Passover Insights to Share at Your Seder

The Essence of Passover Seder

Q: What is the primary mitzvah of Passover Seder?

A: To tell the story of the Exodus in a way that evokes gratitude as if we ourselves had gone from slavery to freedom – Maggid. Remarkably, the first 10-15 passages of the Haggadah explain the mitzvah of the storytelling—what time, where, how—but don’t actually fulfill it. Tragically, many people diligently read through the Haggadah, discussing all the details leading up to and following the narrative, yet completely miss the point.

The actual story of slavery-to-freedom in the Haggadah comes after all the fanfare—four lines beginning with “An Aramean tried to destroy my father…” We should think of those four lines as an outline. The Haggadah provides commentary on each verse but leaves the rest to us. We must use our creativity put ourselves in our ancestors’ shoes, building a dramatic narrative that makes the Exodus experience come alive.¹

Below is my attempt to bring this story to life, drawing details from Torah and Midrash. If this narrative helps you connect to our journey from slavery to freedom, consider sharing it at your Seder or, even better, create your own!

The Exodus Story: From Darkness to Light

Metal clangs against stone, broken bodies groan of pain and exhaustion, whips crack. The Jews are enslaved. After Joseph’s death, the Jewish Nation’s explosive population growth incites Egyptian fear, bigotry, and persecution. A new Pharaoh rises to power, conveniently forgetting Joseph’s pivotal role in saving Egypt from starvation. He rallies his people to literally and figuratively crush the Jewish nation, forcing them to build cities on shifting sands while subjecting them to the most brutal and humiliating labor imaginable.

But slavery isn’t enough. Jews are regularly taken to be killed for sport, pitted against wild beasts. When workers fail to meet impossible brick quotas, Egyptian taskmasters rip Jewish infants from their mothers and plaster them alive into the walls to fill the empty spaces. Starvation, exhaustion, and the boiling Egyptian heat are everyday realities. Meanwhile, God afflicts Pharaoh with a debilitating skin disease. In a horrific response, Pharaoh bathes in the blood of 375 Jewish infants, harvested from their murdered bodies, in a futile attempt to alleviate his symptoms. These conditions last for 86 years.

But Pharaoh’s cruelty has no end. He decrees infanticide – attempting to wipe out the future redeemer of Israel, prophesied by his sorcerers to arise from the upcoming generation of Jewish male children. Cast adrift into the Nile River by his parents with nothing more than a reed basket and their prayers, the three-month-old Moses floats away, and with him, the hopes and dreams of a bereaved nation. But in the most miraculous fashion, Pharaoh’s daughter rescues Moses and hires his own mother to nurse him. In Pharaoh’s palace, she raises the very child her father sought to destroy.

The palace’s luxuries fail to blind the young Moses to his people’s suffering. He ventures out beyond the palace walls where he slays an Egyptian to save one of his brethren. But his own people betray him to Egyptian authorities, forcing him to flee to Midian where he builds a family and becomes a shepherd. In Midian, Moses receives God’s command at the burning bush to return to Egypt and liberate His people. With his brother Aaron at his side, they confront Pharaoh and declare: “Let my people go!”

Pharaoh responds with characteristic ruthlessness. Instead of relenting, he intensifies the slavery, forcing the Jews to gather their own straw while maintaining impossible brick quotas. For six months, the Jewish people’s cries pierce the heavens under this unbearable cruelty. At the peak of this suffering, a Jewish woman named Rachel, pregnant and working in the clay pits, begs her taskmaster to let her out to give birth. He cruelly refuses, whipping her instead. Her baby slips from her into the clay and dies instantly. Her agonized cry to God becomes the tipping point – “and God heard their cries and He knew…”

The Ten Plagues

Ten plagues strike Egypt with devastating force², each destroying another level of Egyptian society and dominion over the Jews:

1. Blood – The Nile—Egypt’s lifeline—along with every liquid in the land, turns to blood. The Egyptians must pay Jews for drinkable water, beginning the economic reversal of slavery.
2. Frogs – Not just frogs but crocodiles and other types of amphibians swarm Egypt, invading homes, beds, ovens, and even crawling down Egyptian throats.
3. Lice – The very dust transforms into enormous biting lice, depriving Egyptians of sleep and dignity. Even Pharaoh’s sorcerers acknowledge this as God’s work.
4. Wild Beasts – Ferocious animals from across the world converge on Egypt, attacking only Egyptians while leaving Jews untouched.
5. Pestilence – Egypt’s livestock—their wealth and sustenance—perish in a massive plague, further devastating their economy.
6. Boils – Egyptian skin erupts with painful, pus-filled boils, permanently scarring every inch of their bodies.
7. Hail – Miraculous fireballs encased in ice pummel Egypt, destroying buildings and crops. Egyptians begin pleading with Pharaoh to release the Jews, but his heart hardens further.
8. Locusts – Massive swarms fill the sky and devour whatever crops survived the hail, eliminating the last traces of Egyptian economic strength.
9. Darkness – The atmosphere transforms into a darkness so thick that it paralyzes Egyptians where they stand for days, unable to move or attend to basic needs.
10. Death of the Firstborn – Jewish families take sheep—sacred to Egyptians—and tie them outside their homes five days before God’s promised redemption. On the fourteenth day, they sacrifice these animals and mark their doorposts with blood. That night, as Jews eat the first Passover seder, God Himself passes through the land, taking the life of every Egyptian firstborn.

