When I was four-years-old, my mom took me to my first movie. I still remember the excitement of having the huge screen in front of me, sitting next to my mom, older sister and brother, with my popcorn and soda. I waited with anticipation for the movie to start, and before I knew it Dolly Parton was up there, larger than life in The Best Little Whore House In Texas. Ok, so it was a questionable choice of movie for a toddler. By today’s standards, she probably would have been all over social media with hashtags like #LittlestShameHouse or something ridiculous. Luckily in 1982 there was no social media, and there were also fewer movie choices of which to take your kids. But if I’m completely honest, I have no recollection of being affected by the sex scenes in that movie. I don’t know if my mom covered my eyes or took me to the bathroom at those parts. I do, however, have a deep, emotional memory of how much I loved watching the dancing, and hearing Dolly sing “I ...
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.
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