Peysakh Hagode 2010 - Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture

President’s Welcome
Zayt bagrist, tayere fraynt, brider un shvester!
Welcome, dear friends, brothers and sisters!
Soyez bienvenus, chères amis, nos frères et nos
soeurs!
Brochim habayim, chaverim hayakarim, achim
v’achiot!
Bienvenidos queridos amigos, hermanos y
hermanas!
Zdrastvitye dorogiye druzhya!
Light is life. Winter passes and the day grows longer.
Spring is here and hope is born.
The light of Passover is the light of the struggle for freedom and is the light of hope
that was also kindled in 1943 in the Warsaw Ghetto.
Tsuzamen, lomir ontsinden di likht fun farshtendlikhkayt un fun libe.
Let us all join in lighting the candles in honour of understanding and love.
Let us sing along with the choir: Lomir Ale (words, page 22)
“Whoever enlarges upon the telling of the story of the exodus from Egypt, that person is
praiseworthy.”
It is in this spirit that we have prepared this Hagode using traditional texts and our own interpretations.
We tell this story over and over, all of us together, to witness the bondage of others, past and present, and
to renew our commitment to the liberation of all people, everywhere.
1
On this day in particular we retell the story of enslavement of the Hebrews in Egypt and their liberation
because, if we do not remember it, who will?
If I am not for myself
then who will be for me?
And if I am only for myself
then what am I?
And if not now, when?
Oyb ikh bin nit far zikh aleyn
den ver vet zayn far mir?
Un oyb ikh bin nor far zikh aleyn
den vos bin ikh?
Un oyb nit yetst, ven?
Im eyni li
az mi li?
V’im mani rak b’shvili
az ma ani?
V’im lo akhshav, eymatay?
— Hillel
The Passover story is a legend of liberation, and we are gathered here today to celebrate the liberation
of the Hebrew people who were slaves in the land of Egypt. We especially celebrate the uprisings in the
­ghettos and concentration camps and the resistance of the partisans against Nazi tyranny. We hope to
soon celebrate a just peace in Israel/Palestine where both Jews and Palestinians will live without the fear of
wars and death,
Legend tells us of Moses’ role in the liberation of the Israelites, and to a lesser extent of the role of Aaron,
his brother. But in retelling this story we often neglect the other members of the family, without whom
there might not have been a Moses. Let us therefore here enlarge upon
the story, as we are encouraged to do, by including Yokheved, the
mother of Moses, and Miriam, his sister.
Yokheved, the mother of Moses, Aaron and Miriam, put the infant
Moses in an ark of bulrushes and placed it in the river so that he might
be spared from Pharaoh’s decree. For Pharaoh had ordered the Israelite
midwives to kill all newborn Hebrew males at birth, but they refused to
do so.
Miriam stood hidden, watching what would become of him. Then,
when Pharaoh’s daughter rescued the infant Moses from the water,
Miriam proposed Yokheved as a wet-nurse for the child.
Later, after the Israelites had crossed the Red Sea, Miriam the Prophet
took a timbrel in her hand and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.
2
It is traditional to drink four cups of wine to commemorate the four different ways in which the Bible
describes the liberation from slavery. A separate cup is poured for Elijah the Prophet. And another cup
is filled with spring water in honour of Miriam.
Miriam’s cup
Miriam’s cup, a recent addition to the seder, honours the Prophet Miriam, who foretold the coming
of her brother Moses. Together, they worked with Aaron to organize the rebellion of the Hebrews and
the exodus from Egypt. Once the Hebrews arrived on the far shore of the Red Sea, Miriam led her
women in song and dance to celebrate their escape from slavery. It is said that, because of Miriam’s
merit, a well of sweet, healing water magically followed the Israelites for the forty years they wandered
in the desert. May Miriam’s courage and spontaneity inspire us. May we be sustained throughout our
journeys through life.
Let us drink the first cup to the heroism of women and
men all over the world, to the sacrifices they have made,
and to their devotion to life. L’chaim! [All drink the first cup]
The Symbols of Peysakh
The symbols of Peysakh come from the rites of antiquity. In carrying out these rites we celebrate our
connection with the past—and with the future. Because of these symbols, we sit at our seder table
and can experience the same feelings as Jews of old, in Poland and Russia, Persia and Babylonia,
­ancient Palestine and modern-day Israel. Symbols speak in a universal language that transcends time
and space. Let us all join in carrying out the traditional rituals.
