And the women dancing with their timbrels Followed Miriam as she sang her song. Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted,Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long. And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety, The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history, With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight,
A woman touched with spirit she dances toward the light. Chorus
When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea, The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe, Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land.
Chorus And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned, And Miriam raised her voice in song She sang with praise and might, We’ve just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes. And why not? We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
We begin our Seder and join our efforts with those everywhere who celebrate the Passover searching for its meaning in their lives; as an expression of our liberation so far... There are many possible modes for understanding the events retold in the Pesach Haggadah.
Of these, three are braided together so that, if we concentrate exclusively on any one of them, we diminish the special qualities of the entire story.
By participating in the symbolic actions built into the order of the Seder, we can share in: the experience of the rebirth of the natural world around us, the national liberation of our people, the spiritual redemption of each individual human being.
We begin this evening: some of us feeling shackled by the bonds of winter, some of our people—and other peoples of the world—persecuted, many of us confined by our own personal limitations.
Tonight we hope to set in motion: processes of growth that encourage within each of us the renewal of each person’s unique vision, and efforts to work for the freedom of our scattered—and all, oppressed— people, as we see about us the flowering of a new year.
Indeed, we begin our Seder here.
However, our goals are neither our renewal, our freedom, nor our flowering.
Pesach is but the pointer to the acceptance of our commitments to complete these tasks—in a harvesting of the fruits of our labors yet to come.
The evening shadows lengthen. We prepare ourselves to light the holiday candles. In this act we unite and identify ourselves in time and space with all Jews in other periods and places of our history. Albert Einstein stood in awe of the universe as he struggled to formulate his theory of a unified field. He was not ready to assign consciousness to the unity he proposed. But our ancestors taught us of a Divine Unity: the Source of all things who unites us all as one family. From this idea they developed the concept of ethical monotheism.
Our prophets claimed that the unity of creation called us to act. We still hear their voices, calling us to work for social justice as the foundation for community peace. I come tonight because I want to join this process, as we build a creative and fulfilling Jewish life. I hope each person who participates in this Seder will add their efforts, as we learn, understand, and enrich the traditions of our past, making them meaningful for our future.
As we foster the beauty and uniqueness of our own heritage, so we support those who further the beauty and uniqueness of their respective traditions.
We unite with other Jews and with all who act so that people around the world can live in peace and freedom and develop so they can reap the fruits of their lives as human beings. We know that as long as we live a light glows within us. Even when we close our eyes we experience it. The world itself fills with light and we humans have the ability to increase or decrease its presence.
Look! The day ends. The earth turns from sunshine to dusk and then to darkness. As so often before, we assume for ourselves the task of kindling candles in the night, to enlighten the dark corners of our world. We still live in perilous times. Behind us, though receding into the memories of even the oldest among us, we can still sense the fires of Auschwitz and Hiroshima. Before us, on all sides we face a terror of towers falling and the potential of thermonuclear clouds rising. We gather tonight to create from fire, not the heat of destruction, but the light of instruction; indeed to see more clearly the wisdom, strength and caring that glows from within each of us. Many peoples of the world marked significant events with fire. We Jews also associate lighting fires with special occasions. Like other peoples who regarded fire as a gift to be used wisely and with respect, we also focus our attention on the Source of the lights we use in our ceremonies.
May these candles, lighted on the Festival of Freedom, bring light into our hearts and minds. May they renew our courage to act for justice and freedom here and now. May they illumine the path to truth, justice and peace. And so we repeat the ancient blessing:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kiddishanu b’mitzvotav,v’tzivanu lehadlik neir shel [Shabbat v'shel] Yom Tov.
Blessed are You Adonai our God, Sovereign of all space and time, who has made us distinct through Your directives and has directed us to kindle the [Shabbat and] holiday lights.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes.
And why not?
We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
Remnants in the ghettos and death camps rose up against the wicked ones and slew many of them before they themselves died. In 1943, on the first night of Pesach, remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto rose up against the adversary. They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they brought redemption to the name of Israel through all the world. In their honor this song was written and sung:
Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho– S’vet a poyk ton undzer trot–mir zaynen do!
Fun grinem palmenland biz vaysn land fun shney, Mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey. Un vu gefaln s’iz a shprits fun unzer blut, Shprotsn vet dortn undzer gvure, undzer mut.
Es vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haynt, Un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mitn faynd. Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem kayor– Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.
Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blay. S’iz nit keyn lidl fun a foygl af der fray. Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent!
To zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg....
Never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve hungered for is near; Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!
From land of palm-tree to the far-off land of snow We shall be coming without torment and our woes, And everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom forth!
We’ll have the morning sun to set our day aglow, And all our yesterdays shall vanish without the foe, And if the time is long before the sun appears; Then let this song go like a signal through the years.
This song was written with our blood and not with lead; It’s not a song that birds sing overhead It was a people, among toppling barricades, That sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades.
So, never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve hungered for is near; Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!
And the women dancing with their timbrels Followed Miriam as she sang her song. Sing a song to the One whom we’ve exalted,Miriam and the women danced and danced the whole night long. And Miriam was a weaver of unique variety, The tapestry she wove was one which sang our history, With every strand and every thread she crafted her delight,
A woman touched with spirit she dances toward the light. Chorus
When Miriam stood upon the shores and gazed across the sea, The wonder of this miracle she soon came to believe, Whoever thought the sea would part with an outstretched hand, And we would pass to freedom and march to the promised land.
