More Than Four Questions
By Rabbi Cantor Jacqueline Menaker
At its best, the Passover Seder is not a scripted performance—it is a living conversation. We often focus on the importance of our children learning “the Four Questions,” but a successful Seder is not measured by how well those questions are recited. It is measured by how many new questions are born around the table.
The Haggadah itself points us in this direction. “At our Passover Seders, we should encourage children (and adults) to ask any and all questions that come to their minds… in such a way that we inspire those gathered to ask more questions.” (Mishkan HaSeder p.33).The goal is not answers alone, but curiosity—curiosity that awakens us to the world, to injustice and inequity, and to our responsibility toward others.
Our tradition has long understood this. The Talmud (Pesachim 115b) tells of Abaye, who would remove the dishes from the table before the meal. The children, puzzled, would ask: Why is everything being taken away? The disruption was intentional. The purpose of the Seder is to provoke curiosity.
And yet, we might ask: in modern times, is provocation enough? Do clever techniques or gimmicks truly cultivate lasting curiosity? Perhaps the deeper task is not simply to engineer questions, but to tell our story so compellingly that questions naturally emerge. This begins with language. The Haggadah itself models accessibility by incorporating Aramaic—the vernacular of its time—reminding us that sacred stories must be told in words people can understand. In our day, that principle extends beyond language tos style, tone, and modality.
A plethora of examples exist including, but not limited to artistic haggadot like the Moss, Szyk, inclusive haggadot like the May’an Women' s Haggadah, LGBTQ+, and Disability- inclusive, activist haggadot such as the Freedom Seder, HIAS and Eco, family friendly haggadot like the 30 minute Seder, PJ library, pop-culture haggadot including the Star Wars, Baseball, Harry Potter and more.
The wide array of contemporary Haggadot reflects a genuine desire to make the story resonate. But the abundance of options is not the point. The question is whether our telling reaches the hearts and minds of those gathered. I think back to my own childhood Seders—filled with beloved family, cherished melodies, and the powerful baritone voice of my father, Norman Grad z”l. The ritual was beautiful, but much of it felt distant. I chanted Mah Nishtanah with gusto, yet my deeper curiosity was not ignited until much later in life when I was compelled by my life experiences to reconnect with my Jewish roots as a young adult. The Seder was aningful—but not yet transformative.
I believe that transformation begins with storytelling. The Haggadah itself frames the telling of our story in multiple ways: Avadim hayinu—we were slaves, physically oppressed—and, as Rav teaches, we also emerged from spiritual degradation, from a past of idolatry. Redemption is not only about leaving Egypt; it is about becoming something new. When we tell that story well—when we move beyond rote recitation and into lived narrative—we open the door to transformation. I was reminded of this during a recent advocacy weekend in Washington, D.C. at the L’Taken Jewish Teen Social Justice Seminar at the Religious Action Center for Reform Judaism: the student advocates learned that although the data mattered, the sources mattered, even the “ask” mattered, what truly shifted hearts was the story—how it was told, and whether it connected to something real and human in the listener. The same is true at our Seder tables. If the message of liberation is conveyed not just as history but as lived experience—if the miracles we recount point toward the ongoing miracle of Jewish survival and flourishing—then something powerful can take root. A spark is lit. That spark may grow into a deeper Jewish identity, a sense of responsibility, and the resilience needed to navigate an increasingly complex and challenging world. I recognized a transformation with the teens who shared their stories on Capitol Hill recently and witnessed a meaningful reaction from legislative staff who were moved by their message.
Especially now, in these challenging times, our connection to the story matters. So perhaps this year, we should shift our focus.
Rather than assigning only the Four Questions to the youngest at the table, we might additionally ask ourselves: how can we tell this story so that everyone at the table feels compelled to ask their own?
Because the true measure of a Seder is not whether the questions are answered. It is whether the story inspires us to keep asking..