Levi Cooper is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah and teaches Jewish Studies at Machon Pardes and other university level programs in Jerusalem.
One of the great forums of active Jewish learning is the annual Pesaḥ seder. So many of the seder rituals are aimed at actively engaging participants. In one evening, a family seder table may demonstrate a wide variety of learning modes – experiential education, peer teaching, Socratic debate and more – all far from the frontal teaching mode of the classroom.
Yet one could easily argue that the seder night’s programme of active learning has become entirely contrived, with the evening scripted down to the last detail. There are even “stage directions” added before each passage in the haggada. To highlight one example, before the Four Questions we have the instruction:
And here the son asks[1]
The exact text of the questions is given[2] and even the order they are to be asked is prescribed.[3] The questions are so artificial, that they all refer to seder rites that have yet to be performed![4] Moreover, the answers to the questions are at best ambiguous.[5] It is difficult not to question the educational effectiveness of a rite so thoroughly scripted.[6]
The meticulously choreographed seder evening is shown in colorful relief in the memoirs of Michael HaKohen Brawer (1862-1949).[7] Before we turn to Brawer’s vignette, a word of introduction about the author is in order.
Brawer wrote his memoirs in his final years, following the urgings of his son, Dr Avraham Yaakov Brawer (1884-1975).[8] These writings were printed posthumously together with the memoirs of the younger Brawer. The older Brawer paints a multihued picture of vibrant Jewish life in Poland before the Holocaust.[9] We can only lament the fact that these rich sketches relate to only the first seventeen years of the author’s life; describing the remaining sixty years was left to his son.[10]
Before penning these memoirs, Brawer was no stranger to writing. He records that as a young boy his talent with the pen was recognized.[11] Later in life Brawer also wrote a number of articles, including a short monograph concerning the location of the Holy of Holies. Brawer’s contention was that the Dome of the Rock is not located over the Even Shetiya, the foundational rock upon which the Holy of Holies was situated; according to Brawer this sacred location is actually opposite the Western Wall![12]
After reaching the Land of Israel in 1925, he published two works of significance for the student of Hasidism. The first – Pe’er Yitzḥak[13] – recounted the life of the hasidic master, Rabbi Yitzḥak Ayzik Eichenstein of Żydaczów (1805-1873) and was compiled before Brawer left Kołomyja for the shores of the British Mandate of Palestine.[14] This work came under harsh attack by the fiery hasidic master in Mukačevo, Rabbi Hayyim Elazar Shapira (1871-1937).[15] Despite (or perhaps aided by!) the Munkatcher Rebbe’s condemnation of the work, the book was well received in Żydaczów circles and beyond, and was quickly sold out.[16] Following the success of this work, Brawer penned a similar work – Tzvi LaTzaddik[17] – recording the life of R. Yitzḥak Ayzik’s uncle, teacher and predecessor, Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Eichenstein of Żydaczów (d. 1831). According to his son, Brawer set out to write the third volume in this trilogy – a book about Rabbi Yitzḥak Ayzik Yehudah Yehiel Safrin of Komárno (1806-1874) – but due to ill health he was unable to complete the work.[18]
Brawer also contributed articles to various newspapers and penned other works.[19]
And now for our vignette. Brawer recounted that soon after his bar mitzvah, the search for an appropriate match for the precocious youngster began in earnest.[20] Brawer was known as a budding scholar and a man of letters, despite his tender years. Though he was short for his age – a fact that would lead his bride to call the wedding off some years later – he was, at the time, a sought after catch. A suitable match was found and an engagement party of sorts was arranged. It was not uncommon for a young groom to be asked to present his expertise in Torah at gatherings connected to his wedding and Brawer’s story in that respect was no different. At the meal following the kiddushin ceremony under the wedding canopy, Brawer sat next to the Rabbi of Gwoździec[21] who had arrived specially to officiate at the ceremony:[22]
And since my father-in-law had boasted about me before [the rabbi] that I, as it were, was a “Torah giant”, he said before me some pilpul[23] in a halakhic matter, so that I would say to him that which could be pointed out as a difficulty in this pipul.
