Why Passover begins with questions

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For several years when my daughter was little, between the ages of 4 and 7, I kept a bowl of mini marshmallows on our Passover table.

It was not part of the traditional ritual meal. It was simply a parenting strategy. Every time she or one of the children present asked a question about the Passover story or the unusual foods on the table, they received a marshmallow.

The system worked immediately. Small hands shot into the air.

“Is matzah just big crackers? Why do we eat it?”

“Who was Moses?”

“Why do we dip the parsley?”

“Do I really have to eat the bitter herbs?”

Some of the questions were thoughtful. Some were clearly strategic. (No, you don’t get a marshmallow for asking to go to the bathroom!) The children quickly realized that curiosity came with sugar attached. But the marshmallows were really reinforcing something the Passover meal already encourages. The holiday is built around questions.

Passover begins this year on the evening of Wednesday, April 1. Jewish families will gather around tables for a ritual meal called a Seder, where the biblical story of the Exodus from Egypt is retold. It is the central narrative of Jewish history: a story about slavery, liberation and the long journey toward freedom.

What surprises many people who encounter a Seder for the first time is that the evening contains many rituals and symbolic foods. But, instead of beginning with a lecture or a formal explanation of the story, it begins with a child asking a question.

Traditionally, the youngest person at the table asks what are known as the Four Questions, beginning with a simple one: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” The rest of the evening unfolds from there. The foods on the table are deliberately unusual and are meant to provoke curiosity. Matzah recalls the haste with which the Israelites fled Egypt. Bitter herbs evoke the harshness of slavery, while salt water represents tears. Parsley, dipped in the salt water, hints at the fragile renewal of spring. Even the structure of the meal interrupts itself with rituals and storytelling.

The Seder is designed this way for a reason. Questions create ownership of the story. When people ask the questions themselves, the story stops belonging only to the past and begins to feel personal. And once the story feels personal, it begins to shape how we think about the world we live in now.

The traditional text that guides the Passover meal teaches that every generation must see itself as if it personally came out of Egypt. The story cannot remain distant history. When remembered and retold year after year, it shapes how people see the world around them.

At one point in the meal, participants lift the matzah and describe it as “the bread of affliction” eaten by ancestors who lived under oppression. At another moment, a traditional invitation is spoken: “Let all who are hungry come and eat.” In many homes today the invitation is symbolic, but its message is clear: freedom carries responsibilities. The story of liberation is incomplete if it does not sharpen our awareness of people who are still suffering.

Children often notice this tension first. They ask why bitter herbs appear on a table meant to celebrate freedom. The question opens the door to the story itself. The Seder begins with the memory of slavery, but it moves step by step toward freedom.

The marshmallows helped when my daughter was young. They encouraged the questions that might not have come otherwise and gave the children a reason to lean forward in their chairs rather than drift away from the conversation. Over time, though, the questions came more naturally. Curiosity no longer needed a reward.

Perhaps that is part of the wisdom behind the tradition. Questions, once learned, have a way of staying with us. They follow us beyond the table and into the ordinary decisions of daily life. What does freedom require of us? Who is still waiting for it? What responsibilities come with the lives we are fortunate enough to live?

Those questions rarely come with easy answers. But they remain worth asking.

Sarah Freidson is Rabbi of Temple Beth Shalom in Mahopac.

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