The festival of Pesach (also known as Passover) takes place from Thursday 22 to Thursday 29 April 2027.
Service times for Pesach
Pesach Haggadah: the text (KKL)
Pesach Haggadah: sung texts
Haggadah to print and colour in for children
The children's Pesach Haggadah with Jonathan the hamster
The origins of the festival
Around 3200 years ago Jacob, along with his sons and their families, moved to Egypt to join his son Joseph, who had become its viceroy.
Jacob's descendants became very numerous, but they did not forget the monotheism taught to them by Abraham. This created what we might perhaps define as the first manifestation of xenophobia, mistrust and hatred towards those who are different in history. Xenophobia that erupted into outright persecution. A Pharaoh, probably of a different dynasty from that of the Pharaoh who had elevated Joseph to the office of viceroy, first ordered that the children of Israel be reduced to slavery, making free use of their labour. Subsequently, given that they continued to increase in number despite the hard labour, he gave the order that all their male children should be killed at birth.
Jocheveth, a Jewish woman of the tribe of Levi, refused to submit passively to the order: she took the child and placed him in a basket which she entrusted to the current of the Nile in the hope that some miraculous event would save him from death.
Pharaoh's daughter saw the boy and, although she probably realised that he must be a Jewish child, was seized with great pity, took him in and had him raised at court as a son. That child was Moses: in fact, the name Moses means "saved from the waters".
Having grown to adulthood, Moses often went to visit and comfort his enslaved brothers. Once he came across an Egyptian who, confident of his own impunity, was mistreating a poor old man: a scuffle ensued during which the Egyptian was killed.
It is very likely that, had he requested it, Moses would have obtained the pardon of Pharaoh, who was apparently very fond of him. But perhaps there was maturing within him that prophetic spirit which would inform his whole life: the injustices, the corruption, the immorality that reigned in Egypt, especially at court, had certainly struck him deeply and now he needed a period of reflection, far from the royal palace, because his conscience demanded that he realise what his actual task and role in life truly were.
He crossed the desert and stopped in Midian, where he defended seven shepherdesses, daughters of Jethro, priest of Midian, from the bullying of some shepherds. He was invited by Jethro himself to stay and work with him. Moses thus became a shepherd, and married one of the Midianite priest's daughters, Zipporah.
The two experiences—that of a prominent personality at Pharaoh's court and that of a shepherd in contact with humble, hardworking people—were fundamental in shaping his character, preparing him for his future role as leader, but also as father and protector of his people.
It was precisely during the period when Moses was a shepherd for his father-in-law that "God heard their groaning and saw the children of Israel and had compassion on their condition" (Ex 2:24-25). He therefore appeared to Moses in a burning bush that, although burning, was not consumed, and commanded him to return to Egypt to "bring out" the children of Israel from the yoke of the Egyptians, promising him that He would always be close to him, and that He would send his brother Aharon by his side to help him.
Pharaoh did not take Moses' request to let the people of Israel go into any consideration, despite the latter having warned him of the power of the "God of Israel".
Ten plagues then poured down upon Egypt with devastating effects across the entire country: the waters of the Nile and of all the springs of Egypt turned into blood; an invasion of frogs followed, then one of a quantity of harmful insects. An invasion of all kinds of wild beasts then ensued, which caused slaughter among men and livestock.
In vain did the Egyptian people themselves ask Pharaoh to set the Jewish people free in order to obtain the cessation of the scourges: at first Pharaoh promised to obey the divine will, but as soon as the plague ceased, he refused to keep his promise.
The severity of the plagues became increasingly intense: the Egyptians were struck by pestilence, covered in boils, assailed by terrible storms, invaded by a myriad of locusts and finally by a profound darkness that covered Egypt for days on end without ever leaving room for a glimmer of light.
The last plague was terrible: the angel of death, on a pale night of terror, wandered among the homes of the Egyptians, striking down to death all their firstborns, including that of Pharaoh.
Pharaoh was thus finally forced to give the Jews permission to leave Egypt.
The children of Israel, after having consumed the Passover sacrifice—a lamb with the blood of which they had marked the doorposts of their dwellings to signal them to the angel of death, who indeed "passed over", sparing their firstborns—hurried to abandon Egypt just as they had been commanded: "And thus shall you eat it: with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste: it is the Lord's Passover" (Ex 12:11).
