“Ha-Layla Hazeh:

Sephardic Customs and

Readings for the Pesah Seder”

By the Metivta Rabbis of the Sephardic Educational Center

Pesah 2020, 5780

Dear Community Members,

Why is this Pesah different than all others we’ve experienced? While
we all may have our own answers to that question, we share in
common our current circumstances of anxiety, uncertainty and fear.
We are living through a turbulent and historic period in world history,
the likes of which is unknown to most people alive today. From where
shall we draw wisdom, inspiration and hope?
In 1942, shortly after the first reports of Nazi death camps reached
the Jewish community living in Erets Yisrael, Rabbi Ben Zion Meir Hai
Uziel, the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel, wrote the
following words just a few days before Pesah:
The holiday of Matzah and Maror is soon upon us. But this year, the
Maror (bitterness) is more abundant than the Matzah, for we face the
gruesome news of the devastation and destruction of our brothers and
sisters, as well as those imprisoned in the worst of conditions, thus
cut off from the experience of celebrating the Seder. With faith in God
we will nonetheless celebrate Pesah with praise and thanks, but in
the spirit of these bitter circumstances, our Seder will be modest and
minimal. Let us all have strength and prepare ourselves for God’s
salvation and redemption for the Jewish people, and a true and
complete peace for all of humanity. May God bless His people – and
His entire world – with peace, Amen.
The circumstances were different, but Rav Uziel’s realistic and
beautiful words bear a striking resemblance and relevance to our
current circumstances. We can certainly all relate to words like
abundant bitterness, being cut off from celebrating the Seder, modest
and minimal Seders, and prayers for all of humanity. Rav Uziel’s words
from 1942 are very real to us this year, in 2020.
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I am pleased and honored to present to you this booklet of Sephardic

wisdom, written and compiled by my beloved Sephardic Educational
Center (SEC) Metivta Rabbinic colleagues, and edited by my dear
friend and colleague, Rabbi Ilan Acoca. For the past 5 summers, the
SEC has proudly convened the Metivta Rabbinic Seminar at the
SEC Campus in the Old City of Jerusalem. This seminar brings
Sephardic rabbis from all over the world – LA, NY, NJ, Seattle,
Canada, Mexico, Turkey and Jerusalem – to spend 10 days at the
SEC studying the halakha and philosophy of our illustrious
Sephardic Rabbinic Sages. Our gatherings have not only enhanced
our knowledge of Classic Sephardic Rabbinic writings, but has
created a bond of friendship that extends throughout the year – via
our “Sephardic Hakhamim WhatsApp Chat,” reunions in different
cities, and, as is now the global custom these days, via Zoom. We
are proud of the bonds of intellectual and spiritual friendship we have
developed and cemented over these years, and, in the finest
expression of the Sephardic way, we love to laugh together – Torah
with a smile!
On behalf of all of my beloved colleagues, and of the SEC, I wish
you a meaningful and beautiful Pesah. This is a home-based holiday,
so please fulfill the sacred Halakha of preserving life by staying
home, staying safe and staying healthy.

Moadim L’Simha and Hag Kasher V’Sameah,

Rabbi Daniel Bouskila

 Modern Jewish educators frequently use drama
as an educational tool to bring a Biblical or
Talmudic story to life, as exemplified by much
of the Pesah Seder being geared toward
children, thus fulfilling the mitzvah (Exodus
13:8) of v'higadita l'bincha" (“And you shall
tell your children"). In this vein, the Talmud
instructs us to distribute parched grain and nuts to children at the Seder,
so that they may stay awake and ask questions. (Pesahim 109a). This is
but one technique used to involve children in the Pesah Seder.
There is a widespread custom among Sephardic and Oriental Jews, where
a Seder participant dresses up at some point as if he had just left Egypt.
This provokes questions, and "the wandering Jew" explains that he has
left bondage for freedom in The Land.
Among Moroccan Jews, the host waves the Seder plate in a circular
motion, three times, above the head of each attendee, while reciting from
the Moroccan Haggadah bibhilu yatzaanu mimitzraim ha lachma anya
benai chorin (“ it is with haste that we came out of Egypt and this is the
bread of affliction that we ate.”) This custom represents the clouds of glory
that protected the Jewish nation as it journeyed from Egypt to the Promised
Land.
In our family, the first Seder is focused on the children, and we explain
this priority in advance to our guests. We demonstrate what happened
during the Exodus in different ways according to the predilections and
maturity of each child. We seek to stimulate them throughout the seder
with questions and discussion.
Why this emphasis on the children? After all, there are other guests
around the Seder table. What about them?
It seems as if the Torah instructs us to recount the story to our children
because God knows that, to ensure an enduring and vibrant Jewish
heritage, we must educate the next generation-our children.
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I remember fondly, as a young boy, often with my siblings and cousins,

