Passover is one of the most symbol-rich holidays in Jewish tradition, and the Seder plate serves as a powerful reminder of the Exodus from Egypt. Each item tells a story of suffering, resilience, and redemption. While many Jewish families arrange their Seder plates in a traditional manner, Sephardic communities often follow a unique and deeply symbolic ritual—placing the maror (bitter herb) at the very center.
This is not merely a matter of aesthetics. It is a profound statement about suffering and growth, one that challenges us to see our struggles as not just part of the human experience but as essential to our spiritual and emotional development. In Sephardic tradition, bitterness is not something to be avoided or merely endured; it is something to be elevated.
Why Place Bitterness at the Center?
Of all the symbols on the Seder plate—the zeroa (shank bone), beitzah (egg), charoset (mortar-like mixture), karpas(greens), and maror—why choose bitterness as the focal point?
On the surface, Passover is about redemption, about moving from oppression to freedom. One might expect sweetness to take center stage. But Jewish wisdom teaches that true freedom comes not from erasing hardship but from confronting it. Maror is not just a reminder of past suffering—it is an active teacher of resilience.
The placement of maror at the center of the plate is a declaration that bitterness is not peripheral to the human experience but central to it. It forces us to ask: How do we deal with life’s hardships? Do we allow bitterness to define us, or do we use it to grow?
Bitterness and the Power of Language
The Hebrew language often reveals hidden connections between words that seem unrelated. The word mar (bitter), which gives us maror, is also the root of mora (teacher). The implication is striking: bitterness itself can be an instructor.
This idea appears in the biblical story of Marah, where the Israelites, after three days in the desert, find water—but it is undrinkable. They complain, and God instructs Moses to throw a tree into the water, making it sweet. What does this teach us? Not that bitterness is meant to be avoided, but that it can be transformed with wisdom, represented by the tree—often understood as Torah itself.
The message is clear: hardship has the potential to nourish us, if we approach it with the right perspective.
How God Heals Bitterness
A remarkable teaching from the Talmud reinforces this idea. Human beings, when faced with bitterness, try to mask it. If coffee is too bitter, we add sugar. If a situation is painful, we distract ourselves with pleasures. But God, according to the sages, heals bitterness with more bitterness.
At first glance, this seems counterintuitive. How can suffering heal suffering? But if we look at human experience, we see that it is precisely through confronting our struggles that we grow. A person who has faced hardship and emerged stronger does not simply forget their pain—they transform it into wisdom, into deeper empathy, into a capacity to teach others.
The Israelites, when they arrived at Marah, were given an important lesson: bitterness itself can be transformed into sustenance. Moses does not remove the bitter waters; rather, he alters their essence by adding something new. Likewise, our own struggles do not disappear, but we can change the way we engage with them.
The Wisdom of Viktor Frankl: Finding Meaning in Suffering
This idea resonates with modern psychology. Viktor Frankl, the renowned psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, built his entire philosophy of logotherapy around this concept. He observed that those who survived Auschwitz were not necessarily the strongest physically, but those who could find meaning in their suffering. If suffering is meaningless, it crushes us. But if it serves a purpose, if it refines us and helps us become better, it becomes a source of strength.
Frankl argued that we cannot always control what happens to us, but we can control our response. If we allow bitterness to consume us, we become stuck in pain. But if we recognize that suffering can be transformed into wisdom, we begin to heal.
Rumi’s Perspective on Welcoming Hardship
The Sufi poet Rumi also offers insight into how we engage with life’s difficulties. In one of his well-known teachings, he compares the human experience to a guest house, where every emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, and grief—arrives like an unexpected visitor.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Instead of resisting or rejecting the difficult emotions, Rumi encourages us to welcome them, recognizing that they each serve a purpose. Even hardship, he teaches, can clear us out for new growth. Much like the Sephardic custom of elevating maror, Rumi’s wisdom reminds us that suffering is not meant to be avoided but embraced as part of the greater journey of the soul.
Turning Pain Into Torah: The Teaching of Rabbi Hayim Stern
Jewish liturgy echoes this wisdom. Rabbi Hayim Stern, one of the great contributors to modern Jewish prayer books, wrote powerfully about the lessons of grief:
“The psalmist said, ‘In his affliction, he learned the law of God.’ And in truth, grief is a great teacher. When it sends us back to serve and bless the living, we learn how to counsel and comfort those who, like ourselves, are bowed with sorrow. We learn to keep silent in their presence and to know when a word will assure them of our love and concern. Thus, even when they are gone, the departed are with us, moving us to live as in their higher moments they themselves wished to live. We remember them now. They live on in our hearts. They are a blessing.”
Stern’s words suggest that grief, much like maror, is not something to be ignored or pushed away. It is something to be learned from. It is something that, in time, can become a source of wisdom.
A Shabbat Challenge: Embracing Life’s Bitter Moments
As we approach Passover, consider this challenge:
- Reflect on the bitter moments in your life.
- Ask yourself: What can this teach me?
- How can you transform pain into purpose?
- How can your suffering lead to growth, resilience, and ultimately, a blessing?
The Sephardic custom of placing maror at the center of the Seder plate is a call to embrace life’s difficulties, to elevate them, and to see them not as obstacles, but as opportunities for learning and transformation.
If we take the lesson of maror to heart, we might just discover that what we once saw as suffering was actually the beginning of wisdom.