3
hjm
MATZO [hold this up as we say together]: The matzo is known as the bread of
­affliction.
It is what our ancestors ate as they fled their captivity, and did
not dare wait until their bread could rise.
evrz
Z’ROA [hold this up as we say together]: This shankbone
commemorates the sacrifices that were made in ancient
times.
The shankbone is a symbol of the sacrificial lamb that was eaten at the time of the exodus. In ancient
times, shepherds held a celebration each spring. A young lamb or goat was slaughtered and its blood
was smeared on the tent posts as a sign of renewed kinship among those who witnessed the ceremony.
Among people all over the world, sharing a common meal has remained a symbol of kinship and brotherhood and sisterhood.
Let it stand, today, for the sacrifices that men and women have made for one another, at the risk of their
own lives. Let it also stand for the kinship of all people.
hjyb
BEYTSO [hold this up as we say together]: The egg in many cultures symbolizes the
beginning and renewal of life in the spring.
We dip the egg in salt water to remember the crossing of the Red Sea.
The story says that in ancient times there was a famine in the land of Canaan, the ancient land that was
to become, at different times, Israel, Judaea, Palestine, and once again Israel.
Following the advice of Joseph of the coat of many colours, the Egyptians had prepared for this famine,
and so Jacob, his sons and grandchildren, went to live in Egypt.
There were about seventy of them to begin with but in time they grew more numerous.
“And the children of Israel were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and waxed exceeding mighty; and
the land was filled with them.
“The rulers of Egypt began to fear the Israelites. Therefore they set over them taskmasters to afflict them
with their burdens.”
To remember and bear witness to the bitterness of servitude, we eat the maror.
4
MAROR [hold this up as we say together]:
“And they made their lives bitter with hard
bondage in mortar and brick, and in all manner of
­service in the field.”
rvrm
[syrx
CHAROSES [hold this up as we say together]:
We combine the charoses with some maror
between two pieces of matso, and eat it.
“But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And the Egyptians made the
children of Israel to serve with rigour.” To remember and bear witness to the mortar with which those
bricks were made, and in honour of both the sweetness and the bitterness of life, we eat the charoses
and maror.
sprk
KARPAS [hold this up as we say together]: The vegetable is symbolic of the coming of spring and the rebirth of hope.
It is customary to dip the karpas into salt water to remind us of our tears of sorrow even during the
rebirth of hope.
TAPUZ [hold this up as we say together]: We include this orange on the seder
plate to remember the essential equality of women and men, no matter what
their marital status or sexual orientation.
zvp{
There is a story that, not long ago, a woman asked her rabbi why women can’t be up on the bima. The
rabbi responded, “A woman should be on the bima like an orange should be on the seder plate.”*
_xvp{
hmda
TAPUAKH-ADAMA [hold this up as we say together]: We include this potato peel
on the seder plate to remember that potato peels, which many of us routinely
discard, were considered a special treat by the people in the concentration camps.
* Although this story as told is both powerful and meaningful, it does not tell the events as they happened. Two versions that claim to be historically accurate appear on pages 23–24.]
5
It is believed that Peysakh has been observed by Jews for more than 3,000 years. It was celebrated, no
doubt, by men and women who were taken as prisoners to Babylonia in 586 BCE, by the Maccabees, by
slaves in Herod’s court, by the teachers who compiled the Talmud, by Jews in Arab countries throughout
the ages, by the Marranos in Spain and the Khasidim in Poland. And, of course, by those who suffered
under Nazi brutality all through World War II.
The choir will sing: Zog Maran
Zog maran, du bruder mayner,
vu iz greyt der seder dayner?
In tifer heyl, in a kheder,
dort hob ikh gegreyt mayn seder.
Say Marrano, my brother, where is your seder
prepared?
In a cave, in a little room, there I have prepared
my seder.
Zog maran mir, vu bay vemen
vestu vayse matsos nemen?
In der heyl, af got’s barotn,
hot mayn vayb dem teyg
geknotn.
Tell me Marrano, where will you get white matzos?
In the cave, God willing, my wife
has kneaded the dough.
Say Marrano, how will you manage
to get a hagode?
In the cave, in a deep crevice, I’ve
had it hidden a long time.
Zog maran, vi vest zikh klign
a hagode vu tzu krign?
