When Terry Gips recites the 10 plagues at his Passover Seder, there won't be just frogs, boils and locusts. Gips will add to the torments of Biblical Egypt his own litany of contemporary ills -- polluted water, the misuse of nuclear energy and endangered species.

Passover, which begins tonight at sundown, commemorates the story of how God delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt and embraced them as his people. But a growing number of Jews such as Gips are expanding the timeless tale of liberation to reflect modern concerns.

"The way you're taught as a Jew is there is the Seder and this is the order and it came down from on high," said Gips, a Minneapolis environmentalist who infuses his Seder with a call to live in harmony with the Earth. "It's important to understand that it evolved. And that means that as a Jew today, I too can modify the Seder as needed and as appropriate."

The Haggadah, or script that guides the home ritual of the Passover meal, took its traditional form during the Middle Ages. Today, an estimated 3,000 versions exist, ranging from translations of Hebrew medieval manuscripts to contemporary interpretations of freedom. There are Haggadot, the plural form of the word, that emphasize the oppression of groups such as African-Americans, women, the homeless, and even gays and lesbians. Others celebrate freedom from psychological or physical ills, such as chemical dependency. A Humanistic Jewish Seder downplays God's intervention, while a growing number of environmental versions stress Passover's role as a herald of spring.

Although some more conservative Jews might criticize what they see as tinkering with a sacred text, many Jews note that every generation has sought to reinterpret the Haggadah in light of its own experience. Central to the Passover message is the idea that Jews should see themselves as having been personally rescued from slavery.

"The idea of a dynamic text which continually changes is very authentic," said Rabbi Barry Cytron, director of the Jay Phillips Center for Jewish-Christian Learning. "It's a way of updating the text and having it speak to current generations, of saying their story of liberation is our story of liberation."

Many women certainly have embraced the Passover story of liberation as their own. A generation after the first radical feminist Seders in the 1970s, women's Seders have become mainstream, and a growing number of Haggadot emphasize women's roles in the story of the Israelites' Exodus and in Jewish history.

"We remember our grandmothers and mothers in the kitchen preparing and serving the Passover meal," said Rabbi Elka Abrahamson, a senior rabbi at Temple Mount Zion, a large reform synagogue in St. Paul, which has its annual joint women's Seder this weekend with Temple Israel in Minneapolis. "There is a sense in the women's Seder that we're not going to stay in the kitchen, we're going to sit at the table and participate fully and energetically. We're going to become women of faith and not just women who faithfully serve."

Participants at the Mount Zion Seder will praise the Hebrew midwives whoo disobeyed Pharaoh's order to kill all the newborn Jewish sons, Pharaoh's daughter who raised Moses, and Jewish leaders such as Golda Meir. Alongside the cup of wine set out for the prophet Elijah, they will set out a cup for Moses' sister Miriam.

They will also place on the Seder plate what has become a common new symbol, an orange. It commemorates an exchange 25 years ago between now Rabbi Susannah Heschel and a man who opposed female religious teachers. He allegedly said a woman belongs on the bimah (pulpit) as much as bread belongs on the Seder plate. Bread is forbidden during Passover because it contains leaven. Heschel retorted that a woman is rather like an orange on a Seder plate, representing "transformation, not transgression" of tradition.

"There is a Seder for everything. It's a great way to look at your own world, through the lens of liberation," said Abrahamson.

While some Seders emphasize political liberation, others dwell on personal liberation, such as a Twin Cities Seder for Jews recovering from drug or alcohol addictions.

We celebrate freedom from addiction as well as exodus from slavery," said St. Louis Park resident Joyce Segelbaum, who broke an addiction to painkillers nearly 20 years ago. Shortly after becoming sober, she opened her home to other Jews in recovery who had nowhere to go on Passover. Soon treatment centers began sending patients.

About nine years ago, the crowds overflowing her living room forced her to move the Seder into the community. This year, nearly 100 people are expected to gather for a kosher meal and four cups of grape juice at the Jewish Community Center in Minneapolis. Like most women's Seders, the Freedom Seder takes place after the first two days of Passover, which families traditionally celebrate at home.

After the ritual washing of hands, participants recite the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, using a Haggadah compiled by local Rabbi Lee Snitzer. As participants dip parsley into salt water, they recall the salty tears of the Israelite slaves alongside the bitterness of their own lives in the bondage of addiction.

They recite the traditional 10 plagues, which God unleashed on Egypt as punishment for Pharaoh's refusal to release the Israelites from slavery. But people also talk about what plagues their own lives, such as loneliness, denial and financial ruin. "Pride is a big one," said Segelbaum.

The service ends with two prayers, the traditional Jewish Sh'ma and the Serenity Prayer of Alcoholics Anonymous.

While a life of sobriety represents freedom for the Jews in recovery, a life in harmony with the environment represents liberation for Terry Gips, who runs his own environmental consulting business. Because Passover falls during spring, the holiday has always highlighted the themes of renewal. Gips goes farther, drawing on the work of scholars who believe Passover is really the fusing of two ancient spring holidays, one celebrated by shepherds to mark the month of lambing and the other celebrated by farmers to prepare for the early barley and wheat harvest.

To highlight the spring connection of Passover, Gips grows horseradish in his back yard. It sprouts just in time for the holiday. He uses only organic foods at his Seder, and he will slip in a teaching on eco-kosher philosophy, which forbids any food that harms people or environment in its production.

His approach might raise a few eyebrows, but he insists it is faithful. "The history of the Seder is not over. It can still grow," he said. "You can still modify and add things to it. Instead of something just handed down to you, it's something given to you to create."

This article originally appeared in the St. Paul Pioneer Press in April 1999. Maja Beckstrom, who covers religion news, can be reached at mbeckstrom@pioneerpress.com, or 651-228-5295.