B'riah is the world of creation. As we move towards physical manifestation and come out of Atzilut, you recognize yourself as a "creative impulse. Perform and channel as Divine Artist. You are always conceiving, visions and synthesis, and manifesting our imagination of what never has been, but what could be. You are self-conscious that you exist as an archetype of creative energy; you craft new understandings, opening dimensions, previously unconceived of or thought possible. Enjoy Creating!" -Rabbi David Wolfe-Blank

Now we are an archetype, and we create a blueprint for what is possible now that we have just witnessed, in the 1st cup, the all-pervasive oneness of divinity. This is the world of the intellect, more dense than the world of light. We think, and we do mental exercises, and we discern wisdom.

In sacred activist spaces, we can get stuck here, in the idealistic phase of a movement. We look for the wisdom in peace movements and we study great changemakers and spiritual traditions, but we too often do not apply these to our lives. As we drink this cup, let us revel in the brilliancy of our intellect, the wisdom that we have access to, and vow to bring it with us into the next cup of wine as well.

KIDDUSH

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרֵא פְּרִי הַגָּפֶן

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.

We praise God, Spirit of Everything, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Before we officially begin our Seder, we proclaim that it is open to all. "All who are hungry, let them come and eat. All who are needy, let them come and conduct the Passover Seder!" In other words, the only requirement for membership at the Seder is a desire to be here. When we celebrate our freedom, it is not by sequestering ourselves in some elite or exclusive group; rather, it is by being as inclusive as possible. So we open our homes and hearts to whomever may wish to partake of our celebration of freedom, and this seder opens the possibility for Jewish liberatory stories and methods to be available to all.

During the Seder, we say, "Now we are slaves, next year we will be free people." Isn't the point of the Seder to celebrate that we are already free, since we are currently not slaves in Egypt? We say this as a poignant reminder of our interconnectedness; that as long as there are those who still suffer inside or outside of these walls, our own freedom is also limited. Until all of us are free, none of us are completely liberated. And so we open our Seder to all. 

Thus is the theme of this Seder: Radical Pesach, a play on the book Radical Dharma. We have a responsibility to our internal work, not to escape the world through spiritual practice, but to allow our spiritual practices to help us become a better part of our world.

Maggid—which has the same Hebrew root as Haggadah—means "telling the story." There is no event, no experience, that cannot be redeemed and elevated when framed as a story. Notably, it is in telling our story that we also make ourselves useful to others. We know that the very first Twelve-Step program, Alcoholics Anonymous, began when one drunk told his personal story to another. Bill W. did not try to talk to Dr. Bob about the latter's drinking. Instead, he spoke about his own experience with drinking and the solution that he had found. Therefore, when the two of them went to AA number 3, they did not sermonize or exhort him. They simply told him their own personal stories. We heal ourselves and others when we tell our story.

We realize that in telling our story, things that seemed unbearable at the time—things that we thought we could not live through—take on a completely new meaning in retrospect.

It is true that the Egyptians placed back-breaking labor upon us, but our tradition reveals that there is more to the story. Our Sages tell us that originally Pharaoh made a call for volunteers to join in a public project of city building. In other words, the Jewish people were not forced to show up at first. They responded voluntarily. However, when they wanted to leave, the taskmaster suddenly appeared and told them that they could not. This pattern is not unfamiliar to us. Many of us can recall a time when our drug of choice was something we could "take or leave" as we pleased. Or that the pain of the world just "isn't a big deal." However, there came a day when we wanted to stop using recreational substances, or wanted to end the pain of the world, and realized that there was so little that our hands could do alone. At this point, only dedication to ourselves in our community could restore the power of transformation.

What was, if any, the moment that you realized you were a slave to something? That your participation was no longer voluntary?

The Haggadah tells us that the Egyptians enslaved the Jews “with crushing labor.” What was uniquely crushing about the labor the Jews were forced to engage in? Our tradition tells us that the cities the Jewish people were forced to build were built upon swampland. Every day they would toil their utmost, and the next morning they would return to the worksite only to find that everything that they had built the previous had sunk into the ground. Therefore, what was so crushing was not the degree of hard work but its inherent pointlessness. No matter how hard they worked, their work was ultimately unproductive. For many, who work towards social change, progress can feel like this. We make strides, and then we have a new president and all of the work that we've done is immediately erased. It can feel pointless. Main lament that nothing has happened and nothing can change. But is that because that statement is true, or is that because we need a new home for the work? The Hebrews were trying to build within a crumbling system, and their work was futile. But when they escaped from Egypt, they built a nation, divinely lead.

