In Crow and Weasel, a fable inspired by North American Plains myths, Barry Lopez writes, “The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them ... Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.” Maybe this is why Maggid, the storytelling section of the Haggadah, is the heart of the seder. In fact, the Haggadah teaches us, “The more expansive a person is in recounting the story of departing Egypt, the more praiseworthy.” This line invites seder facilitators and guests to weave their own creativity, experiences, and insights into the seder’s storytelling.

Below, you will find four stories by four writers, each representing a different family and a different Jewish experience. In the first, Mishael Zion paints a portrait of the many voices, past and present, that are represented at his family seders. Vlada Nedak describes her introduction to Passover in Ukraine and the importance of translating the Haggadah into Ukrainian. Tamar Elad-Appelbaum expresses the importance of asking questions and the need for collective liberation. Finally, Ziva (Tezezew) Mekonen Degu recounts her family’s annual retelling of their own exodus, from Ethiopia to Israel. As you read these excerpts, we invite you to consider your own family’s history and how telling that story has changed over time and been integrated into different contexts. 

The Wicked Child is All of Us

Donniel Hartman

This section of the Haggadah aims to remind parents that our children are not all the same, and, as we tell our story, we must adapt it to their different sensibilities and abilities. However, the section which purports to heighten parental sensitivity fails drastically, first by designating one child—the one who asks, “What is this worship to you?”—as “wicked,” and then the response it suggests, to “set that child’s teeth on edge.” We can see it as a valuable pedagogical model of what not to do. We also should remember that at the time the Haggadah was first composed, rude questions were threatening and individuals whose loyalty wasn’t guaranteed were a source of fear. If we bring the “wicked” child into our own moment, we can see that their question is a demand for a compelling reason to choose Judaism.

In the modern world, we are blessed with multiple identities that all lay claim to our loyalty. Being Jewish is one of many identities available to us. Today, each one of us is the “wicked child.” If Judaism is to claim our loyalty, it will be because

we actively choose it over or alongside others. And we will only choose to do so if the Jewish story welcomes our difficult questions and embraces our differences, and if it is morally, intellectually, culturally, and spiritually compelling. Only then will we, the "wicked ones," choose Judaism as our home. 

Avraham Shlonsky (Translated by Mishael Zion) 

By my eyes that witnessed the slaughter

By my heart that was weighed down by cries for justice

By my compassion that taught me to pardon

Until the days came that were too terrible to forgive,

I have sworn: To remember it all,

To remember—to forget nothing!

Forget not one thing to the last generation

Until my indignation shall be extinguished

When the staff of my moral rebuke has struck until exhausted.

A vow: Lest for nothing shall the night of terror have passed. A vow: Lest for nothing shall I return to my wont

Without having learned anything, even this time. 

Questions for Conversation

• Why do you think the members of Kibbutz Nahal Oz included “A Vow” in their Haggadah next to “Pour Out Your Wrath”? How do the two pieces inform one another?

• What is your relationship to the anger in the poem and in “Pour Out Your Wrath”? Is it different this year than in previous years?