In der heyl, in tife spaltn
hob ikh zi shoyn lang
bahaltn.
Zog maran, vi vest zikh vern
ven men vet dayn kol
derhern?
Ven der soyne vet mikh fangen
vel ikh kemfn mit gezangen.
Page from the Barcelona Haggadah,
mid-14th century
Let us drink the second cup of wine
to celebrate the liberation of people
from tyranny of all kinds, everywhere. [All drink the second cup]
6
Say Marrano, what will you do if
someone hears your voice?
If the enemy comes to get me, I’ll
fight with songs.
We look upon the Earth not only as a sustainer, vital to our survival, but also as a sacred place, worthy
of our respect and awe. According to a Haida saying, “We don’t inherit this earth from our ancestors, we
borrow it from our children.”
Peysakh is the celebration of freedom and renewal. In Jewish tradition, Peysakh is known as
The Season of our Liberation
The wonderful time, the most joyous of the
year has come … The sun is high in the sky
… the air is free and fresh, soft and clear. On
the hills are the first sprouts of spring grass—
tender, quivering, green … With a screech
and a flutter of wings a straight line of
swallows flies overhead, and I am reminded
of the Song of Songs.
— Sholem Aleykhem
On this night we commemorate the exodus from Egypt. Over the centuries, our ancestors listened to the
call of liberation. On the first night of Peysakh, 1943, the Warsaw Ghetto resistance fighters began the
uprising. Tonight, and on every Passover to come, so long as it is necessary, let the call ring out again.
Today not all of us are free. Next
year may we all be liberated.
Hashato avdey. L’shono habo-o
b’ney khorin.
7
This is the poor person’s bread
which our ancestors ate as
they fled from the land of
Egypt.
Ho lakhmo anyo di akhalu
avhosono b’aro d’Mitzrayim
Let all who are hungry come and
eat. Let all who are needy
come and share our Passover.
Kol dikhfin yeysey v’yeykhul. Kol
ditzrikh yeysey v’yifsakh.
As long as there is one person in the world who does not have enough to eat, so long is our holiday
incomplete. Let all who are in distress come and celebrate with us.
Di Fir Kashes
Farvos iz di nakht fun Peysakh andersh fun alle nekht fun a gantz yor?
Alle nekht fun a gantz yor esn mir khometz oder matzo. Ober di nakht fun Peysakh esn mir nor
matzo.
Alle nekht fun a gantz yor esn mir alerley grinsn. Ober di nakht fun Peysakh esn mir nor bitereh
grinsn.
Alle nekht fun a gantz yor tunken mir ayn afile eyn mol nit. Ober di nakht fun Peysakh tunken mir ayn
tsvey mol.
Alle nekht fun a gantz yor esn mir say zitsndik un say ongelent. Ober di nakht fun Peysakh esn mir
nor ongelent.
The Four Questions
Why is this night different from all other nights of the year?
On all other nights we eat bread or matzo. Why on this night do we
eat only matzo?
On all other nights we eat any kind of vegetables. Why on this night
do we eat bitter ones?
On all other nights we need not dip one food into another. Why on
this night do we do so twice?
On all other nights we can sit at the table either upright or reclining.
Why on this night do we recline?
8
Ma Nishtano
Ma nishtano halaylo hazeh mikol haleyloys?
Shebkhol haleyloys onu oykhlin khometz umatso,
halaylo hazeh kulo matso.
Shebkhol haleyloys onu oyklhin sh’or y’rokos, halaylo
hazeh moroyr.
Shebkhol haleyloys eyn onu matbilin afilu pa-am
ekhos, halaylo hazeh shtey p’omim.
Shebkhol haleyloys onu oykhlin beyn yeshuvin uveyn
m’subin halaylo hazeh kulonu m’subin.
Page from the Prague Haggadah, 1526
The answer, dear children, is:
We were Pharaoh’s slaves in the
land of Egypt,
Avodim ho-yinu l’Faro
b’Mitzrayim.
As it is written: And you shall
tell your children on that day,
saying, This is because I was
delivered from Egypt.
She-ne-emar: V’higad’to I’vinkho
bayom ha-hu leymor: Ba-avur
ze oso Adonoy li b’tseysi miMitzrayim.
9
We were slaves in the land of
Egypt. And had our ancestors
not fought for freedom, we
and our children and our
children’s children, and
you yourself, would still be
enslaved.