Brawer, however, was in no state to be able to concentrate on the rabbi’s words, much less to display his intellectual prowess:
Due to the confusion that reigned in the entire house because of the masses of invitees and waiters, the jesters and the cantors and other religious functionaries and musicians and their assistants, [the rabbi’s] words did not enter my ears at all, and I was certainly unable to point out difficulties and solve them.
Brawer found himself in an embarrassing situation, though he was quickly rescued:
And while I was still thinking about how to extricate myself from this quagmire, one of the invitees responded, Reb Alter of Kosów was his name. He was the attendant of the Rebbe of Kosów Rabbi Yaakov Shimshon o.b.m.[24] and had arrived as the representative of his master to the wedding of the daughter of my father-in-law who was one of the Hasidim of the aforementioned Rebbe.
Reb Alter was a presentable person with a broad paunch. With confidence in the power of the Elder, his Rebbe, he interrupted the words of the rabbi and said: “Rabbi of Gwoździec! I saw a halakhic matter and I remembered a tale[25] about a certain common villager, who had an only son, a beloved child who had a good mind and would astound those who heard him with the questions that he posed on the siddur and on the ḥumash and on whatever his teacher would teach him. As the days of Pesaḥ approached, the villager made up his mind,that for a young “prodigy” like his son, it was superfluous to teach him the Four Questions for the seder nights, for undoubtedly he would, of his own accord, ask the Questions and even more than them, when he reclines and sees the differences on this night from all other nights. Thus he instructed the teacher that he should be silent about the Four Questions and not mention them at all to his son.
The plan was hatched, and the decisive night arrived:
On the opening night of the festival, the father of the boy, his mother and the boy himself sat down together on a reclining divan. The villager donned the kittel[26] and recited the kiddush on the wine in a loud voice and drank his cup in a reclining position like a true king in a manner of freedom. His only son also recited kiddush off by heart in a soft, pleasant voice. And the mother and the father were delighted by him. After that they washed their hands without reciting a blessing, dipped the karpas and ate. The father broke the middle matzah into two halves and placed the larger half under the pillow at the head of his reclining bed for the afikoman, everything just as it is written in the order of the haggada. He raised the seder plate with his wife’s assistance, and began the haggada: “This bread of affliction” and concluded with an ornate tune: “Next year may we be free people!” And he began to pour the second cup of the Four Cups [of wine].
After these initial seder rites, the father looked expectantly towards his son:
He looked forward to the words of his son, for here the Wise Son would rise and ask the Four Questions of his own accord. Alas, the son did not stir nor did he ask anything.
In his own mind, the father sprung to the defense of his son:
To the credit of the “Son who does not know how to ask,”[27] the father realized that all the Questions relate to matters that as yet [the son] had not seen this seder night: They hadn’t yet eaten, neither matzah nor maror – even the dipping twice and the eating where everyone reclines had not been performed before the eyes of the son. So why should I expect a spirit of prophecy to come over him to ask questions on that which his eyes had yet to see.
Somewhat placated, the father moved on:
And thus our villager did not wait any longer and began to recite “We were slaves” with the help of his son and his wife. He completed the first section of the haggada, drank the second cup while reclining, washed his hands and recited the blessing and ate matzah while reclining. After that [he ate] maror by itself and then in a sandwich. He ate roasted eggs and filled his belly with them. The seder plate was emptied. Meanwhile the son who was also busy with eating egg after egg, was not thinking about asking questions at all; he was thinking about the delicacies that his mother was bringing to the table, and without waiting out of honor for his father – indeed the son never ate before the father, because the father was always amongst the diligent who are quick to eat [28]– he took the spoon first and put some soup that was before him into his mouth. One, two, three, and the father sat agitated and shaken and did not start eating.
The father had finally lost patience with his own charade:
The father’s patience snapped and he angrily said to his son: “What a boor and ignoramus you are! Right here before you there are four conspicuous questions that pierce the eyes, and you, you don’t notice them, while throughout the year you usually ask and ask incessantly.”
