essays on life...by me

Tag: Family Page 1 of 12

The family I grew up in or the family I now live in.

Passover 2025

This spring I had the pleasure of attending 2 seders. The first one, on the first night of Passover was a small intimate one and the second night’s seder was a large, noisy one.

The small seder on Saturday night was held out in the suburbs of Stockholm and my only responsibility was to pick up and deliver the gefilte fish that had been pre-ordered. There were 6 of us there, gathered around a lovingly set table in the middle of a small living room. The oldest other guest at this dinner was a friend who had recently turned 40. I felt so honored that these young people had wished to share their seder with me. It was the first time for Ben (who did an excellent job) to lead a seder and the Haggadah we used was a relatively simple one, all in English. This of course was perfect for me – since for me, the Passover story is best told in my mother tongue – with bits of transliterated Hebrew thrown in. Because it was a Saturday we started late, after sundown at 9pm. The food, cooked by Ellen was delicious and the conversation during the evening was lively, with me adding, my old lady feminist and Reform Jew opinions, when I felt they were needed. Afterwards, all the guests were driven home through a quiet and dark Stockholm, landing me back at my apartment around 2.30 in the morning.

The first night of Passover

The first night of Passover

Twelve hours later, by 2pm in the afternoon, Håkan had deposited me and Bevin in Skarpneck for the next Seder.
This Seder was the annual Seder that I lead for my group of Jewish/American/Swedish friends or J.A.P.S. for short (Jewish American Parents in Stockholm). We have been gathering for over 25 years to celebrate Jewish holidays together and this is my Jewish family here in Stockholm. We celebrated Passover together for the first time in 1998.

This year, we were 26 people, of whom 6 of them were small children and a 3 month old baby. When we first started out so long ago, all our kids were small children. Now some of those “kids” are having kids of their own. It fills my heart that these young people still want to join us to celebrate, bringing their own children with them.

Bevin and I arrived loaded down with stuff for the seder: 8 haggadahs, boxes of matzah, a seder plate, a silver goblet, 1 Elijah cup, 2 matzah covers, candlesticks w candles. And of course food: Chicken soup & matzah balls and charoses, and the ritual foods for the 3 seder plates – parsley, horseradish, 3 roasted eggs, 3 lamb shank bones. Everyone else brings the rest of the food: raw veggies to munch with hummus or chopped liver, hard boiled eggs, lamb, roasted potatoes & parsnips, kugels, salads and a bunch of wonderful desserts including a real sponge cake. I haven’t had a real Passover sponge cake in a zillion years!!! Thank you Berta!

Finally after all the tables and chairs were in place and decorated and everyone had arrived, we sat down to tell the story of the Jews’ exodus from Egypt and to remind ourselves how important freedom is for everyone.

As every year, I have something to say before we start the seder. Here is what I said this year.

Passover Speech 2025
I want to start off by saying welcome to everyone. We made it! We are here – gathered together! Pheewww…

Every year I like to start our seder by making a small speech. Maybe that’s very vain of me – to think that I might have something important to say, but that’s the way it is. And every year, when I sit down at the computer, trying to write something, the words take a while to come.

Every year… That is probably one of the most important and yet invisible, themes of Passover. Every year we gather. Every year we tell the story. Every year we go through the same rituals of eating parsley, and charoses and matzah. And every year we talk about Freedom – to live our lives as we wish to, free from constraint.

As some of you might know, the past couple of months have been difficult for me – causing me to question my ability as a leader, as someone who can be in charge of doing things, of getting things done. For this reason, I have been giving some thought to Moses. To Moses and the idea of leadership. Moses is the invisible guest at our seder table. Moses is the person who got the whole ball rolling and yet he is the one person we do not name at our Seder. We talk about Jacob moving his clan to Egypt. We mention that Joseph became a great lord there. But Moses…nobody mentions him, at least not in the Haggadah. Its like we are not supposed to be grateful to him for what he did.

Over the last 3000 years there has been some commentary written about why he’s not mentioned in the Haggadah.
So let me name a few of those ideas:
First, maybe we don’t mention Moses, in order to emphasize that it was God that was the big kahuna.

Or maybe we don’t mention him because Moses was a humble kind of guy and didn’t want to folks to make a big fuss about him (because remember…he was present at the very first seder a year after the exodus and for a whole lot more of them while the Jews wandered in the desert for 40 years).

Or even maybe because the part that Moses played in the story was just the physical action part which took place 3000 years ago and the Seder we do today is more about the spiritual, idea of freedom, of setting oneself free.

Whatever the reason is…we still don’t mention him.

