As the Jewish people are about to exit Egypt, Moshe calls the people together to address them. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, zt”l, explained that instead of focusing on freedom, the Land of Israel, or the dangers they would face along their journey, Moshe emphasizes “children and the distant future and the duty to pass on memory to generations yet unborn.” Three times Moses stresses the theme of how to respond to our children when they ask what the meaning of these ceremonies is, of these memories, related to Passover and the Exodus. Three passages from Parshat Bo and a fourth passage from Parshat Vaetchanan become the basis for the four archetypes of children described in our Haggadah as wise, evil/rebellious, simple and unable to even ask a question. How do these four children serve as a model for educating the next generation?
Rabbi Nachman of Breslov says that the wise child takes to heart the meaning of the words mah hu omer (what does he say) to hear the underlying message when others talk. Rather than judge others, the wise person seeks to understand to help those in need. The wise person also teaches us to listen to our own true inner voices.
The prototype of the rasha that the Haggadah lays out is of a person who has excluded him- or herself from his or her destiny as part of the Jewish people. For Jews, peoplehood and collective responsibility is an essential part of our being and our psyche. To deny Jewish identity as being part of a larger collective—a covenantal community—leads to being characterized as a rasha (wicked person).
Yet, when we look in the Haggadah, it appears that the wise child and rebellious child are asking almost the same question. What are the meaning of the laws and rules that God commanded you “etchem,” ascribed to the wise child; and what is this service of yours—“lachem” ascribed to the evil/rebellious child.” The rebellious child is defined as evil because the child doesn’t employ the word “to us.” Yet the wise child also uses similar terminology!
In fact, in the Mechilta, a midrashic commentary on Exodus that dates to the period of the Mishnah, this seeming anomaly is dealt with a word change in which the text makes a clear delineation by rendering the wise child’s question with the Hebrew word otanu (to us) and not lachem (to you) so as to further bring out the distinction between the wise child and wicked child. (Rambam uses this version in his Haggadah.)
But if we don’t embrace the Mechilta’s version, then how do we distinguish the questions between one who is wise and one who is rebellious? One way to explain it is by realizing that sometimes it isn’t the question we ask that counts but the niggun—in the case of the rasha—a negative intonation and motivation, not out of true interest but rather with an edge.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, zt”l, explained the juxtaposition of the wicked child next to the wise child because the rasha actually has the ability to be like the wise child if the rasha only turns from the wrong path. So too, the chacham is next to the wicked child as a reminder that a chacham who doesn’t continue doing good deeds can become like the rasha. That means that even “perfect” people need to work on improving themselves and becoming better people. The Rebbe says that the wise child is responsible for reaching out to the rasha to help that child do teshuvah (change his or her ways). The chacham has to serve as an example. This is a reminder that we should not cut ourselves off even from those with whom we have sharp disagreements. To be a truly wise person means to be a role model for others.
Another way to understand the difference between the chacham and the rasha is that the chacham is asking a question. As challenging as a question may be, we welcome an inquisitive mind even if we do not have an answer. The rasha, on the other hand, is not asking a question but rather making a statement.
How should we treat the rasha? The text seems to endorse violence, but the Alshich, 16th-century mystic, has a wonderful way of understanding it through gematria (Jewish numerology). If we take the numerical value of the word rasha (570) and subtract the value of shinav (teeth, 366), we end up with 204, which equals tzadik (righteous one). If we can figure out a way to “knock” some sense into those who seem the most alienated, they too can end up as righteous people. Our challenge is to figure out the best way to positively influence those who are negative—not through the fist but through extending a hand to those around us. And what then of the other two categories? The simple child asking the question should also remind us that we can understand the word tam the same way as we understand it when used to describe our biblical patriarch Jacob. It doesn’t mean a simpleton but someone with a naivete, someone who can relate to Judaism in a way filled with innocence and a childlike wonder; someone who at times might cause us to lose patience or be dismissive without realizing the great potential there.
Finally, the child who doesn’t even know how to ask the question, alas that represents many of our fellow Jews who have advanced secular degrees but were not privileged to receive a Jewish education. When it comes to their own heritage they can’t even formulate the basic questions, as they know almost nothing about Judaism. Even sadder is the missing fifth child—the one so assimilated that they aren’t even present at a Seder.
These questions remind us that even if we have a deep Jewish background, we always need to re-energize our connection to our heritage and at the same time to reach out to those who are not yet part of the community or to even those seemingly hostile; to turn to those with minimal or no Jewish backgrounds and provide a welcome mat and safe environment in which they can learn more; to not be dismissive of others because of the questions they ask or they questions they fail to ask. Pesach then becomes the jumping-off point not only to tell the story of our enslavement and God leading us to freedom but also the meaning of Jewish identity, connection, community and continuity. Chag kasher v’sameach!
Rabbanit Adena Berkowitz, a practicing therapist, is scholar in residence at Kol HaNeshamah NYC, senior educator at the Manhattan Jewish Experience and author of The Jewish Journey Haggadah, which is available on Amazon and your local Jewish bookstore. She can be reached at [email protected].
