Passover in the Digital Age

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Many years ago I hosted my first Passover Seder and placed steaming hot dishes of food on the table as we sat down and opened the Haggadah.  First question, “why on this night did mom put dinner on the table and not let us eat?”  The food was far from hot when we finally answered all four questions and completed our retelling of the Passover story.

Although I will never be mistaken for a quintessential Jewish mom, I have learned a lot about hosting a Seder in the intervening years.  Perhaps my most important learning has been “make it relevant.”  To that end, we retell the Passover story as a group with one person starting the narrative and others chiming in with additional details or the occasional correction:

“Miriam hid in the bushes and then a Princess, -" 

“Actually the Pharaoh’s daughter.”  

“Right, the Pharaoh’s daughter, came down to the river and saw the baby in the rushes.”

2014 marked the year that we made technology relevant to the Seder.  Our household observes strict no-technology-at-the-dining-table rules.   However, this year we embraced technology to bring together family across borders and share in our Seder via Google+ Hangouts.  We set up a laptop at one end of the table, right beside Elijah’s cup actually, and those of us physically at the table crowded to the other end so we could all be on camera simultaneously.

The slight audio time-lag made the story retelling somewhat disjointed, but the pleasure of all sharing the Seder together more than compensated.  

My daughter is now mulling over designs to transport food digitally so we can all share in the same food.  However, even though we didn’t all serve ourselves from the same dishes, we certainly all shared a meal together.  

People of the Book Book Discussion Guide

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Book Discussion for People of the Book
By Geraldine Brooks

I enjoy leading book groups. When I lead, I write up a discussion guide to use. Feel free to ask your own questions or discuss your own observations or reactions in the comments section.

I have moved this discussion guide to my new blog, Group Reads which is a collection of discussion guides.  You can find a guide for this book at Group Reads: People of the Book .

Stop by and see what other guides might interest you!

Nights 6 and 7—a Few Passes

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My blogging for the past two menorah lighting nights mimics our ability to intentionally make occasions to offer kindnesses to others. As we went around the circle both nights, my husband and I each had a few passes. Seven kindnesses isn’t all that many. Yet I am finding it hard to keep kindnesses top of mind so that I see the opportunities to help someone out. I tell myself now that I will work harder on this the 8th and final day to be aware of sharing kindness with those around me. We’ll see if I am able to recount my kindnesses I shared today when we light the candles tonight.

On the 5th Day God Said...

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And on the 5th day God said, “Stop delaying and make the brisket and latkes!”

While we have been lighting the menorah each night, we didn’t enjoy our Hanukkah repast until the 5th night, and what a meal it was! Personally, I think I could have related all of my kindness just to preparing the meal. But that seemed more than a little self-centered, so I kept my scope broad if not earth shattering.

I have noticed that not only am I looking for kindnesses (5 is a lot and 6, 7, and 8 will be even more), but I have found myself making an extra effort for the small gestures throughout my day. I have also noticed that my children have really taken this to heart. They are truly reaching out in meaningful ways, and inspiring me to make a bigger difference. As I strive to make a bigger difference, I hope my memory can keep up with the candles!

The Fourth Night: Making the World a Little Bit Brighter

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The fourth day I heard, “I didn’t give any kindnesses beyond what I would do anyhow.” “I was at home all day—I didn’t have a chance to share any kindnesses.”

Clearly it was time to revisit the intent of sharing kindnesses given and kindnesses received. I didn’t intend that we would change the world, complete heroic tasks each day or oblige others to be forever indebted. I simply wanted us to be aware of what brings light into our lives and how we reflect that light. I would be delighted if most of our kindnesses shared were true gifts of kindness that we would have given had it been Hanukkah or the middle of July. I liked that with eight days we could create a habit of thankfulness and giving where one may not have existed or reinforce an awareness of the kindnesses in our lives.

Once we all were re-focused on the intent, we were much more comfortable sharing the more commonplace of kindnesses— my daughter helping me clean up, my husband baking a cake for our children, no one complaining when our afternoon plans changed at the last minute. Every day won’t bring a kindness that would turn a friend’s life around, but hopefully each day would make the world a little bit brighter even after the candle had gone out.

The Third Night: It's the Thought that Counts

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The excuses started with the morning alarm clock.

“I just want to remind you that I work at home on Fridays, so I won’t have many interactions for sharing something nice,” my husband announced as he stepped out of bed.

“You’ll see your family, “I responded, “we count too".

As it turned out, I was the one who ended up grasping for moments of kindness given. I had plenty of kindnesses received, rushing home late from work, getting a friendly smile and a helpful suggestion from a shop owner, being able to call my husband at the last minute to pick up my daughter, a truck driver letting me cut across to make my exit. But I apparently was in a receiving mode, not a giving mode as I grasped for 3, just 3, kindnesses given— how hard could this be? I looked for drivers who weren’t getting a break in traffic to pull out, shoppers who needed a door opened, I even stopped to pick up fresh scones for my family - all sold out by late in the day!