So what was Moses? Who was he?
To start with, he was a man born into one culture (race, tribe, family, clan, folk, minority or whatever you want to call it) that of the Israelite slaves, and yet he grew up and was raised within another one. He was an outsider – a favored part of Pharoah’s family but yet always knowing he was not truly family. And when he escaped Egypt and went to Midian, he married the high Priest Jethro’s daughter, Zipporah and lived there a long time with her, tending sheep. But he wasn’t a Midianite, he was still an outsider.

We also know that he had a strong sense of justice and a violent temper – He killed an Egyptian that he saw unfairly beating a Jewish slave. This was the reason he had to flee Egypt.

And he must have been humble – when the burning bush that was God told him to return to Egypt and free his people, Moses asked in his most Woody Allen voice, “Why me? I am no one and I don’t speak well”. He felt inadequate to that job but God convinced him that together with his brother Aaron’s help he could do what God commanded him to do. Like so many of us, he rose to meet the situation he was handed.

So why am I thinking this year about the invisible man at the Seder table?

I think the story of Moses as an outsider who was able to make a new home for himself in all the places that he lived is an apt story for us J.A.P.S. in general. Like Moses…Risa, Janet, David, Barbara, Marina, Sam & Rebecca, Naomi & Matt and myself, have all left our families and our countries to make a home in a foreign land. We have raised our children in this strange new place and they have grown up to call it home. This is something that Jews have been good at doing for over 2000 years.

Moses’s anger also comes to mind when I think back to some of our previous Pesach seders and how I allowed the stress and my own crankiness to get the better of me and how others have had to drag me off to a corner to cool down. I guess I’m happy I didn’t murder anybody.

And finally, I am thinking of Moses, the leader, and I ponder what does it mean to be a leader when your task is done.

In 1997, when I placed an ad in the American Woman’s Club magazine, looking for Jewish mothers to help me celebrate the Jewish holidays together, I had no idea that 28 years later we would still be sitting down together to celebrate the Passover holiday. Some of the faces around the table have changed, some have moved away and new faces and families have joined us, but, as a group we are still here and with a new generation of small bubbelas at our table.

When I placed that ad, I wanted for me and my son, Bevin, to be part of a group, a family. Granted, I have been the one bullying everyone to do what I wanted of them – when to meet, what to eat, who brings what, and how we celebrate. I feel like, just as Moses led his very unruly group of Israelites into freedom, I have led the J.A.P.S. into being Jews, celebrating our Jewishness together. I don’t know how long I can continue doing this. Eventually others will have to start to take over the tasks and I am beginning to feel like that possibility will happen. Sooner or later, we pass the torch to someone else.

I can’t say how Moses must have felt by the time he sheparded his Israelites to the edge of the promised land, but I can say that I feel proud of the work I have done to get my J.A.P.S. this far and I am sooo very glad that I have you all here, my created family, here in this foreign land to celebrate with me.

So…now that we have gotten Moses out of the way, lets start this seder like every year, by lighting the holiday lights.

J.A.P.S. Passover Seder 2025

 

Passover 2024

Every year at my Passover Seder here in Stockholm with my J.A.P.S. (my Jewish American Parents in Stockholm group) I say a few words before we start. This was what I said this year.

I want to welcome you all.

I am very glad to see you – glad that we can join together to celebrate Pesach, in these difficult times. And they are difficult, but I won’t say anything else about that.

To us the word, Pesach means to pass over, and that comes from the idea that the angel of God passed over the homes of the Hebrews, as our people were called over 3000 years ago, when we were slaves in the land of Egypt. That is why we call this holiday Passover.

But recently I have just learned an interesting thing about that word, Pesach, that Hebrew word. Now I don’t speak or read Hebrew. I sort of know most of the letters in the alphabet and can follow along the Hebrew words in the prayers in the prayer book. But this is what I just learned…The first letter or syllable in Pesach is Pe. And as a word all by itself Pe means “mouth” and the second syllable “sach” means speak. So, the word Pesach, also can mean something like “using your mouth to speak or to tell”. And that is what we are gathered here in this room to do tonight – like Jews all over the world do. Tonight, we will tell the story of the Exodus – the journey of the ancestors of the Jewish people from slavery to freedom. 

And we don’t just tell this because maybe we might feel like it – we tell the story because in the torah we are commanded to tell this story, every year, at this same time of year. We keep telling the story so that every year it gets passed down from generation to generation. We are expected to tell this story to our children, so that they can tell it to their children. But even in places like Jewish nursing homes, they still hold a Pesach seder, even if the youngest person in the room is 75 years old and has heard the story many times. A reform Rabbi named Arthur Green explains “Even if we all know the story, we are commended to tell it again. The act of “Storytelling” for its own sake, you might call it, whether there is anyone “new” who needs to hear it or not.  You might call this the miracle of Pesach.” Says Rabbi Green. 