Chorus And Miriam the prophet took her timbrel in her hand, And all the women followed her just as she had planned, And Miriam raised her voice in song She sang with praise and might, We’ve just lived through a miracle, we’re going to dance tonight.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes. And why not? We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
We begin our Seder and join our efforts with those everywhere who celebrate the Passover searching for its meaning in their lives; as an expression of our liberation so far... There are many possible modes for understanding the events retold in the Pesach Haggadah.
Of these, three are braided together so that, if we concentrate exclusively on any one of them, we diminish the special qualities of the entire story.
By participating in the symbolic actions built into the order of the Seder, we can share in: the experience of the rebirth of the natural world around us, the national liberation of our people, the spiritual redemption of each individual human being.
We begin this evening: some of us feeling shackled by the bonds of winter, some of our people—and other peoples of the world—persecuted, many of us confined by our own personal limitations.
Tonight we hope to set in motion: processes of growth that encourage within each of us the renewal of each person’s unique vision, and efforts to work for the freedom of our scattered—and all, oppressed— people, as we see about us the flowering of a new year.
Indeed, we begin our Seder here.
However, our goals are neither our renewal, our freedom, nor our flowering.
Pesach is but the pointer to the acceptance of our commitments to complete these tasks—in a harvesting of the fruits of our labors yet to come.
The evening shadows lengthen. We prepare ourselves to light the holiday candles. In this act we unite and identify ourselves in time and space with all Jews in other periods and places of our history. Albert Einstein stood in awe of the universe as he struggled to formulate his theory of a unified field. He was not ready to assign consciousness to the unity he proposed. But our ancestors taught us of a Divine Unity: the Source of all things who unites us all as one family. From this idea they developed the concept of ethical monotheism.
Our prophets claimed that the unity of creation called us to act. We still hear their voices, calling us to work for social justice as the foundation for community peace. I come tonight because I want to join this process, as we build a creative and fulfilling Jewish life. I hope each person who participates in this Seder will add their efforts, as we learn, understand, and enrich the traditions of our past, making them meaningful for our future.
As we foster the beauty and uniqueness of our own heritage, so we support those who further the beauty and uniqueness of their respective traditions.
We unite with other Jews and with all who act so that people around the world can live in peace and freedom and develop so they can reap the fruits of their lives as human beings. We know that as long as we live a light glows within us. Even when we close our eyes we experience it. The world itself fills with light and we humans have the ability to increase or decrease its presence.
Look! The day ends. The earth turns from sunshine to dusk and then to darkness. As so often before, we assume for ourselves the task of kindling candles in the night, to enlighten the dark corners of our world. We still live in perilous times. Behind us, though receding into the memories of even the oldest among us, we can still sense the fires of Auschwitz and Hiroshima. Before us, on all sides we face a terror of towers falling and the potential of thermonuclear clouds rising. We gather tonight to create from fire, not the heat of destruction, but the light of instruction; indeed to see more clearly the wisdom, strength and caring that glows from within each of us. Many peoples of the world marked significant events with fire. We Jews also associate lighting fires with special occasions. Like other peoples who regarded fire as a gift to be used wisely and with respect, we also focus our attention on the Source of the lights we use in our ceremonies.
May these candles, lighted on the Festival of Freedom, bring light into our hearts and minds. May they renew our courage to act for justice and freedom here and now. May they illumine the path to truth, justice and peace. And so we repeat the ancient blessing:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kiddishanu b’mitzvotav,v’tzivanu lehadlik neir shel [Shabbat v'shel] Yom Tov.
Blessed are You Adonai our God, Sovereign of all space and time, who has made us distinct through Your directives and has directed us to kindle the [Shabbat and] holiday lights.
Why do we wash our hands all the time?
This washing, even though it is an official task of the Seder, is done without a blessing. It is strictly for cleanliness purposes.
And why not?
We're about to handle food. It seems so easy for us. We turn on the tap, and there it is. But water is scarce. May we be aware of our water as we continue the Seder.
Remnants in the ghettos and death camps rose up against the wicked ones and slew many of them before they themselves died. In 1943, on the first night of Pesach, remnants of the Warsaw Ghetto rose up against the adversary. They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they brought redemption to the name of Israel through all the world. In their honor this song was written and sung:
Zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg khotsh himlen blayene farshteln bloye teg. Kumen vet nokh undzer oysgebenkte sho– S’vet a poyk ton undzer trot–mir zaynen do!
Fun grinem palmenland biz vaysn land fun shney, Mir kumen on mit undzer payn, mit undzer vey. Un vu gefaln s’iz a shprits fun unzer blut, Shprotsn vet dortn undzer gvure, undzer mut.
Es vet di morgnzun bagildn undz dem haynt, Un der nekhtn vet farshvindn mitn faynd. Nor oyb farzamen vet di zun in dem kayor– Vi a parol zol geyn dos lid fun dor tsu dor.
Dos lid geshribn iz mit blut un nit mit blay. S’iz nit keyn lidl fun a foygl af der fray. Dos hot a folk tsvishn falndike vent Dos lid gezungen mit naganes in di hent!
To zog nit keyn mol az du geyst dem letstn veg....
Never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve hungered for is near; Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!
From land of palm-tree to the far-off land of snow We shall be coming without torment and our woes, And everywhere our blood has sunk into the earth Shall our bravery, our vigor blossom forth!
We’ll have the morning sun to set our day aglow, And all our yesterdays shall vanish without the foe, And if the time is long before the sun appears; Then let this song go like a signal through the years.
This song was written with our blood and not with lead; It’s not a song that birds sing overhead It was a people, among toppling barricades, That sang this song of ours with pistols and grenades.
So, never say that there is only death for you Though leaden skies may be concealing days of blue— Because the hour that we’ve hungered for is near; Beneath our tread the earth shall tremble: We are here!
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