Elijah's Cup

We pour a fifth cup of wine and place it at the center of the table. This is Elijah's cup.

Elijah was a prophet. Jewish tradition says he never died, but was taken up to heaven, and that he wanders the earth ever since, appearing in times of need, visiting the poor and the suffering, and showing up at every Seder table on Passover night. He is the herald of a better world — the one who, according to tradition, will announce the coming of a time when there is no more injustice, no more cruelty, no more suffering.

We pour his cup but we do not drink it. It is the cup of hope — of something not yet fulfilled, of a world not yet healed.

The harbinger of freedom does not attend our seders. His absence defines them; the open secret of a surreptitious sip from his goblet admits as much.

The stories about Elijah are about him not being welcomed, about even the promise of oylem ha-bo [the world to come] not being enough to make lip service to hospitality real. And how can we blame those who turn him away? The promise is about another world, not the world we live in, the world where we hurt and love and struggle.

Let's tell another story. A story that says our lives in this world, our lives now, our lives with our neighbors and with strangers, are the point. A story that looks at the world to learn from it.

Let's drink the cup together. It isn't Elijah's, it is ours. Because he doesn’t attend our seders, we do.

Pass Elijah's cup around the table, with each person pouring a dash from it into their own glass.

Together, we drink to the reinvention of Jewishness, not just beyond Zionism, but without the things that make Zionism possible. To the living, changing Jewishness that we make ours.

L'khayem.

We pour a fifth cup of wine and place it at the center of the table. This is Elijah's cup.

Elijah was a prophet. Jewish tradition says he never died, but was taken up to heaven, and that he wanders the earth ever since, appearing in times of need, visiting the poor and the suffering, and showing up at every Seder table on Passover night. He is the herald of a better world — the one who, according to tradition, will announce the coming of a time when there is no more injustice, no more cruelty, no more suffering.

We pour his cup but we do not drink it. It is the cup of hope — of something not yet fulfilled, of a world not yet healed.

(We open the door for Elijah and we sing together.)

Eliyahu hanavi

Eliyahu hatishbi

Eliyahu, Eliyahu, Eliyahu hagiladi

Bimheirah b’yameinu, yavo eileinu

Im mashiach ben-David,

Im mashiach ben-David

Elijah the prophet, the returning, the man of Gilad:

return to us speedily,

in our days with the messiah,

son of David.

(Close the door.)

by Sheikha Ibtisam Mahameed and Rabba Tamar Elad-Appelbaum

This invocation, written by two mothers, one Muslim and one Jewish, invites us to take their plea for peace into our hearts and into the world. It has been shared widely by Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie and the Lab/Shul community.

Let us Light Candles for Peace

Two mothers, one plea:

Now, more than ever, during these days of so much crying,on the day that is sacred to both our religions, Friday, Sabbath Eve

Let us light a candle in every home – for peace:

A candle to illuminate our future, face to face,

A candle across borders, beyond fear.

From our family homes and houses of worship

Let us light each other up,

Let these candles be a lighthouse to our spirit

Until we all arrive at the sanctuary of peace.

Blessed Yah, Creator, Created, Creating...

We pray for peace,

For ourselves and the world,

Even if only for one day:

Instead of anger, we choose kindness.

Instead of revenge, we choose justice.

Instead of resentment, we choose empathy.

Instead of work, we choose rest.

Instead of ideology, we choose compromise.

Instead of destruction, we choose community.

Instead of fear, we choose endurance.

Instead of invective, we choose prayer.

Instead of violence, we choose peace.

Blessed Yah, Creator, Created, Creating...

We give thanks for this day of peace.

May it change us, may it change the world,

And let us say, Amen.

Lighting candles transforms ordinary time into sacred time, marking the official start of the Seder.

The Blessing:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו, וְצִוָּנוּ לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל יוֹם טוֹב.

Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha'olam asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav, v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Yom Tov.

Blessed are You, Adonai our Divine Presence, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with laws and commanded us to light the festival lights.

As we light the festival candles, we acknowledge that as they brighten our Passover table, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds brighten our days.