We gather.
Our ancestors, ourselves,
Our children,
Our children’s children.
We kindle.
The Festival lights,
Transforming slavery and despair
Into the light of redemption.
We sanctify.
Blessing the fruit of the vine,
To proclaim the story itself
Is now our Passover sacrifice.
We immerse.
Spring greens in bitter water,
To remember the tears.
Or is it to sweeten the bitter water
With the hope of new life?
We washed our hands first,
Because either way,
it is a holy act.
We have gathered and kindled,
Sanctified and proclaimed,
Remembered and purified.
And now,
We break.
We break open our hearts and souls
To our own brokenness,
To cries of struggle and pain,
To justice, to holiness,
To love and abundant joy.
We break open
To all that we will encounter
On the long journey
From redemption to freedom.
Only now are we ready to tell the story.
