the orchards. There, they beckoned the men to follow and be seduced. Under the orchards, they made love—as in the scroll we read on Passover, Song of Songs. The charoset, therefore, is made of sweet dates, figs, apples, and nuts—to remind us of the sweet love made under the orchards.
Lawton posits that seder—and more generally, the many, varied complexities of Judaism—is not just kids’ stuff. He pictures an amusement park: somewhere you take your kids because they like to go on the rides, but you wouldn’t choose to go to on your own. Eventually, your kids out grow the amusement park and you both wonder why you continue to come. The seder should not be like this. Instead, the seder should be thought of like the theatre. If your kids are too little, you hire a babysitter and leave the kids at home. Theatre is too sophisticated for a four-year-old, but too important for you to miss it. When your kids are old enough, you bring them to age-appropriate shows—Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz. Then, when they’re older still, you take them to more and more sophisticated plays—Romeo and Juliet, The Crucible, Waiting for Godot. So too with Jewish experiences. If you simplify them too much, your children will never grow to experience them in their full, beautiful complexity. Lawton puts it very well: “Judaism is something you grow into, not something you grow out of.”
With this as a backdrop, Lawton launched into a sophisticated yet warm discussion on the mysteries of the seder. He talked about the 10 plagues. Here in the middle of the seder, as the excitement has been building, we take a solemn pause to remember the suffering of the Egyptians. It is to remind us that many blessing are brought at the suffering of others. And we don’t simply say “The Egyptians suffered 10 terrible plagues,” but rather take the time to spell them out individually. Take a modern example. We might say: “We think of those who are suffering from the catastrophe in Japan.” But instead, we say, “We think of those who are suffering from the catastrophe in Japan. Those whose homes crumbled in the earthquake. Those whose possessions were washed away in the tsunami. Those who were exposed to nuclear radiation. Those who were afraid at the continuing aftershocks. Those who aren’t able to get clean water and food. Those who are separated from their loved ones. …” In this way, we more fully acknowledge their suffering. This is what the seder asks us to do.
Lawton stressed that the most important thing in the seder is not accuracy but meaningfulness. It doesn’t matter if you follow all the rituals in every detail exactly as they are outlined in the haggadah, so long as you make every bit of your seder meaningful. After all, this is where Judaism gives us room for creativity. Judaism often tells us what to do, but doesn’t often tells us what to think about it. He gave a beautiful illustration using tefillin. The two boxes of tefillin are in fact not identical. Both boxes contain four blessings. In the box you wear on your arm, all four blessings are on one scroll of paper and in one compartment. In the one you wear on your head, each blessing is on an individual scroll and in an individual compartment. This is to show that there is only one thing we are required to do (with our arm) but many ways to think about it (with our head).
Lawton helped answer why we dip twice on Passover. Once, we dip the parsley in salt water and once we dip the marror in charoset. The parsley in salt water reminds us that even when we are feeling fresh and young, like a sprig of parsley, we should remember that life sometimes brings salty tears. On the other hand, when we’re weighed down by bitterness, like the marror, we should remember than can again be sweet, like the charoset. It is to show both sides of one coin.
He gave a midrash to help explain why the charoset—supposed to represent the mortar of slavery—should taste sweet. There’s a midrash that when Pharoah ordered the death of all male Hebrew babies, the Hebrew men went into despair. “Why bother to continue to procreate if Pharoah is only going to kill them?” The men became very “flaccid.” The women, on the other hand, were brave. The dressed in their finest clothes, wore their finest make-up and perfumes, and went to the orchards. There, they beckoned the men to follow and be seduced. Under the orchards, they made love—as in the scroll we read on Passover, Song of Songs. The charoset, therefore, is made of sweet dates, figs, apples, and nuts—to remind us of the sweet love made under the orchards.
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