Passover commemorates the Exodus of the Jewish people, out of the bonds of slavery, from Egypt. Led by the prophet Moses almost reluctantly into the desert, the Jewish people struggled with their newfound freedom. The holiday includes two festive meals called a Seder, where the youngest attendee asks the grown-ups four questions that ask why tonight is different from all other nights.
In keeping with tradition, I would like to ask you the traditional questions and my personal version of questions that I think all Jewish women need to ask themselves. I make no promises at answers.
1. Why is this night different from all other nights? This is the actual first of the four questions (Truth? It is actually 5 questions, but we call them Four Questions. It’s Jewish, therefore complicated) that the child asks at the Seder. This is the framing question, for clearly, something different happens on this night. As a 21st century Jewish woman with a family, a home and full time career, this one is perplexing because I have yet to find what is different about Seder nights than any other night. Other than the TON of extra work, I mean. It is a challenge in the best of circumstances to think, feel, and act spiritually on a good day. By the time the Seder starts, I have shopped, cleaned, cooked, and set until I my nerves are shot. Also, I know that when the last song is sung, and the wine-stained tablecloth is naked and exposed, I will clean up, only to set it all up again in twelve hours. Sure, I’ll have offers to help me, but I will refuse the offers in a casual, devil-may-care kind of way. I will do this as my female ancestors have done for generations, out of some insane ideal of The Mother/Wife/Hostess Role that I have been hanging onto since I saw my poor exhausted grandmother cook, serve and clean up after 25 people ate her out of house and home. How can women experience the joy of the Passover holiday while not martyring ourselves?
2. On all other nights we eat a variety of breads (leavened and not) and vegetables, but on this night, we only eat one kind of bread (unleavened, i.e.: matzo) and one kind of vegetable (a bitter herb better known as ground horseradish root)? It sounds like a logic question on a standardized test, but I think it’s a good one. This morning, I was thoroughly irritated when I couldn’t get my usual coffee order (they were out of the syrup I like). I settled for something else, but walked away grumbling. Then I stepped into a puddle and got splashed by a car. And then I laughed at the absurdity of it all. So I went without my cha-cha ridiculous coffee for a day. I have a home, children, food, an education and wonderful friends. It’s not a bad thing to go without a creature comfort. Nor do I think it’s a bad thing to go without on a regular basis. I know a woman who gave up sugar, her favorite thing on the planet, until her grandson comes home from the army. It won’t make him safer, and she knows it. Yet, when she reaches for something sweet and stops herself, she thinks of her grandson, and all the other men and women in the army. It makes her take stock of what’s important; in her life as well as in her country’s consciousness. I’d like to invite you to consider that a little daily reminder of bitterness is okay. Not in a “poor me, my life is so hard” kind of way, but in a “thankful I have my health, and sanity, and don’t live in Syria or am Ann Coulter” kind of way. Today I am thinking of the bitterness that the majority of the world has lived and keeps living through. What sacrifice can I make today that will make me more mindful of the plight of my ancestors and my fellow citizens of the world?
3. On all other nights we don’t dip our vegetables, why do we dip them twice on this night? At the Seder, we dip a piece of green vegetable in a bowl of salt water, which symbolizes the bitter tears that the slaves cried while in bondage. That’s a heavy concept for a dinner party. Let’s think of it as a change-up. After all the, the Exodus happened pretty quickly. The Hebrew slaves only got a couple of hours’ notice to throw some stuff together, bake some crackers and get the hell out of Dodge (well, Egypt. Same thing). As a working mother, every day puts changes in my path. The serenity prayer tells us to “accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference”. I think women, especially working women but it applies generally, need to go with the flow better. We can’t stop unexpected changes, but we can mindfully react to them. When life throws me something unexpected, how can I best rise to meet it with grace?
4. On all other nights, we sit up, but tonight, we all recline? Why? This is the part where we bask in the abundance of our current, not-slaves-in-bondage lives by sitting on comfy pillows. The women I know run themselves ragged, can be judgmental and hard on one another, but mostly, reserve the hardest critique for us. We try to Have It All. Except that there is no “All”. The pressure while in part set by generations of patriarchy, is mostly perpetuated by women themselves. To what end? What does it mean to be perfect? How can I achieve perfection? We all need, no, DESERVE, a night to recline. If I can’t be generous and kind to myself, how can I be generous to anyone else?
Yiddish Theater actress Molly Picon