visiting my paternal grandfather, Rabbi Ayad Acoca, who lived in a
small apartment in Dora, near Netanya. My grandfather was
invariably engaged in Talmud study, which he would sometimes share
with his grandchildren.
I remember my father once telling me a remarkable story about “Papo”
Ayad when he was a young man in Morocco. He was traveling from
Azemour to Sale which obliged him to cross a nearby river—probably
the River Oued Sala, now known as the River Bouregreg--by raft along
with other travelers. At some point, a storm hit the raft, causing it to
capsize with all aboard perishing, except for my dear grandfather, who
weathered the storm while fiercely clutching a volume of Talmud.
My father used to tell me that “Papo” Ayad cherished the possibility of
his progeny becoming a rabbi, who would transmit the Jewish heritage
as resolutely as he had held on to his Talmud. Years later, my
grandfather's wish was fulfilled when I became a rabbi. Moreover, a
few years ago, when my dear uncle Elias Acoca ZL passed away, he
bequeathed me some volumes of Talmud belonging to my grandfather,
thus awarding me the responsibility of continuing his legacy.
While the responsibility of propagating one’s ancestor’s traditions lies
with each and everyone of us, I would venture to say that, as Sephardic
Jews, we have even more of an obligation to do so, as the Mishna (Ethics
of Fathers, 1, 14) quotes “If I am not for myself, who is for me?”.
Let us bear in mind that God created each of us with the responsibility
to teach and lead by example, therefore encouraging our children—our
most precious legacy—by instilling in them the message we received
from our ancestors.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank my colleagues from the
SEC Metivta for their continuous leadership and inspiration and for
dispersing the Sephardic heritage and teachings worldwide.
Hag Sameah,
Rabbi Ilan Acoca
Editor
 Sephardic Readings for The Pesah Seder

Rabbi Ilan Acoca

Spiritual Leader of the Congregation Beit Yosef, Fort Lee, NJ
and
Rav Beit Hasefer of Ben Porat Yosef Yeshiva, Paramus, NJ

Rabbi Daniel Bouskila

International Director of The Sephardic Educational Center

Rabbi Nissim Elnecavé

Director of the Sephardic Jewish Brotherhood of America

Rabbi Benjamin Hassan

Sephardic Bikur Holim Congregation
 Vehigadta Lebincha
Rabbi Ilan Acoca
At Pesach we recall the bondage of Israel in Egypt and the subsequent miraculous
exodus. We celebrate our survival and emergence as a people which had grown
in number and strength, ready to serve G-d.
The Talmud (Sotah 11b) demonstrates a correlation between the perseverance of
our people, notably the women, and our departure from Egypt: "Rav Avira
expounded: In the merit of the righteous women who lived in that generation, Israel
was delivered from Egypt. When they [the women] went to draw water, the Holy
One, Blessed is He, would prepare fish for them in their jugs. And when they would
draw them up, they would be half full of water and half full of fish. They would
come and place two pots on top of the oven, one full of hot water and one full of
the fish which they carried to their husbands in the field, and they would bathe and
anoint their husbands, feed and give them drink, and have marital relations with
them between the borders of the fields.“
Concerned that our people would soon dominate the Egyptians, Pharaoh devised
a scheme to ensure that the Egyptian people would retain supremacy over the
descendants of Yaakov living in his land. The people were to be enslaved—broken
in mind and spirit. Working long hours, a decline in the birth rate—as well as
strength and resolve—would be inevitable. The women of Israel, however, had a
different plan in mind.
Drawing water, the Iyun Yaakov (1661-1773) notes, was a difficult task traditionally
performed by men. The women, however, with the help of G-d, gave, as our
gemara recounts, food and water to their husbands through one act. Furthermore,
by going out into the fields, the women made it possible to preserve the intimacy—
and maintain the numbers—of the Jewish people.
The women, recognizing that their people’s existence was in peril, took action to
ensure that not only would the nation continue to exist, but that it would thrive.
Without the valiant efforts of our women in Egypt, G-d’s enterprise—a Jewish
nation—would have met an early demise. Our survival depended—and still
depends—on strength of both spirit and numbers. Devotion—to G-d, one's people,
one's family, one's spouse—is essential for our survival, and there is no finer
example of this understanding than the actions of the Jewish women in Egypt.
The Pesach traditions developed in Sephardic countries, be it the songs, the food,
the mimouna, are ways by which we express our devotion to Hashem and to our
fellow Jews. Our long history supports the idea that these customs are critical to
our maintaining our identity. This year, when we sit down at the Pesach Seder,
recalling our enslavement and redemption, we would do well to contemplate the
actions of our righteous women in Egypt in light of today’s challenges.
 Educational Insights for the Seder
By Rabbi Haim David Halevi, the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Tel-Aviv/Yafo
1973-1998
(translated from Hebrew by Rabbi Daniel Bouskila)

1. On the eve of the 15th of Nisan, it is a mitzvah to recount the miracles and
wonders that God performed for our ancestors in Egypt. This mitzvah applies
to all Jews, including the most knowledgeable scholars. It is especially a
mitzvah to teach all of this to our children, as the Torah says (regarding the
exodus from Egypt) “You shall tell it to your children.” One must therefore make
the evening of Passover unique, different and special, so that the youngsters
in our midst will recognize that the evening is different, which will prompt them
to ask “Why is this night so different from all other nights?” All of the laws,
customs and rituals of the Seder are geared towards the purpose of involving
the younger generation.

2. As the evening of the Seder settles in, one should never forget the main
focus of the Seder – the children, both the older and younger children. They
are the headline of the evening. Therefore, the children should be seated right
next to the leader of the Seder and all around him, and everything the Seder
leader says and does should primarily be directed towards the children. The
Seder leader should make every effort, to the best of his ability and creativity,
to impress upon the children the magnitude, depth, and significance of this
great historical event called “The Exodus from Egypt.”

