As part of our preparation for Passover this year, my students and I looked at different elements of the Haggadah, the book used to guide the Passover Seder. We tried to figure out the mysteries of the ten plagues (What’s so terrible about frogs? Why do you need Lice and locusts? What does it mean that God hardens Pharaoh’s heart against letting the Israelites go and yet also sends plague after plague to convince him to let them go? Does this mean that God wants to cause Pharaoh pain? And if so, why must all of the Egyptians suffer along with their leader?); and we looked at the objects on the Seder plate (does anyone actually eat the parsley dipped in salt water? Couldn’t we just substitute pickles for the green vegetable and the salt water, all in one convenient package?); and, why is the Seder so freakin’ long?
But the part that always gets to me most is when we read about the four sons (the wise, the wicked, the simple, and the one who doesn’t know how to ask) and how the rabbis recommended we answer their questions.
There are many reasons to find fault with this section of the Hagaddah, but first and foremost my reasons are personal: my father always chose for me to read what the wicked son had to say. He thought it was hysterical that every year he could call me evil in front of guests and get away with it. But having read that passage so many times has focused my attention on the question: what’s so wicked about the wicked son wondering what this whole Exodus story has to do with him?
I’ve seen dozens of revised versions of the four sons: changing it to the four children to include the other half of the population; renaming the wicked son to the rebellious child; and imagining the four children as four parts of all of us.
I actually love the idea that the rabbis thought to add a section to the Hagaddah where we are told to look at the children at the table and try to figure out how to answer their questions. It’s just that the rabbis gave terrible advice, and their method of categorizing the children is both vague and judgmental and still doesn’t really help us figure out what to say to them.
Earlier in the Seder, the youngest child recites the official Four Questions, chosen by the rabbis long ago and usually answered before Passover even begins by your friendly neighborhood synagogue school teacher. Why Matza? Because the Israelites had to rush to bake bread the night they escaped from Egypt and the bread had no time to rise, or because we used to rely on sympathetic magic at this time of year to encourage the harvest, and preventing the bread from rising was a way to reserve all of the fecundity for the crops. Why bitter herbs? Because slavery is bitter. Why dip a green vegetable in salt water? Because the green vegetable (often parsley) represents spring and the salt water reminds us of the tears of our ancestors. Why do we recline at the Seder? Because free people are able to relax while they eat and somehow don’t mind the resulting heartburn.
The recital of those four basic questions is supposed to be the beginning, and not the end, of the questions people ask at the Seder, and in the same way I wish we could portray (at least) four different kinds of children at our Seders in a way that would inspire us to be more curious about the actual children in our lives and to come up with ways to spark their imaginations.
What if instead of labeling the child who agrees with us as wise, and the one who disagrees as wicked, we could listen to them long enough to figure out the who behind the concerns they are bringing up?
In that spirit, I asked my students which children they would choose if they were writing the Hagaddah today, and they had a lot of ideas. They thought about the depressed child and the bored child, the discombobulated child and the hungry child, the happy child and the lonely child, the frightened child and the curious child, the constipated child (too much Matza), the self-absorbed child, and the brave child. And really they could have gone on and on. What they didn’t do was to describe the children in the judgmental and external ways the rabbis had done. They focused on who the child is to him or herself: she feels sad, he feels uncomfortable, she’s shy around so many strangers, and he wants to see what happens if he feeds horseradish to the cat.
The central obligation at the Passover Seder is not to eat Gefilte fish or hide the Afikomen, but to re-tell the story of the Exodus, because we recognize the power of this story to help us find meaning in our lives: to teach us to have hope even in dark times, to learn how to stand up to bullies, to remind us that we can ask for help and that we should help others on the journey when we can. This yearly retelling also teaches us to remember our own individual traumas, and name them, and embrace the ways they have made us who we are today. If we pretend that life is beautiful all the time we won’t search for new ways to solve our problems and will remain stuck in Egypt. The mantra to “never forget” has been associated with the Holocaust in modern times, but the lesson is thousands of years old and stems from the Exodus story and the command to retell it. Our ancestors knew the power of memory and the need for storytelling to help us shape those memories into life lessons.
The Israelites are never portrayed as perfect people in the Hebrew Bible, they are intentionally portrayed as human and flawed so that we can see ourselves in them and learn the lessons they learned from their lives. The four children can be seen as part of this tradition too: the one who complains all the time (Manna? Again?!), the one who is always jealous of someone else’s share (why does Moses get to be in charge all the time?), the one who is afraid to cross the sea (why does everything have to be so difficult?), and the one who has the faith to take the first step and lead the rest to freedom. They are all part of the same whole; they are us.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my Young Adult novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 
I wish we would try more to realize our sameness than focus on our differences. Sounds like your students are very bright! But then they have a smart teacher.