And though we were all
of us wise, filled with
understanding and acquainted
with the Torah, we would
still be commanded to tell the
story of the liberation from
Egypt, because …
Harey onu uvoneynu uvney
voneynu m’shubodim hoyinu
l’faro b’mitzrayim.
V’afilu kulono khakhomin,
kulonu n’vonim, kulonu
z’keynim, kulonu yodim es
ha-Torah, mitzvo oleynu
l’sapeyr bi-tziyas mitzrayim.
B’khol dor vo-dor khayov odom
liros es atzmo k’ilu hu yotzo
mimitzrayim.
[Let us all say together]: In every generation we ought to regard ourselves as if
we, personally, had been liberated from slavery.
The Ten Plagues
Traditionally, the seder recalls the plagues in Egypt (blood, frogs, lice, wild beasts, pestilence, boils, hail,
locusts, darkness, and the killing of the firstborn). In our seder, we acknowledge the plagues that afflict
our communities today. We are surrounded by the suffering of everyday life that takes place incessantly
and continues even as we go about our daily lives. Recalling
the miseries and dislocations of the many peoples around
the world only once a year is not enough. Perhaps we can
here and now agree to dedicate some portion of our time and
­energy to making the life of someone else a little better than
it is.
It is traditional to spill a drop of wine from our cups as we
recite each plague. With each drop of wine that we spill, we
renew our opposition to these modern plagues:
­ [Let us all say together, as we spill a drop of wine for each plague]:
War … Pollution … Hunger … Exploitation … Bigotry …
­Injustice … Disease … Tyranny … Ignorance … Poverty
10
The choir will sing: Let My People Go
Nmvqyfa
AFIKOMAN: Traditionally, the Afikoman is hidden at this point and the seder cannot
be completed until the Afikoman is found and ransomed by one of the children present
at the seder.
In a large communal seder such as ours, this practice could be highly disruptive. We therefore just remind ourselves of this custom, which symbolizes that our future as Jews depends on our children,
… and not until we have communicated to them the meaning of Peysakh can the seder be considered to
be complete.
Eliyohu
On the seder night we open the door for Eliyohu, known as Elijah the Prophet, whose coming is traditionally supposed to precede the coming of the Messiah, or a new Golden Age. Eliyohu stood courageously
against injustice and spoke out for the poor, the sick and the downtrodden. Legend tells us that Eliyohu
will signal the day when we shall all live in freedom, peace, justice and joy. But he will not come until the
world is worthy of his presence. From this we understand that only by our own actions can we create a
better world.
Let us drink the third cup of wine to Elijah the Prophet, who symbolizes our
commitment to work with others towards a better tomorrow.
[All drink the third cup]
Let us all sing along with the choir: Eliyohu Hanovi
CHORUS:
Eliyohu hanovi, Eliyohu haTishbi
Eliyohu, Eliyohu, Eliyohu haGiladi
Bimheyro v’yomeynu yovo eyleynu (2)
CHORUS
Im moshiach ben Dovid, im moshiach ben Dovid (2)
CHORUS
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The Four Children
The number “4” appears in the Hagode in many ways. There are four cups of wine, four questions, four
names for the holiday and four different ways of describing the liberation from bondage. And there are four
ways of talking about the Seder to our children.
What does the wise child ask? “What is the meaning of all our customs and traditions? What do they
symbolize and what is their origin?” The wise child understands that not everything is as it appears.
To such a question, we explain that the origins of Passover are older than
the time of bondage in Egypt. That the holiday was originally the Festival
of Unleavened Bread, and that it was celebrated in the Spring as a primitive form of observing the new year. We explain that the custom of eating
together united the family or tribe, in the hope that, together, they could
overcome the dangers of nature in the year that was beginning.
And we point out that although Passover began as an attempt by the single
community to win freedom from bondage, it has become a symbol of the freedom of all people, everywhere and in all times.
What does the rebellious child ask? “Why do you bother with this Seder of
yours? What does it have to do with me? These are your customs, not mine!” The
rebellious child dares to challenge simplistic answers.
To such questions we answer that every person must have roots in the history
and traditions of their own people. We preserve the traditions and customs that
bring us closer to our neighbours, based on pride and understanding that our
people, too, has woven its own, unique strands and threads into the beautiful
and ­colourful tapestry that is Humankind. If we forget our own bondage, how then can we be true to our
sacred duty to stand always on the side of freedom?
