Your essay hit a nerve. I'd been thinking all day about how much I enjoyed the seder I hosted last night, because instead of going through the motions, it felt like everyone around the table was truly engaged—we had good discussions and nobody complained about how long it was taking to get to the meal. Even better, I didn't feel massive guilt when we abandoned the after-dinner part to watch a playoff hockey game (our team's leading scorer, who had a hat trick, is the best Jewish hockey player currently (or ever, really) in the game. His name is Zach Hyman. Tablet ran a feature about him last week.) This lack-of-guilt is significant because I've spent much of my life trying to define what it means to be "a good Jew." My dad was a Reform rabbi who grew up Orthodox, and I know he struggled with that kind of guilt, too; his family was not happy with his decision to turn his back on his observant upbringing, and their disapproval contributed to the depression that led him to take his life at age 46 (on Purim. File under: how to wreck one of the few fun holidays on the Jewish calendar). Before he died, when I was 13, he drummed it into my head and my older sister's that we were not to marry out of the faith. My sister made a horrible marriage to a Jewish guy. This is an oversimplification of what happened, but basically I watched, learned, and married out of the faith. That led to more guilt. I moved to a city with a small Jewish population, where my kids didn't even have a Jewish youth group to join. More guilt. When they were old enough to be independent, they went to school on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. More guilt. Too much guilt. Being Jewish gives me structure, comfort, and a sense of history and connection. But I'm not so blind as to fail to understand that religion is a form of brainwashing. Feeling guilt about something that should provide you with structure, comfort, and connection seems counterproductive. There are many ways to be Jewish—another rabbi told me that about 15 years ago, when I unburdened myself to her. That's helped me to make peace with my practice. If you lived closer, I'd say "Come to Edmonton next year, and join us at our seder." But I hope you'll find a place where you can feel less lonely in your Judaism. It's in your head. You want it. You'll get there.
I’m so sorry to hear about the weight of that estrangement. If you haven’t already read/listened to Sharon Brous, that might offer some avenues for next steps…
Thank you for sharing this, Sari. I've struggled with Ramadan over the years, and with finding my place (and a place for my interfaith family) in Muslim spaces--it's obvi not the same deal, but I understand how isolating isolation can feel, and also how necessary in some ways. Maybe we can create our own spaces, but who's gonna do it with us? is the question, I find. On another note, solidarity with Jewish folks on Palestine gives me hope. Hugs.
This really resonates!! I'm not agnostic, but I've been leaning more into the less (extremely less!) Conservative Judaism of my upbringing. I had a very good cathartic cry this morning that felt like a boundary reset. If you translate Jerusalem to mean freedom, then it's pretty clear that it's not so much "next year in Jerusalem" as it is "no one is free until we're all free."
This hits home, though with a different faith background. I also fully realize that Jewish identity itself is a whole complex bag in and of itself, so I want to honor that, but also tell you how much this resonates with me too. I feel deeply cut off from a huge part of my culture and identity, because of abuse and misinterpretation. I don't need to tell you twice that this shit runs deep. Like, DNA-level deep.
I'm coming to terms that I am allowed to be whoever I am, whatever I am, wherever I came from, and the abuse has nothing to do with it. The abuse can't take that deeply important piece away from me, and I have to move forward imperfectly if I am to heal.
I'm also a giant overthinker and could talk myself out of just about anything, especially things like religious customs which were never there to make logical sense anyway. They were there to connect us with a people and a heritage, not necessarily to make sense.
In any case, I see you, and I wish you a happy Passover full of community and healing, however imperfect. 🙏
Whew… I feel all of this. Though I shuttled similarly between my contentiously divorced households, the one weird silver lining to having a Catholic father and Jewish mother was that they didn’t compete for the same holidays. Here in Jackson, Mississippi, my friends at the Institute for Southern Jewish Life and the MS Civil Rights Museum started an interfaith freedom Seder to commemorate the one that civil rights workers held in 1969. It’s turned into an incredible event over the past few years that places more emphasis on shared struggles and the work to move forward than it does on religious ritual. Maybe you can come next year :)
Thanks for this, Sari. As someone who has had to negotiate family holidays in a similar way--though not Jewish family holidays--I identify. Sending you love on your personal Passover. xx
Aww Sari. Holidays are brutal for so many of us who are in various states of estrangement from our families of origin. Holding you tenderly through this Passover.
Two years ago, I a non Jewish person decided to host my first ever Seder at my home in Iowa City. I bought Haggadahs. Ended up reading Eve Ewing’s Exodus 1 poem who I’d met the week before.