3. There are many who say that “Karpas” (the green vegetable dipped in salt
water or vinegar at the beginning of the Seder) is an appetizer towards the
meal that will eventually be served that night. In truth, the Karpas is not an
appetizer towards the meal, rather it is meant to arouse the curiosity of the
children, who will wonder why we are eating an appetizer and not serving
dinner immediately. Karpas is, indeed, an appetizer – an appetizer that leads
the children into Maggid, the main portion of the Haggadah that actually tells
the story of the Exodus from Egypt. (It is an “educational appetizer”- RDB)

4. Starting from “Ha Lachma Anya” (This is the bread of poverty), it is

important to translate and explain the Haggadah to all of the participants of
the Seder in a language and style that will be comprehensible to them.

5. It is an expression of great faith to leave one’s door open throughout the

Seder. This demonstrates our belief in the revelation of “Eliyahu Ha-Navi”
(Elijah the Prophet) who will announce to us the complete “Geulah”
(redemption) --the coming of Mashiach (The Messiah). After the Haggadah, it
is a custom (especially amongst Sephardim) to read “Shir Hashirim” (The Song
of Songs). This beautiful love poem is an allegory of the love between God
and the Jewish people, a love that was most powerfully expressed when God
performed wonders and miracles for us, lifting us from slavery to freedom.
 This Year in Jerusalem:
The First “Jerusalem Passover” in Modern Israel
By Rabbi Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, The First Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel
Passover, 1949
(translated from Hebrew by Rabbi Daniel Bouskila)

This year, we have named Passover “The Jerusalem Passover,” as this

marks the very first year that we celebrate the festival of freedom as a
truly free people in our land, in our holy city of Jerusalem. In addition
to all of the traditional symbols of freedom associated with Passover,
such as reclining and drinking the 4 cups of wine symbolic of our past
and future redemption, this year we express our freedom on Passover
by celebrating the holiday in a Jerusalem that is no longer threatened
by enemies and is no longer under siege (as it was just last year). We
celebrate our freedom through the wonderful victories and heroism of
our soldiers, who are armed with both spiritual faith and physical
strength. This year, we celebrate our freedom by expressing our
national independence in our newly established “State of Israel,” which,
in addition to providing shelter and independence for our people, gives
us elevated political and economic status amongst the nations of the
world. By witnessing all of these miracles before our eyes this past year,
we feel the depth of complete independence and freedom that God has
once again given us, and we especially feel all of this through the
spiritual merit of our holy city of Jerusalem.

In every generation, the enemies of Israel cast their eyes on Jerusalem,

seeking to destroy her walls and exile her people. They knew that
emptying Jerusalem of her children would destroy the spirit of Israel,
and would lead to the conquest of the entire Land of Israel. This was
the case during the destruction of both the First and Second Temple,
and during the Bar-Kochba revolt. This was also the case in our
generation, as the enemies of Israel cast their eyes on Jerusalem and
her Jewish inhabitants, seeking to demoralize both the city and her
people, attempting to bring them to their knees in humiliating surrender.
But Jerusalem stood firm like a solid rock, even during the most awful
days that threatened her existence.

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Just a year ago on Passover, under extreme conditions, we prepared

and celebrated the Seder. By the same merit that our ancestors were
redeemed in Egypt, we, the people of Jerusalem, were also
redeemed, and our redemption spread out all across the land. So
here we are today, one year later, celebrating Passover in Jerusalem,
this time with joy and happiness.

Our joy is tempered by the fact that Jerusalem “within the walls” (The
Old City) lies in ruins, emptied of her Jewish people, with the Kotel
standing alone. This breaks our hearts, and we will never feel
comforted until the day comes that we merit to return to the sacred
Old City which will eternally be the capital of the State of Israel.

Despite this, we nevertheless rejoice on the establishment of the

“New Jerusalem” which we have now established by the good grace
of God, secure from the threat of the enemy.

Let us now rejoice on this Passover, the holiday of freedom, and let
us celebrate it with aspirations that peace and justice reign throughout
our land. Let us together lift our voices to God and pray:

Lord our God, give strength to our army and spread over them the
tabernacle of peace and save them from all enemies. Endow our state
and leaders with wisdom, understanding and strength, bring peace
in our land and in the world, and establish the Kingdom of David in
your holy city of Jerusalem. Bring freedom and redemption to our
Jewish brethren in Arab lands, save them from the hands of their
oppressors and bring them home to their land together with all Jews
dispersed in the diaspora.

As we celebrate Passover this year in our newly liberated City of

Jerusalem, next year, and for many years to come, may we merit
celebrating Passover in the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, with great joy,
happiness and songs of praise to God, Amen.

19 SCFL PESAH GUIDE 2017

 The Bitter Truth:
A Sephardic Reflection on Maror
By Rabbi Daniel Bouskila
Can the simple arrangement of the Passover seder plate reflect a deeper
message? In the Sephardic tradition, the answer is a resounding yes.
Unlike the standard Ashkenazi version sold in Judaica stores or printed in most
haggadot, the Sephardic custom is to place maror — the bitter herbs — at the
very center of the seder plate. This follows the arrangement of the “Ari,” Rabbi
Isaac Luria, the 16th century mystic from Safed.
While this custom is not really discussed by any Sephardic authorities, it is
interesting to note that in his “Hazon Ovadia” commentary to the haggadah, Rav
Ovadia Yosef, the former Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel, remarks that
Maimonides lists the “three things one must say the night of the seder” as
“Pesach, Maror and Matzah.” This order differs from the standard “Pesach,
Matzah and Maror.

