The Story of Moses and Other Things I Don’t Know…

Danielle’s perspective:

If someone asked me to tell the story of Passover, it would go something like this:  Moses parted a sea, the Jews put some kind of carb-loaded food on their backs, there was no oven to make it rise, and then the Jews were freed from Egypt.  Am I close?  I also know that you’re not supposed eat foods with yeast for seven days, although I secretly stopped doing that around three years ago.  Here’s another statement I’m going to make that might be surprising.  Even though I don’t know any of the exact details of that story and don’t abide by the eating restrictions, I still consider myself to be a good Jew.  Ok, maybe I’ll rephrase that to a “good enough” Jew.  I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who are thinking, “oh, how convenient.”  My answer is, actually, yes, it is convenient, and I need to learn to be ok with that.

We all have different beliefs, no matter our religion, and we all have different ways of connecting with our religion or spirituality.  Some people take the rules very literally, while for others these rules are much looser.  For the most part, though, I think it’s safe to say that our core agenda is the same:  be a good person, follow a path that leads us where we want to end up, and feel a sense of pride in what we do. If we’re dreading an aspect of a holiday, each of us has to decide if it’s still worth it to follow it through, and that choice is very personal.  

Let’s face it, I’ve attempted to give up bread dozens of times in the hopes of losing a few pounds (20 is the new “few”, by the way), and it hasn’t worked.  So I’m certainly not going to give it up for a holiday that I secretly wish was about easter egg hunts and chocolate.  Does that make me a bad Jew?  I say “no way.”  It makes me an honest person who still loves so many aspects of my faith and is trying to figure out how to make it fit into my family’s life in a positive way.

Here’s what I do know for certain about the upcoming holiday.  My family gathers.  We bond and chuckle over my dad’s adorable, inspirational, yet tedious tendency to think he’s a rabbi, as he goes on about the story of Moses (you would think I would know it by now).  We sit there and anticipate when he’ll finally serve the delicious chicken soup;  the aroma of which alone is enough to look forward to any holiday.  This soup recipe is so embedded in our family tradition that I recently learned how to make it.  Trust me, this was a big risk.  I have very little experience with cooking.  But, I stepped out of my comfort zone in a big way and my husband and I spent a Saturday making our grandmothers’ soup; laying on the couch together while it boiled and simmered.  We watched movies and tasted it every so often, trying to get it right and make our ancestors proud.  I loved that day.  Sharing that experience gave me feelings of such personal fulfillment, and bonded me with my family members both past and present.

My father-in-law passed away a year and a half ago.  He was not a very religious man, but he too loved Judaism in his own way.  More than anything though, he loved his grandchildren to feel excitement.  When it came time to find the Afikomen (I’m pretty sure that’s the middle piece of matzah that you hide, technically for one child to find, but you might want to double check that description), he would give each of the seven grandchildren a chance to find his/her own.  Each child would feel like a star, and then my father-in-law would reward them with a ridiculously large sum of money.  It wasn’t about the money.  It was about the pure joy they felt.  I would be willing to bet that his grandchildren will always look back on those holidays for the unique tradition he created, and hopefully they will continue it with their grandchildren one day.  A seder is a long service.  He was successful, though, in giving them something worth waiting for, and made the holiday more uplifting than it actually is.  Awesome job, Pop.

So, as the holiday approaches, I have made a commitment to myself and to my family.  I’m not going to be intimidated and make excuses for why my children and I aren’t “keeping” Passover.  I’m going to shift the conversation, and talk honestly about what we are doing.  I’m going to try not to feel guilt about what I’m not focusing on, and work harder at instilling the traditions and stories that we do love.  I want my children to look back on these times with smiles and feelings of deep nostalgia.  I want to look forward to these holidays without a feeling of panic and stress.  I know I can be a good, devoted Jew while still accomplishing both of those things.  Now if I could only figure out how to incorporate a good chocolate hunt into the holiday, I’d be all set.