I dreaded going to my grandmother’s house during the Passover season for the seder. But not for the reasons you might think. Grandma Seaman’s brisket was blue-ribbon worthy. Being surrounded by my older cousins always drummed up fun. But there was one part of the evening that filled me with absolute trepidation. Right there in black and white, halfway down one of the pages in the family haggadah (the text recited at the seder) was the word “breast.”
As an elementary school age kid, reading that taboo word out loud was absolutely mortifying, making me want to crawl under the table and disappear into the sea of chair legs. Our family tradition was to take turns reading around the table, each person taking one paragraph at a time. I would sit in an anxiety-ridden state every year, counting ahead anticipating which unlucky soul would get stuck with the paragraph and praying it wasn’t me. When reminiscing the other day with my younger sister, she recalled our older immature cousins erupting in laughter at whoever got the “privilege” of reading the word that year.
Looking back with a chuckle, this memory is an undeniable part of my childhood Passover experience. For better or for worse, this memory stands alongside the competitive afikomen hunt and the stinging tears brought on by the maror (bitter herbs) — accompanied by the dramatic gasping of my Aunt Beverly after taking too big of a bite of the Hillel sandwich.
As an adult, I see Passover as a holiday where past and present intertwine, our memories shaping the traditions we pass down. The nostalgia of past seders influences the new moments we create for the next generation of seder goers, blending old traditions with new experiences for our children, grandchildren, friends and guests.
So dear reader, I challenge you to reach back in your memory and reflect on your Passover experiences. Whether from childhood or just last year’s seder, what can you glean from those moments to create new, meaningful memories for those around your own seder table? Take this into consideration….
Passover is not static. It’s a living tradition that evolves each year. You are not bound to the same rituals every time. So what can you switch up? What new recipe can you serve? Keep it fresh with a new recipe for Charoset, the sweet mixture on the seder plate that recalls the mortar used by slaves to build in the Egyptian cities. Try one from a different culture – Ashkenazi, Sephardic, Yemenite or Moroccan to name a few. What alternative Haggadahs can you experiment with? Didn’t sing in past years? Turn to the back of your Haggadah where the songs are usually found and choose one to incorporate into the night. Small modifications like these can contribute to the memory making for everyone around the table.
Reflect on the previous year with participants. And make sure to jot down the thoughts in a safe place to pull out when planning next year’s seder. I do this every year with my three children and husband as we are cleaning up the dishes, so the highlights and flops are still fresh in our minds. What aspects of the seder did you enjoy the most? What would you never play on repeat? Maybe role-playing the Exodus was a hit, but next year, let’s take it a step further and wear thematic costumes to really bring the story to life. On the flip side, Mom, the new potato kugel recipe you found online should probably be sold with the chametz next year. It’s about identifying what resonated and could be repeated and what missed the mark and should be left behind.
Learn from your own experiences. Don’t be afraid to tweak tradition to save yourself and others from unnecessary boredom, discomfort, awkwardness or embarrassment. I personally use a children’s Haggadah that I wrote umpteen years ago when I taught early elementary school, carefully crafted without one mention of any unmentionables. My sister still tells the story of a seder she attended where a guest innocently asked why the host didn’t put an orange on the seder plate, symbolizing women’s full participation in Jewish ritual life. That simple question ignited a full-blown verbal battle over old traditions versus modern ones, proving that sometimes, the most heated debates at the seder table have nothing to do with politics or who found the afikomen first.
With all that said, let’s be real. Sometimes you just have to embrace ritual and family tradition and put things on autopilot from year to year. My PSA is to read the room and know your audience. You have to weigh the pros and cons of upsetting your aunt over asking the next generation of cousins to light the candles, ousting her from her regular role. Or asking a group of teenagers in attendance to join in the singing of “Take Me Out to the Seder” (a parody of “Take me Out to the Ballgame”), which I know from personal experience as a too-cool-for-school teen as a bad choice. Some things are not worth the eyerolls.
As we plan for Passover 5785, I challenge you to find ways to build on your personal Passover memories to create new ones. Maybe that means reviving a long-lost family recipe. Perhaps it’s introducing a new interactive element or personalizing the experience for your guests. Whatever you take on, make it meaningful, memorable and most importantly, make it yours. Because long after the matzah crumbs have been vacuumed from the rug, it’s the laughter, stories and shared experiences that will stick with us for years to come. L’dor V’Dor. From generation to generation. Chag Pesach Sameach.
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Writer Jennifer Saber is a Jewish educator in the Milwaukee community. She says she enjoys the privilege of planning a seder every year for her husband Eric and three children, Sydney, Lexi and Jacob. If you are looking for fresh ideas inspired by old traditions, she would love to brainstorm with you. Contact Jennifer at jennifer.saber18@gmail.com.
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