Before their departure, the Egyptians offered the Jews gifts of gold and silver, perhaps as compensation for the unpaid labour performed for so many years. The Jews accepted the gifts and, as we shall see later, did wrong.
The Eternal One commanded that zevach pesach, the "Passover sacrifice", be consumed on the first evening of Pesach by all future generations, so that the events of that time, so rich in meaning and lessons, might never be forgotten.
But the Jews must have constituted, during their long stay in the country, a pillar both for their contribution of labour and of ideas, given that once again Pharaoh repented of his decision: "What have we done in letting the people of Israel go, so that they will no longer serve us?" (Ex 14:5).
At the head of his army he pursued them to bring them back, causing upon his own people what we might define as the eleventh plague, which is probably the most famous one: the parting of the Red Sea through which the Jews reached the opposite shore safely, while the Egyptians, who had tried to cross after them, were swallowed by the closing waters and drowned.
The duration of the festival
On the 14th of Nissan the Passover sacrifice was offered at the Temple. Only in the evening, which according to Jewish tradition is already the 15th of Nissan, does the actual festival begin with a special ceremony called the seder. In Israel Pesach lasts for seven days, outside Israel for eight. This is due to the fact that, in ancient times, in the diaspora, it was not easy to deliver the exact date of the festivals in a timely manner; therefore, to avoid mistakes, they were made to last one day longer. The custom has been maintained, despite the fact that today there is no shortage of the possibility to communicate the start date of the festival in a timely manner, to emphasise the difference between those who live in Israel and those who live outside it.
The Jewish calendar (…) is based on the cycles of the moon, it does not allow us to set a precise date for the festivals in the solar calendar.
Reflections on the meaning of “being free”
The festival begins at sunset on the 14th of Nissan, which corresponds roughly to the month of April.
Pesach, the moment when the people of the children of Israel become the free people, represents the symbol of freedom for Jews.
Freedom: a difficult word that lends itself to multiple interpretations and also to more than one abuse.
Freedom can concern the single individual, or entire peoples; it can concern the spirit or the body.
There is also a very individualistic concept of freedom, understood as the possibility of doing everything one wants without rules or limits, independently of the rights and freedom of others.
In what way is each of us responsible for our own freedom, or that of others? To what extent and in what ways are we required to fight for our freedom, or for that of others, without letting ourselves be taken over by an absurd sense of pride that can transform us into arrogant arbiters of the behaviour of others, or by a sense of opaque resignation which, deferring every responsibility for human behaviour to God, allows us to leave things as they are without personally participating in the liberation of those who are enslaved and oppressed?
Enslaved or oppressed by whom, or by what?
There is a moral freedom that involves our conscience of being created “in the image of God” and imposes upon us a total respect towards ourselves and towards others. But there is also a material freedom, freedom from poverty and need, which provides for the right to a decorous and dignified life as an indispensable heritage so that every created being can keep respect for themselves intact and, consequently, towards one's neighbour: and this is the basic teaching that we find in the Torah whose giving immediately follows the departure of the Jewish people from Egypt precisely so that sudden freedom does not degenerate into abuse or mistreatment.
Let us begin to split the problem into two parts: the freedom of the body and the freedom of the spirit. The former, if it relies solely on the unillumined instinct of reason and teaching, and here we refer precisely to the teaching of the Torah, is comparable to the freedom of animals unillumined by “discernment between good and evil”, and which therefore follow only their own instinct and their appetites.
But unfortunately it also belongs to many men who have made brute force, the indiscriminate imposition of their own will upon that of others, which is not only abuse, but which is easily lost when a more powerful and more arrogant man appears on the horizon.
True freedom is the second one, the spiritual one. The man, or the people, who has made it their own, who has made it an integral part of themselves, is free for all eternity and no one, ever, will be able to make them a slave again. (...)
Why the term "Pesach" is translated as "Pasqua"
Pesach derives from the Hebrew verb Pasoah which means "to pass over", and refers to the terrifying episode in which the angel of death, during the night of the tenth plague, stopped in the houses of the Egyptians striking down all their firstborns, but pasach, "passed over", the houses of the Jews upon the doorposts of which, as a sign of recognition, the blood of the sacrificial lamb had been sprinkled.
