April 1, 2026
Going out of Egypt by Hagit Dardik Ackerman as it appears in Mishkan HaSeder, edited by Rabbi Hara Person, CCAR Press
Not with a strong hand
And not with an outstretched arm
And not with great awe
And not with signs
And not with wonders
But rather hesitantly
With small steps
Terrified by darkness
Softly
And with dedication
And with purpose
And precision
And love
Carrying little marks
Like the wrinkles of passing time,
And the transition of seasons,
My changing body,
The pearls of my longings.
Going out of Egypt.
Storytelling paints a picture of the past as we remember it on the canvas of our memories. To sit around our seder tables and tell the story is, in and of itself, a reflection that we are a free people with the ability to tell the story of our past. Our Haggadahs are filled with wine stains and matzah crumbs from seders past. The story contained on its pages reminds us of the eternal journey of our people and how we called out from the narrow place of Egypt and how God answered us from a wide expanse with a large embrace.
Perhaps we remember how we marched out of Egypt with pride and the steps we took with awe as we followed Moses who was guided by a pillar of fire. Perhaps we imagine God carrying us with a strong hand or an outstretched arm. Hagit Dardik Ackerman offers us another way to look at the experience of the Exodus. Maybe our steps were small and hesitant. Maybe we were afraid of what the future would hold as we left the only place we had ever known. She tells us that we carried marks, “like wrinkles of passing time.” Are those the wounds from the taskmaster’s whip or the impact of the sun on our labored bodies? Each mark carries the memory of slavery, pain, and longing for a better tomorrow.
When we tell the stories of our past, we sometimes look at them in retrospect with joy as we celebrate the survival of the moment. And yet, we forget the complexity of the emotions we may have felt as we were living it. Do the scars on our bodies serve as reminders for the emotions that are hidden beneath the dust of generations layered on top of them? As we dig through the past and sift through the memories, what remains in the sifter? We hold the joy and the pain, the light and the darkness, the awe and the trepidation. That is the complexity of our story. As we sit down at our seder tables to tell the story of our people, what is it that we as individuals are carrying with us?
Debra, Zoe, Shira, and I wish you a Zissen Pesach. May the holiday be filled with joy, sweetness, and profound moments of reflection on what the story holds for each of us.
Written by Rabbi Rick Kellner