By Esther Blaustein 1971

BY RABBI STEPHEN BAARS

Create a lively discussion by giving out a copy of this page during the Seder meal: Of the following list, who is the most enslaved person and who is the most free?

A. "Three years ago I was taken by the KGB and put in a labor camp in Siberia, I am told when to get up, when to go to bed and everything between."

B. "I was ship-wrecked on a desert island. I can do anything I want, but there's nothing to do here."

C. "I'm a heavy heroine addict. I live my days just to get the next high. Luckily I inherited a large fortune that allows me to support my habit."

D. "I worked hard all my life to become rich. At the height, I was worth around $25 million. Then came the crash. The bank took everything - my business, my house, even my car. I now work 9-to-5 in a sweatshop, struggling to make ends meet. When I had money, I used to take exotic vacations and dine in the finest restaurants. Life was fun. Now I'm lucky if I can afford takeout."

E. "In the country I live in, cigarettes are banned. I used to smoke two packs a day. Now I can't get them and I'm very depressed."

F. "I used to be a top college athlete and was headed for a pro career. Then last year I dove into a pool that was too shallow and broke my neck. I'm now completely paralyzed from my chin down. All I think about all day long is what I used to be able to do."

G. "Last year I tried to commit suicide but a policeman caught me just before I jumped. I was institutionalized. There's no possibility here for me to do what I really want to do - kill myself."

a. egg roll         b. matzah balls             c. haroset

a. turning your house upside down 

b. re-acting the slavery by lugging up the dishes from the basement

c. burning the chometz without being cited by the EPA 

d. all of the above

3. Matzah is known as the "bread of affliction" because:

a. the slaves ate it 

b. it makes you constipated 

c. the price goes up every year

a. behind the carburetor 

b. in a steel vault with doors 2" thick 

c. in the underwear drawer

a. Moses and Aaron action figures                             b. Nissan matchbox trucks

c. "When I was a kid, we were lucky to get a quarter." d. Anything that does not require batteries or assembly

a. Are we there yet?         b. How can we recline without a La-Z-Boy?

c. If a tree falls in an Israeli forest, how quickly can American Jewry plant another?

a. Uncle Louie     b. Leonard Nimoy     c. Moshe Oofnik     d. Charleton Heston

a. the doctor b. the lawyer c. the Russian d. Simple Simon

a. the dust of the earth             b. the salt of the earth

c. the stars of the heaven         d. the stars on Hollywood Boulevard

b. built several synagogues - at least one in which they wouldn't attend!

c. spread out in the Land of Goshen

a. Uncle Irving's jokes sound new to you

b. you can no longer tell the difference between Pharaoh and Moses

c. you don't miss bread

(Professor Eliezer Segal, http://www.acs.ucalgary.ca/~elsegal/)

Why is it only

on Passover night

we never know how

to do anything right?

We don't eat our meals

in the regular ways,

the ways that we do

on all other days.

`Cause on all other nights

we may eat

all kinds of wonderful

good bready treats,

like big purple pizza

that tastes like a pickle,

crumbly crackers

and pink pumpernickel,

sassafras sandwich

and tiger on rye,

fifty falafels in pita,

fresh-fried,

with peanut-butter

and tangerine sauce

spread onto each side

up-and-down, then across,

and toasted whole-wheat bread

with liver and ducks,

and crumpets and dumplings,

and bagels and lox,

and doughnuts with one hole

and doughnuts with four,

and cake with six layers

and windows and doors.

Yes--

on all other nights

we eat all kinds of bread,

but tonight of all nights

we munch matzah instead.

And on all other nights

we devour

vegetables, green things,

and bushes and flowers,

lettuce that's leafy

and candy-striped spinach,

fresh silly celery

(Have more when you're finished!)

cabbage that's flown

from the jungles of Glome

by a polka-dot bird

who can't find his way home,

daisies and roses

and inside-out grass

and artichoke hearts

that are simply first class!

Sixty asparagus tips

served in glasses

with anchovy sauce

and some sticky molasses--

But on Passover night

you would never consider

eating an herb

that wasn't all bitter.