The Sephardic custom of centralizing the Maror helps us tell our larger story. By
placing Maror in the middle, we allow ourselves to expand the Haggadah to
include our bitter experiences beyond Egypt. We remember our petsecution
under the Babylonians and Romans, our inquisitions, expulsions and pogroms
under the cross of Christianity, and the episodes of jihad against us under the
crescent of Islam. Maror also includes Auschwitz and Treblinka, and it even
allows for reflection on the contemporary resurgence of anti-Semitism.
All of these bitter experiences have stood at the center of our journey as a people.
While this seems painful, Judaism does not shy away from the bitter truth of our
history. Only by telling these stories can we contemplate their lessons as they
affect us today. There is no better night to do so than Passover, a night when we
are commanded to conduct a meaningful symposium through telling stories.
While we recount our own collective bitter experiences, we also place Maror at
the center so that we remember the bitter suffering of others. Centralizing Maror
reminds us to not persecute strangers, immigrants or refugees, “because we
were strangers in Egypt.” While gazing upon the Maror at the center of the seder
plate, we feel the pain of orphans, widows and all of the weakest members of
our society. Their Maror becomes ours.
So on Passover, we ask: “Maror zeh?” — “These bitter herbs that we eat, what
do they recall?” The Sephardic custom of placing Maror at the center of the plate
makes this one of the most important of all questions asked during the Seder.
 The Haggadah In Arabic?
By Rabbi Daniel Bouskila

“Our Passover Seder is translated into Arabic,” I used to tell my friends in

school. “Arabic?” they responded in bewilderment, “that’s so weird! How could
you translate a Seder into Arabic? Isn’t Arabic the language of the enemy?”

Growing up in a French speaking Sephardic-Moroccan home in Los Angeles,

my sisters and I were never taught that Arabic was the “language of the
enemy.” That is, unless we considered our parents “the enemy,” who spoke
it amongst themselves when they didn’t want us to understand what was
being said. I have vivid memories of Judeo-Arabic being spoken in my home.
It was a “private” language for my parents, as well as a form of cultural
communication for my parents and their friends. In fact, there are several
jokes for which to this day, I don’t know the punch line, as they started out in
French, and just when the suspense was it its peak, the punch line rolled out
in Judeo-Arabic. When my sisters and I would beg my father to translate, the
answer always was “I could translate, but it won’t be the same.”

I have come to understand my father’s principle of “I could translate, but it

won’t be the same” to also mean that there are times when linguistic
expression is often more powerful than the actual translation itself.
Throughout my upbringing, the first chant at the Passover Seder that really
made it feel like Pesach for all of us around the table sounded like this:

Haq’da Qssam L’lah lb’har âla tnass l’treq ‘hin khrzeu

zdoud’na min massar, âla yed sid’na oun’bina moussa ben amram haq’da
n’khrzeu min had l’galouth amen ken yehi ratson.

My father chanted this during Yahas, as he split the middle masah. It was not
a formal part of the Haggadah. It was a text that stood by itself, and although
none of us understood a word of what was being said, we all chimed in, and
we all had our own images and perceptions of how this moment was speaking
to us.

For me, in the truest spirit of Passover, this Judeo-Arabic chant represented
a journey through my roots. In a language whose words I did not understand,
but whose tone and music evoked deep emotions within me, this chant
helped tell me the story of Jewish life in Morocco. On the night where we are
mandated to “tell the story,” here came a chant in a language I did not speak,
yet told me the story of my Moroccan Jewish heritage more vividly than any
history book ever could. It evoked images in my mind of my great-grandfather

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Rabbi Yosef Pinto, sitting at his Seder in Marrakech dressed in a Jalabiya

with a scarf on his head, breaking the middle masah and recounting the
exodus to his family in the same Judeo-Arabic. It transposed me back to the
Moroccan Mellah (Jewish Ghetto), a place I’ve only been to in my mind, but
a place that I nonetheless could hear, feel and even smell, especially at that
moment. Haq’da Qssam L’lah even reminded me – because it was in Arabic
– that Moroccan Jewry once had positive and cordial relations with their
Muslim neighbors, something we’ve painfully lost today.

As the Seder journeyed on, it was peppered with other Judeo-Arabic chants.
Examples include Had taam d’eef kleu zdoud’na fi ardi massar (Ha Lahma
Anya – This is the Bread of Poverty) or Fkhrouz Israel mn masar (B’Tset
Yisrael Mimitzrayim – When Israel Left Egypt – Psalm 114). These were the
sounds at my Seder – raw, unfiltered and deeply authentic. Hearing the
Haggadah in Arabic took us away from our first generation American milieu,
and transposed us back to a place where Judaism thrived in a deeply spiritual
fashion, enriched by a rich cultural world that enjoyed an intimate bond with
the cuisine, spices, music and language of North African Arab culture.

With my parents no longer alive, my family continues our Judeo-Arabic

chanting at the Seder. These chants continue to tell the story of Pesach –
my Moroccan ancestor’s Pesach – to my children, in the original language
of their ancestors. Pirkei Avot teaches us to “know from whence we come.”
This is as important a story on the night of Pesah as is the master story in
the Haggadah.

I am proud to raise my children to understand that, despite the ugly

extremism of jihadists and fundamentalists, Arabic is still not the “language
of the enemy,” and that Jews have a long-standing relationship with Arabic
language and culture. It reminds my children that Jewish works of
outstanding spiritual and intellectual stature, such as Judah Halevi’s Kuzari
or Maimonides’ Guide to the Perplexed, were written in Arabic, and that
nobody accused these great minds of writing in the “language of the enemy.”