The son was not cowered into silence:
The son gazed at him with his two eyes, and while he was still chewing the food in his mouth, he asked incredulously: “What questions are here to be asked? For me, there is nothing problematic!”
“There is nothing for you to ask?!” responded the father and gnashed his teeth. “If on all other nights I eat ḥametz and matzah, and tonight only matzah – isn’t that a question in your eyes? If you see your father eating on this night instead of other vegetables, maror, or he dips on this night twice while on all other nights he doesn’t dip even one time, or on this night we all recline, if all these changes are fine in your eyes, then indeed it is a shame that I spend “Koraḥ money”[29] to make you literate, for if these questions didn’t occur to you to ask of your own accord, you are a “Gentile” who is forever beyond help!”
The father’s harsh words stung:
These sharp words that pierced like needles really hurt the heart of the young boy, and though his wisdom did not stand by him to ask the Four Questions of his own accord as his father had wanted, his wisdom did stand by him to respond to his father with a winning response, and he said: “I am used to asking questions on the siddur and on the ḥumash which are holy books; but regarding you – you are hardly a siddur or a ḥumash – I have no questions. And if you wanted me to ask about you, my God! How many questions I would have to ask, evening and morning and afternoon, every day of the entire year, and not just on the night of Pesaḥ.
It was now the mother’s turn to add her thoughts:
The mother who had sat in silence and had not mixed in to the whole matter, turned pale and also said her part: “What do you want from the child that you interrupt him from his eating, indeed he is right. If he wanted to scrutinize you and ask questions of you, Oy, how many questions he would have to ask each day!” And she began to detail all his sins connected to eating and drinking until all his criticisms were blunted. [The father then] let the son be and doused his anger in the full plate that was before him.
Returning to the impish Reb Alter and to the perplexed young groom sitting there next to the rabbi, not knowing what to ask:
The beadle finished his story, and said: “And the Rabbi of Gwoździec desires that this groom should ask him questions!”
The rabbi for his part, tried to retort:
“And on an insolent person such as yourself I also don’t have anything to ask!”
The moment of tension passed and the Brawer was saved from embarrassment:
And with this, the argument between the attendant-in-holiness and the rabbi ended peacefully, and those present began to look to the cups, and “leḥayyim, leḥayyim” was heard from all directions. The rabbi, too, pretended as if nothing had happened, and totally diverted his attention from me and from the question he had asked me. Thus I escaped from dire straits, in the merit of the Kosówian beadle. Remember him, my Lord, for good!
Out of the strong (mei’az) came forth sweetness (Judges 14:14) – The mighty Samson proposed a riddle, and had I proposed a riddle at that time I would say: ‘From an insolent person (mei’az panim) came forth sweetness!’
Indeed the Pesaḥ seder has regrettably become an almost entirely staged active learning forum; almost a contradiction in terms. Yet it would be folly to let ourselves be limited by this development. If we want the seder to remain an effective method for stimulating and encouraging discussion about our heritage, the focus of our teaching needs to be appropriately directed. For example, preparing students for the seder night need not centre on rote learning of the Four Questions.[30] Parents too need to be cognizant – and the school can assist in this – of appropriate seder expectations and of their role as transmitters of our glorious Tradition.[31] The seder should be an experiential journey for our children, not a test to see what they have learned.
* My thanks to Beit Morasha, Jerusalem: a warm home where I have merited to explore the intersection between Torah and academia; an institute that has encouraged me to “un-choreograph” Jewish learning.
