A night of more than four questions

In the blur right before our first Passover in Chicago, I envisioned our seder guests walking through the door to find saltwater still being poured into little bowls, frantic chopping of parsley and cooked potatoes, and a mess everywhere besides the tables. 

Some of this vision did come true. Preparing for the holiday can become a time- management marathon. Three years ago, between our two young children and my husband’s new position as a pulpit rabbi in Lakeview, we did get everything cleaned, kashered, cooked, and set up in time—but the margin felt tighter than we would have liked. 

We sat down for the start of seder, realizing that we hadn’t planned out anything for the evening unrelated to food. We had been focused only on getting there. I learned later that the two of us had two extremely different reactions. 

He thought, “OK, OK…. here we go! I’ve led many sedarim before—I know how to do this.”  

I thought, “Oh my gosh, I didn’t think about how to lead a good seder.” 

It might seem funny that I was anxious about leading the seder. After all, “seder” means “order,” and the Haggadah is akin to a script for the night. The seder is designed to roll through a set order of events: kadesh, Kiddush; urchatz, hand-washing; karpas; bitter herbs… until we sing “L’shana haba b’Yerushalayim,” “Next year in Jerusalem!” 

But I wasn’t thinking about how to lead the seder. I was thinking about how to lead a good seder, a meaningful one. We were hosting a lovely, diverse, intergenerational group. While many of our guests had been observing Passover their entire lives, some hadn’t. Many of our guests knew Hebrew, some didn’t. And none of our guests knew every other person there. We wanted the conversation at our table to include and engage everyone. 

Our first seder in Chicago turned out great. Everyone left joyful, liberated, well-fed, and a little tired from the late hour.  

I felt that way, too, and I had an idea. Before our second Passover in Chicago, I asked my mother-in-law, Leslie, if she might share her list of questions. Years ago, she attended a seder-leading workshop at her synagogue, Congregation Beth Israel in Berkeley, Calif.; the workshop was led by Beth Israel’s Rabbi Yonatan Cohen, who wrote questions on sticky notes and tossed over candy every time a person answered the question on their note. Leslie wrote her own questions after that, gradually adapting her collection for friends and relatives of all ages and interests—including me. I have been lucky to join my in-laws for Passover over many wonderful years. 

At their seder, guests find a strip of paper under their plate. Examples include: 

“What does freedom mean to you?” 

“Why do you think Miriam was able to inspire others to follow her into crossing the sea?” 

“Where are you on your spiritual journey: Egypt, the Red Sea, Mount Sinai, the desert, or the 

Land of Israel?” 

“What is a modern-day issue related to oppression, and how would you approach solving it?” 

My mother-in-law is careful to give young children and even toddlers age-appropriate questions: 

“Why is matzah not chametz?” 

“What do we break and what do we dip?” 

“What is the name of this holiday?” 

And when my older daughter was a baby, she was jokingly asked: “How do you experience the freedom of rolling over?” 

At different points during the seder, each person shares aloud their question and their answer. The questions help each guest find their own personal way into the Exodus story and connect with one another. 

Last year, we used the questions, and this year we are, too. It does take extra time to write, print, and cut out each one—and that preparation time is precious! But taken all together, the experience creates an additional beautiful, interpersonal, and reflective thread woven through the whole night of seder.