A Story of two Seders

Who wouldn’t love a celebration of an escape from slavery and a commitment to ensure that no one else ever suffers the same fate. Passover has food, music and wine. All good. Most of the Seders I’ve attended have been at my Aunt Heather and Uncle Mel’s house in New Jersey. They were kind enough to include us this year and so we went. At their house, Aunt Heather told me that she reads all of these blog postings – so of course what will I say except that it was lovely to share the food, stories and ritual with them, and my cousins Stephanie and David and their families. The kids asked the questions about the story of Passover, found the afikomen (the hidden piece of matzah), and played. There was matzah ball soup, we joked around, read through the text and ate. I’m always struck by the Haggadah (the sort of program/order of service) that is used – it intersperses the traditional readings with stories about Anne Frank, Chagall paintings and poetry. Super nice. Given that Sidney is too young to remember meeting his cousins in the past, it was special that he got to spend some time with them.  

The second night was much less traditional, and much anticipated. A beautiful setting was laid out across the floors at my dear friends Meredith and Jamie’s place. Meredith is a trombone player in the Rude Mechanical Orchestra and Jamie a radical techie with the May 1^st/People Link – that organizes electronic networks for social justice organizations. They’re also both amazing hosts and incredibly thoughtful about this Seder which they have held for years. It’s a radical Seder – one that celebrates the traditions of the radical Jewish left, and is collaborative with about 25 people participating.  We were invited to prepare a part of the evening – and submit readings, poetry and songs that were collected into a Haggadah. We chose to focus on the moment where Moses and the people are in front of the Red Sea and losing faith that they’re going to be able to escape slavery and win justice. Not that any of us might be able to relate to that? We collectively passed around the poem Angels of Death by Martin Espada to think about how change will come – and perhaps, as the poem proclaims. This is the Year…

There were some moments in the evening that stuck out for me.  Early in the seder, we stopped to talk about slavery and contemporary forms of slavery in Africa obviously, but also the slavery of rent, of wages, of an immigration system that leaves one vulnerable to abuse.  At one point we also talked about the welcoming of the stranger – and after a bit Famous spoke about her understandable uncertainty about welcoming a homeless refugee to live with her – apparently temporarily, but given that this person has limited resources, there is a possibility that the stay may be longer. After the discussion, she committed herself to welcoming that particular stranger, despite the risks. At another point we talked about the orange on the Seder plate – sometimes seen as a symbol of the inclusion women and/or the fruitful inclusion of gays and lesbians. And the olive on the seder plate, in solidarity with those struggling for peace and justice in the Israel and Palestine. One woman spoke about a friend who had recently passed away who had been part of a Jewish feminist collective in the 1980s who had initiated the ‘orange’ inclusion. Amazing histories and ‘herstories’ all around us. An Israeli woman at the Seder hadn’t known of these symbols and said she will bring them back home when she returns. We sang songs, some in Yiddish, some in English, some in Hebrew. We drank wine, ate our potluck and made a lot of noise.  Some had grown up with the traditions, and for others, this was all new. One of our friends from Toronto was also visiting, and even though he was half Jewish, he had been raised in an atheist household, and had never attended a Seder before this Passover. He was quite moved by the spirit of the event, and texted his dad to tell him about it - his dad replied, "I hope the food is better than it was when I was a kid" I'm confident it was... Again Sidney was part of a tiny crew of kids to find the afikomen and of course they did find it, winning false mustaches that they immediately put on, to great hilarity. I realize at events like this one, there is not enough ritual in my life – and hope I’ll be able either to return for Passover in the future, or help to build something like this in Toronto.