מָזְגוּ לוֹ כוֹס שֵׁנִי….מַתְחִיל בִּגְנוּת וּמְסַיֵּם בְּשֶׁבַח
They pour the second cup, and begin with the disgrace of our ancestors, ending with glory (Mishnah Pesakhim 10.4)
1. They pour the first cup….and recite the blessing for the day
2. They bring unleavened bread, lettuce, and haroset…they bring the Pesakh lamb
3. They pour the second cup, and the talk begins with disgrace (or lowly status) of our ancestors, and concludes with glory. We consider the Torah verse “my ancestor was a wandering Aramean”
4. They pour the third cup and recite the prayer after eating
5. The fourth cup: Hallel is recited
This version of the Passover celebration, the earliest we have, is dated to the Second Temple period, during the Persian, then Greek, then Roman, occupation of Israel. Perhaps the most obvious aspect of this description is that the entire evening is organized around four cups of wine, and each cup has a text or discussion topic attached to it. The discussion is central to the Seder because the event was based upon the Greco-Roman symposium; quite often, the discussions that took place were triggered by foods or acts that were part of the ritual meal.
What is unlike any other symposium of which we know is the topic to be discussed after the second cup: g’nut, “disgrace (or lowly status) of our ancestors”; as it is said, “once we were slaves, now we are free”. The Haggadah preserves this as the origin story of the Jewish people: we began as slaves.
Although we learn that it is the great mitzvah of Pesakh to see ourselves as going out of Egypt just as our ancestors did, on this Pesakh, it is difficult to feel free. Even more, it is difficult to imagine ourselves in the place of the oppressed, for, as terrible as it is to recognize, our people is now an oppressor. It is so painfully difficult to confront the reality of Israeli persecution of Palestinians that there are those among us who would prefer to walk away from the entire exercise of Jewish identity and call it meaningless.
Yet there is something that rings true about the ancient message, and, often, the key to healing lies in the wound itself. We are not slaves to another people in these days, perhaps, but we are in disgrace: Jews are embarrassed before the entire world. We, the people who gave the world the idea of laws that protect the weak and free the captive; we as a people have not upheld our own teaching. We as a people have made a mockery of Jewish ethics and a joke of Jewish justice.
As hard as it is to remain human in this situation, we deserve the same grace that we would give any other sinner. So let us ask, compassionately: what could possibly have caused this people to betray its path so tragically? this people has suffered terribly for generation upon generation. Too often helpless, we have seen those we love hurt or killed, that we have built destroyed. An abused child may grow up to hurt others because of the unhealed injury in their own soul. Is it so strange that Jews with power not only are corruptible like any other people with power, but that we should, on some subconscious level, seem to be bent on punishing a people that reminds us, too much, of our own painful helplessness in the past?
There is a Hasidic teaching which intuits what modern psychology can validate: individuals hate most in others that which reminds us of the part of ourselves we cannot accept. To be vulnerable, helpless, and terrified is agonizing; to be reminded of that time in our own past is insupportable.
Yet this is what we must face: we were helpless and abandoned. This is the meaning of the g’nut, “disgrace”, of the ancient text. This is the key to the entire experience: if the mitzvah is to see ourselves as going out of slavery, then our freedom is from our own past scars. We are not free until we cease to act out of our own past hurt. We are not free until we can love, forgive, learn, and live freely – no matter what has enslaved us in the past. We are not free until we stop carrying that unrisen dough on our backs.
May this Pesakh be liberating for us all, and may we find the courage to follow the path toward healing.
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 