The Splitting of the Sea

With this final devastating blow, Pharaoh’s will crumbles and he sets the Jews free. The nation rushes out with great wealth, their matzas baking on their backs in the desert sun. But freedom proves short-lived. Within days, Pharaoh’s heart hardens once more. He mobilizes his elite chariots and races after his former slaves, cornering them at the Sea of Reeds.

Trapped between the sea and the approaching army, with only a pillar of fire holding the Egyptians at bay, the Jews cry out to God in terror. Moses raises his staff over the waters as commanded, and fierce winds blow throughout the night.

At daybreak, Nachshon, the prince of the tribe of Judah, demonstrates extraordinary faith by stepping into the threatening waters. As the water reaches his nostrils, the sea miraculously splits. The nation walks in wonder on dry land through the ocean, massive walls of water towering on either side.

When the Jews advance far into the sea, God removes His pillar of fire, allowing the Egyptians to pursue in their blind rage. The moment the last Jew reaches the opposite shore, God unleashes the waters upon the Egyptian army, destroying every last soldier and chariot. In that moment, pure joy erupts—the nation bursts into song, while Miriam the prophetess leads the women in dance and celebration.³

The Seder

Kiddush – Pouring Wine

The Shulchan Aruch (Code of Jewish Law) teaches that on Passover night, we don’t pour wine for ourselves. Rather, we pour for others. Why? Because pouring for others is the way of freedom.

What a lesson! Giving to another is an act of freedom; perhaps the greatest expression of freedom. In order to give, we must be free. In order to be free, we must feel that we have the capacity to give.

Karpas – The First Dipping

What does the word Karpas mean, and why is it the first item on the menu?

The word Karpas appears only once in the entire Tanakh⁴—in the Scroll of Esther, where its used in the description of the luxurious furnishings at Achashverosh’s feast. Rashi explains that Karpas combines two words: “karim pasim” (pillows of fine wool).

In the same comment, Rashi connects pasim to another significant item—Joseph’s special coat given by his father Jacob. After selling Joseph into Egyptian slavery, his brothers dipped this pasim coat in blood and presented it to Jacob, deceiving him about Joseph’s fate.

This act of dipping pasim in blood marked the beginning of the events leading to our national slavery. Joseph’s descent to Egypt eventually led to our ancestors joining him to avoid famine. Shortly thereafter, the Egyptians enslaved the growing Jewish nation.

When we dip the Karpas into salt water at the beginning of our Seder, we acknowledge this painful origin story. We symbolically remember how our Egyptian exile began with brothers’ hatred and deception—a powerful reminder never to repeat such divisiveness within our community.⁵

The First Line of the Maggid

This is the bread of affliction

Q: How many religious traditions begin their ceremony by pointing and staring at bread? What a strange way to start the story of the Exodus!

A: Let me offer an analogy: you know that classic moment in a TV show or movie where main character stares at an object, his eyes glaze over, the screen wiggles and the next thing you know, you’re in a flashback to a scene from his/her childhood? The Haggadah tells us that we’re supposed to feel as if we ourselves were leaving Egypt.

How do we make that experience real? Through matzah! Matzah is the tangible time machine on every Seder table throughout 3,500 years of Jewish history. The matzah on our tables today, save for a few stylistic details, is identical to what our ancestors ate—both as the bread of affliction during slavery AND as the bread of liberation they hastily prepared while fleeing Egypt.

This remarkable duality captures our entire journey. When we look deeply at our matzahs, we see 3,500 years of Jewish history baked into that thin wafer-like bread. Through it, we’re teleported through the full Exodus experience, from the depths of slavery to the heights of freedom.

Opening with Tzedakah

Q:  “Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat; whoever is in need, let him come and conduct the Seder of Passover.” This introduction seems to have nothing to do with the story of the Exodus whatsoever! Tzedakah (charity) is very nice and all, but why at the beginning of the story of our redemption?

A: The commentary of the Beis HaLevi draws a fascinating connection between this introduction and Isaiah (56:1), which states: “Guard justice and do charity because they will bring about My redemption.” He explains: The redemption isn’t over; we need to pick up where Moses left off! God chose Moses to be the leader of the nation because of his kindness to those in need. By leading with tzedakah at the beginning of our Seder, we demonstrate our desire to carry on the legacy of Moses to become modern day redeemers.