This middle matzah which is one

I now break into two

We eat one piece to start our feast

The other when we're through

Between these halves our tale is told

Yahatz ‘till afikomen

Then these halves unite again

Inside of our abdomen

There is a man, comin' to Egypt,

And Moses is his name,

There is a man, Comin' to Egypt,

In his heart there burns a flame,

In his heart there burns a flame, oh Lord, In his heart there burns a flame.

There is a man, comin' to Egypt,

And his eyes are full of light,

Just like the sun, Come up in Egypt,

Come to drive away the night,

Come to drive away the night, oh Lord, Come to drive away the night.

There is a man, comin' to Egypt,

To heal our souls from pain,

And we will follow, Into freedom,

Never wear these chains again,

Never wear these chains again, oh Lord, Never wear these chains again.

And on all other nights

you would probably flip

if anyone asked you

how often you dip.

On some days I only dip

one Bup-Bup egg

in a teaspoon of vinegar

mixed with nutmeg,

but sometimes we take

more than ten thousand tails

of the Yakkity-birds

that are hunted in Wales,

and dip them in vats

full of Mumbegum juice.

Then we feed them to Harold,

our six-legged moose.

Or we don't dip at all!

We don't ask your advice.

So why on this night

do we have to dip twice?

And on all other nights

we can sit as we please,

on our heads, on our elbows,

our backs or our knees,

or hang by our toes

from the tail of a Glump,

or on top of a camel

with one or two humps,

with our foot on the table,

our nose on the floor,

with one ear in the window

and one out the door,

doing somersaults

over the greasy k'nishes

or dancing a jig

without breaking the dishes.

Yes--

on all other nights

you sit nicely when dining--

So why on this night

must it all be reclining?

Ron Arad, Zachary Baumel, Tzvi Feldman, Yehuda Katz.

While fighting for their people and the security of the State of Israel, these sons, soldiers in the Israel Defense Forces, were captured.

These missing soldiers have been denied the basic human rights guaranteed by international law. They have been treated as hostages rather than as

prisoners of war and have been denied any form of contact with their families, or with any Israeli or international human rights organizations.

These sons are being held hostage years after international efforts have secured the release of all the other Western hostages who were held in Lebanon. In spite of Israel's aid in securing the release of the other Western hostages, the Israeli hostages were not included with the release of the others. The Arab governments refuse to divulge any information about the conditions under which they are being held. The pain and anxiety that their families and friends are undergoing is immeasurable.

They are being held prisoner and not allowed their freedom. Passover, the

Festival of freedom, reminds us that only those who remember enslavement can fully appreciate their freedom. Israel is still fighting for the release of their soldiers, and we must do all that we can in order to help. We must do all we can to implore our elected officials to fight for the return of these four sons. We earnestly request world leaders to seek the mortal core of humanity, to transcend political differences and in the name of the parents and families of the missing young soldiers, "FREE OUR SONS!"

Born: May 5, 1958 Birthplace: Israel

Parents: Batya & Dov (Deceased) Wife: Tami

Child: Yuval (Daughter) Captured: October 16, 1986

Last Contact: October, 1987 Status: Prisoner of War

Last known to be held by Muslim Extremists

Born: November 17, 1960 Birthplace: United States

Parents: Miriam & Yona Captured: June 11, 1982

NO CONTACT Status: Missing In Action

Born: December 29, 1956 Birthplace: Israel

Parents: Penina & Avraham Captured: June 11, 1982

NO CONTACT Status: Missing In Action

Born: July 18, 1959 Birthplace: Israel

Parents: Sara & Joseph Captured: June 11, 1982

NO CONTACT Status: Missing In Action

by Laura Asita Weiss and Rabbi Goldie Milgram

Allow your eyes to close. Inhale and exhale. Listen to the sound of your breath. Do you not hear the distant sound of an ancient sea? Listen to your breath from that part of your heart that remembers being there at the time of the Exodus from Mitzrayim. Inhale and exhale and hear the moving of the waters echoing in your innermost ear as you inhale and exhale.

