The Four Questions call to mind that much of the Seder revolves around multiples of four: the Four Cups, the Four Questions, and the Four Sons.

This use of 'four' alludes to the injunction that one who has been saved from danger must bring an offering of Thanksgiving to the Temple as an expression of gratitude. There are four general categories of such people (Tehillim ch. 107): those who cross a wilderness, (vs. 4-9), those who have been imprisoned (vs. 10-16), those who have been dangerously ill (vs. 17-21), and those who have crossed a sea (vs. 23-31). All these people were in situations that could have cost them their lives, but were spared thanks to God's mercy.

The Jews who left Egypt fell into all four categories: they crossed the sea which split for them; they traveled across the desert wilderness; they had spent many years in the prison that was Egypt; and they were ill as a result of the merciless persecution, until God healed them all at Mount Sinai. In gratitude to God for these four expressions of mercy, we stress the number four in the rituals of the Seder.

(The Vilna Gaon, 18th century Lithuania)

PROMINENCE OF CHILDREN

The Four Questions are symbolic of the prominent role given to children in the customs and observances of the Seder. Children play a particular part in the celebration of the Exodus because they were singled out for persecution by Pharaoh:

1) The king ordered the Jewish midwives to slaughter male babies (Exodus 1:16).

2) All male babies were to be thrown to their deaths in the river (Exodus 1:22).

3) When Pharaoh became a leper, he ordered the slaughter of Jewish children so that he could bathe in their blood (Midrash).

4) Many children were burned in Egyptian furnaces (Midrash).

5) If the Jewish slaves failed to fill their quota of bricks, children were cemented into the walls in place of bricks (Midrash).

6) Family life was disrupted to prevent the birth of children (Midrash).

7) Even when Pharaoh announced his willingness to let the Jews leave Egypt for three days to worship God, he refused to allow the children to accompany their parents (Exodus 10:10).

A TEACHING PRINCIPLE

The Talmud (Pesachim 114b) says that the reason why we do so many things differently at the seder is so that the children should ask and be answered, as the Torah states (Exodus 13:14), “And it will be when your son 'inquires' of you." However, why did the Torah specify that the Exodus narrative be told in question and answer form?

It is a pedagogical principle that learning is best understood and longest remembered if it engages the interest and curiosity of the student. He who is driven to inquire after solutions to problems will succeed best.

On the night of Passover, we strive to inculcate in ourselves, and especially in our impressionable children, a firm belief in God Who brought about the Exodus and demonstrated thereby that only He is the Master of the Universe. In order to instill this lesson and leave a lasting impression, we seek to excite the children so that they will seek answers and reasons. We assure that they will retain the lesson of the night. By engaging their curiosity and interest, we hope to ensure that the lessons of the evening will have a lasting effect on them.

(Chasan Sofer, 19th century Hungary)

BETTER TO ASK

One of the great masters of Mussar (Jewish ethical teaching) explained succinctly: "It is better to urge the children to ask questions while they are at home and their parents and teachers can respond, than to wait until outsiders incite them to doubt and question."

When that happens, it is often too late because questions can become the tools of the skeptic who neither seeks nor accepts valid answers. By that time, it may God forbid, be too late to steer them back onto the right path.

BUILT-IN CONTRADICTION

Although, simply understood, the Four Questions represent logical inquiries concerning obvious unusual characteristics of the Seder night, commentators explain that the questions are not randomly chosen.

The underlying theme of the evening is that Israel was catapulted from slavery to majesty in the blink of an eye. They began the night's observance as chattels of Pharaoh, but at the stroke of midnight, they were transformed into free men about to journey to Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. This is expressed in the apparently contradictory rituals of the evening: We eat matzah, 'the bread of affliction', and marror, the bitter herbs -both reminiscent of the grinding suffering of enslavement and servitude. On the other hand, we dip our food in sauces and recline on pillows, both customs symbolic of wealth and luxury.

The inquiring child is thus responding to the inconsistency he sees about him. The answer will be that there is no inconsistency -- on this night we recall the two conditions in which our ancestors found themselves on the first Passover in history: they began the night as slaves and ended it as free men.

This commentary also explains the order of the questions. They are grouped in pairs, the first alluding to slavery and the second to freedom. Otherwise, we would have expected the questions concerning dipping and reclining to have come first since those acts are done in the Seder ritual before the eating of matzah and marror.