I love that you asked your students what characteristics for the children they would choose for the Haggadah and your emphasis on seeing and hearing children more and pre-judging them less.
Getting to know these kids, and how they think is the highlight for me; I want all of the other adults in their lives to see what I’m seeing.
I appreciate your sharing of the Hagaddah story. I learned something new today.
Thank you!
I agree with the other commenters. You are wonderful at putting the meaning of the scriptures in terms that are understandable both to your students and to your readers. You have a gift, Rachel. Thank you.
I’m so sorry that your dad was such an *&! He must be related to my psycho ex! Do not listen to him! You are worthy. You are lovely. You have your story to tell. Don’t let anyone tell you different!
💙
I can see why the louse sticker would be popular. I also like the idea of rebellious.
Isn’t it cute?! It makes all of the itchies a little bit more tolerable.
Really enjoyed this Rachel, especially getting the children’s take and what types of children they would like to see other than the four. So much more important for them to actually feel a part of these stories, to feel as if they are being represented, truly represented, instead of being forced a choice of label that doesn’t quite fit who they really are. And it’s also so much more enlightening for you as the “friendly neighborhood synagogue school teacher” … I mean how else would you discover that such pressing children’s questions include the possible results of trying to feed horseradish to a cat? … 🙂 🙂
Thank you! Here’s hoping no cats had to suffer for the sake of science over the holiday.
** disclaimer **
No cats were harmed by trying to feed them horseradish in the making of this post or it’s responses
I cracked up at those cheerful plague stickers! Regarding frogs, I refer you to the horror movie Frogs starring Ray Milland. I never heard about the four sons, but I am glad to hear they have been allowed to evolve. I like your students’ ideas.
I loved those stickers! They actually allow for the kids to look at some of the more painful parts of the holiday in a manageable way; each at their own pace.
Thank-you, Rachel, for all you do for the children! And for the way you teach through your blog. Glad to be your student.
Thank you so much!
Your posts are always educational, the teacher in you definitely comes out in your writing, I love that you gave your young students a chance to shine with their words from the heart. ❤️
They are so creative! They come up with so many ideas that I would never think of, and they teach each other and me.
I always learn from your posts, Rachel. This one was especially educational AND entertaining!
Fascinating. I didn’t know about the four sons. (I’m a Goy 😉)
What I found fascinating were two things:
1) The recurrence of “why”. Most people don’t ever ask themselves “why” they do one thing, or follow one rule. It seems to me “why” is a key factor to freedom (of choice). Ans somewhat forgotten these days.
2) And that was a brilliant question: how would the four sons be today? (Or the four girls for that matter). Such emphasis on feeling. I don’t have that many contact with very young people now, my daughters are around 40, my grandkids are under 10. Could it be that we are “drowning” in emotion? (Another question. Mine. Sorry, I ask a lot of questions)
Anyway, thanks again for your post. Brilliant.
🙏🏻
Brian
Thank you for these notes of reflection on Passover. You really are helping me in my own Catholic faith by discovering the faith of Jesus, and what He would have experienced during His time on Earth. The Passover meal is also at the center of our own Catholic beliefs and is central to our Faith. Thank yo once again!
Your entire take is consciousness-expanding, Rachel. This struck me as especially wise:
“What if instead of labeling the child who agrees with us as wise, and the one who disagrees as wicked, we could listen to them long enough to figure out the who behind the concerns they are bringing up?”
More evidence how lucky your students are!
I found this interesting to hear what the elements of the meal symbolize. I also liked the compassion of your students, and their desire to question and to break away from the stereotypes of the children. Questioning and seeing things in a different way is so important. Thank you for sharing.
That’s a wonderful lesson you give to the children to connect the legacy of the four sons in a relevant way to today. You would make a good history teacher it seems.
Rachel, I applaud your sensitive treatment of incest in “Yeshiva Girl”. I would like to review the book at A Voice Reclaimed https://avoicereclaimed.com sometime in the next few weeks, if you will allow me.
Though your main character is a 15 y.o. girl (and you clearly recall the emotional turmoil of the teen years), I think you do yourself a disservice by characterizing the book as Young Adult fiction. I can tell you as an incest survivor myself that the story has appeal for a much broader audience.
I wish you much success w/ the book, and in all your endeavors.
Thank you so much!
Very nice
Thank you so much for sharing the Hagaddah story. I hadn’t heard this before and I agree you are a fabulous teacher. The stickers are fabulous nas well.
Thank you for sharing details about the seder. I love learning history. And I enjoyed the stickers.
Thank you! Me too!
Wonderful story telling! Were I a child in your class I most certainly would remain interested and more importantly – a thinker. 🙂
Thank you so much!
This was your best blog ever, Rachel! I so appreciated your insight, your obvious passion for teaching, and your love for Judaism. I need to start sharing your blogs on my Facebook page.
Thank you so much!