[1] In the hasidic tradition, this “stage direction” is interpreted as having deeper meaning. Thus, for instance, Rabbi Aaron (the second) Perlow of Karlin (1802-1872) reported:
“בפסח דשנת תר”ד [=1844] בשעת הסדר אמר: אבי זצוק”ל [=ר’ אשר (הראשון) פרלוב מסטולין (1760-1826)] אמר ‘כאן הבן שואל’, פי’ שואל הוא ל’ שאלה ובקשה. ר”ל כאן יכול הבר ישראל לשאול ולבקש מאביו שבשמים כל מה שצריך ולקבל חיות על כל הדברים בלילה הזה ולהשיג מה שלא עמל ויגע על זאת” (ר’ אהרן (השני) פרלוב מקארלין, בית אהרן, בראדי תרל”ה, לפסח, ד”ה בפסח).
[2] Authorities note that the requirement is to truly query any perceived differences, and not specifically the scripted Four Questions. See, for instance:
“ובשם הגר”ח מבריסק זצ”ל [=ר’ חיים הלוי סולובייצ’יק מבריסק (1853-1918)] מוסרים שעיקר חובת הבן לשאול מה נשתנה הלילה ולאו דוקא ד’ קושיות וע”ז צריך לעוררו, ולכן מחזירין הקערה ומחלקין קליות לעוררו לשאול” (ר’ משה שטרנבוך, שו”ת תשובות והנהגות, ירושלים תשמ”ו-תשס”ב, חלק שני, אורח חיים, סימן רלו).
Having said that, I believe we would be hard pressed to find a Jewish home where the prescribed Four Questions are not asked. This state of affairs has lead a recent halakhic writer to add in a footnote:
“ודע כי מה שמרגילין את הקטנים בבתי החינוך לומר נוסח מה נשתנה, הרי זה מועיל רק אם מבינים הענין ושואלים בדרך קושיא לקבלת תשובה, אבל אם אומרים זאת בלי לידע על מה כוונת השאלה, ולפעמים אין יודעים כלל שהוא שאלה הצריכה תשובה, אין בזה כדי לצאת חובת חז”ל של והגדת לבנך דרך שאלה ותשובה, והרי זה כבן שאינו יודע לשאול … וצריך האב בשעת הסדר לעוררו לשאול על השינויים שעושה בתחילת עריכת הסדר (ר’ שמחה ב”צ א. רבינוביץ (מלקט ועורך), פסקי תשובות, ירושלים תשנ”א-תשנ”ז, חלק חמישי, סימן תעב, הערה 61).
[3] Indeed different customs exist as to the correct order of the Questions. The justifications for each custom only serve to further highlight the scripted nature of the seder.
[4] Rabbi Yisrael Meir HaKohen of Radin (1838-1933), author of the Mishna Berura, comments:
“ואף על גב דבסדר ההגדה תקנו מה נשתנה בתחלת ההגדה, אין בכך כלום, דעיקר השאלה והתמיה של התינוק הוא בשעה שרואה המעשה בעיניו” (שער הציון, סימן תעב, סק”ב).
See also below near note 27.
[5] People jest that the point of many aspects of the seder is merely so that the children will ask questions, as if the sole goal is the question, regardless of whether answers are offered.
The thoroughly choreographed nature of the seder was highlighted to me by a quip I heard from my uncle, Rabbi Moishe Kimelman of Melbourne, Australia: The whole reason we have karpas is so that the children will be prodded to ask questions. Yet if you sit down to the seder with your family and your child innocently asks you why are we dipping some vegetable in salt water, we would angrily respond: “What’s the matter with you, didn’t you learn anything in school?!”
[6] The educational goal of the Four Questions is stated clearly in the writings of the hasidic master Rabbi Zvi Elimelekh Shapira of Dynów in Galicia (1785–1841):
“ע”י שאלה ותשובה … נקבע הענין בנפש הבן כאשר הסיפור בא לו ע”י מבוקשו כיון שהוקשה איזה דבר וביקש למצוא טעם … וע”ז נקבע הענין בנפשו יותר ממה שיקבע הענין לו בהודעה בלבד מבלי שאלה” (ר’ צבי אלימלך שפירא מדינוב, דרך פיקודיך, לעמבערג תרע”ד, מצוה כא, אות ב).
