Reprinted with permission of the Jewish Theological Seminary.
I have always been puzzled by the questions of the four children at the seder. Often, we gloss over them to get to the famed Hillel sandwich, pausing only to recognize the pedagogic missteps in providing answers to the four inquisitors; however, this year I am particularly struck by the question of the wicked child who asks, What is this service to you?
This seemingly brazen question smacks with spite and makes me think back to younger days in shul when I just did not have the perseverance to sit still through the rabbi’s sermon, and I would lash out at my parents questioning the very relevance of the service.
But, I believe the question of the wicked child is even more of an indictment than the complaint of a restless child in shul. The term we use for our service of God is the same word as the service of a slave–avodah.
The wicked child, then, is questioning the relevance of our current avodah. She believes that religion is about spirituality, faith, and cleaving to the Divine, yet this is absent in the intricacies of the laws of Judaism. We replace our labor in Egypt with an observance just as vacuous. Here we stand on the other side of the Red Sea, which miraculously split before us, and our observance does not reflect the wonder and radical amazement that would be consistent with our experience.
Viewing her question in this way, the wicked child forces us to face the problem of the tension between observance and passion. The angst she expresses is targeted at a religion in which practice is without passion, action without intention.
Action vs. Intention
This tension is manifest within our tradition. Rabbeinu Asher, a French Talmudist and halakhist [Jewish law expert] in the 14th century, commenting on the laws of prayer in the legal compendium known as the Tur, wrote that if we recite a blessing without any intention, we still fulfill our obligation to recite that blessing; however, shortly afterward, he rules the exact opposite with regard to hearing a blessing recited by the cantor, stating that our inner dialogue does have decisive importance and that it can prevent us from fulfilling our obligations.