By Sarah Elkins,
We moved to Helena, Montana, a small, mostly white Christian town, with no synagogue and not a single box of matzah to be found in April, 1999.
Two years later, we hosted 18 guests at our table for a Passover Seder, some Jewish, some not. We used a pieced-together Haggadah (prayer book specifically for that holiday) that I had created to make sure we covered only the critical parts of the Seder without losing any guests (or our young children) to boredom and starvation. It was a hit. Everyone loved it. Especially popular was the brisket, Aunt Leslie’s famous recipe, and the homemade matzoh ball soup I had simmered all day. For the next 15 years, I prepared each Spring for larger and larger celebrations, some included Holocaust survivors as guests, an awesome experience for everyone.
Though we never considered ourselves religious, we always identified as Jews, the distinction being our love for the rituals and values of our culture and upbringing. When our younger son was studying for his Bar Mitzvah, he asked why we continued this tradition, despite our lack of a synagogue and our religious ambivalence.
I love that Jews take the opportunity at an angsty time in life, to turn toward learning and personal growth and take the focus off that difficult transition from childhood to adulthood. Practicing for a Bar Mitzvah takes dedication and focus, and builds skills in public speaking and confidence. Plus, because we don’t have a synagogue or Hebrew school, I’m teaching you to read Hebrew, I’m teaching you the prayers of gratitude. This is precious time we’re spending together that we wouldn’t have otherwise.”
Each boy completed his Bar Mitzvah with grace and competence, and they talk about them with appreciation and pride.
My father died on February 22, 2014. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to host a large group Seder that year, especially with our younger son’s Bar Mitzvah coming up in June, so it was just our family at the table. We had the traditional foods, did the rituals of the Seder, and enjoyed a quiet ceremony. While we were in the kitchen cleaning up, our older son asked me why we continued this tradition, especially that year.
Pesach is my favorite holiday. There is something comforting about feeding people and leading them in a ceremony that not only honors the past, but reminds us of our responsibility to the future. It’s about gratitude and the value of diversity, keeping traditions and cultures alive, avoiding assimilation, and storytelling. Passover is a reminder that the greatest mitzvah (good deed/commandment) is to bring people together, to feed them, to nourish them through conversation, respect, and dignity, and to honor our differences, not hide or ignore them."
Our Passover traditions will be deeply ingrained in our memories, informing our behavior and gently reminding us that we are Jewish, with all the responsibilities and joy that entails.
Sarah is a communication coach, Gallup certified Strengths coach, keynote speaker, author, and professional musician. Her podcast and upcoming book, Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will, help listeners and readers understand that the stories they choose to tell, and how they choose to tell them, impact their internal messages and the perceptions of the people around them.
She knows that the key to satisfaction and happiness in life is healthy relationships, and the keys to healthy relationships are self-reflection and communication. Her ultimate goal is to help bring self-reflection and positive intention to the workforce in her work as a communication and public speaking coach, and as a keynote speaker.www.elkinsconsulting.comPodcast: Your Stories Don't Define You, How You Tell Them Will