(Abarbanel, 15th century Portugal)

THIS TRAGIC EXILE

The Four Questions can be interpreted homiletically in a novel manner:

Why is this 'night' -- an allegorical term meaning the dark night of exile -- different from all the other nights? Why is the current exile so long and seemingly unending while the early periods of exile and/or subjugation were of limited duration? To this question, four answers are offered:

1) In earlier times, while there may have been a certain degree of discord and rivalry among Jews, there was also a considerable degree of harmony and internal peace. In the current exile, the harmony has been submerged in constant strife. Until we are at peace with one another, we cannot expect God to ease our plight among the nations. The word chametz, leavening, alludes to strife, for yeast causes dough to ferment and become agitated, which in turn makes it rise. On the other hand, matzah, simple flour and water remaining in their humble, pristine state, represents peace and harmony.

2) In other exiles, we were not in such assiduous, single-minded pursuit of material wealth and luxury. We sought shar yerakot, any vegetables, i.e. simple, unpretentious living. But in the current exile we have descended to an excessive craving for marror, a bitter, misery-causing passion for excess and luxury.

3) In other exiles, we did not provoke gluttonous cravings by dipping our foods into exotic sauces -- i.e. we did not seek ways to excite our senses. But in this exile, we allow ourselves a double portion of 'dipping', i.e. we ravenously pursue physical pleasures.

4) In times past, we were sometimes mesubin -- arrogant, as symbolized by haughty reclining in a position of comfortable disregard. But we were sometimes yosh-vin, sitting, in simple humility. In this exile, however, we have grown arrogant, constantly reclining, consumed by the feeling that our own wealth, wisdom, and strength are responsible for whatever successes we have attained.

(Kli Yakar, 16th century Prague, in Olelos Ephraim)

SIGNIFICANCE OF CHALLENGE

“Only matzah.”

Jewish law says that the obligation to eat matzah can be discharged only by using flour that can, if left unattended, become leavened. Other sorts of flour -- potato meal, for example -- are unacceptable ingredients for matzah. The question arises, wouldn't it be even better to bake matzah from ingredients which could not possibly become stringently-forbidden chametz?

An ethical lesson can be derived from this law. To keep potato meal from becoming chametz is an achievement with no meaning. Only by zealously supervising the preparation of flour and water to prevent its leavening does a Jew manifest his loyalty to the Torah. Similarly, God put the destiny of the universe into the hands of imperfect man with all his inclinations and potential for evil. The achievement for which God longs is that man conquer his deficiencies and elevate himself.

This concept was also found in the story of the dispute between Moses and the angels (Shabbos 88b): The heavenly hosts argued that mortal man was unworthy of receiving the Torah. Moses' triumphant reply was that angels -- without jealousy, temptation, or evil inclination -- have no need for a Torah which was plainly meant for man with his constant internal battle between good and evil.

(Chasam Sofer, 18th century Hungary)

DOUBLE DIPPING

“But on this night [we dip] two times.”

Commentators note that the two dippings allude to two historical events which are connected with the Egyptian experience. The first was the act of Joseph's brothers who, after selling him into slavery, dipped his shirt into blood in order to help them convince Jacob that Joseph had been devoured by a wild beast (Genesis 37:31). That deed precipitated the Egyptian exile because Joseph became viceroy of Egypt and the provider of food to whom Jacob's family had to turn.

The second dipping was the prelude to freedom, for the Jews were commanded to dip a bunch

EVER PRESENT HOPE

“We all recline.”

The Talmud declares that even a Jewish pauper should recline at the Seder. Why this stress on a pauper when the obligation extends to all Jews?

Wealthy or even middle class people can recline contentedly, for their lives are reasonably comfortable and insulated from the problems of grinding poverty. But a poor person might well wonder whether life as a slave might not be preferable to insecurity and hunger.

Therefore the Midrash directs itself to the poor as if to say: Your ancestors were slaves who suffered bitter oppression. Yet, when the proper time arrived, God not only redeemed them, He punished their subjugators, split the sea, and supplied their every need for 40 years in the wilderness. History dictates, therefore, that however miserable your present circumstances, you should recline happily and securely, for God hovers over you, and your lot can be improved as dramatically as was that of your forefathers.

(K'sav Sofer, 19th century Hungary)