Passovers Past

Having not been brought up in a traditional Jewish family, celebrating the holidays became the most important part of our get-togethers; not necessarily because of religion, but as a meaningful way to connect with each other.

My aunt, who was the matriarch of the family, would gather everyone on the first Seder night at her home, for the Passover dinner. We were about eighteen people squished into her dining room, gathered around her extended table, which was laden with all the goodies it could hold.

In the early years we would do the whole Seder service. The Four Questions were asked and following the lead of my uncle's beautiful cantorial voice, the youngsters would sing in unison.

After my aunt passed away, the family had many discussions over who would host the first Seder. Because each member thought the first Seder was the most important, the location became an annual issue. Somehow we lost the actual beauty of the Seder and the warmth of the get-together. With every passing year, immediate relatives and their extended families grew increasingly apart, and with in-laws thrown into the mix, there were more and more relatives to please. Traditions seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye.

My own holiday focus changed when my mother moved in with me for many years during which she developed Alzheimer's. My family Seders, as well as other holidays, became more of a burden as we tried to explain to mother why we were all getting together. She wondered why we had to sit through a Seder, which by that time, had diminished into a small service followed by a simple chicken dinner with soup and salad.

Later, I attended Seders in my mother's nursing home. We would have our dinner early, and the rabbi would do the traditional service, the meal finished quickly, and the confused or disoriented residents were taken back to their rooms.

My mother's death began a swirl of funerals for family and friends. I remember mostly the rabbi's harkening back to the simple comforts of the scent of the kitchen, the table set so nicely with all the fine china, the aroma of the soup boiling on the stove, the handmade lacework on the furniture, in a house still smelling of homemade gefilte fish.

Yes, it is the food that triggers ones memories, but it's more about the family and the abundance of love that brings all of us together on Passover. Seder is where the true meaning of Passover is instilled in our youngsters so that the pattern our elders have set for them will continue.

Time is the most important gift a family gives each other. Time to accept the Seder invitation, time to connect with those who live out of town, time to just sit and savor the scent of the cooking, and the scents of life. The Passover Seder table in my house, and my aunt and uncle's, was full of food, family, and most of all, love.

A few Seders ago, after my husband passed away, I looked at my table, and the chairs were empty. Each chair held a memory of those who had graced our table years before. I wiped my tears, and vowed to fill those chairs again.

I will fill them with the elders who are left for us to love, youngsters who are here to be loved, and mostly, for the future generation. I hope they will continue the tradition of the Seder nights, the beautiful service, and love of family and friends. I will embrace them when I can, and while I can.

Happy Passover to all.