Is the Wicked Son really so bad? “What is the meaning of this service to you,” he asks. By emphasizing “to you,” the Haggadah tells us he sets himself apart from the Jewish People and forfeits his place among those saved in Egypt.
Now, admittedly, there are many ways to understand the parable of the Four Sons – as analogous to characteristics within each individual that must be properly cultivated and controlled; as archetypes of students and models for how best to teach them; and as corresponding to the generations of Jews removed from a traditional setting and struggling with their identity.
And yet, in each understanding, the Wicked Son is vilified. Even his name – Wicked – juxtaposes heavily with the other sons’ names that denote not a state of character, but a level of awareness and intelligence.
This article, my last one, is my farewell to The CJN. I have written here for nearly two years and would like to thank everyone for reading, even if you didn’t necessarily agree.
And, in typical fashion, I’d like to do so by way of a polemic – I am the Wicked Son.
Shocking, I know. Those of you who know me will surely disagree. “Not a chance,” you say. “You went to Bialik and CHAT [Community Hebrew Academy of Toronto], participated in the March of the Living and Birthright Israel, you can’t be the fabled Wicked Son of the seder.” (Note: if I had said I was the Simple Son, none of you would have batted an eye).
Rest assured, its true.
But I’d like to defend the Wicked Son. I don’t think he – nor I for that matter – deserves the bum rap he’s been getting. After all, what does he really say that’s so invective?
“What does this mean to you?” I’ve been struggling with a question very similar to that myself. Despite the idiom of walking a mile in another man’s shoes, we can only understand the world around us through our own eyes. My experiences colour every thought I have as much as my education and morals guide me.
When I go to shul, I ask, “What does this mean to you?” When I sit around the Sabbath table, I ask, “What does this mean to you?” And when I participate in the seder, I invariably ask, “What does this mean to you?” I ask these questions not out of contempt or disdain but out of the curiosity of a student wanting to learn.
The rituals of Judaism have, as their basis, a core set of beliefs – primary among them is the belief in a personal God, the God who led the Jews out of Egypt. So when I sit around the table, without personally relating to the rituals performed around me, I very intentionally ask what it means to others, who undoubtedly have a different set of beliefs underpinning their actions, to better understand their mentality.
The Wicked Son is only the son removed from the paradigm of those around him. He is only the son trying to understand a Jewish world as he sees it without the Jewish subtext. He is every Jew who sees the seder night as a repository of Jewish culture and heritage, and tries to work out what ritual means without belief.
After all, he is at the table, isn’t he? He is asking questions. He is interested.
Despite the coolness with which the so-called Wicked Son poses his question, he cannot be faulted for being set apart. The ritual he sees around him, having been performed for countless generations, does not have the same meaning for him as it did for his grandparents and theirs before them. And, in response to that, he asks questions.
And that is all I have tried to do in my tenure at The CJN – ask questions. I hope you have learned as much from this process as I have. Thank you for reading.