Around the sixth century before the Common Era, a new language, Aramaic, spread throughout the Middle Eastern world. Many Jews themselves adopted Aramaic as their everyday language, and in Aramaic the term Pesach is translated as Pascha. The connection between the two words, Pascha and Pasqua, is clear.
How to prepare to welcome the festival
Every Jewish festival requires careful preparation that involves women above all: but that of Pesach requires a particular commitment.
It is written: "For seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, but before the first day arrives you shall remove all leaven from your houses; you shall therefore observe this day throughout all your generations" (Ex 12, 15-17).
To relive over time the fateful moment of their liberation from slavery and their birth as a free people, Jews still eat unleavened bread every year at Pesach, for seven days (eight outside of Israel). It is easy to understand how the command to eliminate every type of leavened substance from the home imposes upon the woman the duty to carry out an extremely thorough cleaning of the house. A commitment which, moreover, women carry out with enthusiasm and with extreme dusting, washing every hidden corner of the furniture, the storerooms, and of the whole house, to prepare it to introduce unleavened bread into it, that is the unleavened bread which in Hebrew is called matzah.
The reason why Jews eat unleavened bread at Pesach is to be found in the fact that they left Egypt in such a hurry that they did not have time to let the bread rise. If we then examine the history and customs of the ancient people of Israel, we can discover much deeper and more mystical meanings in unleavened bread: unleavened bread was what the high priest ate on the altar during sacrifices. Centuries later it became the bread commonly used by the mystical sect of the Essenes.
Evidently ancient Jewish civilization had a certain rejection of leaven, perhaps because, as the result of the fermentation of a flour dough, it made it lose the characteristics of a pure food, transforming it into impure food: it therefore assumes in the Jewish conception the symbol of what must not be, in practice a symbol of evil. It is interesting in this regard to note the connection between the names hametz, “leavened food”, and hamas, “violence”, hence injustice and immorality. Making all kinds of leavened food disappear from the house must therefore also be interpreted as an invitation to clear our soul of every type of hametz, or hamas, of every residue of hatred, rancour, violence, corruption, to present ourselves free and pure before G-d, thereby worthy of offering the zevach pesach, the “Paschal sacrifice” (which however after the destruction of the second Temple it has no longer been possible to perform in a concrete form).
The Masters of the Mishnah, the oral law that accompanies and completes the written law, also prescribe that during the days of Pesach, to avoid any doubt or possible transgression, different tableware and cooking vessels be used from those of the rest of the year; vessels that are carefully kept from one year to the next in a place where they never have occasion to come into contact with the prohibited foods of Pesach.
For women, particularly for strictly observant ones, the preparation of Pesach therefore became a rather burdensome and stressful commitment, also considering the short times that elapse between the elimination of leaven and the change of all the Pesach tableware. On the other hand, the very thoroughness of this setup underlines the value of the holiday.
But it is fundamental, in our opinion, to remember that the observance of the precepts must never be an end in itself, running the risk of turning into superstition. Its true purpose is to recall to memory the crucial importance of what the holiday teaches us.
The Seder
On the first evening of Pesach (the first two evenings outside of Israel) Jewish families gather around a specially set table to celebrate the Seder, a ceremony during which the Haggadah is read, the story of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt, enriched with midrashim (parables) and commentaries by the Masters, and followed by a dinner that concludes with choral singing of hymns and melodies handed down from generation to generation, from place to place.
(…) The Seder is a ceremony of high pedagogical value in multiple aspects. Each diner, to emphasise the sense of newly acquired freedom, is allowed to sit at the table without observing strict rules of etiquette: elbows can be rested on the table, or one can recline comfortably on chairs, things that adult diners generally, out of old habit, avoid doing, but which makes children extremely happy as they savour in their own way the first sense of freedom.
Placed on the set table is a basket containing three unleavened breads (matzah), in memory of the unleavened bread eaten in the desert, a lamb shank (pesach), in memory of the zevach pesach, the Paschal sacrifice performed by the people who were preparing to leave slavery, and the bitter herb (maror), which varies according to the traditions and origin of the person celebrating the Seder, in memory of the bitterness suffered by the Jews in slavery.
The maror perhaps symbolizes the most important step towards the conquest of freedom. From the bitterness of the past, which if left to ferment, to "leaven" in the soul and heart, could have transformed the Jewish people into a cruel and vengeful people, a fundamental lesson was drawn instead: it is necessary to face life with a more aware and serene vision of the relationship between men, it is essential to turn the heart and soul with deep affection and understanding towards the poor, the oppressed, the suffering.
