This, writes Chaim Saiman, is the fifth question on everyone’s mind on Passover. Ancient rabbinic sources—cited in the haggadah itself—state that it is praiseworthy to elaborate at length on the story of the exodus, and Moses Maimonides in the 12th century mandated the practice as preceding the Passover meal. But the Shulḥan Arukh, a major 16th-century law code, cites another ancient tradition: that the seder should move quickly so that the children can fulfill the ritual commandment of eating matzah before their bedtime, with further discussion reserved for afterward. Saiman detects an underlying philosophical difference between the two approaches:

The view of . . . Maimonides and the haggadah itself is that what the seder is about is the retelling and discussion of the story of the exodus from Egypt to the point where one sees oneself as having been personally redeemed. Here, the entire family uses story, study, and song to relive the birth of Jewish nationhood. When successful, this is surely close to the seder’s ideal. There is, however, also a cost to setting ambitions so high: the kids might fall asleep and the adults may tune out.

The conception of the seder in . . . the Shulḥan Arukh is more modest. The seder starts promptly and is (relatively) short so that no one misses out on the essential, legally mandated, ritual elements. Then, once the seder is over, those with the ability to [do so] can stay awake all night discussing the laws of Passover. . . .

The difference between these two views of the seder also relates to what is being taught. According to the haggadah and Maimonides, the centerpiece of the seder is the retelling of the Passover story, a form of narrative. . . . By contrast, the Shulḥan Arukh emphasizes studying the laws of the Passover sacrifice. . . . The disagreement is really a debate over how to preserve and convey the essence of the Jewish experience. Through law or narrative, legal reasoning or theology? This tension is present in the earliest rabbinic texts, carried forward in the positions of the later great halakhic authorities, and is still present at our own seder tables.

Two extraordinary events demonstrate something important about Israel’s most fervent adversaries. One was a speech given at something called The People’s Forum (funded generously by Goldman Sachs), which stated, “When the state of Israel is finally destroyed and erased from history, that will be the single most important blow we can give to destroying capitalism and imperialism.”

The suggestion that this tiny state is the linchpin of a global, centuries-old phenomenon like capitalism goes well beyond anything resembling rational criticism. Even if Israel were guilty of genocide, apartheid, and oppression—which of course it is not—it would not follow that its destruction would help end capitalism or imperialism.

The other was an anti-Israel protest that took place in front of New York City’s Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, deemed “complicit” in Israel’s evils. At organizers’ urging, participants shouted their slogans at kids in the cancer ward, who were watching from the windows. Given Hamas’s indifference toward the lives of Gazan children, such callousness toward non-Palestinian children from Hamas’s Western allies shouldn’t be surprising. The protest—like the abovementioned speech—deliberately conveyed the message that Israel is the ultimate evil and its destruction the ultimate good, cancer patients be damned.

The fact that Israel’s adversaries are almost comically perverse does not mean that they can be dismissed. If its allies fail to understand the obsessive and irrational hatred that it faces, they cannot effectively help it defend itself.