What does the naive child ask? “What is this all about?” The naive child trusts
easily and believes what he or she is told.
To answer such a question, we have simply told the story of bondage and liberation. We might add that throughout our history, our people’s dedication to freedom
has permitted us to remain a people, even after our enemies were long forgotten.
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What do we say to the very young child, who does not even know what to ask?
We say that by being part of our Seder, they are part of a very
wonderful and happy time. And we say that when they grow a little
older, they will begin to learn more about their people and that,
next year, they will know what to ask.
— text from Sholem Family Hagada, Hershl Hartman, with additions from the Temple Sholom Sisterhood Haggadah
The Butterfly
For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,
penned up inside this ghetto,
but I have found my people here.
The dandelions call to me
and the white chestnut candles in the court.
The last, the very last,
so richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun’s tears
were to sing against a white stone …
Such, such a yellow
is carried way up high.
It went away, I’m sure, because
it wished to kiss the world goodbye.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one;
butterflies don’t live here, in the ghetto.
— Pavel Friedmann, 14 years old; Theresienstadt Ghetto, 1942
— drawings by anonymous residents of Theresienstadt Ghetto
13
Excerpts from Yom Hachoa [HaShoah]
(To the memory of his mother and all his dear ones who disappeared in Auschwitz)
… And the years pass, and the hair turns gray,
And the eyes dim, and we tremble when we
walk;
We can never forget that heavy pain
Of seeing an entire nation condemned to the
The thousand-armed hydra swallowed them
pitilessly …
The whole world participated in the macabre
spectacle
Without trying to save, to help, to punish.
slaughter.
But over the death camps and from that gray
cloud
Grew the delicate flower of our liberation;
And over the beloved bones and mountains of
ash,
At the cost of new blood, our nation was
restored.
They come to visit me in my sleep every night
Men, women, children, sister, walking in the
tranquillity
Of a vast necropolis, sacrifices offered
To an unknown Moloch, bathing in his cruelty.
Auschwitz, Treblinka, Maidanek, unknown
places
That became overnight symbols of bestiality,
That uprooted millions of souls from their warm
homes
And changed into empty words culture and
humanity.
Rest, beloved souls, from your last sleep.
You have fallen. With your death, evil seemed to
have conquered,
But with your last breath, you have given life to
our genius
And our lips murmur: “yitgadal v’yitkadash.”
And men, women and children continue to walk
Toward their sad destiny, toward the gas
chambers.
…and earth does not tremble, nature is not
moved,
And the Heavens do not quiver at a just rage.
— Chelomo [Shlomo] Reuven
from The Schocken Book of Modern Sephardic Literature,
edited by Ilan Stavans
Thus vanished six million brethren.
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The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising
On April 19, 1943, the first night
of Passover, the Warsaw Ghetto
Uprising began. The Nazis were
coming to complete the deportation of the remaining Jews to the
death camps. A shot rang out on
Nalevki Street, signalling the beginning of the revolt. A few hundred
Jews with a few guns and hand
grenades had decided to resist the
tremendous power of the German
army and the Gestapo. The courageous men and women of the Jewish Fighting Organization held out
for forty-two days.
— ZOB (JFO) rooftop sniper
Similar acts of resistance took place in Minsk, Vilna, Bialystock, in the cities and towns of Poland,
and even in the death camps—Treblinka, Sobibor,
Auschwitz.
Although few of the Jewish fighters survived the
battle, the story of their courage will never die.
we see any signs of the disruptions of common
life … humiliation of a people whose culture is
alien and deemed inferior; a people left homeless without citizenship; a people living under
military rule. Because of our experience, we
recognize these evils as obstacles to peace.
At those moments of recognition, we
remember the past, feel the outrage that
inspired the Jews of the Warsaw ghetto
and allow it to guide us in present
struggles.”
Irena Klepficz, a prominent writer in English and Yiddish and a child survivor of the
Warsaw Ghetto, whose father spirited her
and her mother out of the ghetto and then
died in the ghetto uprising, wrote:
“I have concluded that one way to pay
tribute to those we loved who struggled, resisted and died is to hold
on to their vision and their fierce
outrage at the destruction of the
ordinary life of their people. It
is this outrage we need to
keep alive in our daily life
and apply it to all situations,
whether they involve Jews or
non-Jews. It is this outrage
we must use to fuel our actions and vision whenever
Nathan Rapaport’s statue of
Mordechai Anilewicz, leader of the
Warsaw Ghetto revolt.
