Hallel is a section of prayer recited during the morning service for particular festivals. The word itself means “praise,” and it is comprised of six Psalms (113-118), all of which express thanks and praise to God, celebrating God’s kindness and compassion, and exclaiming: “Hallelujah.”
The Hallel recited during the Seder is different from Hallel at any other time: It is recited without a blessing, it is recited sitting down, it is recited at night, and it is recited in two parts. We recite two of the psalms of Hallel before the meal—before we have even crossed the Sea. We sing it in fear and anxiety, but also perhaps in anticipation. And then, after the meal—after the Sea, standing on dry land, and with a path forward—we recite the other four psalms of Hallel. We recite them with hope. We recite them with fear. We recite them, as I recently read, to remind us to help those who struggle to follow in our footsteps—to raise them up and show them that there is a path forward, even if it is circuitous or unsure. We recite them to remind us of who we are and where we have come from—what we have survived—to remind us of our strengths and God’s. And we recite them to remind us of our highest ideals, of what the Promised Land might look like, of what it feels like to bring and be our whole selves.
This year, I think we recite a new and slightly different Hallel: a Hallel of a people in the midst of the Sea, crossing through, but not quite there yet. We are coming through these last two years, we are gathered around Seder tables, we are imagining the near and the distant future. And yet, just like in the Seder itself, we are not there yet. People are still getting sick, people are still feeling war, we ourselves still face the trials and tribulations of life.
Because here’s the thing about Passover: Like the Torah itself—and perhaps like our lives—it is an unfinished story. While we move from slavery to freedom, the Haggadah—like the Torah—ends in the wilderness, not in the Promised Land. And yet, the Seder concludes with Hallel—the psalms of praise and of joy, of celebration and song. This is an act of courage; it is a statement of faith and resistance. To sing the songs of Hallel in the desert is, perhaps, to be halfway. It is to look around the wilderness—the imperfect world, our imperfect lives—and still say: Halleluyah. Give thanks and praise.
Chag Sameach.
Rabbi Sari Laufer
For more on Passover from Rabbi Sari, listen to her appearance on the Unorthodox Podcast, and read her latest op-ed for the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.