On that last try, my daughter told me, "It's the thought that counts mom, so that counts as a kindness."

When we stood around the menorah and listened to each others' kindnesses, again seeing the glimpses of gloves shared on a cold day, or thoughtful encouragement to a classmate, I realized we all have moments or days of receiving and moments of giving. It’s not that one is harder to see or acknowledge than the other, at least for me. It is that life is bumpy. Often there are caring words I can share, or a hand I can offer, but sometimes I am the thankful recipient of an extra smile or a driver’s courtesy or a daughter’s hug. The kindnesses of others keep my glass full.

Religion From Whose Perspective?

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2000 years of Christian history in an hour—I was intrigued, my husband was skeptical.  While 2000 years in one hour sounded like a tall order for one morning’s worship, I thought it would be a good review for me of the major events in Christianity. 

I was not disappointed— we heard short synopses of the Romans in 200 AD, Celtics in the 700s, Italy in 1250, Germany and Martin Luther, biblical story telling among slaves in Alabama, and last Protestantism in New England in 2010.  A brief survey to be certain, but a peek at a few moments in time across two millenniums offered a sacred centering.

When I returned home I shared my fulfillment with my husband.

“So, I doubt the Spanish Inquisition was included”, he mused.

“No, but the Celtics were.”

 “And the crusades?”

“Well, no but the history of indulgences was”

 “Clearly a Protestant church would need to include that,” he responded.

Oh right, good point.  How does my husband know more about ‘my’ religion’s history than I? And was I insufficiently skeptical of everything I had heard that morning?  I thought I knew a reasonable amount about my religious community of which I had been a member since birth

As with most historical teaching, mine has been colored by learning it from within.  Just as Southerners may get one perspective of the Civil War and Northerners another, or European Americans one view of settling the United States and American Indians quite a different perspective, so do we each take our own slant on our history by learning it from within.  I notice this even when I listen to the BBC and hear their perspective on American news stories.  Intentional or not we are all biased in our historical view of our own culture.

Yet perhaps this biased perspective is nowhere more apparent than in our religions.  How often the passion and fervor of faith makes it more difficult to have a civil conversation over the history of a religion.  Wouldn’t we all benefit by hearing how our faith is viewed by others of differing faiths?

It's The Feeling Not the Food

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While the Israelites may have fled with unleavened bread to hasten their departure, finding Matzos these days requires significant preplanning. I would have thought that by now I’d know how much Matzo our household would consume during Passover and be prepared by buying it all in advance. But no, I remain a just-in-time shopper, and consequently we are down to our last morsel of Matzo with Passover not even half over. Scouring the shelves of two different supermarket chains brought no signs of unleavened bread beyond the bagger at the check out commenting that ‘the stock was looking pretty low yesterday so we’re probably all out by now.”

Oh well, if our menu doesn’t provide sufficient reminders of the Exodus, then perhaps I can recreate the feeling of the Exodus with my last minute preparations. While my mother-in-law is the consummate prepared hostess, my food planning is consistently last minute. So when I still hadn’t made the brisket the morning of Passover, even though my mother-in-law's recipe clearly recommends making it the night before in order to simplify dinner preparations, my walking partner suggested instead that I could recreate the mood of the Israelites grabbing what provisions they could as they headed out in haste. I mean really, were any of them writing up their shopping lists days in advance in order to allow their meat to rest overnight for optimum taste? This sounded like just the plan I needed to make my Passover dinner work.

You see, I have only hosted a handful of Passover dinners, and just as the first three Christmas trees my husband set up in the early years of our marriage crashed to the floor in the middle of the night, my Passover meals have been somewhat less than traditional. For instance, the first Passover I hosted, I drew upon the traditional Thanksgiving dinners I had grown up with, for in essence, Passover is both a remembrance and a giving of thanks. So I dutifully made every recipe listed in my Passover book, set the seder plate, and then, before calling everyone to the table, set the table with the steaming how dishes of brisket and kugel and beans—thankfully I at least knew enough to not make biscuits. Not only did the food all grow cold while we read through the Haggadah, but we could hardly hear one another over the growling of our stomachs as the aromas curled around our empty plates and our eyes drank in the feast set before us.

Several years later as I was shopping for Matzos, I found the end cap at the grocery stocked full with Manischewitz Matzos. Upon closer review, I noticed that every box had a large orange ‘unsalted’ banner plastered across the front. Was this what I was supposed to buy? Would everyone notice and wonder why I hadn’t tailed a Jewish shopper around the store to find the regular Matzos for those in the know? Confused, but not heading home without Matzos, I put a box in my cart. My husband found my confusion amusing, “They never have salt,” he told me, “must just be a new marketing tactic for health conscious consumers.”

So next year I’ll know not to put the serving dishes on the table when we sit down, that all matzos are unsalted and that I need to purchase all the matzos I’ll need well before Passover. I wonder what new lesson will come my way.