15
Anne Frank
Born on June 12, 1929, Anne Frank was a German-Jewish teenager whose
family was living in Amsterdam. They were forced to go into hiding during
the Holocaust. She and her family, along with four others, spent 25 months
during World War II in an annex of rooms above her father’s office in Amsterdam.
After being betrayed to the Nazis in August, 1944, Anne, her family, and
the others living with them were arrested and deported to Nazi concentration camps. In March of 1945, nine months after she was arrested, Anne
Frank died of typhus at Bergen-Belsen. She was fifteen years old.
Her diary, saved during the war by Miep Gies, one of the family’s protectors, was first published in 1947. Today, her diary has been translated into 67 languages and is one of the
most widely read books in the world.
From the diary, July 15, 1944:
“It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and
impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything,
that people are truly good at heart.
“It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos,
suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a
­wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I
feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow
feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end,
that peace and tranquillity will return once more.”
We light six candles in memory of the 6,000,000 Jews who were
murdered.
We ask you all to stand now while those who lost relatives or friends
in the Holocaust may come up and light a candle in their memory.
16
Please remain standing while the choir sings: Zog Nit Keyn Mol
Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg,
Ven himlen blayeneh farshteln bloyeh teg.
Kumen vet nokh unzer oysgebenkteh sho,
S’vet ah poykton unzer trot mir zaynen do.
Fun grinen palmen-land biz vaytn land fun shney,
Mir zenen do mit unzer payn, mit unzer vey.
Un vu gefaln iz ah shpritz fun unzer blut,
Shprotsn vet dort unzer gvureh, unzer mut.
Svet di morgen zun bagildn unz dem haynt,
Un der nekhtn vet farshvinden mitn faynt.
Nor oyb farzahmen vet di zun un der kayor
Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.
Geshribn iz dos lid mit blut un nit mit blay,
S’iz nit kayn lidl fun a foygl oyf der fray.
Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndikeh vent
Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent.
Tuh zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg,
Ven himlen blayeneh farshteln bloyeh teg.
Kumen vet nokh unzer oysgebenkteh shoh,
S’vet ah poyk ton unzer trot mir zenen do.
— Hirsh Glik, Vilna Ghetto
Literal translation:
Never say you’re on the last road, though
leaden skies hide days of blue—
Our longed-for hour will come; our steps will be
a drumbeat: WE ARE HERE!
Singable translation, by Aaron Kramer:
Never say that there is only death for you,
though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue,
because the hour that we have hungered for is near;
beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: WE ARE HERE!
From land of palm-tree to distant land of snow,
we are here with our pain and our anguish,
and wherever our blood has fallen, there our
courage and our might will spring.
From land of palm tree to the far-off land of snow
we shall be coming with our torment, with our woe;
and everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth
shall our bravery, our vigour blossom forth …
The morning sun will gild our day, and night
will vanish with the enemy. But if sun and
dawn are late, may this song be a rallying call
passed from generation to generation.
We’ll have the morning sun to set our day aglow,
and all our yesterdays shall vanish with the foe.
And if the time is long before the sun appears,
then let this song go like a signal through the years.
This song is written with blood, not with lead;
it’s no little song of a bird on the wing. This
one a people between crumbling walls sang
with guns in their hands.
This song was written with our blood, and not with lead;
it’s not a song that summer birds sing overhead;
it was a people, amidst toppling barricades,
that sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades.
So never say …
So never say …
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We were slaves in Egypt and we were slaves in fascist Europe. We have much to remember.
Let us drink the fourth cup of wine in memory of those who were taken
from us and in honour of those who fight for freedom and life.
All drink the fourth cup]
Let us all sing along with the choir: Bashana haba’ah
Bashana haba’ah
Neshev al hamirpeset
V’nis por tsiporim nod’dot
Y’ladim bakhufsha
Y’sahkhaku tofeset
Beyn habahyit l’veyn hasadot
HEBREW CHORUS:
Od tireh, od tireh, kama tov yehiyeh
Bashana bashana haba’ah
HEBREW CHORUS [repeat]
Soon the day will arrive
When we will be together,
And no longer will we live in fear.