This year, this night, we are missing a bunch of our second generation of J.A.P.S.  They are off doing other things and cannot be with us this year. I hope they will be with us next year. But as I look around this room, I see a whole new generation sitting here – ready to hear the telling of this story. 

So, let’s begin. 

The stories we tell

I recently spoke with a very dear friend who I have known a very long time on a one and a half hour skype call. We spent a lot of time talking about family and discussing our past. She told me some things about her parents I hadn’t heard before and I told some of the stories from my family. And this got me thinking about the stories that are passed down from our parents and grandparents. The way we tell them. The way we tell them as if they were true. I told her that the story as she heard it from her father might not have been the way it really happened. And she answered me by saying that that was the way it happened – her father wasn’t a liar, he told her the truth. I told her that I wasn’t calling him a liar but that his story of what happened in his life was just the way he remembered it. But it didn’t mean that that was actually what happened. He wasn’t a liar – he was human. Like the story from my grandfather about the boat he took in his travel from Poland to the USA in the early 20th century. When my cousin researched his history, she couldn’t find him on that boat. But another boat was in New York Harbor at exactly the same time and on that boat’s list was his name. He had seen that other boat when he arrived in America and instead of remembering the name of the boat he was on, he remembered the name on the side of the ship he saw when entering the harbor to his new world. He wasn’t a liar – he was human.

Humans tell stories. Well some of us do. Not all. Some are just silent, unable to make sense of the life they are living, unable to recreate it in words, unable to examine what their life is. But I think most of us humans tell stories. We have a need to explain and understand ourselves. Did a person not choose to go down a path in their lives because they felt it was better to stay at home or was it because they were afraid. Did a person become successful because their own father encouraged and supported their choices or were they just lucky? Did someone not follow their dream because they just didn’t want it bad enough or because they weren’t strong enough to buck a domineering mother?

Life is never a straight shining path. It is a crooked, winding, bumpy road with all kinds of divergent paths leading off to different directions. What fork you choose to take at any of those branches determines the path of your life – you rarely get a chance to backtrack and redo your choice. You can only move forward. But your mind can redo those turns you took.  You can think back and tell yourself “I took that path because your father was there and I chose to marry him”. But years later, well along on the chosen path, deep down, you know that the reason you didn’t follow the path of your dream was because you weren’t brave enough to do so, and so, you took the easier path.  And yes in many cases, having encouraging parents or advisors who can help you decide what is the best choice for you to follow is definitely an asset. Many of those forks in the road get walked without any forthought whatsoever. We humans just go where our feet lead us and then spend decades mulling it over and telling the story which we, with our human memories, remember about it. And that is the life story that our children or our friends get to hear and to pass on to others.

I think I must have been born a sceptic (or at least someone who was unwilling to accept at face value what others told them). Maybe not since birth but definitely since I was four years old. I was four years old when I needed to have my tonsils removed. The very nice doctor told me it wouldn’t hurt and afterwards, I could eat all the ice cream I wanted. When I woke up my throat hurt a lot and when I tried to eat the ice cream my mother gave me, it hurt even more. That very nice doctor lied to me!! And I don’t think I ever believed anyone else, or the stories they tell, wholeheartedly, ever since.

I know people who never fail to say how much they loved their parents or how much they respected them, or admired them, or looked up to them or miss them greatly once gone. And I have to admit, this makes me feel a bit jealous. Because I am unable to use any of those words to describe how I feel about my own parents. Now don’t get me wrong…my parents were not horrible people. They didn’t beat me, they didn’t starve or torture me. They did the best they could with the limited means they had that were a result of poor decision-making earlier in their lives. I definitely loved them but… By the time I was 14 or 15 I was sure I wanted to live my life and make choices completely differently than what my mother did. And I give my mother credit for encouraging me to do exactly that.

Happy new year

Happy new year everybody…
Or rather, not to everybody…mainly to all my Jewish family and friends.
Happy New Year because this weekend was the start of the Jewish New Year – not the regular New Year that is celebrated with fireworks and such on December 31 but the one that we, the Jewish people celebrate – usually in the fall.  This year, we are celebrating the beginning of year 5784. That’s a lot of years.

For me personally, it was a pretty busy weekend, preceded by a couple of pretty busy weeks preparing for this weekend.

