Table of content
If you’ve ever read the Haggadah from start to finish and thought, “Well, that was straightforward,” I have some news for you: you didn’t read the Haggadah. This ancient text isn’t designed to simply be “read.” It’s meant to challenge, provoke, and yes, occasionally frustrate. That’s how it draws you in.
Crafted intentionally to puzzle and fascinate, the Passover Haggadah is a perpetual conversation starter. Its riddles and debates invite every generation to dig deeper, ask harder questions, and connect ancient wisdom to contemporary life. So without further ado, let’s unravel five of its most intriguing mysteries and embrace the challenge of its brilliance!
This Is the Bread of Affliction…But Also of Faith and Healing
The Puzzle:
The Haggadah begins the story of our Exodus by describing matzah as lachma anya – the bread of affliction our ancestors ate in Egypt. But wait – didn’t the Zohar (Zohar 2:183b) call matzah the “bread of faith” and the “bread of healing”? And why does the Haggadah declare, “This year we are slaves; next year, we will be free”? Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating freedom tonight?
Even stranger: we sit down, lock the door behind us, and then loudly announce, “Whoever is hungry, come and eat!” Who exactly is supposed to hear this invitation?
The Answer:
The answers begin with recognizing that the Seder isn’t about celebrating freedom – it’s about preparing for it.
Matzah connects us to our humble beginnings. By eating the bread of affliction, we remember that the journey to freedom begins with acknowledging the pain of oppression. It’s not a contradiction that matzah is also the bread of healing; the act of remembering our struggles strengthens our faith in redemption.
As for declaring ourselves slaves even after leaving Egypt, the Talmud (Pesachim 116b) explains that we recount both the shame and the glory of our story. We rehearse our liberation because, in many ways, the work isn’t finished. Slavery may look different now – perhaps to our egos or societal pressures – but freedom is still a process.
And that awkward “Whoever is hungry” invitation? It’s a message to ourselves. The Haggadah is reminding us that we can’t celebrate alone. Freedom means nothing if others remain in need.
Five Rabbis Arguing All Night
The Puzzle:
The Haggadah tells of five great rabbis who stayed up all night in Bnei Brak, discussing the Exodus until their students came to tell them it was time for morning prayers. Why include this story? And why did they all gang up on Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah?
The Answer:
This story actually models the ideal Seder . The Mishnah (Pesachim 10:4) states that the more we discuss the Exodus, the better. These sages weren’t just reading; they were debating, questioning, and connecting the story to their lives.
If you dig a little deeper into their debate, you’ll notice something fascinating: they actually agreed on one big thing.
Both Ben Zoma, represented by Rabbi Elazar, and the sages were on the same page about this – come the times of Moshiach, the Seder night’s main feature won’t be the Exodus from Egypt. Instead, it’ll spotlight the miracles, wonders, and ultimate freedom of that time.
Here’s the twist, though: Ben Zoma thinks the Exodus will fade into the background entirely. With Moshiach's wonders happening all around you, splitting seas and raining plagues might feel as thrilling as this morning’s avocado toast.
The other sages, though, think the Exodus will still get a nod. Maybe as a warm-up act to set the stage for the main event – like a nostalgic prologue to the blockbuster finale.
And honestly, what better way to tell the story of the Exodus than by imagining its ultimate sequel? The night of ultimate freedom, where the miracles don’t just get bigger – they become the real headline.
The Wicked Child and Some Tough Love
The Puzzle:
The Haggadah doesn’t shy away from difficult characters, including the so-called “wicked” child. This child questions the relevance of the Seder and gets a seemingly harsh response: “If you had been there, you wouldn’t have been redeemed.”
Ouch.
Is this really the right way to re-engage him?
The Answer:
The commentaries (notably the Maharal in Gevurot Hashem, Ch. 53) explain that the phrase “to you” reveals a deeper issue: the wicked child sees himself as separate from the Jewish community.
The Haggadah isn’t dismissing this child – it’s jolting him awake. It says, “Back in Egypt, you might have stayed behind, but now you’re part of something bigger. Today, no Jew is left behind.”
It’s a message of belonging wrapped in tough love. By challenging this child, we’re inviting him to re-engage with his heritage.
Reading the Haggadah: Maybe We Missed the Boat?
The Puzzle:
Midway through the Haggadah, we find a strange passage suggesting we should have started the Seder two weeks ago. What? The answer quickly dismisses this idea, but why bring it up at all?
The Answer:
The Talmud (Pesachim 116a) teaches that this section addresses the “child who doesn’t know how to ask.” This child has tuned out because they see the Seder as routine. To wake them up, we introduce a disruptive idea: “What if we’re doing this wrong? Shouldn’t we have started two weeks ago?” This unexpected question shakes them out of autopilot, reigniting curiosity.
Two Beginnings, One Message
The Puzzle:
The story of the Exodus is told twice in the Haggadah. First, we start with slavery in Egypt. Then, a few pages later, we reboot with an even earlier beginning: our ancestors worshiping idols. Why the repetition?
The Answer:
The Talmud (Pesachim 116a) records a debate between Rav and Shmuel about how to frame the Seder . Rav focuses on our spiritual journey from idolatry to covenant, while Shmuel emphasizes our physical liberation from Egypt. The Haggadah includes both because true freedom requires both spiritual and physical redemption.
This dual narrative makes sure that every aspect of our liberation is covered. One focuses on the physical liberation from Egypt; the other digs deeper into the spiritual journey that began long before. Together, they paint a fuller picture of freedom – both external and internal.
The Haggadah: A Tree That Keeps Growing
The Haggadah isn’t a static text. Like a living tree, its roots run deep, while its branches and leaves grow in every generation. Its debates, puzzles, and contradictions aren’t there to frustrate – they’re there to inspire us to dig deeper.
So, if you finish the Haggadah and feel a little confused, congratulations . You’re engaging with a text designed to provoke thought and spark discussion. In wrestling with its mysteries, you’re part of a tradition as old as the tree itself.
And next year, when we’re free, maybe the Haggadah will make just a little more sense. Or maybe it won’t – and that’s the point.