[7] ר’ מיכאל הכהן ברוֶר ובנו ד”ר אברהם יעקב ברוֶר, זכרונות אב ובנו, ירושלים תשכ”ו 1966(herein: “Zikhronot”). The book was published by Mossad Harav Kook, which had never before published a personal chronicle. (Zikhronot, p. 1):
On the general subject of Jewish autobiographies and the definition of the field and its problems, see: Marcus Moseley, “Jewish Autobiography: The Elusive Subject,” Jewish Quarterly Review 95:1, Winter 2005, pp. 16-59; Elliott Horowitz, “Confessions of a Jewish Autobiography Reader,” Jewish Quarterly Review 95:1, Winter 2005, pp. 74-80.
[8] Zikhronot, pp. 172, 178, 223.
[9] Writing in 1959, Brawer’s son expressed three wishes at the end of the introduction to his memoirs (Zikhronot, p. 178):
First, that the memoirs of father and son would be published together; a wish that was fulfilled in 1966 when Zikhronot appeared. Second, that the memoirs would serve historians of the Shoah and historians of the generation preceding World War II (see also the words of the publisher, Zikhronot, pp. 1-2). I am unsure as to what extent this has been actualized, though the writing is vivid and a pleasure to read. Finally,Dr. Brawer concluded with a prayer that the work would serve as a humble memorial to his father and to him – a request that I believe was granted and is answered once again by this article.
[10] Zikhronot, pp. 178, 217. According to the son, Brawer limited himself because he only valued his early years (Zikhronot, p. 178): The son, however, pointed out that his father was generally reticent about transcribing his memoirs (ibid):
[11] See for instance Zikhronot, p. 37 where Brawer describes his early mediocrity regarding everything except writing, noting:
“רק באחת הצטיינתי בילדותי, ביכולתי לכתוב בלשון הקודש. ועוד משחרות ילדותי הייתי ‘ספרא זוטא’ בישראל.”
Brawer’s son also lauded his father’s writing ability (Zikhronot, pp. 222-223):
The son added that his father assisted the rabbi of the Galician town Stryj (nowadays Стрий (=Stryi) in Ukraine), Rabbi Aryeh Leibush Horowitz (1847-1909), by writing letters on his behalf and proof-reading his responsa (see also Zikhronot, pp. 151-152 where Brawer described his work for the rabbi).
In the introduction to Zikhronot, Avraham Darom the publisher wrote (Zikhronot, p. 3):
“מלבד למדנותו ובקיאותו היה ר’ מיכאל הכהן ברור בעל ‘עט סופר מהיר’ בנוסח של חסיד משכיל.”
[12] אבן שתיה או אבן הטועים: חקירה מדעית ע”ד מקום המקדש וכותל המערבי, ירושלם תר”ץ. Brawer’s final sentence broadcasts his satisfaction at his findings:
“ובכן אבותינו ואבות אבותינו מלפני כמה מאות שנה שקבעו מקום לתפלתם דוקא במקום הצר והמצומצם שלפני כותל המערבי שלנו, אם לא היו נביאים בני נביאים היו, ונזרקה בהם רוח הקודש לכוון את המקום המכוון נגד חצי הדרומי של המקדש, וזה שער השמים!”
About this work, see Zikhronot, pp. 173, 223.
[13] מיכאל הכהן בראַווער, פאר יצחק: זה ספר תולדות … רבנו יצחק אייזיק זצ”ל מזידיטשוב…, לבוב תרפ”ח. On the title page, Brawer is described as “איש ירושלים (תוכבב”א)”. A second edition was printed in Satu Mare c.1938 without Brawer’s permission or knowledge, under the assumption that Brawer had already died (Zikhronot, pp. 223-224). Pe’er Yitzḥak can be accessed at http://www.hebrewbooks.org/3938.
[14] For the cities mentioned here (and above in note 11 and below in notes 21 and 24) I have used the Polish spelling of the interwar period, when Brawer authored the books. At the time R. Yitzḥak Ayzik was active, Żydaczów was in the Austro-Hungarian province of Galicia and today the town of Жидачів (=Zhydachiv) is in western Ukraine. Kołomyja, or Коломия (=Kolomyya), is also in western Ukraine today.
