Category: Torah thoughts

The four sons described in the haggadah represent different approaches to engaging with each other and ourselves during the seder.  In reflecting on this section of the haggadah, we most often focus our attention on the chacham, the “wise” son and the rasha, the “wicked” son, comparing and contrasting the questions they raise and the answers given.  This debate is an essential element of engaging with the haggadah, in that we must struggle between our hyperfocus on carefully fulfilling the various rituals of the seder while also wondering what is tonight’s value and worth. 

            After the wise and wicked, we come to the third and fourth sons, the tam, the “simple” child and the one who doesn’t know what to ask. At first glance, most of us presume these “sons” are merely unable to reflect on the depth of Passover’s meaning.  For the simple son, this means asking a direct and simple question, “what is this.” And for the one who doesn’t know how to ask, our picture is usually of a young child, with the lesson being that we are responsible to teach the story to all, regardless of how they are able to engage.

            However, if we take a step back from our pre-conceived ideas about these four sons, perhaps our approach on the seder night can change as well. The Haggadah’s text doesn’t indicate if any of the four children is really so distinct from the other.  All we have are the single word descriptions related to the type of question posed. Imagine all four sons being about the same age, the same type and having been educated in the same way.  How do we know that these four are really so much different?  Since we recognize that the four sons is a paradigm for four different ways to approach the seder, we can presume there is a commonality between the four.  As such, allow me to offer a nuanced, variant way to read the four sons.

            Wise son:  The wise son, in asking about various details of the halachot for Pesach night, is the person whose relationship to the seder night is to the formal and intricate details of the night’s rituals.  Notice that this is the only son for whom we do not quote from the Torah.  Instead, the answer given is to review the laws of Pesach all the way until the idea of not eating after the afikoman.  This is a means of encouraging the experience of Pesach being tied into the rituals of the night. Yet, while the intricacies are of value, the wise son’s question seems to be missing a whole other element, relating to the story of Pesach night.  Nevertheless, we don’t try to steer this child into a different conversation.  Rather, we meet the child in their “wisdom.”

            Wicked son:  The wicked son is always a complicated topic as we read the question, in which he asks “what is this worship to you,” in a more negative tone than the wise son’s similarly phrased question of “what are all the laws, statutes and rules that Gd commanded you.” Leaving aside the various debates about why the distinction is made between the two questions, I want to focus on the response.  Sometimes, we sit at the Seder and honestly feel left out, feel alienated, feel like it isn’t speaking to “us.”  It can get to the point where we just wonder what’s the point of all the fuss on Passover night.  As such, the wicked son is saying, why are we bothering with all this, it doesn’t relate to me.  The response is jarring, not to run off the “wicked” son, but to respond to the despondency and frustration with a harsh reality check.  For this son, like the wise son, we engage the person where they are at in the moment.  This person won’t relate to the discussion of the laws of the night, nor for that matter a whole review of the story, at least until such time as the “wicked” son is able to become reengaged in how this story of our redemption is a story that should relate to him.

            As we can see from these first two sons, for many at the seder, the engagement with the seder is a deep, profound and also challenging experience. Yet, as is becoming clear, even in the dialogue of the wise and wicked, we are not just beholden to the script but must have the flexibility to engage with the person where they are at. I think this becomes more pronounced when we reflect on the simple son and the son who doesn’t know how to ask. 

Simple Son and Son who doesn’t know how to ask: Often times, we wait and wait for the perfect, deep, profound question. On Passover night, many a times we contrive to come up with the philosophical question that allows for a long conversation around the table during Maggid. And while that is a lofty goal, perhaps there is another way to approach the Seder. If we approach the Seder “unprepared” then we can approach it as more of the experience of the night rather than the intellectual undertaking that it often becomes. In certain ways, the wise and wicked sons both seem to lose sight of the experience of the night. Meanwhile, the simple and the one who doesn’t know how to ask, provide two examples of how important the overall experience of spontaneity at the seder can be in relation to the impact of preparation and reflection before joining together Passover night.

The simple son’s question of “what is this” implies not simplicity from ignorance but rather, the question of, “as we sit here tonight, what is the lesson of the night?  What is the message we are to walk away with?”  The answer given, “With the strength of [His] hand did the Lord take us out from Egypt, from the house of slaves’ (Exodus 13:14),” indicates that the primary lesson of the night about Gd redeeming us, bringing us out of the slavery towards freedom, is the ultimate take away message.  We might forget the long debates, the details of the arguments, but we should never lose sight of this most fundamental lesson. 

            Regarding the one who doesn’t know how to ask, the answer, strangely, is the same verse we offer the wicked son, “And you will speak to your son on that day saying, for the sake of this, did the Lord do [this] for me in my going out of Egypt (Exodus 13:8).”  We deliver this verse is a softer way to this last son, not because the last son is a small child who just is too young to know what to ask.  Rather, like the simple son, the one who doesn’t know how to ask is sitting at the seder, experiencing the rituals, reading the haggadah and presumes that there is nothing more they need to ask.  Yet, the goal is to personalize the experience. We invite this person to join in by introducing the idea that just like Gd did for me, so too Gd does for you.  We are not denying the experience in the moment of this last type of person.  Rather, we want to make sure this last son is engaged in the seder as an experience of the present, not just of the past, so we personalize it. 

            When we look at the four sons in this way, we can now see the commonality of the types.  All four are engaging in how to best experience the seder.  Each approaches it from a different vantage point.  And we respond from where that person is at.  Yet, I would also suggest that within the various answers we are also trying to expand the experience beyond where the person is most comfortable.  With the wise and wicked, we offer extreme answers to both engage and to push them to go beyond themselves. 

Most of us have moments of all four types during the Seder.  The four sons become the blueprint for how each of these modes of thought can be brought together to enhance our Seder night.  As such, whether we feel wise, wicked, simple or just can’t seem to find the question, we can and should engage one another in ways that invites the different parts of ourselves to truly be able to fulfill, “In every generation a person is obligated to see themselves as if they left Egypt.”