The Splitting of the Sea is one of the most emblematic miracles in Jewish history; yet, it is also one of the most misunderstood. If the purpose of splitting the sea was merely so the Jewish people could escape the oncoming Egyptian armies, there are so many other ways that God could have saved them. Why did God specifically choose to split the sea? (God doesn't do a miracle for naught.) Kabbalistic teachings explain that the dry land and the sea are symbolic of the material world and the spiritual world, respectively. Everything on dry land is readily apparent to us—just as the material world is easy to see. That which is submerged beneath the water is hidden from our view—just as spiritual reality cannot be seen with our physical eyes. The Splitting of the Sea, therefore, represents removing the cover that obscures our view of spirituality, allowing us to see the hidden spiritual truths as clearly as we are normally able to see the material. It's important for us to realize that the Exodus was not merely a process by which we gained freedom from our oppressors. It was also, and perhaps even more so, a process through which we uncovered our true potential and finally encountered our true selves. Each of us experiences "sea-splitting moments," where the spirituality that was concealed deeply within is suddenly revealed and is as plain to see as the physical. Indeed, we might say that this revelation of our deepest self is the entire point of the enslavement and ensuing Exodus. If we would have merely left our taskmasters and gained freedom without uncovering the deepest spiritual truths within ourselves, our exodus would be profoundly lacking. In simple terms that we can relate to, this means that recovery is about so much more than just the freedom from drugs, alcohol, and other destructive behaviors, and sacred activism is more than just the steps we take towards a brighter future in the name of the divine. This work is about revealing inner spiritual powers that had been hidden within and would otherwise have never become known to us. It is from that place of renewed experiential, doughy knowing of the self that we can be effective in transformation.

There are those of us who are upset by the reading of the plagues. We are aware of the cruelty of the Egyptians. At the same time, it is difficult for us to read about such calamities as the plagues befalling any people. But there is a reason why these details were included in the Haggadah. Up to this point, we've been speaking about the story of our slavery in Egypt from our own perspective. We've discussed our powerlessness as slaves and what God did for us when we surrendered to him. But there is a parallel "story within the story"-the Egyptian perspective. Pharaoh and his people also experienced a story of slavery. However, their story does not end well for them. Pharaoh, in his arrogance, refused to ever acknowledge the pain of his people. He brought himself and his entire nation to the point of devastation to stay in power.

Ramon Parrish at a Naropa University teach-in said about imminent fascism in the United States, "sis white men, they're recruiting you." When you were in a position of privilege, it may feel like you are untouchable, that because the demands in needs of your tribe are being fulfilled, it doesn't matter if it is not happening for other tribes around you. Though you may not be able to see it, this will cause your destruction.

The United States will start screening immigrants phones for potentially antisemitic remarks. This is not a win for Jewish people. Do the Jewish people really want to be responsible for the pain and suffering of immigrants who need asylum in the United States? And, how blind are we to not see that we are being recruited as a people into active whiteness, into oppression, into apathy about the pain of our neighbors in our name?

There is no freedom until we are all free. When we neglect to stand against any and all oppression, we are complicit in the lack of freedom worldwide, including decades of relentless oppression, ethnic cleansing, and displacement of Palestinians, the rising antisemitism at our doorstep, and the displacement and ethnic cleansing of hundreds and thousands of native people from their native lands, including what we have allowed to happen on American soil. And we will also hurt. There is no liberation without collective liberation.

Seder night is a journey into another time and place. It is a swift glance at the darkest night of the human soul and a lingering dance with liberty and freedom. It is a long play with family and food and a short sharp reminder of the depths to which we may plummet when the framework and fabric of our life decays. There are washing of hands and breaking of bread. There are stories and unfamiliar foods. There are roles for children and playful songs for adults. There is wonder and enchantment, heroes and wicked adversaries, stories of Revelation and Retribution. There is even time to partake in a full Festival meal. 

If the Seder is an adventure, the Haggadah is a Map, Guide, Directory, and Vehicle.

The main event of Passover and Seder night is the Exodus from Egypt, the miraculous birth and redemption of the Jewish People. One cannot be long on the spiritual path without becoming increasingly aware of how close the ideas of Exodus and Recovery are. But the Seder is not simply a description of the Exodus. It is an opportunity to scrutinize the real issue: OUR slavery. We were slaves and now we are free. So what then is freedom? Does it mean we may now do whatever we want?

If we try that route, we will soon find ourselves back on the road into Egypt. Freedom is not license. It is the absence of constraint and an awesome lifelong struggle. We have learned this lesson, painfully, again and again. For when we became habituated to any self-destructive behavior, we were no longer free. Whether the behavior is substance use, gambling, or fixing people's lives. Whether it is self-denial, fasting, smoking, or co-dependent relationships. And when we take our freedom for granted, we become Egypt. The word for Egypt in the Torah is Mitzrayim, which does not translate to Egypt at all, but rather the narrow place. We encase ourselves in the narrow place of self-righteousness and an inability to take accountability, creating our own slavery even if we are the one's calling the shots from a place of privilege.

This then is what the Haggadah is about. Long before the 12 Steps were formalized, before therapy, before restorative justice and dialogues in collective liberation, people knew a way. The Haggadah describes the Recovery process of an entire people, hundreds of thousands, adults and children.

This year, we need to be liberated from something, and Passover comes to teach us that now is the time. We need a new beginning. So, what is our new beginning this year? What is the transformation we need to make in the rhythm of our lives that will allow us to be liberated from the enslavements that we are currently in?

These questions are hard ones to ask, as they require us to be radically honest with ourselves about what we are addicted to, how we are keeping ourselves enslaved, and how the way we keep ourselves enslaved creates oppression. Now is the opportunity to leave behind the safety of Egypt, the illusory safety of denial, and name your addiction/enslavement so that you can be free.

To open up this seder, let us go around and each answer this question: I am most enslaved when I...