And the children will smile
Without wondering whether
On that day dark new clouds will appear.
ENGLISH CHORUS:
Wait and see, wait and see, what a world there can be
If we share, if we care, you and me
ENGLISH CHORUS [repeat]
Some have dreamed, some have died
To make a bright tomorrow,
And their vision remains in our heart.
Now the torch must be passed
With hope and not in sorrow,
And a promise to make a new start.
ENGLISH CHORUS
HEBREW CHORUS
ENGLISH CHORUS
HEBREW CHORUS
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Let the annual recounting of our own quest for freedom remind us of the struggles of other oppressed peoples.We empathize with people everywhere who are beset with violence and hatred. In too many places in
the world, people are fighting and dying, or trying to rebuild in the aftermath of war.
Let us urge our governments to do everything possible to eliminate the tragedies of war, poverty, and
disease. Even here in British Columbia, where the gap between rich and poor is very wide and homelessness
increases daily, much needs to be done to address the basic causes of social injustice.
Passover—our beloved Peysakh—is not just a celebration of our own freedom. So long as any man or
woman is enslaved, politically or economically, none of us is free.
As we sit here in comradeship, let people everywhere be free to do the same—with us and with one another.
The choir will sing: Do You Hear the People Sing
[Let us celebrate the beauty of Peysakh, the struggle, the hope, the promise of liberation for all
humanity, as we say together]:
…They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and
their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.
But they shall sit, every man and woman, under their
vine and fig tree,
And none shall make them afraid.
— Isaiah 2:4, Micah 4:3-4
The choir will sing: Lo Yisa Goy
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Let us all sing together: Dayenu
CHORUS
Volt Yokheved nit gevezn,
Volt kayn Moyshe nit gevezn,
Voltn Yidn fray gevezn, Dayeynu
CHORUS:
Day-dayeynu,
Day-dayeynu,
Day-dayeynu,
Day-dayeynu,
Volt kayn seder nit gevezn,
Kayn hagode nit gevezn,
Ober kneydlekh yo gevezn, Dayeynu
day-dayeynu,
dayeynu, dayeynu (dayenu)
day-dayeynu,
dayeynu-dayeynu
CHORUS
Volt kayn seder nit gevezn
Volt kayn Moyshe nit gevezn,
Volt di frayhayt YO gevezn, Dayenu
Volt kayn Peysakh nit gevezn,
Volt kayn seder nit gevezn,
Volt unz freylekh yo gevezn, Dayeynu
CHORUS
[Let us all say together:]
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on
the earth; the time of singing is come, and the voice of the turtledove is
heard in our land.
— Song of Songs 2:11-12
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Let us drink a final symbolic cup of wine to the ever-renewing cycles of nature.
[Together]: L’CHAIM!
[Let us say together]:
Next year, may we all live in harmony, and in a world at peace!
And now the seder meal.
!tytep= Ntvg =
A GUTN APETEET!
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Lomir Ale
Lomir alle in eynem, in eynem
Dem Peysakh m’kabel ponim zayn [2]
Lomir alle in eynem [2]
2
Trinken a glezeleh vayn.
Lomir alle in eynem, in eynem
Di gest m’kabel ponim zayn [2]
Lomir alle in eynem [2]
Trinken a glezeleh vayn.
2
Lomir alle in eynem in eynem
Dem vayn m’kabel ponim zayn [2]
Lomir alle in eynem [2]
2
Trinken a glezeleh vayn.
Lomir alle in eynem, in eynem
Dem sholem m’kabel ponim zayn [2]
Lomir alle in eynem [2]
2
Trinken a glezeleh vayn.
Let My People Go
Let my people go.
And wear these slavery chains forlorn.
Let my people go.
When Israel was in Egypt Land
Let my people go.
Oppressed so hard they could not stand.
Let my people go.
— CHORUS —
CHORUS:
Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt
Land.
Tell old Pharaoh to let my people go.
Thus saith the Lord, bold Moses said.
Let my people go.
If not I’ll smite your first-born dead.
Let my people go.
We need not always weep and mourn.
— CHORUS —
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The True Story of the Origin of the Orange on the Seder Plate
In the early 1980s, the Hillel Foundation invited
me to speak on a panel at Oberlin College. While
on campus, I came across a Haggada that had
been written by some Oberlin students to express
feminist concerns. One ritual
they devised was placing a crust
of bread on the Seder plate, as
a sign of solidarity with Jewish
lesbians (“there’s as much room
for a lesbian in Judaism as there
is for a crust of bread on the
Seder plate”).
fruitfulness for all Jews when lesbians and gay men
are contributing and active members of Jewish life.