Keeping your eyes closed, look up as if you were looking at the top of the pillar of cloud that is guiding us out of Egypt. Observe the form and color of the cloud and feel the hope and promise that this pillar of cloud represents. Feel its pull on your soul drawing you toward freedom. Now allow your eyes to slowly slide down the length of the cloud, down and down, until your eyes reach the horizon. Notice the mass of people moving with you.

Feel yourself moving toward the Sea in that ocean of Israelites. Are you leading children by the hand? Or are you a child yourself, moving quickly to keep up with the big people. Wondering that there is no work to be done today. No bricks to be made, no taskmasters with whips.

Listen! In the distance you can hear the dim clatter of spears and shields, horses’ hooves and the rumble of chariot wheels. The whinny of a horse, a muffled command barked by one of the charioteers or Egyptian Captains. The rumbling of the chariots. Pharaoh’s great army is coming behind us.

We are approaching the sea. Inhale the tangy salty, watery smell of the sea. Feel the sand sift through your toes in your sandals. Listen! Perhaps you can hear the bleating of sheep. And the children saying "Mommy, Daddy, where are we going?" "What will happen to us?"

The familiar, the known, is behind. The sea lies ahead, and the wheels of Pharaoh’s chariots are rumbling - coming closer. The wind is picking up. A strong wind from the East. A persistent, steady, seemingly purposeful wind. A wind that could change everything.

Your hair is flying and there are white caps on the sea. And then - Look!! Moshe is holding out his hands - - MY God - the sea is beginning to split. It is a miracle! The Sea has parted and there is a path on dry land before us. There is a huge, quivering wall of water on the left and a wall of water on the right.

What is in your heart at this moment? Will you rush into the Sea with a trusting heart, running toward freedom, praising God Or do you hang back - afraid of the unknown, afraid the walls of water will close and drown you - afraid of being caught - afraid of change. (Pause) This is not an illusion.

Both choosing and being propelled by the crowd. Almost numb with fear, curiosity, hope, and awe you are moving forward into the sea. Even the children and animals fall eerily silent as you walk between the towering walls of water.

You can see the intense blue green of the sea on either side. Perhaps a dolphin cavorts along side you in the wall of water. What do you see in the wall of water? Light filters through the waters and casts dancing blue shadows on everyone.

Now we’re half-way across. The wall of water on the left and right stretch as far as you can see in front and as far as you can see behind. Incredible ! We are walking on dry land in the midst of the sea.

What an exhilarating moment - she-khe-khe-yanu, to be alive at this time to experience this . Even if we drown or Pharaoh’s army overtakes us - dayenu. This would have been enough.

The chariots sound different now - their wheels scraping and groaning against the sea floor. You are beginning to hear the suggestion of a melody (pause...if you happen to have an instrument begin playing a version of micha mocha off-key and grating...) beckoning in the distance as you move toward the opposite shore. Could it be animals? No, voices? Singing?

Despite exhaustion, growing elation lightens our footsteps.

(Modulate...move onto key if using instrument, or else humming could work) Your heartbeat quickens. The pace of everyone increases, surges.... soon you are running, flying..... eager to reach the opposite side.

A woman is singing.... you join her.....(burst into full melody with instrument, do not break the sacred trance....allow everyone to experience the fullness of their vision.)

(After a while ask people to notice their breath, to place their vision into their sacred memory chest and return to active awareness.)

[How does this work and why? Guided visualization actually is reported not to work with about 10% of people, some of us are simply hard wired for different forms of spirituality.

I mention this so those who have this difference won't wear themselves out trying. For those who can benefit from guided visualization it is a very powerful spiritual tool.

Several major medical research centers have discovered that it can even be a tool for active healing (called psycho-neuro-immunology), although this meditation is primarily designed for shifting consciousness.

Be sure to read slowly, with feeling and honor all the pauses fully, they are very important elements...like rests between the notes of a score. I wish you a joyous, deep and transformative Pesach.]

Diane Cohen, Colonia NJ

Every year, I swear I'll never do it again. Every year, it gets more and more difficult.

