It’s the message of Pesach itself — gratitude for everything in life

“If He had brought us out from Mitzrayim, and had not carried out judgments against them, it would have been enough for us.” (Dayeinu, Haggadah)

At the Seder night, my family always sings “Dayeinu.” By the grace of G-d, I’ve witnessed a number of my generations singing this meaningful poem of praise to Hashem for the bountiful goodness He’s bestowed upon us.

Since I’m leading the singing, the melody may be somewhat out of tune, but what it lacks in pitch, it makes up for in enthusiasm.

The poem deals with apparent half-measures of the goodness that were bestowed upon us. One of my grandchildren intuitively remarked: “Zeide, it’s like proclaiming victory when your team’s winning, but only half the game’s been played. Isn’t such cheering premature?”

How can we say that it was sufficient for us to be delivered from Egyptian bondage even if later we would’ve been destroyed at the Yam Suf? Or what advantage would’ve accrued to us had we come to Har Sinai but never received the Torah? Why do we say that all these half-measures would’ve been more than enough? (Rabbi Berel Wein)

I was married for several years before I actually made Pesach. My initiation was harsh. I scoured, scrubbed, and shopped ’til I dropped. That Nissan I rode rocky rapids through rivers of tears.

Until we sat down to Kadeish. Then, looking around at my sparkling dining room, my kids’ eyes glowing as brightly as the silver I’d worked so hard to shine, my attitude did a 180. There was something so satisfying, so internally liberating, about celebrating a Seder that I worked so hard to bring to life.

Every year I fumble and grumble through two weeks of Nissan, but come the night of the Seder, that euphoria of accomplishment never fails to hit again.

The answer lies in the Jewish attitude toward gratitude. Gratitude is expressed in every step of life, even if it didn’t yield any positive results or accomplishments.

Once one learns to express gratitude simply for an opportunity, then how much more likely will he be to truly be grateful for actual positive results in his life?

Last year was no exception. As I set the ke’arah on the table, I was actually humming, despite the fact that my fingers were aching and my skin cracked and bleeding from too much cleanser.

The kids trouped in from shul and I took my seat at the table, a queen reviewing her subjects, pleased with her accomplishments.

And then I saw IT….

To this day I’m not sure what IT actually was. But there was no doubt. IT was chometz. Some sort of bread, yes, bread, a crust of something sitting smack in middle of our dining room floor.

At first I thought exhaustion was playing tricks with my eyes. But a minute later the kids spotted IT. Pandemonium ensued. Suffice it to say, we dealt with IT according to halachah, and after the chaos quieted, we sat back down to begin our Seder.

Although the silver may have shone just as brightly as before, my mood was blackened. It was so not fair! I’d scrubbed that floor until it shone. I’d vacuumed, sprayed, and spent weeks systematically banishing every suspicious crumb from my house.

Yes, I knew logically it wasn’t my fault that some stray Unidentified Leavened Object came slithering into my house from some subterranean Chometz Black Hole. But logic carries no weight with acrimonious emotions.

It wasn’t fair! Couldn’t I’ve been left with a warm fuzzy feeling of accomplishment as I sat down to my Seder? Couldn’t Hashem have rewarded me for all my hard work and seen to it that I could revel in my own pure chometz-free paradise?

This is not only the message of “Dayeinu.” It’s the message of Pesach itself — gratitude for everything in life, for the matzah and even the maror. Perhaps that’s why this poem of “Dayeinu” is usually put to melody. It’s meant to be a song of eternity.

It wasn’t until we got to Dayeinu that I finally managed to put things into perspective. My boys were trying to outsing each other. As the notes climbed higher and higher, they lifted me out of my brooding.

Dayeinu. It was enough. I’d tried enough. I persevered. My efforts were enough. Paradise is not perfection. It’s acceptance.

And for that I am grateful. Dayeinu.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 688)