A Passover for All of Us
One of the great turning points in my Jewish life was discovering that Passover belonged to me. I have loved the holiday since I was a child, but it was hard to commit to the traditional Haggadah, the canonical text of the Passover seder. It’s a complicated mélange of rabbinic sources which gives us too little narrative punch, and privileges moments of scholarly explication. That is not to say that it’s the wrong book for seder. In fact, it models seriousness, rigor, and intensity. But to take one example, it does not mention Moses. The why of that is another story, but where is the epic of exodus without him? At the end of the day, it was the wrong book for me.
The revelatory moment came with a new Haggadah. It was the Freedom Seder by Arthur Waskow, one of the first great innovations in American Jewish liturgy. It told the story of liberation in a contemporary way, as the hoped-for release of Black Americans from systemic racism, prejudice, and deprivation. What caught my eye and ear and soul was the inclusion of African-American spirituals, new prayers and declarations, and the anarchic feel of come-one-come-all. I still have my copy of Waskow’s work, which is a precious reminder of my development as a Jew. I have written and re-written many Haggadot (plural) since then, to meet the mood and concerns of our family and friends.
But enough about me. What will you be doing this year? There are a thousand options available to all of us when it comes to a written text for seder. I don’t like many of them, but it takes a while to feel them out, and it’s a little late to choose if you’re buying them off the internet. That said, I’m paying attention to In Every Generation, the project of a group called the PJ Library. It’s got pretty good illustrations, Hebrew written in English letters, and a good mix of prompts for kids and their adults. I’m inclined this year to give it a try.
But more important than anything is the experience of conversation, the family table as a place of discovery. If there are kids present, have them tell the story of Passover, one child to begin with, followed by the next, with all the adults to help along the way. Interrupt the telling with questions and exclamations. Help all the children through the lost connections. Don’t sink down into a dry recitation, reading aloud from someone else’s words, but keep the story lively and spontaneous. The place to do this is right after the Four Questions. When you come to the plagues, spill a drop of wine for each. When you finish with the escape of the Hebrews, sing Dayenu, and go on to whatever part of the Haggadah appeals to you. Note to seder leaders: read your Haggadah in advance so you know what you want your household to experience. Make the Haggadah into your Haggadah.
And after the meal, make time for talking. The story of Passover raises crucial issues. What forms does slavery take in our time? What are our responsibilities to migrants who may not be protected by an interventionist God? What’s the deal with Pharaoh’s authoritarianism, and how does it lead to the downfall of Egypt?
My guess is that you’ve thought about all of these issues, but there is nothing like seder as a lively discussion and the way respectful disagreement binds us to one another. You can do this. It’s easier than it looks, and be sure to let me know how it goes.