I had lived in NYC from 2000 through 2017 and attended many a Seder dinner throughout my life. And the crux of hosting was in homage to my St Vincent’s Peds Program Director Sam Grubman’s Aunt Rita who’d placed an orange 🍊 on her Seder plate. I remembered this story from twenty years before had some feminist streak, and I wanted to carry on that tradition glorious feminist Jewish women who’ve held the moral center of our humanity throughout the ages. So I reached back to Sam and my Vinney’s Crew and told them I, a goy, was hosting my first ever Seder dinner. Side note our friend who married us brought fondue 🫕 which I thought was kosher but it was melted cheese and she sliced a bunch’a sourdough bread and put it in the middle of my Seder table. I was quite peeved by this as she a fellow goy had been to many a Seder dinner and knew better and still messed up my Seder table with her levin bread! But I was too shy to say something to her in real time.
Sam wrote back to clarify his family’s tradition of the orange on the Seder plate…
Ida,
So nice to hear from you. I hope everyone is well.
My Aunt Rita, who is now 93, has been including an orange on her Seder plate since the late 1980's. There are two stories relating to the orange inclusion, one feminist and one not. The feminist one tells of an orthodox man who happened into a progressive type synagogue where a woman is leading the service. He was so appalled by the fact that a woman was on the bema (the podium) leading the service that he proclaimed loudly, "She belongs on the bema like an orange belongs on the seder plate!"
The other story is a more somber one. According to my Aunt, people started including an orange on the seder plate in the late 1980's as a remembrance to those lost to AIDS. Aunt Rita says it can represent any of the many marginalized people in society, reminding us how people with HIV and AIDS were marginalized and ignored in Reagan's 1980's America.
Paul and I are actually leaving the house soon to go up to the Seder at Aunt Rita's house later today. It will be her first in person hosting since 2019. The person who was supposed to run the service tested positive for covid this morning and Aunt Rita informed me a little while ago that she expects me to take charge of the proceedings. Oy Vey!!!!
All the best to everyone.
Sam
And my all time favorite Passover story (which you may have heard!) years ago this story circulated on Facebook… a goy in South Africa was married to a Jewish man. When he died she wanted to commemorate his being Jewish on his tombstone and so she took the only thing she had written in Hebrew to the man carving her husband’s tombstone and so written upside down 🙃 in Hebrew it says “Kosher for Passover” lolz 😂
Add an orange to your Seder plate for the people of Gaza. 💛
Your essay hit a nerve. I'd been thinking all day about how much I enjoyed the seder I hosted last night, because instead of going through the motions, it felt like everyone around the table was truly engaged—we had good discussions and nobody complained about how long it was taking to get to the meal. Even better, I didn't feel massive guilt when we abandoned the after-dinner part to watch a playoff hockey game (our team's leading scorer, who had a hat trick, is the best Jewish hockey player currently (or ever, really) in the game. His name is Zach Hyman. Tablet ran a feature about him last week.) This lack-of-guilt is significant because I've spent much of my life trying to define what it means to be "a good Jew." My dad was a Reform rabbi who grew up Orthodox, and I know he struggled with that kind of guilt, too; his family was not happy with his decision to turn his back on his observant upbringing, and their disapproval contributed to the depression that led him to take his life at age 46 (on Purim. File under: how to wreck one of the few fun holidays on the Jewish calendar). Before he died, when I was 13, he drummed it into my head and my older sister's that we were not to marry out of the faith. My sister made a horrible marriage to a Jewish guy. This is an oversimplification of what happened, but basically I watched, learned, and married out of the faith. That led to more guilt. I moved to a city with a small Jewish population, where my kids didn't even have a Jewish youth group to join. More guilt. When they were old enough to be independent, they went to school on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. More guilt. Too much guilt. Being Jewish gives me structure, comfort, and a sense of history and connection. But I'm not so blind as to fail to understand that religion is a form of brainwashing. Feeling guilt about something that should provide you with structure, comfort, and connection seems counterproductive. There are many ways to be Jewish—another rabbi told me that about 15 years ago, when I unburdened myself to her. That's helped me to make peace with my practice. If you lived closer, I'd say "Come to Edmonton next year, and join us at our seder." But I hope you'll find a place where you can feel less lonely in your Judaism. It's in your head. You want it. You'll get there.
I’m so sorry to hear about the weight of that estrangement. If you haven’t already read/listened to Sharon Brous, that might offer some avenues for next steps…
Thank you for sharing this, Sari. I've struggled with Ramadan over the years, and with finding my place (and a place for my interfaith family) in Muslim spaces--it's obvi not the same deal, but I understand how isolating isolation can feel, and also how necessary in some ways. Maybe we can create our own spaces, but who's gonna do it with us? is the question, I find. On another note, solidarity with Jewish folks on Palestine gives me hope. Hugs.
