The Meaning of ‘We Were Slaves in Egypt’

In the Jewish Diaspora, one of the most persistent traditions is the gathering of family around a dining table for a festive Passover Seder. And within that family tradition of collectively reading the Haggadah – the Jewish text to guide participants through the recounting of the Exodus story to future generations – among the most persistent sub-traditions is that, at the outset of the ceremony, the youngest children at the gathering, in a song, ask the Four Questions, “Mah Nishtanah”.

The song’s opening line, which begins with the Hebrew “Mah Nishtana?”, asks: Why is this night different from all other nights? This is the fundamental question, and the youngest of the gathering go on to ask four sub-questions.

Much is made of “the asking of Questions”, both as a pedagogical tool for engaging the children, but also more broadly as one of the guiding imperatives of the Jewish intellectual tradition.

But here I want to sidestep the question of Questions, and analyze instead the Answer given in the immediately following passage, that begins: “Avadim Hayinu” “We were slaves of Pharoah in Egypt…”. In many editions of the Haggadah, this four-sentence paragraph is even titled as “THE ANSWER”.  Avadim Hayinu also has its own catchy tune. But here I want to focus on the text.

We have been publicly asked by the next generation a Question with four sub-Questions. Now we get the Answer in four sub-Answers. Here is the English translation:

“We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt and the Eternal our God brought us out from there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. Now if God had not brought out our ancestors from Egypt, then even we, our children, and our children’s children might still have been enslaved to Pharaoh in Egypt. Therefore, even were we all wise, all people of understanding, and even if we were all old and well learned in the Torah, it would still be our duty to tell the story of the departure from Egypt. And the more one tells of the departure from Egypt, the more are they to be praised.”

The four sentences of Avadim Hayinu provide the complete answer to Ma Nishtana?  The first two sentences give a concise explanation of the entire Passover story, and a clue as to how to understand it; the last two sentences give a concise explanation of the purpose of the Seder, and a guide as to how to conduct it.

The first sentence of Avadim Hayinu is about History; a Wikipedia-type one-line summary of the Pesach story: “We once were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, but then, God took us out.”

The second line is Historiography: “had we not been taken out of Egypt, we today would still be in Egypt, enslaved”. One interpretation: that the Exodus from Egypt is SO central to Jewish history; but for the Exodus, there would be no Sinai, so no revelation, and no Torah; no 40 years in the desert, no entry into the promised land, so no judges, no kings, so no David or Solomon; so no Jerusalem, and no Temple. The Exodus was the hinge of Jewish history.

But maybe not only Jewish history; also a hinge in world history. Exodus, representing the transformation of slaves into a free people, is a story that echoes through the ages, reflected (for example) in the gospel songs of the African slaves in America. And it introduced into ancient history the idea of moral progress – from slavery to freedom; that history has a direction; that there is progress. So, from the second line we learn that, were it not for the Exodus, not only would WE still be in Egypt, but we would ALL be still stuck with the institution of slavery, and the idea of history without progress.

The first two sentences tell us why this night is different – because of the history of the Exodus, which Passover commemorates. The second two sentences tell us why this night is different, because of the Seder, which Passover ALSO commemorates.

First, it is a commandment to tell about the Exodus from Egypt. Of course, we already have the whole story written out in the Torah, in the Book of Exodus. But even in a famously text-based tradition, having it written down, though important, is not the obligation. The commandment is to TELL – it is oral tradition.

Epi Epstein at Limmud Toronto 2017, gave a useful definition of myth. The popular layman’s understanding is that a myth is something which is a false story, but that is told as if it were true. But Epstein defines myth as the anthropologist defines myth: a myth is a story SO true (not necessarily factual, but so true) that it compels individuals, tribes, nations, civilizations to change their behavior. The Exodus, whether or not it is factual, is a story so true that it compelled the Jewish people to tell and retell this story, and to commemorate it for thousands of years; and the fact is, millions of Jews around the world will be doing it, again, this Saturday night, April 12, 2025.

So the miracle of the Exodus story, a miracle that is factually true, is that we are still telling the story, and we have been telling it, for three thousand years.

My friend Jan Hardenbergh, in his micro-poem Posternity, says: “Bits rot; Paper goes Poof. Etched titanium long preserves. But only fresh copies approximate permanence.” Every Spring of every year, at every Seder, we are making fresh copies.

Finally, the last sentence of Avadim Hayinu tells us how to perform the Seder. In the aftermath of the destruction by Rome of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE, the 2^nd century rabbis and sages restructured Passover observance as a home-based ritual. It was the post-Temple creators of rabbinic Judaism who “invented” the Seder. The Torah commandment is to recount the Torah myth; the 2^nd century rabbis introduced rabbinic Judaism’s central imperative: interpretation. So the “how” is methodological, with a metric for quality: “the more we discuss the Exodus, the better”.

Our children ask a question with four sub-questions; we respond with an answer with four sub-answers. How? Recount the Exodus story to future generations, with live oral interpretation, to generate perpetual fresh copies of the Torah myth. Discuss.