Yes, I have been to all sorts of seders. From the ones that start at 6 and end after midnight (I remember one filled with Jewishly educated folks who knew, and had to sing, at least three versions of every song) to the ones where the leader says, right after “this is the matzo”….”Let’s eat.” As they say in show-biz, “you have to know your audience”, and then “the show must go on.” Actually, I have no idea whether they say in show business, “you have to know your audience”. But it would be a good idea. Much better than “break a leg”.

I know there are some seder leaders who religiously (that is a double entendre if I ever heard one) follow the most traditional of Haggadot, and others who have written their own, or who have purchased multiple copies of freedom Haggadot, or women’s Haggadot, or social justice Haggadot, or what have you. We use the old Rabbi Goldberg Haggadah (we have thousands of copies, mostly stained and torn) and I, when I lead, improvise.

I am fairly serious about the seders I lead. Now, that may surprise you, because people who read what I write often think that I am not serious at all, since so much of what I write seems a little off-center. But, in fact, the more off-center, comical, satiric that it is, the more serious I am. This is a statement of fact, not satire.

So, with a 10 year old, a 5 year old, 4 people in their 40s, 1 barely in her 50s, two in their 70s and me (that’s 10, right), and with a variety of Jewish practices (even within single houses), I have to judge my audience. But I also have to keep to my own values as closely as I can, and there are a lot of things about the Haggadah that I find troublesome.

Generally, let me say it this way: I accept it as a description of the departure of the Jews from Egypt (which may or may not have really happened). But I don’t accept that the departure of the Jews from Egypt has anything to do with the political State of Israel, and because Egypt is still a real place, I don’t accept anything that would be offensive to me, if I were an Egyptian.

This means that I don’t like to have my seder become political, and while I can accept the Pharaoh as being a stubborn guy, I can not accept the plagues. Now for many (most?), reading the plagues and dollopping the wine is a highlight of the seder. For me, it’s an embarrassment and should be discarded. Of course, no one listens to me, so for that part of the seder, I just sit there and look at my phone.

Think about it. You are an Egyptian and the Jews of the world are celebrating their freedom on the basis of a decree from God that your first born were all slaughtered. That doesn’t strike you as bizarre? Or worse? And, remember, there are 9 other plagues, not as bad as that one, but pretty bad.

A brief history: Perhaps a group of people now called Jews left Egypt as related in the Bible and repeated in the Haggadah. We can assume that (history would support a theory that these Jews lived comfortably until there was regime change in Egypt and, because they were identified with the defeated regime, their comfortable lives ended) the Jews went into what is now called the Sinai peninsula, and eventually settled in what was historically known as Canaan and part of which now is the State of Israel. While the idea that a million of them wandered around for 40 years is hard to take as fact, let’s assume that they colonized (if that now-dirty word is the right word) Canaan, and created a civilization interrupted by Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks and Romans over the next 1000 years or so.

During that 1000 year period, many Jews left the Middle East. Some as a result of the Assyrian assault on the Northern Kingdom (when the lost tribes were lost), and some when the Babylonians took Jerusalem (leading to the Babylonian exile), some when the area became part of the cosmopolitan Greek empire and later the wide-spread Roman empire, when relocating for commercial or other purposes. Thus, Jews were everywhere (or at least everywhere in the expanded Mediterranean world) – the Middle East, Northern Africa, southern Europe, the Euphrates valley, and beyond.

But the heart of the Jewish world was still in and around today’s Israel. That is, until the Romans destroyed the Second Temple, killed many thousands and then, after the Bar Kokhba revolt, made Jerusalem Juden-frei. It is shortly after these events that the four rabbis mentioned in the Haggadah sat around Bnai Barak and wondered if “day” meant when the sun was up, or when the world was dark as well. (You are excused if you have no idea what I am talking about here.)3

You can argue (perhaps correctly) that had the Jews not left Egypt when they did, there would be no Judaism today. You can also argue (even more likely correctly) that had the Jews not moved throughout the “known” world before the Romans destroyed the Temple, that there would be no Judaism today. I know you can counter that by talking about those rabbis at Bnai Barak who created rabbinic Judaism, but rabbinic Judaism need the Jews in the diaspora to adopt it and maintain it.

Where am I going with this? I am trying to say that it is the diaspora that saved the Jews, and over concentration on Israel as needed to protect and save the Jews may be overstated. If all the Jews lived in Israel, what an easy target they would be. We need to learn the lessons of Roman times. The maintenance of the diaspora is crucial.

This is not to say that Israel is not a remarkable place, but Israel will not save the Jews in the long run.

So, to summarize what is perhaps a confusing (and not to be edited or proofed post), celebrating the freedom of the Jews is great, celebrating the suffering of Egypt under the plagues is terrible, celebrating the State of Israel as the most important result of all of this is shortsighted.

Next year in Jerusalem? Catchy, but not a requirement.

Chag sameach to all.