After my father’s passing a few years ago, I found the translation of the text
we read while breaking the middle Masah: This is how the Holy One Blessed
be He split the sea into twelve separate paths, when our ancestors left Egypt,
through the leadership of our master and prophet, Moses son of Amram, of
blessed memory. Just like God redeemed them and saved them from harsh
labors and brought them to freedom, so, too, may the Holy One Blessed be
He, redeem us for the sake of His great name, and let us say, Amen.

As nice as it is to have the translation, it sounds – and feels -- so much better

in the original.
 Passover and Modern-Day Zionism:
Three Sephardic Chief Rabbis, Three Opinions
By Rabbi Daniel Bouskila
“This year we are here, next year in the Land of Israel. This year we are still
slaves, next year may we be a free people.” This text appears in most
Ashkenazi versions of the Passover Haggadah.
In the Sephardic version, the second line is slightly different. It reads, “This
year we are still slaves here in exile, next year may we be a free people in
the Land of Israel.”
Given the emphasis on “exile vs. Israel” in the Sephardic version, how did
Sephardic rabbis in post-1948 Israel understand the Haggadah in light of the
newly declared Jewish state?
In a pre-Passover address in April 1949, Rabbi Ben-Zion Meir Hai Uziel, who
was born in Jerusalem and served as Sephardic Chief Rabbi under Ottoman
and British rule, recognized the paradox of saying we are still slaves in exile.
Just 11 months earlier, on May 14, 1948, he was in “the room where it
happened” when David Ben-Gurion said, “We hereby declare the
establishment of a Jewish state in Eretz-Yisrael, to be known as the State of
Israel.”
Now as the Sephardic Chief Rabbi of the first Jewish State in close to 2,000
years, Rav Uziel said: “Throughout our lengthy exile, Passover infused us
with the hope to be redeemed in our ancestral homeland. By the grace of
God and the Israeli military, we are now happy to say: This year we are a free
people in the Land of Israel.”
By mimicking the Haggadah’s language to reflect the Jewish people’s new
reality, Rav Uziel seemed to infer that the change in the Jewish people’s
status warranted a change in the Haggadah’s text.
Rav Uziel’s successor to the Sephardic Chief Rabbinate was Rabbi Yitzhak
Nissim.
In 1958, Rav Nissim called Passover “the holiday that most deeply preserved
the connection between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel.” He
proclaimed the modern State of Israel as “the beginning of our redemption,”
but said that we have “yet to cross the sea into complete freedom.” Different
than Rav Uziel’s idealistic Israel of 1949, by 1958, Israel was a deeply divided
society, especially along Sephardic-Ashkenazi ethnic lines. Given this reality,
Rav Nissim used the metaphor of God “tearing apart” (kara in Hebrew) the
sea, saying, “we cannot declare ourselves a fully free people on Passover
until we ‘tear apart’ all of these divisions in our midst.”
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In 1973, Rabbi Ovadia Yosef replaced Rav Nissim as Israel’s new

Sephardic Chief Rabbi. By then a internationally renowned scholar of
halakha (Jewish law), Rav Ovadia Yosef counted among his many
published books a detailed commentary to the Passover Haggadah titled
“Hazon Ovadia.”
Reflecting upon the stanza in the song “Dayyenu” that states, “Had God
given us the Torah but not brought us into the Land of Israel, that would
have been enough (Dayyenu),” Rav Ovadia Yosef writes:
“These words are directed against the secular Zionists who think you can
build the Land of Israel without the Torah of Israel. The Torah precedes the
Land of Israel in importance, because the Land of Israel without Torah is
no better than living in the diaspora. Indeed, it is preferable to stay in the
diaspora as an observant Jew rather than angering God by living a secular
lifestyle in the Land of Israel.”
In a radical departure from his Sephardic predecessors, Rav Ovadia Yosef
demystifies the existence of the modern State of Israel and posits that the
secular orientation of Zionism actually angers God. Rav Ovadia Yosef’s
creative reading of “Dayyenu” deems it preferable for the Jewish people to
have stayed “in exile” as religiously observant Jews rather than being a
“free people in the Land of Israel” in a Jewish state with a decidedly secular
orientation.
Israel’s first three Sephardic Chief Rabbis inspire a new set of “Four
Questions”:
1. Are those of us living in exile still in “slavery”?
2. Does Jewish independence in Israel automatically mean Jewish
emancipation?
3. Is a socially, religiously and politically divided Israel a true expression
of freedom?
4. Can secularism and religiosity coexist in a Jewish state?
While all representing different viewpoints, modern-day Israel’s first three
Sephardic Chief Rabbis share in common a classic Sephardic trait: to make
our Jewish texts relevant and meaningful to our contemporary existence.
Make your Seder relevant and meaningful by adding their questions to
those already listed in the Haggadah.
 A Time to be Free
Rabbi Nissim Elnecavé
The land of Egypt had been afflicted with nine plagues, its population feared
and dreaded even greater punishments. As G-d informs Moshe about the
last plague to strike Egypt, he also commands him to formulate a calendar
unique to the Jewish Nation. The Torah states, "This month should be to you
the beginning of months; it should be the first month of the year to you."
(Shemot 12:2) The first month of spring marks the beginning of our
nationhood. The month of Nissan is the month that commemorates the birth
of the Jewish People.
Our Sages in the Midrash ask that since the Torah is a book of law, should it
not have began from this very concept, instructing Moshe to formulate a
calendar? Rabbi Shelomo Yishaki (RaShi) explains that the Torah begins
from the book of Bereshit in order to teach and convey to the world about
the existence and omnipotence of G-d through the creation. Our Sages
further explain that the Book of Bereshit links and teaches about the origins
of the Jewish people, their background and identity.
Rabbenu Moshe ben Maimon explains that even when this precept can only
be handled by the Beth Din (High Court) as the representatives of the people,
its outcome still includes the entire nation of Israel as a whole. Yet, we still
wonder, why is this the first Misvah that G-d command us through Moshe?
What is its significance and importance?
The Sforno explains that this commandment symbolizes the beginning of
freedom. The Jews, as slaves, did not own their own time. Their days and
nightsbelonged to their masters. Hakham David Elnecave adds, "For the
individual or for a nation, life starts at the moment of their emancipation, with
their liberty. The state of a slave, of the one who is under slavery, servitude
and oppression, is that he lacks days or seasons, days of rest or times of
celebration." For the slave time does not follow a regular course, the sun
might not rise for him everyday. His existence is full of constant darkness as
he suffers and sighs.
Hakham David explains further that it was after the Egyptians had been
stricken with a period of darkness, that a radiant twilight saw the birth of the
Jewish nation. It was only at the time of the exodus from Egypt that we began
to calculate days and dates, our own course of history. It is then that we
really became a free people.
Modern scholars point to the fact that time was invented by the Jews. The
Torah introduced the concept of a beginning; days, nights and weeks. As
the Jews get ready to leave Egypt, the birth of the Jewish people marks a
new beginning. We now own our days and nights, our seasons and our times
to celebrate. During the Holiday of Pesah, we should meditate about what it
means to own our time and our destiny and make it the best of times!
 Various Sephardic Minhagim at the Seder
Rabbi Benjamin Hassan