From the bitterness of slavery was born an inextinguishable hatred for slavery, our own and that of any creature, and an equally inextinguishable love for freedom to which every human being has the right and which, alone, will allow the children of Israel even in the future to survive in order to fulfil the mission.
Before the destruction of the Temple, every family going on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem brought its sacrificial lamb there, which was then roasted and eaten. But ever since the Temple was destroyed and sacrifices interrupted, the Masters decided that, to remember the very grave loss, no type of roasted meat is served during the Seder dinner.
In addition to these three symbols of Pesach (pesach, matzah, maror), in the basket there is a hard-boiled egg, the charoseth, a mixture also prepared according to recipes that vary depending on the traditions of the various places of origin, which symbolizes the mortar that the enslaved Jews were forced to prepare in Egypt to make the bricks with which they would build the Pharaoh's city. For the Seder, however, the mortar turns into a sweet mixture of fruits: dates, nuts, almonds and more to emphasize the end of slavery. There is also some celery (carpas), which must be dipped in salt water, or water and vinegar: probably a kind of appetizer ahead of dinner.
Placed on the table, in addition to the cup intended for Kiddush, for the sanctification of the holiday through wine and bread, is another
silver cup filled with wine destined for the prophet Elijah. Tradition has it that the prophet, during the first evening of Pesach, wanders among the homes of the Jews to bring his well-wishing messages to the families celebrating the Seder, and everyone hopes to be among the privileged who will receive his visit.
The visit is all the more awaited since tradition states that it will be none other than the prophet Elijah who announces to the world the arrival of the Messianic Era. And every Jew lives with the hope that the Messianic Era, the era of peace, of harmony, of love among all peoples, is right there, behind the front door, a door which in fact, during the Seder, is left open also because it is said: "whoever wishes, let him enter, eat and celebrate Pesach".
Perhaps the custom also ties back to the Talmud in which it is written: "In the month of Nissan we were redeemed, and in the month of Nissan we are destined to be redeemed" (Rosh ha-shanah 11).
It is worth pausing for a moment on the meaning of the hard-boiled egg. For Judaism it has a very particular value. The egg is in fact the first food offered to those who are in mourning for the loss of a close relative, as it is the symbol of life that is about to be born, in opposition to death. Therefore, at the moment when our soul is a prey to despair and it seems to us that we can find neither comfort nor consolation for an irreparable loss, it teaches us that the life that lives within us is a gift that God has granted us, and that in this gift we must find the strength to continue our work.
Furthermore, the egg has no corners, and therefore has neither a starting point nor an endpoint. Thus its roundness, precisely at the moment when it seems that everything has ended with death, reminds us that life is a cycle which, like the egg, has neither beginning nor end: whoever has received life and teachings from their loved ones, whoever leaves behind the sorrow of the children to whom they have transmitted life and teachings, continues to live through them.
And this is the human way to conquer eternity.
The sign of mourning that we add to the festive Seder basket, and which by tradition is consumed by all first-born males (though if other guests wish to join in, they may do so), is a sad reminder of the innocent first-born sons of the Egyptians, victims of the blind obstinacy of Pharaoh. Precisely for this reason it is the Jewish first-born who, to demonstrate their sorrow for the death of the Egyptian brothers, makes a point of eating the hard-boiled egg.
For the same reason, first-born males fast on the day preceding Pesach.
We were saying that the Seder is very important also from a pedagogical standpoint: after the Kiddush the first contribution is reserved for the youngest diner or, in a chorus, for the youngest ones; this is the Mah nishtannah: "how different is this night from all other nights!". The song is composed of four questions that the child addresses to the adults: "Why on all other nights do we eat bread, and on this night matzah? Why on all other nights do we eat any kind of vegetables, and on this night bitter herbs? Why on all other nights do we not dip (referring to celery dipped in salt water or vinegar) even once, and on this night twice? Why on all other nights do we eat sitting upright, and on this night reclining?".
The questions kick off the answers, imparted through the reading of the Haggadah which recounts the miraculous events connected with the Exodus from Egypt.
During the Seder four cups of wine must be drunk in memory of the four expressions used by God when He forewarns Moses of the imminent liberation of the people: "I will bring them out" from the sufferings of Egypt; "I will free them" from the place of slavery; "I will redeem them and I will take them as My people". They represent the various stages of newly regained freedom which rise to an ever greater level until reaching the holiness of "I will take them as My people" (Ex 6,7).