It used to be, I was surrounded by small children, dogs and hamsters. There was help, someone to bring the dishes in from the garage, someone to help take them out again. I worked late into the night and I was tired, but the context was family and somehow I was all right.

Then I left, and everything changed overnight. I left the kids and the dogs and the hamsters and the support. And my mother left me. In one summer, my history disappeared.

Or so I thought.

So I'm standing here on my stepstool, going through the motions again. Except unlike the old days, in the house in the suburbs, I carry in and carry out by myself. There are fewer dishes, and fewer people to feed.

And unlike the old days in the suburbs, I have beautiful etched glass stemware and silver-plated tableware and ancient ceramic dishes that serve only four (and even then missing a tea cup) - all my mother's legacy. There's the little brown teapot with the hand-painted flowers. And the honey pot. And the strawberry jar.

And I realize that my history isn't gone at all.

So while I tape the paper over the hametzdik glasses and cups to hide them and wonder why I keep doing this, I reflect on the quiet pleasure I find each year when I unpack the glass compote set and the matching glasses - all the vestiges of my childhood when everything seemed, to me at least, so simple and so safe. These are all old friends. It's wonderful to greet them every year.

Passover isn't an event. It's a process. It's the unfolding of memories, the rediscovering of old friends.

The liberation of Passover, that happens over and over again each year, is the liberation from the bondage of the pain that is wrapped around each memory. How easy it would be to put the dishes and glasses and stemware away, never look, never be reminded of the sweet times I remember. The walnuts and hazelnuts floating in Manischewitz concord grape, not during the seder but watching TV two days later. The taste of my mother's sponge cake with Swee-Touch-Nee Tea. The gefilte fish and carrot slices, icy cold and freshly made the day before. And the warmth and security I took for granted.

I am free now to remember without too many tears. And the tears are from happiness as much as they are from sadness - for they are the tears of one blessed to have had those memories. I was lucky then and I am lucky now, to have the memories to unpack with my mother's things every Passover.

So I will continue to pack them away and unpack them again, and rediscover these old friends, friends I would take for granted if they were with me every day of the year. And I will be grateful for the tears I shed when I see them each spring, for the freedom to choose to bring them out again, for the freedom to choose my burdens, and for the freedom to love my burdens.

Pesach is a joyous time of year, with friends and family gathered around the table, singing songs, sharing food, recounting our experiences in leaving the slavery of Egypt behind us. Pesach is supposed to stimulate memory, and so we all have our remembrances of Seders past. We remember sitting together with those whom we loved, usually a grandparent seated at the head of the table, leading the family in worship on this solemn/joyous/sacred night.

For many of us, the sight of Grandfather seated there at the head of the table remains our most vivid memory. Imagine my delight, then, when a congregant once told me that my seder reminded him of his grandfather's, and that he hadn't had a seder like that in many years. What he was trying to say was that I had evoked some of those early childhood memories, waiting to sing Dayenu, watching to see if the wine level in Elijah's cup would really drop as they said it would, searching for the Afikoman, and falling asleep with Grandfather's face the last thing before our sleep-blurred eyes. I was humbled and honored, and at the same time, I felt a nostalgic twinge, recalling Seders of my youth, and I tried to remember what it was about those Seders that I most remembered.

Like them, I remembered my grandfather, the smells of cooking, the delicious foods, the matzah, and everything else. But with the passage of years, my grandfather's Seder became a thing of the past. It was my father, now become the family patriarch, sitting at the head of the table. Yet the Seder was the same, the foods, the singing, the feeling of joy, and the sense of recapturing those moments of so long ago when we relived the experience of going out of Egypt.

In time, I grew up, and feeling somewhat strange, slid into the place at the head of the table. Looking around, I see my wife and children, my mother occasionally attending, telling me that my Seder is like my father's. Friends and family take their seats around the table where once the grownups sat, and I realize that we are now the grownups. And the crowd of children where once I and my friends and my cousins played has picked up the tradition and is raucously enjoying the same Seder that I loved when I was their age. And I remember.

