A REFLECTION ON THE FOUR SONS

In the following reflection, the bold print represents the traditional words of the Haggadah,

whereas the plain print represents some responses by Rabbi Rank

The Torah refers to four sons:

Not really.  No where do “four sons” appear in the Torah, but the rabbis of old use the paradigm of four to teach us ways of responding to the different kinds of people who may be seated at our seder table.  That’s not a bad idea—one response does not fit all, and we should know how to respond to different people given their particular temperament.  So let’s begin by acknowledging the multiple differences among the Jewish people and the fact that about 50% of them are daughters (i.e., not sons). 

One wise, one wicked, one simple and one who does not know how to ask a question.

If only it were that easy to categorize people.  Let’s make no assumptions about who anyone is.  There’s a little bit of wisdom, wickedness, simplicity and cluelessness in us all.

What does the wise son say?

The translation ought to read, “What does the wise one ask?”

"What are the testimonials, statutes and laws Hashem our God commanded you?"

That’s not what the wise ones ask anymore.  Today the wise ones ask—If there is no evidence of the Israelites being in Egypt beyond the testimony of the Torah itself, why is this story worthy of so central a position in the consciousness of the Jewish people?

You should tell him about the laws of Pesah, that one may eat no dessert after eating the Pesah offering.

Actually, no—that answer is not going to work at all.  The answer to the wise one’s question is this.  It’s a challenging question because on the surface, it alleges Judaism to be based on a lie—which would not be a great thing.  Two responses:  1) the absence of evidence does not mean that the history of the exodus never took place, only that it cannot be verified; 2) but let’s assume the exodus did not take place.  If so, another question would be in order.  What does it say about the character of the Jewish people to have fabricated as its foundational myth a story about redemption and faith?  This is not a story about victory in war or the amassing of wealth, superior intelligence, or some other triumphalist myth.  Rather it is a story of an impoverished and oppressed people with little hope in the future, leaving the certainty of a miserable existence for an uncertain future based solely on their faith in God.  Gutsy—no?  That says a lot about our ancestors and the risks they were willing to take in life to improve their lot.

What does the wicked son say?

Before the question is asked, already this individual is judged.  Let everyone ask the questions they need to ask on a night when questioning itself is evidence of freedom.

"What does this drudgery mean to you?"

Wow—what a loaded translation.  The literal translation of the question is “What does this service mean to you?” and there’s nothing wrong with that question.  Perhaps it is framed as a wicked question only because it is so difficult to answer.  The Haggadah states that “In every generation, it is incumbent upon us to see ourselves as having left Egypt.”  So when this question is asked, it penetrates, because it demands that we actually talk about exodus and freedom from the heart, not the head.  How often we find ourselves in Mitzrayim—a place of plague, darkness, and death.  Will we remain trapped or find a way out? Tonight is the night we need never feel trapped by the Mitzrayims of personal circumstance.  Our faith has shown us a way to exit the place of darkness, but it will be a move not without risks or dangers. 

To you and not to him.

But this is the question—What does this service mean to YOU?  If he knew what it meant to HIM, he may not be so curious as to know what it meant to YOU.  The possibility exists that he knows full well what this service means to HIM, and now he wishes to know in what way his meaning compares or contrasts with yours. 

Since he excludes himself from the community, he has denied a basic principle of Judaism.

Anyone seated at your seder table has not excluded themselves from the community.  Sitting at the seder table is an affirmation of being part of the community and all who are hungry (for knowledge maybe?) are welcome to come and eat (i.e., ponder the mystery and mythology of Jewish peoplehood).

You should blunt his teeth…

No, no—not after thousands of dollars of orthodonture!!  But in all seriousness, anyone whose intent in answering a question begins with an attempt to put down the questioner is a person who has no idea how to answer a question.

…by saying to him: "It is for the sake of this that Hashem did for me when I left Egypt.

This is almost a real answer.  We do the matzah and the marror and the reclining and the karpas as a way of solidifying our lives with fellow Jews across nations and across continents, across generations both past and future, to be part of a Jewish fabric that professes a Power greater than us and a will to forever evolve toward deeper and deeper levels of freedom.

For me and not for him. If he was there he would not have been redeemed."

Actually, according to a Midrash, only a fifth, 20% of all the Jews in Egypt actually left.  The move to freedom with all the uncertainty such a move entails is not a popular choice.  Choosing the sacred is not and never has been a popular choice.

What does the simple son say?

Whether a question is simple of complicated, all questions deserve our attention.

"What's this?"

I wish we knew what the “this” referred to.  Maybe the answer is “What’s what?  What are you referring to specifically?”  This is a very general question and in order to answer it, we may need to inquire as to the specifics of the query.

You should say to him "With a strong hand Hashem took me out of Egypt, from the house of servitude."

If you can tell a tale of personal redemption, you have become an example for others to emulate.  When Henry would tell the story of his survival in Auschwitz, and how he emerged from the Hell of a Death Camp to become a successful architect, a loving husband and father, a connected Jew, his tale was worth more than 100 readings of the Haggadah.  But his tale also pointed to the deeper truth of the Haggadah, that redemption is real.  Redemption is possible.

And the one who does not know how to ask, you start for him, as the Torah says: "And you should tell your son on that day, saying 'It is for the sake of this that Hashem did for me when I left Egypt.'"

To the ones who do not know how to ask, we should remind them that to ask is a sacred action.  And never be afraid to ask for only through inquiry, curiosity and questioning do we learn, and only through learning and knowledge and wisdom, do we attain freedom.