Rabbi Hara E. Person

Chief Executive, Central Conference of American Rabbis


Our Sages taught:

At the very hour that the Egyptians were drowning,

the angels wanted to sing before the Holy Blessed One.

God said to them:

“My children are drowning in the sea—

yet you would sing in My presence!


As the heirs of slaves redeemed from Egypt’s violence,

we rejoice at the sight of oppression overcome.

Yet our triumph is diminished by the slaughter of the foe.

Therefore, we take ten drops from the wine within our cups:

one for each plague God brought upon Egypt.

—Mishkan HaSeder: A Passover Haggadah


The angels watch as the Egyptian soldiers plunge into the sea behind the Israelites. But unlike the Israelites, for whom the waters parted, the waters close in on the Egyptians and they begin to drown. “Come let us sing,” shout the angels, “a song of praise! A song of redemption, a hymn of triumph!” Their hearts full of thanksgiving, they yearn to sing of victory, a song of release from pain and oppression.

The Talmud teaches:

The angels wanted to sing their songs but the Holy One said, the work of my hands, the Egyptians, are drowning at sea and you wish to sing? Therefore we conclude that God does not rejoice over the death of the wicked (BT M’gillah 10b). God interrupts the angels, reminding them that the Egyptians too are God’s children. Asking the angels to feel empathy for their enemies goes against their every impulse. If the angels had difficulty not taking pleasure in the suffering of their enemy, how much harder this is for us humans. To complicate matters, Rabbi Elazar argues that while God does not rejoice in the deaths of the wicked, God does cause us to rejoice. God recognizes that we are not divine. As humans, when we are hurt, there is a natural impulse to desire retribution. And yet God’s example to take no pleasure in the suffering of others presents us with a challenge: to hold ourselves to a higher standard.

To be human, created in God's image, is to struggle, against all evidence to the contrary, to recognize the humanity of all God's creatures. If God can see the humanity in all people, how can we not also aspire to do so? If God is pained at the deaths of all God’s children, we too must push ourselves to feel the pain of others, some of whom are our enemies, but some of whom are innocents: children, women, the elderly.

At our seder tables, we rejoice as a people in our ongoing survival, generation after generation, despite those who would seek to destroy us. We focus on the “us-ness” of our story, that which makes us unique as the Jewish people. At the same time, we are invited to be God’s partner in responding to the pain of people who are not us, but are still God’s children.

The Haggadah exhorts us to rejoice at oppression overcome, while inviting us to lessen the joy of our full cups of wine in commemoration of the suffering of our foes. And if we are to care about those who are our foes, how much more must we care about those who are not even our foes, but are simply not us. That is our challenge as free people—to care for the fates of others. It may be difficult work, but if this is God’s struggle, shouldn’t it also be ours? 



haggadah Section: -- Ten Plagues
Source: https://ravblog.ccarnet.org/2024/03/ccar-passover-haggadah-supplement-prayers-poems-songs-and-meditations-in-response-to-october-7/