Yeah, it’s been a while.

I’m sure I’ll write about comics again someday (hahaha no I probably won’t until they make good ones again), but given my professional role in the Jewish community these days, I feel like I’m under some sort of obligation to say something profound about the fact that it’s Passover this week.

AND I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU MY FRIENDS!

This is actually my favorite Jewish holiday in terms of ritual. Irrespective of what it’s actually become in a commercial sense (seriously, God doesn’t say anything in the Torah to the effect of “hey, I hope you guys figure out how to make frozen pizza out of this), the notion of changing our lifestyles for a week can make for an interesting shift in perspective .

But I love the Seder most of all. It’s a night of storytelling, a meal combined with an infinitely adaptable open source curriculum, one that we’re empowered to continuously tweak so that our Story of liberation from Egypt then can be made relevant to our Story as both Jews and human beings today. It’s a time when we say “let all who are hungry come and eat,” and if we live that up to it’s truest form, we can feed whoever we want. As far as I’m concerned, the best Seder is one that includes people who do not consider themselves to be Jewish. Better than that is if they feel 100% welcome and comfortable, and even better if they can fully connect to the content of the learning at the meal.

I grew up at my father’s side as he led our family’s Seders for many years and it was one of my favorite things in the world. Every year, he searched for new and relevant content to bring to our experience of eating and celebrating together. When I was 27, I decided to stay here in New York and co-lead a Seder with some dear friends. It lived up to the standard that I listed above, and I was hooked. My parents were lovingly disappointed in their own way.

“Why don’t you come home for Passover anymore?”

“What were you two doing when you were my age?”

“We…oh, we were hosting Seders in our home for our friends.”

“Then it’s my turn. Y’all did a good job.”

I actually went back to Chicago to co-lead with my dad at a Seder last year, and it certainly was quite a wonderful time. The sharing and mixing of two different approaches led to a whole new kind of conversation, and I hope we can do it again someday. Even better: I look forward to hosting him in my own home in the not-too-distant future. But I’m back in Brooklyn this year, and getting ready to co-facilitate with a different friend. I can’t wait.

A couple years back, I did some sharing about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, and I also offered a reflection exercise that can be used by anyone, irrespective of faith. Now I’m doing it again. You can use it for your Seder, or you can use it with your friends, depending on the situation. Totally up to you.

I call it The 21 Jump Street. If you’re smart, you’ll figure out why.

The only things you need are people, Post-It notes, pens/pencils and comfort with a writing exercise at your Seder.

The Context: At the Seder, we celebrate our ancestors liberation from slavery in Egypt. Putting aside the debate about the historicity of that particular narrative, it is an essential part of the Jewish Story. One of the most important pieces of the Seder is that we are asked to step into the shoes (sandals?) of our ancestors and view ourselves as if we were also slaves in Egypt. The challenge in our modern lives is that most of us cannot truly relate to this type of experience. We do, however recognize that we have brothers and sisters in this world whose history remains sadly to close to this experience, and we also recognize that there are those in this world who are in fact living as slaves. I’m glad to see that the conversation about fair labor and human trafficking is central to the Passover conversation in my community this year, and I look forward to the day when all people can only think of slavery as a sad memory as opposed to something that still exists in today’s world.

The purpose of this exercise is to address the idea that we all have some version of personal bondage, something that holds us back from being the people that we would fully and truly like to become. (Let me add that I do not intend to diminish actual slavery with this, but it is meant to create a different type of relevant connection to the Seder).

The Exercise: Explain the notion of personal bondage, as I described it above. We all have the thing (or many things) in our lives, whatever it may be. Perhaps it’s an addiction to cigarettes or an overcommitment to our work lives over our personal lives. Everyone’s got something. Pass a Post-It note to everyone in your group, and ask each person to write that thing in a word or two onto their notes, and then to stick the notes to their foreheads. When everyone is done, have the group look around at what everyone has written.

Ask folks to raise their hands if they see at least one other note that they can relate to. Almost everyone will almost always raise their hands. You know why? Because we generally share the same struggles – the only thing is that we don’t speak about them openly as much as we should. Stigma is a silly thing that way.

It’s a common experience. We all have those things that we wish we could change, that hold us back just a little bit. We want to be freed of them. It’s not always easy to do so, but at the Passover Seder, I like to create a moment where we symbolically try to let those things go. And sometimes, just sometimes, you can use that as an opportunity to start fresh from there.

Close the activity by placing a bowl in the center of the table, and asking each person to free themselves just for tonight by tearing up their Post-Its and placing them into the bowl. As an alternative, you can have people tear up the notes of others instead. Leave the bowl at the table as a reminder of those little struggles in our lives and the intention to move past them. Or pour wine on them or something. Totally up to you.

There you go: a thing for your Seder! Use it if you like.

Happy Passover!

Love and kisses,

Wolkin