The final line of that opening paragraph is: This year we are here; next year in the land of Israel. This year we are slaves; next year we will be free people! Through keeping tzedakah and the needs of others at the forefront of our minds, we sow the seeds of ultimate freedom and redemption for our nation.

The Wicked Son

“What is this service to you?” Rabbi Chaim Friedlander explains the basis for the wicked son’s question: “This is supposed to be the night of our freedom – why are you doing this service? Shouldn’t this be a night of doing what we want? Why follow a bunch of nitpicky rules!”

Our answer: “It is because of this that God took me out of Egypt!” The whole purpose of our freedom is to serve something higher. That’s true freedom – not freedom from obligation, but freedom to achieve our true purpose.

The Mitzvah of Telling the Story

Q: Why is retelling the Exodus story, as if we ourselves experienced it, so central to the Seder night?

A: The 10 century philosophical work Duties of the Heart cites gratitude as the fundamental basis for all Divine Service. In the first of the Ten Commandments, God says “I am the Lord, your God, who took you out of Egypt, the House of Slavery.” Our relationship with God begins by recognizing His grace in our lives, particularly in removing His nation from utterly hopeless slavery.

The Passover story creates the opportunity to experience overwhelming gratitude toward our Savior. This isn’t merely historical gratitude. Just as one who survives a life-threatening situation brings a thanksgiving offering, our Seder is our collective offering of thanks for national salvation. We ourselves were redeemed, not just our ancestors.

This gratitude naturally inspires us to give back to He who saved us – just as we would for anyone who rescued us from unbearable suffering. Passover marks the beginning of our relationship with God, and the Torah becomes our means of expressing that gratitude. This connection is so fundamental that from the very next day after the Seder, we begin counting towards receiving the Torah – our roadmap for expressing thanks to God for taking us out of Egypt and making us His chosen nation.⁶ The entire structure of Jewish life emerges from this initial act of gratitude for our redemption.

Originally our ancestors were idol worshippers…

Q: Why begin the Maggid (storytelling) by mentioning our ancestors’ sins?

A: A few years ago, a 9-year-old girl asked me, “Why are we so grateful to God for taking us out of Egypt – wasn’t He the one who brought us down to Egypt to begin with?”

Recalling a class from Rabbi Immanuel Bernstein⁷, I told her the following parable: If you watched someone breaking another’s ribs, you’d call him a sadist. If he broke his ribs but then fixed them, you’d diagnose him with multiple personality disorder. But what if he broke the other’s ribs in order to perform open heart surgery? That’s what God did by bringing us down to Egypt and then taking us out.

The Torah (Deut. 4:20) refers to Egypt as “the smelting furnace.” We needed Egypt’s crucible to purify our collective heart and make us worthy of receiving the Torah. Our lineage carried spiritual imperfections that required correction: Terach, Abraham’s father, crafted idols; the brothers sold Joseph into slavery out of jealousy; and in Egypt, many Jews attempted to assimilate into Egyptian society, ironically triggering Egyptian hatred. God designed our suffering in Egypt to break these destructive tendencies and transform us into a nation ready to receive His Torah.

This explanation answers our original question: we begin the Maggid by acknowledging our idolatrous roots because it helps us understand why we needed to descend to Egypt in the first place. We had to undergo purification to become the Chosen People.

Blood – Compassionate Justice

Q: Why do the plagues start with transforming the Nile river to blood?

A: If we recall, the Egyptians used the Nile as the murder weapon to slaughter thousands if not millions of Jewish infants. But like the mass graves and crematoriums of the Nazis, the Nile effectively concealed the corpses of the murdered Jewish babies.

In the first plague, God demonstrated His empathy for His nation’s suffering. The blood in the Nile brought their crime into broad daylight, comforting His people and shaming the murderous Egyptians. This teaches us a profound lesson about addressing suffering: when someone is in pain, our first step must be acknowledging their experience before attempting to solve their problem. Just as God first validated Israel’s suffering by exposing Egypt’s crimes, we too must show understanding before offering solutions. True healing can only begin after the sufferer feels truly seen and understood.⁸

“And the people had faith in God and in Moses, His servant”

Q: How many times is Moses mentioned in the whole Haggadah? Once. The verse above (quoted directly from the Torah) is the only mention of Moses in the entire Haggadah (note that even here, he’s referred to as God’s servant). Why does the Haggadah minimize our leader who brought us out of Egypt?

