Long after the questions have been asked, after the meal and the final
cup of wine, we come to that curious song, “Chad Gadya”. It is one of
the liveliest, most popular parts of the night. We all have our
favourite melody, our own way of increasing the tempo and ending up
There are at least four paradoxes to consider and puzzle over.
breathless.
Yet when we look at it more closely we find that it piles on paradox
after paradox until there are at least four paradoxes to consider and
puzzle over.
The first paradox is that it concludes a very ancient ritual while it
itself is quite a recent innovation. The essentials of the Seder go
back to the annual celebration held in the wilderness by the
generation who were redeemed from Egypt. Much of the text of the
Haggadah is found in the Mishnah and is at least 2000 years old. The
songs of the Seder, however, are much less ancient. Chad Gadya is less
than four hundred years old.
The second paradox is that the song is part of a sublime religious
occasion – yet, ridiculously, it is about a goat. The sublimity of
Pesach night is seen in the fact that one need not say the usual night
prayers since this is “Leil Shimmurim” when God watches over us with
special love. What has a song about goats, cats, dogs, sticks and
butcher shops to do with Pesach?
The third paradox is that though Chad Gadya is a nursery rhyme, the
adults all love it. It probably entered the Haggadah precisely as a
nursery rhyme. On Pesach, children must be stimulated to ask questions
and parents must ensure they can answer. But as the Seder continues
long after bedtime, something must be done to keep the children awake.
Hence the lively songs that lead to Chad Gadya. But how to explain its
appeal to adults?
An answer comes with the fourth paradox, which is that the song aims
to keep the children awake, yet its theme is no kinderspiel. One event
follows another with heartless cruelty. No one escapes unscathed. The
kid is harmless and innocent, but the cat consumes it. The dog takes
revenge on the cat, but the dog gets a beating. The stick beats the
dog, but the fire burns it. And so it proceeds. Perhaps it is the
realism of this process which attracts the adults. Who does not have
moments of despair when they see how the world stumbles from one
crisis to another? A cold, heartless, fate seems to drive the
inexorable course of events. Chad Gadya gives the process expression.
In case all this should leave one a despondent fatalist or a cynical
pessimist, the last line, the finale of the whole Haggadah, has a
triumphant crescendo: “Then came the Holy One, blessed be He, and
smote the angel of death, that slew the slaughterer, that slaughtered
the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burned the
stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the kid, that
father bought for two zuzim. One only kid. One only kid.”
Chain songs are known in many cultures. Chad Gadya is unusual in that
Every deed, even as ordinary as buying a goat in the market, is part of a chain.
it brings God into the story, it brings God into history. It shows
that actions have consequences, that every being must find that there
is a higher power, that there is no deed which in the end does not
lead up to God. Every deed, even as ordinary as buying a goat in the
market, is part of a chain. Somewhere that chain leads to God, and
those involved must answer before His throne of justice.
On the surface, it is not an ethical, a moral or a theological
question when one makes an ordinary business deal. It is simply a
matter of striking the best bargain. But somewhere or other, the
effects of what a businessman does begin to matter in earnest. In the
end he will have to answer to God who knows the deeds of men.
In politics the same applies. One nation might appear to prosper on a
policy of discrimination against a portion of its population. Another
nation or group of nations might seem to succeed in threatening the
survival or the security, freedom or integrity of another nation. An
oppressive, bullying ruler or regime might seem, for a while, to enjoy
the fruits of success. But, in the end, none can escape when the Holy
One, blessed be He, comes to call the slaughterer to account.
The sobering, significant lesson of Chad Gadya, as Longfellow put it,
is that "though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind
exceeding small; though with patience He stands waiting, with
exactness grinds He all.”
cup of wine, we come to that curious song, “Chad Gadya”. It is one of
the liveliest, most popular parts of the night. We all have our
favourite melody, our own way of increasing the tempo and ending up
There are at least four paradoxes to consider and puzzle over.
breathless.
Yet when we look at it more closely we find that it piles on paradox
after paradox until there are at least four paradoxes to consider and
puzzle over.
The first paradox is that it concludes a very ancient ritual while it
itself is quite a recent innovation. The essentials of the Seder go
back to the annual celebration held in the wilderness by the
generation who were redeemed from Egypt. Much of the text of the
Haggadah is found in the Mishnah and is at least 2000 years old. The
songs of the Seder, however, are much less ancient. Chad Gadya is less
than four hundred years old.
The second paradox is that the song is part of a sublime religious
occasion – yet, ridiculously, it is about a goat. The sublimity of
Pesach night is seen in the fact that one need not say the usual night
prayers since this is “Leil Shimmurim” when God watches over us with
special love. What has a song about goats, cats, dogs, sticks and
butcher shops to do with Pesach?
The third paradox is that though Chad Gadya is a nursery rhyme, the
adults all love it. It probably entered the Haggadah precisely as a
nursery rhyme. On Pesach, children must be stimulated to ask questions
and parents must ensure they can answer. But as the Seder continues
long after bedtime, something must be done to keep the children awake.
Hence the lively songs that lead to Chad Gadya. But how to explain its
appeal to adults?
An answer comes with the fourth paradox, which is that the song aims
to keep the children awake, yet its theme is no kinderspiel. One event
follows another with heartless cruelty. No one escapes unscathed. The
kid is harmless and innocent, but the cat consumes it. The dog takes
revenge on the cat, but the dog gets a beating. The stick beats the
dog, but the fire burns it. And so it proceeds. Perhaps it is the
realism of this process which attracts the adults. Who does not have
moments of despair when they see how the world stumbles from one
crisis to another? A cold, heartless, fate seems to drive the
inexorable course of events. Chad Gadya gives the process expression.
In case all this should leave one a despondent fatalist or a cynical
pessimist, the last line, the finale of the whole Haggadah, has a
triumphant crescendo: “Then came the Holy One, blessed be He, and
smote the angel of death, that slew the slaughterer, that slaughtered
the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, that burned the
stick, that beat the dog, that bit the cat, that ate the kid, that
father bought for two zuzim. One only kid. One only kid.”
Chain songs are known in many cultures. Chad Gadya is unusual in that
Every deed, even as ordinary as buying a goat in the market, is part of a chain.
it brings God into the story, it brings God into history. It shows
that actions have consequences, that every being must find that there
is a higher power, that there is no deed which in the end does not
lead up to God. Every deed, even as ordinary as buying a goat in the
market, is part of a chain. Somewhere that chain leads to God, and
those involved must answer before His throne of justice.
On the surface, it is not an ethical, a moral or a theological
question when one makes an ordinary business deal. It is simply a
matter of striking the best bargain. But somewhere or other, the
effects of what a businessman does begin to matter in earnest. In the
end he will have to answer to God who knows the deeds of men.
In politics the same applies. One nation might appear to prosper on a
policy of discrimination against a portion of its population. Another
nation or group of nations might seem to succeed in threatening the
survival or the security, freedom or integrity of another nation. An
oppressive, bullying ruler or regime might seem, for a while, to enjoy
the fruits of success. But, in the end, none can escape when the Holy
One, blessed be He, comes to call the slaughterer to account.
The sobering, significant lesson of Chad Gadya, as Longfellow put it,
is that "though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind
exceeding small; though with patience He stands waiting, with
exactness grinds He all.”