Every year, as Passover approaches, I find myself doing what many Jewish mothers do: jotting down menus, assigning folding chair duties, debating which kugel (casserole) will earn a repeat performance. But alongside the brisket and the matzah ball soup, there’s another list I obsess over ā the stack of Haggadot I place at the table.
Because at my Seder (Passover meal), it’s never just about retelling the story of the Exodus. It’s about reaching the people gathered to hear it.
Let me be clear: the biblical commandments, the order of the Seder, the essential prayers and blessings ā these remain unchanged. In Judaism, we call this halacha ā the way we walk in obedience to God’s law. These elements are non-negotiable and preserved intact across all Haggadot.
But within this fixed framework, the people who gather at my table are wonderfully different. There’s the teenager who perks up only when the text connects to their experience. The Israeli cousin who craves something rooted in Hebrew. The questioning uncle who thrives on philosophical debate. The wide-eyed child who just learned to read and wants to feel important. And there’s always someone new ā someone who didn’t grow up with the rituals, holding the Haggadah like it’s both a map and a mystery.
I want to introduce you then to a tradition we have in my family. We use different types of Haggadahs – that engage different personalities.
There’s the Hamilton-inspired Haggadah for the musical soul. The artfully illustrated Haggadah for the visually minded. The IDF Haggadah that reverently connects our ancient redemption to modern courage. One with scholarly commentary that digs deep. One with colorful pictures that welcomes the very young.
While these supplementary materials vary in presentation, they all conform to the essential required elements. It’s not about changing the message ā it’s about ensuring the unchanging message is truly heard.
How can one story serve so many different hearts and minds?
The answer lies in the Haggadah itself, which gives us a model for this kind of tailored storytelling: the Four Sons.
“The Torah speaks of four sons: One is wise, one is wicked, one is simple, and one does not know how to ask.” This ancient teaching comes directly from our Haggadah and is rooted in four separate passages in the Torah where God commands us to explain the Exodus to our children.
For the wise child, the Torah records: “When your son asks you in time to come, saying, ‘What are the testimonies, the statutes, and the judgments which the LORD our God has commanded you?’ Then you shall say to your son: ‘We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, and the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.'”
This is the question of the wise child ā he wants to understand the details, the laws, the full weight of our tradition.
For the wicked child, the Torah says: “And when your children say to you, ‘What do you mean by this service?'” .
He excludes himself from the community by asking, “What does this service mean to you?” We respond firmly about what God did for ME, not for him ā showing that faith requires participation, not just observation.
For the simple child, the Torah provides: “And it shall be when your son asks you in time to come, saying, ‘What is this?’ that you shall say to him, ‘By strength of hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt, from the house of bondage.'”
And for the child who doesn’t even know how to ask? The Torah instructs: “And you shall tell your son in that day, saying, ‘This is done because of what the LORD did for me when I came up from Egypt.'” (Exodus 13:8)
Each verse prescribes a different answer. A different approach. A different entry point into the same sacred story.
This isn’t just good teaching technique. It’s divine instruction. God Himself recognized that faith isn’t transmitted through a one-size-fits-all approach. The Creator of all human personalities designed a transmission system as varied as the hearts receiving it.
This wisdom stretches far beyond Passover. It’s about how we pass down any sacred truth.
In my home, I’ve seen children gravitate toward different aspects of our faith. One connects through music, another through study, a third through acts of kindness. Each finds their own gateway to the same God.
And I suspect this rings true for your families as well.
The genius of the Four Songs teaching is that it respects these differences without compromising the core message. We don’t change the Exodus story ā we change how we tell it.
This approach demands more from us as parents and teachers. We must know both our tradition AND our audience. We must be translators, making ancient wisdom accessible without watering it down.
Moses himself modeled this when he reviewed the Torah in the book of Deuteronomy, adapting his language for a new generation born in the wilderness. King Solomon understood this when he wrote, “Train up a child according to his way” (Proverbs 22:6).
And so I continue collecting Haggadot. Not because any single one is perfect, but because together they help me reach every person at my table. In their variety, they fulfill the true purpose of the Seder: not just to remember that we were slaves in Egypt, but to make each person feel as if they themselves had been liberated.
This is the miracle of successful faith transmission. Not that we say the perfect words, but that we find the right words for each listening heart.
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