A: The Haggadah is about our relationship with God; not with His messenger. Leadership in Judaism is synonymous with humility. A great Jewish leader will never seek the spotlight. He understands that the spotlight belongs to God and God alone. When we stop focusing on ourselves and turn the focus towards serving God and His people, we become channels by which Hashem can act in the world.⁹ Ironically, those who achieve this exalted level of self-nullification—Moses, King David, and others—become the most celebrated and revered leaders in Jewish history. As the Ethics of Our Fathers teaches: “He who flees from honor, honor pursues him” (4:1), and “Who is honored? One who honors others” (4:1). This absence of Moses in the Haggadah paradoxically teaches us his greatest quality—he truly made himself transparent to let God’s glory shine through.¹⁰

Korech – The Hillel Sandwich

The Korech combines matzah, maror, and (in Temple times) the sacrificial lamb, literally fulfilling the verse “They shall eat the flesh [of the lamb] that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire, with matzah and maror.”¹¹ The Maharal of Prague teaches that this combination carries profound symbolism:

• The lamb represents God and His oneness. Egyptians worshipped sheep, yet we took their false god, tied it visibly outside our homes, and then sacrificed it in preparation for the first Seder in Egypt. The sacrifice demanded perfect unity—it was to be kept whole with no broken bones, roasted as a complete entity, and shared by one cohesive gathering of people. All these laws point to the profound truth—Our God is One! Hashem Echad!
• The maror represents the bitterness of slavery, as stated in our Haggadah
• The matzah represents freedom. Having no taste, it symbolizes our immunity to outside influences; its simplicity reflects our stripping away of attachments to achieve liberty and its lightning fast preparation shows that God’s liberation went beyond the constraints of physical reality – breaking time and space itself.

By combining these elements in the Korech, we demonstrate a profound truth: both bitterness and freedom come from the same Source. There is no God of good versus a Devil of evil. It’s all from God, all orchestrated for our ultimate benefit, even when painful. The Korech teaches us to embrace the totality of our experience – the bitter and the sweet – as part of a unified divine plan.¹²

Hallel

Q: On Passover night, we say the first half of Hallel – the Songs of Praise¹³ – before the meal, then eat the meal, then finish Hallel. Since when are we allowed to pause in the middle of Hallel?

A: The Imrei Shefer, a renowned 13th century Kabbalist, explains that on Passover night, the meal is the Hallel! There could be no higher praise of God than our feasting, celebrating and appreciating His goodness at the Pesach Seder!

We Are a Miracle

I’ll end by sharing a short story that my aunt shared with me a few years ago: My great grandmother, Katya, grew up in Russia. When she was young, her mother passed away. Her father got remarried to a woman with three daughters, all of whom were terribly abusive to young Katya. One can only imagine her struggle – a once comfortable life turned to misery and suffering at the hands of her cruel new relatives. When the pain became too great to bear, she saved up enough money to escape to America. At age 15, she boarded a ship bound for brighter futures. Upon arrival, she found work in a sweatshop—her only option for survival. There, amidst the difficult conditions, she met my great grandfather, and together they built a new life.

And what of the home she’d left behind? When Hitler’s Final Solution struck Europe, all of her relatives were murdered in the Holocaust.

We often have to look back to connect the dots and see a Power greater than ourselves directing the show. Every member of the Jewish Nation lives today only because of countless miracles. Let us use Passover to connect to our miraculous existence and use that inspiration to fill our year with gratitude and a desire to give back to God through His mitzvos.

Wishing everyone a meaningful, powerful, and holy Passover Seder!
Avraham

1. Source: Class from Rabbi Jonathan Taub, teacher at Machon Yaakov Yeshiva
2. Each plague lasted in full destructive power for seven days, followed by three weeks of respite, in hopes that Pharaoh and the Egyptians would repent and let the Jews go.
3. To see the story brought to life on a whole new level, I highly recommend – The Last Slave – a novel about the Exodus saga, told from the perspective of an Egyptian girl who converts to Judaism years before the redemption. The book dramatically depicts slavery and redemption in Egypt with stunning accuracy to the text and commentaries, while telling a beautiful story from the perspective of believable and inspiring characters
4. Torah, Neviim (Prophets), Kesuvim (Writings)
5. Source: Rabbi Bernstein’s Haggadah – Rabeinu Manoach on Hilchos Chametz U’matzah 8:2
6. The holiday of Shavuos, which commemorates the giving of the Torah, comes after counting 49 days, starting from the first day of Passover.
7. One of the tremendous educators at my first Yeshiva, Machon Yaakov
8. Source: Aleph Beta, Rabbi David Fohrman
9. Source: Rabbi Bernstein’s Haggadah
10. Ethics of Our Fathers 4:21, 4:1
11. Exodus 12:8
12. Adapted from the Maharal’s commentary on the Exodus narrative, Gevuros Hashem, Chapter 36
13. These passages are usually sung in the morning of every major holiday

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