The Torah adds a fifth expression: and "I will bring them into the land I promised to their fathers" (Ex 6,8). Indeed, complete moral freedom cannot exist if it is not linked to a freedom of behaviour, possible only in a proper and independent state.
During the reading of the Haggadah the ten plagues that struck Egypt are named and for each of them a little of the wine contained in the cup is poured into a container: both to wish that these misfortunes always remain far from us and our families; and to remember that no joy can be complete if it has cost mourning and pain to others; and finally, to hope that a situation in which a people deserves to be struck by so many scourges is never repeated.
A particularly interesting moment, and one that is psychologically and pedagogically very sound, is the one dedicated to the reading of the passage concerning the "four sons": the wise one, the simple one, the one who is not even capable of asking, and the wicked son.
The four sons represent the various types of which humanity is composed and the text of the Haggadah provides us with important suggestions on the type of answer to give to each of them.
To the wise one, that is, the one who asks an astute and complex question, an adequate, learned and in-depth answer must be given, which neither disappoints nor underestimates the intelligence and learning capacity of the one who asks.
The simple child must be given a clear and comprehensible answer to enable them to fully understand the meaning of what is being explained to them, possibly stimulating them to ask new questions.
Particularly important is the teaching imparted to the child who is not able to ask questions; the Haggadah tells us in fact: “To him who knows how to ask, you open his mouth!”. It is important to note that in the sentence “you open”, the “you” is expressed in the feminine, and “open” in the masculine. The mother is the child's first teacher, so it is up to her above all, from the very beginning, to follow their mental development with the utmost attention: but it is the father who must assist and support his wife in this work. It is concluded that only the collaboration between father and mother allows a normal, serene development of the child's character.
Furthermore, if a child shows themselves to be totally uninterested in the world around them, does not ask questions and does not wonder about things, if they show signs of isolating themselves and not participating in any way in the life around them, far from rejoicing in the “good character” of the child who does not disturb, “open his mouth”, that is, prompt their curiosity, involve them in the events that happen to make them lively, interested and participating, thus helping them to grow and enter society in an intelligent and active way.
Intriguing and rather ironic is the answer destined for that child who is named second in the Haggadah: the “wicked” child, who perhaps falls more into the category of rebellious children than that of true “bad” ones.
They ask: “What does this ceremony (the Seder) mean to you?”; a question in which they emphasize: “To you, and not to me!”.
They position themselves in this manner, with a certain arrogant superiority, totally outside the group.
The Haggadah suggests: “You answer him indignantly (literally “make his teeth grind”); “If you had been present at the moment of salvation, you would not have been saved!”.
An apparently merciless answer.
But let us reflect on the reasons that so many times drive young people, and not always wrongly, to contest certain attitudes, certain inherited customs and perhaps not sufficiently or logically explained. Our task is to clarify to give them a way to understand. Well, with the incisive phrase “you would not have been saved” the Haggadah calls the young person to a personal responsibility by making them relive firsthand, today, the dramatic moment of slavery. Here, the Haggadah tells them, if you, who are now sitting with us free, and can speak freely about the era of slavery, you who today contest and reject the inherent responsibilities of the past, had found yourself together with our firstborns to choose between slavery and freedom, with all the responsibilities that such a choice entailed, perhaps you would have cowardly chosen to continue to serve Pharaoh. In this way you would not have deserved salvation and today you would still be a slave.
The Haggadah does not mention however the existence of a fifth child; the one who is not there because they have detached themselves from every form of tradition and have been lost.
To any type of question, even to that of the protester, an answer can be given, an answer that can be discussed, that can enrich whoever gives it and whoever receives it with new interpretations not necessarily in antithesis or contrast with previous ones, but even innovative and progressive.
But the child who is not present is lost.
The Seder ends with a long series of traditional choral songs composed of many stanzas, whose main characteristic is the repetition, at the end of each stanza, of a phrase: the one that all diners traditionally know best and therefore sing loudly with great enthusiasm.
Lastly, the chant next year in Jerusalem, rebuilt, is intoned, and the afikomen, prepared in the initial part of the Seder, is distributed, which symbolises the Passover sacrifice and must be eaten when one is already full.