Urchatz – The women of the house wash the men’s hands sitting at
the table.

Karpas – We use parsley dipped into wine vinegar

Breaking the Middle Matzah – My father would always say “And
Moshe parted the Red Sea and the Jews went through onto dry land”

The Matzah of the Afikomin is placed in a napkin and placed on the

shoulders of the children. The children are asked questions about
where they are coming from and where they are going and what they
have with them

The Matzah for the Afikomin is placed under the table cloth and is not
hidden

Bivhilu - With the Ke’arah before Magid

During the Makot – instead of dipping with the pinky we take a
large bowl and pour into it wine representing judgment and water rep-
resenting mercy. After all the plagues the mother takes the bowl and
pours it out so that all the plagues should not be on our family

Dayenu – During Dayenu the Persians whip each other with spring
onions/leeks

After Saying Maror Al Shum Mah – My family throws the maror

into the corner of the house. In recent years we even throw it outside
of the house.
 Where does the Pesach Story Begin and End?
Rabbi Benjamin Hassan
For many this seems like a simple question it starts with slavery and ends with
freedom. But that might be just one answer among many. The Talmud tells us we
must begin with shame and end with praise. The earliest possible shame for the
Jewish people is to know that our ancestors were idolaters. Avraham’s father
Terach worshipped idols. Another option could be to retell of Sarah’s shame when
she abused Hagar her Egyptian maidservant. Another possibility could be the
selling of Yosef by his brothers. Why was Yosef sold by his brothers because
Lavan switched Rachel and Leah. Indeed, we see a hint of Yosef in the Haggadah
with Karpas. When we dip the vegetable in salt water. That could well represent
the brothers dipping Yosef’s special coat (his ketonet Pasim) into blood or it could
be that the salt water represents Yosef’s tears. Or it could be that we were slaves
in Egypt who had abandoned the mitzvot of loving Hashem and circumcision.

When does the story end? With the killing of the Firstborn, or is it the splitting of
the Sea. Perhaps the receiving of the Torah or maybe the entry into the land of
Israel or perhaps it is the building of the Bet Hamikdash. What is the purpose of
freedom? For freedom’s sake? To serve Hashem? To have sovereignty over our
own land? To serve Hashem in the highest form with the Temple?

Beginning of the Pesach Story

1. Terach 2. Avraham and Sarah 3. Lavan 4. Yosef
5. Slaves in Egypt

End of the Pesach Story

1. End of Slavery 2. Leaving Egypt 3. Splitting of the Sea
4. Giving of the Torah 5. Entering the Land of Israel
6. Building of Beit Hamikdash

Why did we have to be slaves in Egypt?