[15] See: האדמו”ר ממונקאטש ר’ חיים אלעזר שפירא, נמוקי אורח חיים, טארנא תר”ץ, סימן תע; הנ”ל, דברי תורה, מהדורא חמישאה, מונקאטש תרצ”ג, אות ט. The Munkatcher rebbe was enraged primarily due to a report about an halakhic position of the Żydaczów hasidic court. According to the report, the passage stating that first-borns must fast, mit’anim, on Pesah eve contained a copy error and should read that the first-borns should rejoice, mit’angim (Pe’er Yitzḥak, chapter 25 section 4). The implication of this correction was that a law that had been codified in the Shulḥan Arukh was to be erased. This was too much for the Munkatcher Rebbe who concluded that Pe’er Yitzḥak should be burned. Brawer defended himself against the attacks of the Munkatcher Rebbe in his later work Tzvi LaTzaddik (see below note 17), chapter 12, section 9.
Despite the book’s popularity the suggested textual emendation that so vexed the Munkatcher Rebbe, has not been accepted by halakhists and academicians.
[16] Zikhronot, p 223. An indication of the popularity of Pe’er Yitzḥak is the photo-offset reprintings since World War II (Brooklyn 195?, New York 1962, Jerusalem 1968, Brooklyn 1976, Brooklyn 1989) and the recent two new editions of the work (Brooklyn 2005 and Brooklyn 2006).
[17] מיכאל הכהן בראַווער, צבי לצדיק: פרי למאה י”א תמוז תקצ”א – י”א תמוז תרצ”א, ספר זכרון לאדומו”ר … רבי צבי הריש זצ”ל מזידטשוב ליום מלאת מאה שנה לפטירתו, וינה תרצ”א. This work has also been reprinted in photo-offset reprintings (Jerusalem 1972, Brooklyn 1976, Brooklyn 1989). More recently two new editions with indices have appeared (Brooklyn 2001 and Brooklyn 2005). Tzvi LaTzaddik can be accessed at http://www.hebrewbooks.org/3939.
[18] Zikhronot, p. 223.
[19] Brawer contributed to the Hebrew paper Hamitzpe that was issued in Kraków in the years 1904-1914 (Zikhronot, p. 223). Brawer also contributed to Hazofe. In early 2007, Hazofe ran an article by Akiva Zimmerman in honor of the 20,000th edition of the paper. In that article mention was made of journalist “dynasties”, lauding, inter alia, three generations of Brawers who contributed to the newspaper; see Hazofe, 9th February 2007, available at http://www.hazofe.co.il/web%5Cnewsnew%5Ckatava6.asp?Modul=24&id=54702&Word=&gilayon=3005&mador=136. Brawer’s grandson, Moshe – best known in Israel for his atlases – would sign his articles with the pseudonym משה בר-אי.
Brawer also penned a short work about the Jewish calendar entitled על סדר השנה, Jerusalem 1920 (a copy inscribed by the author is held in the National Library, Jerusalem). Dr Brawer referred to a eulogy that his father wrote in honor of Rabbi Aryeh Leibush Horowitz (Zikhronot, pp. 222-223).
[20] See Zikhronot, p. 125:
“כשנעשיתי בר מצוה החלו שדכנים לטפל בי. ואיך לא יטפלו בבחור כבן י”ד שנה, שכבר סיים החלק הראשון של שלחן ערוך, יורה דעה, ולומד בעצמו בכל יום דף גמרא ותוספות וכל רז לא אניס ליה במקומות החמורים במהרש”א ומהר”ם שיף, ופי שנים ברוחו לכתוב מליצות נשגבות בלשון הקודש, לחוד חידות, ולחבר שירים, ולחנוכה ולפורים ולקונן קינות על צדיקים ומיתות משונות, וכדומה מן המעלות החשובות, שנמצאו ושלא נמצאו בי.”