I remember my father's Seder, though he's been gone over twenty-five years. I remember my grandfather's Seder, half a century ago. And the memories of their Seders mingle with mine and I remember what it is that I remember. I remember that I am a Jew who left Egypt, and who promised God

that every year, I would celebrate this event, precisely so that I might remember. I remember that my grandfather and my father brought their joy and their spirit to the Seder. I remember so that I might relive the experience each year, and pass the memories on to my children, as did my father before me, and his father before him. It is in this fashion that my Grandfather's Seder remains intact today, as vibrant as it was when he sat at the head of the table. Some day, if it pleases God, I will be the grandfather who sits there, and my grandchildren will remember that it was I who gave them that.

And now, as the Talmud so often asks, mai nafka minei--what is the point of all this? The point is that you don't have to come to my house to see your grandfather's Seder. You can do it at your home just as well as I do it at mine. You can take your memories of Passover and make them come alive around your table, providing your children and your grandchildren something of Jewish value that will stay with them through the years. You can make your grandfather's Seder your own, and with it, succeed in transmitting your

Jewish faith through the ages.

© Eric A. Silver 1998

dance to praise G-d for the miracle of splitting the Red Sea, so we now rejoice and celebrate the freedom

of the Jewish people today. (http://www.miriamscup.com/RitualPrint.htm)

Do not do general cleaning prior to Pesach. This is not, I repeat not, part of the mitzvah.

This year it is best to treat Friday as Erev Pesach ( no Hametz to be eaten after 10 am, biyur hametz etc. though the Pesach does not officially begin till Shabbat night.

Two days before Pesach- collect all food items which contain Hametz from all the rooms and gather them up in one drawer or closet and mark it Hametz. No additional "cleaning" is necessary.

Then all that is left is the kitchen. Here too collect all Hametz products a which which are or contain Hametz e.g. pastas, beer, (check cans with food) and gather them up in one or two closets and mark them Hametz. Hametz should be out of sight during all of Pesach.

Clean your refrigerator and freezer and put all perishable Hametz products so they cannot be seen or used during Pesach on separate shelves.

If you will use your oven during Pesach then it must be cleaned well and heated up to maximum for a few minutes or have someone with a blow-torch do the job. Your burners on top of the stove which are used for cooking should be cleaned and all flames lit for a minute or two.

Clean your sinks and table tops. Then cover them with plastic, aluminum foil or anything you deem fit.

Take out your Pesach dishes, pots, pans etc. and make your kitchen ready for Pesach cooking with Pesach products only for Shabbat.

The Hametz that is left keep in a special place but try not to eat it or make crumbs since your home is already Hametz free.

Make sure your Hametz is sold to a Gentile prior to the holyday. ( this year on Friday before 10am).Usually this is done through a rabbi who acts as your agent.

This year observe all the Pesach rules already on Friday though the Seder is not till Saturday night. Instead of bread or Hallah one may use regular Pesach matzah on Friday night. Others use egg matzah for the meals till the seder since there is a tradition in the Talmud that one should not eat regular matzah the day before the seder. Other rabbis permit even the eating of regular matzah even prior to the Seder Follow either tradition.

As for medicines which may contain Hametz, this is left to every individual to decide for himself since it involves one's health. A person needs medicines on a regular basis if he does not wish to decide for

himself should seek guidance from a dietician, pharmacist or physician.

This year one should keep a light (e.g. a yahrzeit candle) all during Shabbat so that when shabbat is over one lights the Yom Tov candles with it as well as taking fire in order to do cooking which is permitted on Yom-Tov.

P.S. An Orthodox rabbi told my Haredi relative that if she spent more than five hours preparing her home and kitchen for Pesach that is several hours too much.

by Benjamin Mordecai Ben-Baruch

I am asking you to join the "Rice for Passover Campaign" by placing rice (or other "qitniyot") on the seder table next to Elijah's cup to symbolically indicate our vision of a Jewish community that acts affirmatively to promote tolerance and mutual respect of different customs and that acts decisively against institutionalized forms of discrimination and racism within our community.