1. Punishment
a) For Avraham i) He had a lack of faith in Hashem
ii) Avraham should not have gone down to Egypt
iii) He allowed Sarah to mistreat Hagar
b) For the Brothers for Selling Yosef
c) For Bnei Yisrael for i) Worshipping Idols
ii) Not Doing Circumcision
iii) For neglecting Torah Study
2. Created a compassionate nation towards slaves, widows, orphans
and strangers
 Arami Oved Avi
Rabbi Benjamin Hassan
One of the Central Parts of Maggid – the Telling of the Pesah story is to recite the section
called Arami Oved Avi. This section is based on the understanding that the Pesah story
starts with Lavan afflicting Yaakov. This position is the understanding of the Biblical
Commentator Rashi (France, Germany 1040-1105) What does Lavan’s mistreatment of
Ya’akov have to do with the 10 plagues?
1. Since Lavan switched Rachel with Leah, Yosef was not the first son. Had Yosef
been the first son there would have been no (or less) sibling rivalry and therefore Yosef
would never had been sold into slavery. As such we would never have ended up in Egypt
in the first place.
2. Lavan represents our enemies who try to destroy us through assimilation whereas
Pharaoh tried to destroy us through Antisemitism. Both types have had a huge impact on
the Jewish people over the generations.
The Ibn Ezra (1089-1167 mostly Spain) explains that the phrase Arami Oved Avi actually
means my father was a wandering Aramean. Based on this answer the story of Pesah
begins with Yaakov and his many travels one of which was spending 20 years in Lavan’s
house. What does Yaakov have to do with the Events in Egypt?
1. Yaakov brought his whole family to settle in Goshen during the famine. From then
it was only a couple of generations before we became slaves to Pharaoh.
Finally the Rashbam (1085-1158 France) a grandson of Rashi explains that Arami Oved
Avi is referring to Avraham. Avraham is the wandering Aramean travelling from Ur Kasdim
to the land of Cana’an. What does Avraham have to do with Egypt?
1. Avraham went down to Egypt when there was a famine in the land.
2. Avraham made a covenant with God called the Brit Bein HaBetarim (The Covenant
between the Parts). In this covenant God tells Avraham that his descendants “will be
strangers in a land that is not theirs, and they will enslave them and oppress them, for
four hundred years. And also the nation that they will serve will I judge, and afterwards
they will go forth with great possessions.” (Bereshit 15:13-14)
 The Deeper Meanings of Had Gadya
Rabbi Benjamin Hassan
1. R’ Amram Gaon in the name of R’ Natronai Gaon
Anyone who reads the Haggadah and skips these songs has not only failed to fulfill his obligation but he should
be ostracized from the community because he does not believe in the words of the Rabbis.
2. Shu”t Haim Sha’al 1:28 – Hida - R’ Haim Yosef David Azoulay
Q. A person was excommunicated for making fun of Had Gadya, was this punishment excessive?
A. This individual has ridiculed what has been the custom of tens of thousands of Jews. Included in these
thousands of Jews are world Torah luminaries, of the highest level of holiness, as well as the scholars of every
generation. Even today the Jewish people have not been orphaned and there are many Rashei Yeshiva and
great scholars, may God continue to sustain them, who all recite the piyut of Had Gadya. This person who
ridiculed Had Gadya is a rasha for he mocks a myriad of Jews.
There is no doubt that Had Gadya is not a meaningless poem. We have already been informed that the secrets
behind many of these poems/prayers have been passed on from one generation to another and from one rabbi
to another.
3. Rambam - Introduction to Perek Helek
The third category comprises… so very few that it is almost incorrect to call it a category at all… It consists of
those men that have a clear conception of the greatness of the sages and of their surpassing intelligence, so
that we find passages among their sayings that penetrate to the most profound truth. Although these men are
but few and far between, their writings bear witness to their perfection, and to the fact that they have grasped
the truth… They also know that the sages were not making jokes. Thus it becomes obvious truth to them that
in their sayings we have to distinguish open and hidden meanings. Any statement or passage of the Rabbis
that contains an apparent impossibility can therefore only be an allusion and allegory. This is the practice of
great scholars.
4. Vilna Gaon - Each verse alludes to events in Jewish history
The kid is the birthright mentioned in Bereshit Chapter 25.
My father is Yaakov who bought the birthright from Esav, who had been born first and thus had the natural
right to the birthright.
The two zuzim are the bread and stew Yaakov paid Esav for the birthright.
The cat represents the envy of Yaakov’s sons toward their brother Yosef, leading them to sell him into slavery
in Egypt.
The dog is Egypt, where Yosef landed, and where eventually the entire clan of Yaakov and the subsequent
Israelite nation lived, were enslaved and were redeemed.
The stick is the famous staff of Moshe, used to call forth various plagues and part the waters of the Sea for the
Israelites to cross.
The fire represents the thirst for idolatry among Israelites that proved to be a persistent bane for over 800
years, from the year they left Egypt until the destruction of the First Beit HaMikdash.
The water represents the Hachamim who eradicated idolatry.
The ox is Rome (Esav’s descendent) who destroyed the 2nd Beit HaMikdash.
The butcher is the “Mashiach Ben-Yosef” who will restore full Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel.
The Angel of Death in this song represents the death of Mashiach Ben-Yosef.
The Holy One arrives with Mashiach Ben-David. continues on next page
 The Deeper Meanings of Had Gadya (continues from previosu page)

