Why is this Seder Different?
On the first night of Pesach, I, along with my wonderful housemates, welcomed around 40 guests into our home for the first seder. The magnitude of the event was somewhat accidental. We all just kept thinking of more people who might be interested in participating in this tradition. As a result, what we thought might be a nice gathering of twenty grew quite quickly. Our guests ranged from coworkers to fellow young Jews to visiting high school students of different faiths participating in a local service trip. Vastly different backgrounds, levels of knowledge and familiarity with the ritual we embarked upon collectively were all present. As we surprisingly fit quite comfortably in the common areas of our house, questions of how everyone’s needs, questions and appetites would be met, answered and satisfied flooded my mind.
One of many tables set up for a 40+ person seder. Current Corps Member Rachie Lewis sits in the background.
My past traditional seder experience has followed a rather set model for quite some time now: my mother and stepfather host and lead them at our house in Elkins Park, PA. Aside from my immediate family, 10-15 other guests from our community (most of whom identify as traditional Jews) join us. We follow the traditional script, sing the traditional tunes and discuss in great depth the Exodus, four sons, and the meaning of all the foods we consume. Various Haggadot (traditional books specifically used at seders) are laid out on the table so that individuals can read supplemental opinions and stories if they so choose. Those present all tend to have a familiarity with this format, the story which we explore and the Hebrew in which it is written. Many participants are often enthusiastic about sharing both new and old relevant ideas which collectively create an in depth analysis of Magid (that probably frustrates some of our famished guests). We finally eat at around 11 and then sing songs into morning, not worrying about the hour since most of us abide by the laws of Yom Tov and do not engage in any type of work the following day.
It was clear to me, as my housemates and I started preparing days in advance for this year’s event, that the experience we were going to create would look quite different. Among other factors that made this so, those facilitating it were inexperienced (our past seders have, for the most part, been directed by our parents and others of older generations), the background of each participant was vastly dissimilar from their neighbors and for most, it was a work night. Yet I suppose us Avodahniks have been confronted with these same challenges all year; ones of attempting to accommodate different knowledge, customs and sensitivies. We now had an opportunity to welcome our friends, new and old, into our world of sharing, of discomfort, of unfamiliarity and ultimately of community.
Current Corps Member Laura Taishoff is practically glowing as the seder gets started!
With all that said, it is no surprise that executing this significant event started out in a somewhat rocky fashion. Moments of silence in between steps, eating certain foods that were intended for a later ritual and perhaps a questionable choice of balancing Hebrew and English all challenged our expectations and hopes. As each hurtle arose, I wondered: do people want every aspect of the seder explained or is everyone so hungry that this question is irrelevant? In response, we soon hit a subconscious balance of explaining various rituals and concepts without going into a level of depth that would have bored a large mass of hungry people. And for those who wanted to know more, it seemed that others present at their table were ready and willing to answer those individual inquiries.
Delving into the time consuming steps of the seder, we sought to offer a range of experiences that would keep people interested. At times we read the English paragraphs of the script in succession (skipping certain parts that seemed less necessary), at times we broke up by table to delve deeper into how we see values of the Exodus playing out in the lives we lead, and at times we added new texts to bridge these worlds (e.g. an insightful New Orleans themed Dayenu written by one of last year’s corps members). In some of these instances, we succeeded at engaging most and in others we may not have.
A similar challenge arose when it came time to sing. It was clear that we did not all know the same tunes and were not all accustomed to singing them the same way. Yet, there were certainly a few beautiful moments of communal synchronization: mah nishtana (the four questions), the chorus of dayenu, the birkat following the meal and “Who knows one?” uttered by the few who remained toward the end. Meaningful conversations were had, songs were sung, tasty food was consumed (miraculously we prepared enough for our large crowd) and, in the end, it seemed as though at least one of those dimensions satisfied each participant. Perhaps with such a diverse group that is the best we could have hoped for.
The experience tied together our narratives as Jews (or simply people of faith), as strangers in a foreign land, and as fighters for a better world. Most significantly, we created it, not our parents, not our aunts, uncles or family friends. Over the past seven months, our group has analyzed the intersection of our Jewish values and social justice work. Often, these connections are difficult to identify. But I would like to think that on that night we saw them lived out, in the graciousness of welcoming guests into the home we have collectively built, in the songs we sang that connected us to Jews around the world, in our discussion of modern plagues and marginalized populations, and in the retelling of a story that has been shared for millennia that forces us to consider the oppression around us and to never be content with the status quo.
Every person present uniquely added their own lenses and had the opportunity to determine why the seder was significant to them. Egypt and slavery are constant states; on that late March night, we did our best to acknowledge this from a variety of angles and employ different individual experiences. That is the tradition we have now begun for ourselves, to create diverse communities, to hear each person’s voice, to constantly be seeking knowledge about our surroundings, and to commit to never resting until we create the kind of world we strive to live in. Hopefully we will find ways to share and further these traditions for years to come, as we now begin our adult journeys of creating our own.
Entries (RSS)