Feast for Freedom

As a gentile, my understanding of Passover has come along bit by bit, nurtured mainly at the table of Jewish friends. Of course there is much more to the 8-day holy week; but the seder dinner is the part non-Jews are recruited to participate in (more than invited, less than roped into). And for good reason - sharing a long, reflective meal of laughter, teaching and a few tears is a beautiful and powerful way to welcome those who would be your allies to a greater understanding of your experience.

The meal is highly ritualized, with a set structure and symbols, prayers and readings and playful traditions to engage children (also helpful to the adult goyim like me, who may need what they are hearing broken down to the level a child can understand, especially the first time around). But it's also a home holiday; so everyone's family traditions color and shape the interpretation and execution.  I've been to an "express seder," shortened and sped up to accommodate the attention span and bedtime of small children, and also to the five-hour meal of legend, where the wine flows, the songs and readings and prayers stretch out, and someone falls asleep at the table.  Everyone's got their own stories of memorable seders, whether about the food, the people or the contemporary events tied into that year's teachings.

One Purim, a dear friend explained that almost all Jewish holidays boil down to nine words - "They tried to kill us; they failed; let's eat." Food as a celebration of life? No wonder I feel at home - no translation needed for what it feels like to share gratitude at a common table. But the seder in particular touches me, wherever I share it, wherever it falls on the express-to-epic scale, because it specifically addresses gratitude for freedom.  And solidarity for those who cannot enjoy it today, whether they are struggling for civil rights in the US or democracy in Yemen, Syria, Libya and Egypt. The tales of enslavement, surviving plagues, being refugees and finally establishing a free home in a new land may be over 2,000 years old, but the truths about humans, their needs, and their resilience are timeless. My favorite seders made me cry as well as laugh, recognizing how lucky I am and what responsibilities that implies.  My favorite seders challenge me to be ally, and to think about how to express that role today.