This really resonates!! I'm not agnostic, but I've been leaning more into the less (extremely less!) Conservative Judaism of my upbringing. I had a very good cathartic cry this morning that felt like a boundary reset. If you translate Jerusalem to mean freedom, then it's pretty clear that it's not so much "next year in Jerusalem" as it is "no one is free until we're all free."
This hits home, though with a different faith background. I also fully realize that Jewish identity itself is a whole complex bag in and of itself, so I want to honor that, but also tell you how much this resonates with me too. I feel deeply cut off from a huge part of my culture and identity, because of abuse and misinterpretation. I don't need to tell you twice that this shit runs deep. Like, DNA-level deep.
I'm coming to terms that I am allowed to be whoever I am, whatever I am, wherever I came from, and the abuse has nothing to do with it. The abuse can't take that deeply important piece away from me, and I have to move forward imperfectly if I am to heal.
I'm also a giant overthinker and could talk myself out of just about anything, especially things like religious customs which were never there to make logical sense anyway. They were there to connect us with a people and a heritage, not necessarily to make sense.
In any case, I see you, and I wish you a happy Passover full of community and healing, however imperfect. 🙏
Whew… I feel all of this. Though I shuttled similarly between my contentiously divorced households, the one weird silver lining to having a Catholic father and Jewish mother was that they didn’t compete for the same holidays. Here in Jackson, Mississippi, my friends at the Institute for Southern Jewish Life and the MS Civil Rights Museum started an interfaith freedom Seder to commemorate the one that civil rights workers held in 1969. It’s turned into an incredible event over the past few years that places more emphasis on shared struggles and the work to move forward than it does on religious ritual. Maybe you can come next year :)
My radical leftist sibling used to host a liberation themed seder with friends in LA, maybe we could pull something together with them next year?
Thanks for this, Sari. As someone who has had to negotiate family holidays in a similar way--though not Jewish family holidays--I identify. Sending you love on your personal Passover. xx
Thank you for this essay Sari. That was beautiful.
Aww Sari. Holidays are brutal for so many of us who are in various states of estrangement from our families of origin. Holding you tenderly through this Passover.
Two years ago, I a non Jewish person decided to host my first ever Seder at my home in Iowa City. I bought Haggadahs. Ended up reading Eve Ewing’s Exodus 1 poem who I’d met the week before.
I had lived in NYC from 2000 through 2017 and attended many a Seder dinner throughout my life. And the crux of hosting was in homage to my St Vincent’s Peds Program Director Sam Grubman’s Aunt Rita who’d placed an orange 🍊 on her Seder plate. I remembered this story from twenty years before had some feminist streak, and I wanted to carry on that tradition glorious feminist Jewish women who’ve held the moral center of our humanity throughout the ages. So I reached back to Sam and my Vinney’s Crew and told them I, a goy, was hosting my first ever Seder dinner. Side note our friend who married us brought fondue 🫕 which I thought was kosher but it was melted cheese and she sliced a bunch’a sourdough bread and put it in the middle of my Seder table. I was quite peeved by this as she a fellow goy had been to many a Seder dinner and knew better and still messed up my Seder table with her levin bread! But I was too shy to say something to her in real time.
Sam wrote back to clarify his family’s tradition of the orange on the Seder plate…
Ida,
So nice to hear from you. I hope everyone is well.
My Aunt Rita, who is now 93, has been including an orange on her Seder plate since the late 1980's. There are two stories relating to the orange inclusion, one feminist and one not. The feminist one tells of an orthodox man who happened into a progressive type synagogue where a woman is leading the service. He was so appalled by the fact that a woman was on the bema (the podium) leading the service that he proclaimed loudly, "She belongs on the bema like an orange belongs on the seder plate!"
The other story is a more somber one. According to my Aunt, people started including an orange on the seder plate in the late 1980's as a remembrance to those lost to AIDS. Aunt Rita says it can represent any of the many marginalized people in society, reminding us how people with HIV and AIDS were marginalized and ignored in Reagan's 1980's America.
Paul and I are actually leaving the house soon to go up to the Seder at Aunt Rita's house later today. It will be her first in person hosting since 2019. The person who was supposed to run the service tested positive for covid this morning and Aunt Rita informed me a little while ago that she expects me to take charge of the proceedings. Oy Vey!!!!
All the best to everyone.
Sam
And my all time favorite Passover story (which you may have heard!) years ago this story circulated on Facebook… a goy in South Africa was married to a Jewish man. When he died she wanted to commemorate his being Jewish on his tombstone and so she took the only thing she had written in Hebrew to the man carving her husband’s tombstone and so written upside down 🙃 in Hebrew it says “Kosher for Passover” lolz 😂
Add an orange to your Seder plate for the people of Gaza. 💛
Sending love,
Chag Pesach Sari