In addition, each orange segment had a few seeds
that had to be spit out—a gesture of spitting out,
repudiating the homophobia that
poisons too many Jews.
When lecturing, I often mentioned my custom as one of many
new feminist rituals that had
been developed in the last twenty
years. Somehow, though, the
typical patriarchal maneuver occurred: My idea of an orange and
my intention of affirming lesbians
and gay men were transformed. Now the story
circulates that a MAN stood up after I delivered
the lecture and said to me, in anger, that a woman
belongs on the bimah as much as an orange on
the Seder plate. My idea, a woman’s words, is attributed to a man, and the affirmation of lesbians
and gay men is simply erased. Isn’t that precisely
what’s happened over the centuries to women’s
ideas?
At the next Passover, I placed
an orange on our family’s Seder
plate. During the first part of the Seder, I asked
everyone to take a segment of the orange, make
the blessing over fruit, and eat it as a gesture of
solidarity with Jewish lesbians and gay men, and
others who are marginalized within the Jewish
community (I mentioned widows in particular).
Bread on the Seder plate brings an end to
Pesach—it renders everything chometz. And its
symbolism suggests that being lesbian is being transgressive, violating Judaism. I felt that
an orange was suggestive of something else: the
— Susannah Heschel, April, 2001
Eli Black Professor of Jewish Studies Dartmouth College
The TRUE True Story of the Origin of the Orange on the Seder Plate
Langer was asked about the place of lesbians in
Judaism. She said it was a minor transgression—
like eating bread during Passover. That spring,
members of the group added a crust of bread to
The definitive history is recorded in Like Bread on
a the Seder Plate: Jewish Lesbians and the Transformation of Tradition. At a Berkeley Hillel meeting in the winter 1979, a rebettzin named Hinda
23
the seder plate to symbolize the acceptance of
lesbians in Jewish life. As the practice spread over
the next few years, Langer’s mild remarks were
changed into a voice of outrage and placed in the
mouth of a male rabbi – not to give him credit,
but blame! Eventually the bread transmogrified into
an orange (Susanna Heschel takes credit for this
twist) … and lesbians into women, and the obtuse
male catalyst changed his words accordingly. One
reason to question your source’s memory is that
according to the book, the Oberlin seder left a
space on the seder plate, not a crust of bread.
— Rabbi Peter Schweitzer, City Congregation for Humanistic
Judaism, New York, president of the Association of
Humanistic Rabbis, and Oberlin graduate; private
correspondence.
24
Hagode
for a Secular Seder
xsp r=f hdgh
Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture
Vancouver, British Columbia
We gratefully acknowledge the concepts, and sometimes the texts, gleaned from
many secular hagodes, and the creative and editing skills of present and former Peretz Centre
Hagode Committee members
© Peretz Centre 2010
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The Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture:
A multi-generational intercultural community dedicated to ensuring the continuity of
Jewish culture and secular humanist thought.
Our programs for young people, adults, seniors and families are designed to
preserve Jewish culture and ethics, and to help newer generations develop
understanding of both their traditions and current social issues.
Young People
Sunday School (ages 5–7)
Club Peretz (ages 8–11)
B’nai Mitsvah (ages 10–14)
Adults/Seniors
Sholem Aleichem Seniors
Vancouver Jewish Folk Choir
Fraytik Tsu Nakht (Secular Friday Night Shabbes Observance and Dinner)
Yiddish Language Classes
Yiddish Reading Group
Families
Holiday Celebrations
Community Sundays
Tsedoke/Tikkun Olam
Hosting the Jewish Food Bank for Jewish Family Services
Participating in Tickets to Inclusion (Jewish Family Services)
Peretz Centre for Secular Jewish Culture
6184 Ash Street, Vancouver, BC, Canada V5Z 3G9
Program Coordinator: Donna Modlin Becker
Phone: 604-325-1812
Rentals phone: 604-325-1810
Email: info@peretz-centre.org
Web: www.peretz-centre.org
Our coordinator or one of our many volunteers will be pleased to answer your questions.
The Peretz Centre:
part of Vancouver’s Jewish community since 1945