5. Rav Yaakov Emden - A Personal Odyssey of Self Development

The Little Goat = The soul is compared to a small goat. The soul is the dimension of the body that our
father in heaven has given us.
Two Zuzim = The word Zuzim is not a denomination of money, rather a plural form of Zuz, to move.
According to Kabbalah the soul migrates twice before it reaches our body. Once from the heavenly world
to the world of galgalim and then to our world and body.
The Cat = The cat is an animal which will eat anything, whether it is good for it or not. Similarly in our
infancy, we are undisciplined, we can become involved in habits, accustomed to desires which are damaging
to our soul. Tragic is a soul that is trapped in our undisciplined body. One might think that being undisciplined
as a child is acceptable for the child will soon grow up and the inappropriate behavior will give way to a
more mature attitude.
The Dog = If a child is not trained to embrace transcendental value it will grow up to be like a dog whose
desires are never satiated. Our desires will continue to run contrary to the ideals of the soul and will destroy
the environment of our soul. Woe is the soul which is housed in an unredeemed body. Perhaps as the child
matures into an adult he will remember the covenant between God and the Jewish people causing a
mending of the ways.
The Stick = If a child grows up with his desires unchallenged then these behaviors will become ingrained,
“beaten in” to his psyche and his attitude will not change. These deviant behaviors will act like a weapon,
a stick, beating and destroying the internal spirit of the soul.
The Fire = This behavior will continue and create “burning” passions and desires which will preclude any
type of personal redemption. Fantasies and desires will burn a spiritual hole in the inner recesses of our
self. Sinful desires will intensify until it will totally destroy the soul. Perhaps when we are senior in our years,
our passions and behaviors which deviate from the norms/mores of Torah will automatically reform and
allow our tormented soul to rise up from the shackles of impurity.
The Water = The soul will not automatically escape, for a person who has embraced a life style which is
contrary to Torah values will have crushed and drowned the soul.
The Ox = One must struggle to redeem oneself. One that does not and believes that it will happen on its
own, is condemned to be considered a Shor Mu 'ad. An individual not willing to work on self-redemption
will continue to “wallow” in behavior which will destroy the spirit of the soul.
The Slaughterer = Our Rabbis relate that with every sin a destructive force in the world is created. A lifestyle
devoid of values, creates a destructive force who will persecute and inflict punishment on those involved
in sinful ways. These afflictions will torment the soul.
The Angel of Death = When the Angel of Death will remove the soul the deviant lifestyle will cause it to
contain impurities “Woe is such a soul”.
The Holy One = When God examines “this soul” in heaven do not think that in God's presence the soul will
automatically achieve purification. For perfection of the soul and redemption of self can only be achieved
in this world. It is in this world of experience that growth and self-perfection may be achieved. Woe is the
soul that has not had the opportunity to struggle for greatness and to achieve perfection!
TA’ANIT BECHOROT
INTERNATIONAL SIYUMIM
Rabbi Ben Hassan:
Seatle, Washington, USA
8:30 am
https://zoom.us/j/6352582492

Rabbi Nafi Haleva Turkey

(Turkey)
Tefila 08:10 ve siyum 8:55
https://zoom.us/j/418434984

https://www.facebook.com/NaftaliHaleva

Rabbi Ilan ACOCA

Fort Lee, NJ, USA
https://zoom.us/j/3235337122
https://m.facebook.com/ilan.acoca
 Sephardic Pesah Guide
(Reprinted with permission from the Sephardic Pesah Guide of Rabbi Ilan Acoca)
 Mimouna Origins
Mimouna is a North African Jewish celebration
related to the ancient Seharane. It is held the day
after Passover, marking the return to eating hametz
(leavened foods), which are forbidden throughout
the week of Passover.
Though the practice only began to be recorded in
the middle of the 18th century,[1] its derivation and
etymology are ancient. Possible derivations for the
name Mimouna are: "Rabbi Maimon ben Yosef"
(father of the Rambam Maimonides). Thus, the
Mimouna might mark the date of his birth or death.
The Hebrew word "emuna", meaning "faith" or
"ma’amin"; the Arabic word for "wealth" or "good
luck"[ as on this day, according to midrash, the gold
and jewelry of the drowned Egyptians washed up
on the shore of the Reed Sea and enriched the
Israelites. Mimouna is associated with "faith" and
"belief" in immediate prosperity, as seen in its
customs of matchmaking, and well-wishes for
successful childbearing; manna, which was the food
God provided following the Exodus, and during the
subsequent wandering in the desert.
Mimouna celebrates belief in both the past Jewish
redemption from the Egyptians and the future
Messianic redemption: "In Nisan (the month in
which Passover falls), the Jews were redeemed
and in Nisan they will be redeemed in the future.
When Passover ends and the Jews are still not
redeemed, the Moroccan Jews do not lose their
faith; as the Sages said: 'Even if he tarries, I will
expect him every day.'"
continues on next page
 continues from previous page

It was at the crossing of the Reed Sea on the final

day of Passover that the entire nation witnessed the
awesome power and might of God which was an
experience that strengthened their faith. "And Israel
saw the great work which the LORD did upon the
Egyptians, and the people feared the LORD; and
they believed in the LORD, and in His servant
Moses." – Exodus 14:31
In Morocco, on the afternoon of the last day of
Passover, Muslim neighbors bring to the homes of
their Jewish neighbors, gifts of flour, honey, milk,
butter and green beans to be used to prepare post-
Passover hametz dishes. It was customary to go to
the Rabbi’s home to get his blessing for good omen.
Historically, Jewish congregations would walk to an
orchard in order to recite Birkat Ha'Ilanot, and
following the conclusion of Passover, would recite
passages from the Book of Proverbs and the
Mishna.
The celebration begins after nightfall on the last day
of Passover. In many communities, non-Jewish
neighbors sell hametz back to Jewish families as a
beginning of the celebration. Moroccan and Algerian
Jews throw open their homes to visitors, after
setting out a lavish spread of traditional holiday
cakes and delicacies. One of the holiday favorites
is Mofletta. Early in the day of the Mimouna, families
go to the sea, splash water on their face, and walk
barefoot in the water, to replay the scene of the
miraculous crossing of the Reed Sea, which is held
to have taken place on the last day of Passover.
Metivta Rabbinic Conference
Through the Years