[21] The Gwoździec referred to by Brawer (Brawer spells the town’s name as גבוזדזיץ; in Yiddish the name is normally written as גוואזדזיעץ) is situated in the district (powiat, in Polish) of Kołomyja, north east of that city, in the county (województwo, in Polish) of Stanisławów; today Гвіздець (=Gvozdets) in Ukraine (not to be confused with two other towns of the same name in south eastern Poland today).
Brawer described the pedigree of this honoured guest (Zikhronot, p, 128):
“הוא היה בנו של הצדיק ר הירש קופיל ז”ל מעיר הנ”ל וחתנו של האדמו”ר ר’ אברהם ז”ל ממיקולאיוב.”
As yet, I have been unsuccessful in identifying this figure.
[22] Zikhronot, pp. 127-130; Translations herein are my own.
[23] The Hebrew term “pipul” refers to intense textual analysis of the Talmud with the goal of explaining or reconciling apparent contradictions. This method of study became popular amongst late 15th century Talmudists in Poland, though it was criticised in some quarters, inter alia, for the motivation associated with the method: to impress others. For more on pipul, see Jewish Encyclopedia, New York 1901-1906, s.v. pipul, available at http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/view_friendly.jsp?artid=318&letter=P; Encyclopaedia Judaica, Jerusalem 1971, s.v. pipul.
[24] Kosów is also in the county (województwo, in Polish) of Stanisławów, south of Kołomyja. It was the seat of the Kosov Hasidic dynasty. Rabbi Yaakov Shimshon Hager of Kosov (1814-1880) was the hasidic rebbe at the time (though at the time of writing he had already passed away and hence the appellation). Today Косiв (=Kosiv) is in western Ukraine (and should not to be confused with two other towns of the same name in central Poland today).
[25] The Hebrew phrase here – ראיתי דבר הלכה ונזכרתי במעשה – is a play on the talmudic expression ראה מעשה ונזכר הלכה, which appears, inter alia, in a story about the sage Hillel on Pesaḥ; see B. Pesaḥim 66a.
[26] The kittel is a simple white robe, similar to burial shrouds, that is worn by some Ashkenazi Jews at the seder, and is more prevalent amongst Ashkenazi Jews on the High Holy Days.
[27] In the Hebrew, Brawer used the phrase from the haggada שאינו יודע לשאול, the words used to describe the fourth son who knows not how to ask questions. This is contrasted with the reference to the בן חכם, the wise son, in the previous line.
[28] This Hebrew phrase – זריזין מקדימין לאכילה – is a play on the words זריזין מקדימין למצוות, the diligent are quick to fulfill mitzvot.
[29] Koraḥ’s extreme wealth was legendary, see B. Sanhedrin 110a. In modern Hebrew parlance, the term עשיר כקרח (=wealthy like Koraḥ) is used to describe someone who is extremely rich.
In the Hebrew original, Brawer used the words “ממון כרח” in inverted commas; I am unfamiliar with this version of the expression. See Tanhuma, Mishpatim 8 where Koraḥ’s wealth is depicted as an example of riches that bring the owner no fortune; this is apparently the sense of Brawer’s words: expenditure that brings no providence.
[30] Cf. For a positive perspective on rote learning, see my article in an earlier volume of this journal: “Learning the Laws by Rote”, Jewish Educational Leadership, Vol. 3:1, Fall 2004, pp. 56-61.
[31] The defined nature of the modern seder that I referred to in the opening paragraphs of this article, has been observed and described in a previous issue of this journal, see: Zvi Grumet, “והגדת לבנך: The Passover Seder as a Model for Oral Transmission”, Jewish Educational Leadership, Vol. 3:1, Fall 2004, p. 26. The author contrasts the modern seder with the original talmudic seder, noting: “Perhaps the worst thing a parent could have done was to teach the child what would be happening prior to that evening.” In his final paragraph Rabbi Grumet offers some practical suggestions for schools to revive the original form of the seder as the quintessential educational experience.