Inclusion

You are Jewish enough. You have always been Jewish enough.

Whatever you remember and whatever you've forgotten.

Whatever you observe and whatever you've let go.

Whatever you believe on your most searching days and whatever you question on your most doubtful ones.

You are not a bad Jew.

You are a Jew in process — which is the only kind there has ever been.

The rabbis argued. The prophets wrestled. The mystics wandered.

Abraham left without knowing where he was going.

Moses said he couldn't speak.

Ruth chose a people that wasn't yet hers.

And still, they showed up.

So can you.

May you enter these pages without apology.

May you bring your whole self — your questions, your gaps, your longing, your love.

May you find here not a test to pass, but a table to sit at.

And may the learning you do, in whatever form it takes,

be a blessing to you and to everyone whose life touches yours.

Baruch atah — you are blessed. Go ahead.

Before you check your phone. Before your feet hit the floor. Before the day gets loud — Jewish tradition asks you to say two words: thank you.

Modeh Ani is the first prayer of the Jewish day, said the moment your eyes open, while still in bed. It is two lines long. It requires nothing but your breath and your willingness.

מוֹדֶה אֲנִי לְפָנֶיך מֶלֶך חַי וְקַיָם שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִי נִשְׁמָתִי בְחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ

Modeh ani l’fanecha, melech chai v’kayam,

shehechezarta bi nishmati b’chemla, raba emunatecha.

I give thanks before You, living and eternal Sovereign,

for You have returned my soul to me with compassion.

How great is Your faithfulness in me.

The word modeh doesn’t just mean “thank.” It can also mean “admit” or “surrender” — an acknowledgment that we are not entirely self-made, that each day is not owed to us but given. And there’s something hidden in the word order: it would be grammatically correct to say Ani modeh — “I thank You.” But it’s reversed: Modeh Ani — thank you comes before I. The prayer reminds us, right at the start, to lead with gratitude rather than self.

The Practice

Tomorrow morning, before anything else, say the words above — or simply say: I am grateful to be here. This day is a gift. That’s it. Do it again the next morning. And the next.

If the language of “Sovereign” or “King” (melech) doesn’t fit you, swap in Ruach (Spirit), or Source, or simply speak to whatever you do believe in. The vessel matters less than the turning toward gratitude.

Three Things

Each morning after reciting Modeh Ani — or in its place — write down three things you are grateful for. They can be tiny. The coffee. The quiet. The text from a friend. Over time, this simple practice rewires the brain’s tendency to scan for threat first, and trains the eye toward the good that is already here.

Share with a friend or chevruta: What is one thing you noticed this morning — something small — that you are genuinely glad exists? What would shift in your day if the very first word you said every morning was thank you?

*Modeh = masculine, Modah = feminine

Before we begin, consider journaling as you reflect on these questions. There are no right answers. Write what's true for you.

1. What is a ritual — Jewish or otherwise — that has brought you genuine joy? It doesn't have to be formal or religious. It might be a Friday night dinner, a song you always sing, a food that means home. What made it meaningful? Who was there?

2. Think about your Jewish journey so far. What moments, practices, or people have felt most alive to you — the times you felt most connected to something larger than yourself? And where have there been gaps, distances, or questions you haven't known how to ask?

3. Have you ever held back from a Jewish experience because you felt you didn't know enough, or didn't belong quite enough? What would it mean to give yourself permission to show up anyway — curious, imperfect, and enough exactly as you are?

4. What do you most want to feel more of in your life right now — joy, connection, meaning, purpose, or something else entirely? How might ritual — even a small, simple one — be a doorway toward that?

5. What are you passing on? To your children, grandchildren, friends, or community — what Jewish memories, values, or practices do you hope will outlast you? And is there anything you wish someone had passed on to you?

Pesach is a time of inclusion.

On seder night, there are two moments where we metaphorically open our doors and invite others in. One is at the opening of the Magid portion of the seder, when we say, “All who are hungry come and eat.” There is a beautiful message here: we were once slaves; poor and hungry, and we remember our redemption by sharing what we have with others.

The other, comes towards the end of the seder, when we have the custom of pouring a fifth cup of wine, which we claim is for Elijah the Prophet. This is a statement of faith, a statement that says that although we are a free people, our redemption is not yet complete, and we believe that it will come.

From the most downtrodden to the most celebrated, the message is clear: everyone is welcome and everyone is necessary. Why is it that we go out of our way to include all at our seder table? Perhaps it is because when we make room for others, we have the opportunity to make room for ourselves as well. In fact, the Mishnah (Pesahim 10:5) teaches us that:

בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they left Egypt

The seder presents us with the obligation of identifying with the generation that left Egypt and internalizing that experience. And through that internalization, we come to feel the redemption as if it was our own as well to - לראות את עצמו. Further, the reliving of the story of the Exodus affords us the opportunity see one’s true self. It is only when we are able to see ourselves clearly, that we are able to be redeemed. But perhaps the only way we are able to see ourselves, is when we are truly able to see those around us. This message of inclusion is Pardes’s message too, and our hope is that this Haggadah Companion which offers something for everyone, will add new meaning to your seder and help bring the Jewish people a little closer together.

The Seder Plate

We place a Seder Plate at our table as a reminder to discuss certain aspects of the Passover story. Each item has its own significance.

Maror – The bitter herb. This symbolizes the harshness of lives of the Jews in Egypt.

Charoset – A delicious mix of sweet wine, apples, cinnamon and nuts that resembles the mortar used as bricks of the many buildings the Jewish slaves built in Egypt

Karpas – A green vegetable, usually parsley, is a reminder of the green sprouting up all around us during spring and is used to dip into the saltwater

Zeroah – A roasted lamb or shank bone symbolizing the sacrifice made at the great temple on Passover (The Paschal Lamb)

Beitzah – The egg symbolizes a different holiday offering that was brought to the temple. Since eggs are the first item offered to a mourner after a funeral, some say it also evokes a sense of mourning for the destruction of the temple.

Orange - The orange on the seder plate has come to symbolize full inclusion in modern day Judaism: not only for women, but also for people with disabilities, intermarried couples, and the LGBT Community.

Matzah

Matzah is the unleavened bread we eat to remember that when the jews fled Egypt, they didn’t even have time to let the dough rise on their bread. We commemorate this by removing all bread and bread products from our home during Passover.

Elijah’s Cup

The fifth ceremonial cup of wine poured during the Seder. It is left untouched in honor of Elijah, who, according to tradition, will arrive one day as an unknown guest to herald the advent of the Messiah. During the Seder dinner, biblical verses are read while the door is briefly opened to welcome Elijah. In this way the Seder dinner not only commemorates the historical redemption from Egyptian bondage of the Jewish people but also calls to mind their future redemption when Elijah and the Messiah shall appear.

Miriam’s Cup

Another relatively new Passover tradition is that of Miriam’s cup. The cup is filled with water and placed next to Elijah’s cup. Miriam was the sister of Moses and a prophetess in her own right. After the exodus when the Israelites are wandering through the desert, just as Hashem gave them Manna to eat, legend says that a well of water followed Miriam and it was called ‘Miriam’s Well’. The tradition of Miriam’s cup is meant to honor Miriam’s role in the story of the Jewish people and the spirit of all women, who nurture their families just as Miriam helped sustain the Israelites.

The seder officially begins with a physical act: lighting the candles.  In Jewish tradition, lighting candles and saying a blessing over them marks a time of transition, from the day that is ending to the one that is beginning, from ordinary time to sacred time.  Lighting the candles is an important part of our Passover celebration because their flickering light reminds us of the importance of keeping the fragile flame of freedom alive in the world.

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 God, 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.