On days when every time you get out of the house again involves trying to guess the location of the daily hazard and a familiar anxiety seeping through the walls, you should think about how the children experience the difficulty.
They, who do not remember the previous rounds, and stories about villains seeking to take life they know only from the legends, are first exposed to human wolves emerging from television.
They recognize the parental concern in what is said and especially in what is not.
Those who may have been children in the previous round are now brainstorming how the new entrants to the Jewish-Israeli community can mediate the challenges that accompany it from its inception.
How to tell without hurting innocence, how to let grow quietly.
The Seder night that arrives tomorrow provides a possible direction.
Its contents are exemplary of a multi-generational decision to refrain from repression and for the participation of the young mourners in the constant confrontation with those who rise up against us and our brides.
The Haggadah does not miss an explicit description of the suffering of the Hebrew slaves and the deadly punishment of their masters.
Blood and fire and plumes of smoke appear on almost every page, and it is conceivable that if the familiar texts had been visually processed, they would have been restricted to an audience aged 16 and over.
Still, the kids are the undisputed stars of the festive evening.
They give it its special quality, joy and grace.
Ancient and difficult expressions like "in the image of my life" become in their mouths words of power and healing that help us all "create a more beautiful world."
The reason for this is clear: when you are in the arms of the family and celebrating its cohesion, the threat outside the door is also perceived as much less frightening.
Knowing that for centuries children and parents have been sitting and celebrating the defeat of the forces of evil, dwarfs the dangers of the present.
When everyone is sitting together around the table and making an order, the rush is left out.
The quizzes, family jokes and multiple game songs neutralize the horror and take away her main weapon.
The ceremony, which opens with "We Were Slaves" and seeks to sign "One Who Knows," touches on charged issues and gives them an adaptation aimed at the eye level of the tiny Afikoman criminals.
"Had Gadya", the ending chord of the evening, clarifies this point convincingly.
When looking at his plot, it's hard not to choke.
What begins with the purchase of a little goat, quickly rolls into a bloody tale about predators and prey, a violent food chain that seems almost endless, almost endless.
There is an animal in the world, the hymn states, and there is no point or ability to hide this fact from the human toddlers at the table.
Man is always in danger of behaving like a forest animal, but he has the ability to stand on his hind legs, hug his offspring and assure them that no matter what happens, the death angel's end will be defeated by forces stronger than him.
The ability of fire and sticks to strike should not be underestimated, but as they arrive in the song for a one-time visit and leave quickly, the one who is present throughout is the family affection, the one named "Dad bought one kid in two moves" and remembered more than any cat, dog or bull.
It is the reason for the existence of the evening and its main virtue.
Thanks to her, Alterman wrote in 1944, "there is a point in walls and talking about scoring, if at the end of the story Dad and Capricorn stand and wait for their turn to shine and come."
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