On Saturday, my group of J.A.P.S. as I call them (Jewish American Parents in Stockholm…not the kind of JAPS who always have perfectly polished nails), arrived with their offerings of food at my apartment almost promptly at 2pm.  We were 22 people crammed into my open-plan kitchen-dining-living room. Håkan and I had spent the last 2 or 3 days, cleaning, vacuuming and dusting the place – putting the miscellaneous crap we always have lying around in the kitchen-dining-living room out of sight in other parts of the apartment. It wasn’t spotless but good enough. Our small entry hall became filled with shoes, backpacks, jackets and empty bags. The kitchen counters and buffet table were filled with brisket, tzimmes, honey chicken wings, salads, cooked veggies and assorted drinkables. All the desserts were off to the side on the window sill. The large dining table was set up with candles, a bottle of red wine, a round challah, dishes of honey and a big plate of apple slices.  Once all the hugs and hellos were done and the food organized, shoes were found and the disorderly group was sent scurrying down the stairwell (I took the elevator) to the front door and out across a ramp to a floating dock on Pålsundet. It was a beautiful day – warm and sunny with a feeling of still remembered summer. Motorboats of various sizes kept passing us as we gathered on the dock, probably wondering what this unruly group was doing there. Some of them waved to us. We were there to do Teshuvah and Tashlich as we have been doing every year for many years already.

Teshuvah can be seen as the process by which Jews atone for the bad things that they might have done in the past year and it requires a good amount of self-reflection. The Jewish philosopher Maimonides said there are 3 steps in this process: first one must adopt a sincere feeling of regret for one’s bad actions, then one needs to ask for forgiveness from those one has harmed and finally one vows to not do so again. We follow this process of atonement with Tashlich which is a symbolic “casting off” of the sins we have carried around with us for the past year. We do this by tossing something into flowing water – we used to toss bread crumbs but that’s now thought to be bad for the ducks who might gather around us. So this year we used defrosted corn kernels.

I passed around the papers that explained what we were to do and which had a few prayers on them that we spoke together. And then we threw away our sin-carrying corn.

Back upstairs again, we gathered around the dining table, passed around wine-filled small plastic cups and said the blessing over the candles I lit and then over the wine, the round challah Håkan baked, the apples and the honey and finally a prayer for a sweet new year. And then we could eat!! And schmooze and eat some more.

On Sunday, I managed to drag myself out of bed before noon and by 3pm I was at the Jewish community building with my neighbor and good friend Eva-Britt for a Progressiv Judendom i Stockholm activity. We had planned to hold a short afternoon Rosh Hashanah service followed by a shiur/discussion. Tim Kynerd led the service with his beautiful voice, helped by Monique Nilfors  and Sonja Kalmering and with Nathaniel Glasser Skog and his son contributing with the music.  Afterwards, Noa Hermale led the discussion. He talked about how thousands of years ago, the sighting of the new moon determined the start of the new year. And how it was not always self evident to the different rabbis of the time when the new year actually started. The natural phases of the moon was the calendar they used, not having a printed version to refer to. But what he also talked about is how Rosh Hashanah, a day when the moon is new is made into a holy day. How we humans can take an ordinary recurring event like the phases of the moon and give it meaning.  And that idea spoke to me.

Rosh Hashanah is one of the most important days of the Jewish calendar – one of its most holy days, if you will. It is the time when most Jews, regardless of how “religious” they are, go to the synagogue to sit in communal prayers with their fellow Jews. I don’t go to the synagogue for Rosh Hashanah any more – I haven’t done so for many years now. I don’t find meaning there. And without meaning, can it truly be holy?

One of my guests at my Saturday Rosh Hashanah dinner party was explaining to me that since Rosh Hashanah was on a Saturday it was the custom to not blow the shofar like it usually is done. And since it was a Saturday, candles should not be lit and he went on to tell of other things that should or should not be done on this holiest of days.

But I don’t really care about all those guidelines or rules. We didn’t blow the shofar I own mainly because I forgot to get people to try. But I like the idea that Noa Hermale was talking about. He talked about how a wine cup on the sabbath is only an ordinary cup until we give it meaning. A candlestick is only important at chanukah because we give it meaning. I have been celebrating Rosh Hashanah with my J.A.P.S. in basically the same way as I did this past Saturday since my son was 6 years old. The Jews of long ago decided to give meaning to the new moon, to the day that started the month of Tishrei – they said that was the start of the new year and was holy. Every year I call my J.A.P.S. to gather with me to celebrate the arrival of the new Jewish year with a few prayers and a lot of food. For me this gathering has meaning and by giving it meaning it becomes a special day.  It becomes holy.

And may this coming year bring sweetness to all of you. Shana Tova!

 

Page 1 of 12

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén