THE CREATION OF A PERSONAL LIBERATION SEDER
by Karen G. R. Roekard
In my Orthodox Jewish childhood, the Haggadot we used at our Passover Seders followed the prescribed text. My father led the Seder and did most of the reading, thus following traditional practice. Once I had grasped the basic story line and ritual flow, it became boring. Through the years, the addition of Midrashim, of interpretations and legends, gave Passover Seders additional meaning. And yet I noticed that my connection to the Seder and to the concept of slavery was mainly through my mind and my mouth.
Over the past 20 years, with the addition of the political haggadot, a new and very exciting dimension was added. I could relate to the feminist struggle and to the anguish of Jews unable to practice their religion in countries where there was no political freedom. I noticed that in addition to my intellectual connection to the concept of Passover and Seder, I was also being connected through my guts, the space of my power, or powerlessness, whichever was true at that point in time.
About six years ago the desire grew in me to connect to the Passover Seder from a place of heart and soul, from a growing awareness of the ways in which I 'enslave' myself, from the perspective of an evolving consciousness. I realized that if I am to fulfill the Passover obligation of each generation looking at itself as if it had come out of slavery, then I could most effectively do this by looking into the ways in which I hold myself back. Out of this emerged The Santa Cruz Haggadah, a haggadah devoted to the concepts of personal growth through internal search and pattern disruption.
I now have about ten seders worth of experience using a personal growth haggadah and about 300 letters from people who used The Santa Cruz Haggadah. If being truly alive requires being open to the unexpected, then seders whose focus is on personal growth are absolutely enlivening; something always happens that at least leaves you thinking and at best may support you in making some small change. The most extreme example is what I have called 'the screaming infants seder.'
Last year I attended a wonderful public seder of forty people at a retreat center. Few of the participants knew each other beforehand. The seder followed the early pages of The Santa Cruz Haggadah fairly closely so we read about how our ancestors were physically trapped in Mitzrayim (Egypt) in the past and how in our time we may feel trapped by our belief systems or a need to project blame or by parts of ourselves that we have not yet integrated. We washed our hands and shared what it is that we would like to have washed out of our lives. We lit candles, drank wine, and seemed to speak truth. But as background sound to our inner search and our outer vocalizations, we had the disturbing duet of two screaming three-year-olds.
Now I'm a politically correct sort of person, so I tried to convince myself that this was OK, and that it was my problem if I was being distracted by the screaming children. "After all, no one else is saying anything, so this must be my problem," I thought, and felt myself too embarrassed to speak this truth to a group of 'strangers.'
I don't remember exactly what instigated the major 'scene' at the seder; it might have been in response to the Leader's raising one of the questions from the Haggadah, like "What do you 'dichfeen,' what do you hunger for right now? What do you 'ditzrich?' What do you need?" I just don't know. What I do know is that all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, came an adult's voice that shouted louder and slower than the kids: "I hate screaming kids!!! I want the kids to stop screaming!!!"
The parents of one of the screamers immediately got up and left the seder with their child. I could feel the guilt rising as in me as my mind cheered on he woman who had truly spoken her truth. The other child looked directly at her and for the rest of the evening remained quiet. After a few moments of uneasy silence, the seder continued and the energy and honesty in the room completely changed.
During the meal it came out that many people had been disturbed by the screaming children. Like me, everyone felt as if it was just their problem, and they didn't have a right to say anything. Several people thanked the woman who had matched the children's behavior and screamed out her need; at least one participant told her that what she had done was horrible and inconsiderate of the kid's parents.
I listened as two topics took over: (1) How can a person get away from feeling "Oh it is just my problem," and move to a place of trusting that if something is bothering them, it is probably bothering other people. How can we move to a place of being proactive, rather than passively tolerant of a troubling situation? and (2) How can we handle a disturbing energy in a group situation on future occasions?
These were useful conversations that hopefully, by being brought to the fore of consciousness and up for discussion, gave all of the participants some new options for dealing with troubling situations in he future. And I thought. "Isn't that what personal growth and evolving consciousness is all about? Isn't that what getting out of Mitzrayim (Egypt) is all about?"
Another Santa Cruz haggadah story; another story about the impact of a personal growth haggadah and seder. Of all the letters I have received, the one that touched me the deepest was from the Editor-in-Chief of a newspaper whom I had asked to do a review of The Haggadah.
She wrote saying that she and her son had been estranged for years and that for two years they had not seen or spoken to each other. The son had been about to graduate from college, but she hadn't thought much about it. One night she picked up a copy of he Santa Cruz Haggadah that I had sent to her and began reading right through. She read the questions and commentaries as well as the text.
By the time she got to the page with the question on Maror (bitter herbs), she was totally mesmerized and in a very deep place. The question asks: "What still brings up a sense of 'Maror,' of bitterness in my life? In what ways can I lighten this load?" She found herself in tears as she thought about her son and how pained she was about the state of their relationship. She continued reading and came to Question 28: "Is there anyone in my life who, in spite of their actions, I need to 'May-teev,' to love them more than ever?" Apparently at that moment she made a decision to attend the son's graduation even though she had not been invited.
When he saw her at the graduation, he came up to her, hugged her, and they both cried and shared their pain. She said in her letter: " I don't know how long the sweetness of our relationship will last, but at least we now know that it is possible again."
She was inspired by a holiday and a book that focuses on enslavement and freedom to look at how she was holding herself back from having something she really wanted. She was given the strength to take what must have felt like a humongous risk: disrupting a long-standing pattern of relationship between herself and her son.
And its my hope that the ripples of good will that spring from reaching out as she did, from shifting the internal energy state from angry disconnection to peaceful connection, can extend way beyond the interaction between her and her son. Their healing may spark a more loving internal reality in her which she might then bring into her office and to her relationships with hr employees or to her choice of stories to print. Who knows the extent of the changes that might occur on the planet if many people healed the relationships with others from whom they feel estranged, or at least took a first step in that direction? Who knows the changes that could occur on t the planet if everyone made a choice at Passover time to make some teeny tiny disruption of even just one pattern that enslaves them!
And I was there to witness the epilogue of the first story I told you. The father of the screaming child who had left the Seder came over at breakfast to the woman who had screamed back. They had a conversation during which she apologized and he told her that she had nothing to apologize for. Because no one at the seder had said anything about their child's noise-making, and because they were so used to it that they almost didn't hear it, they didn't realize how disturbing their child could be to other people. He thanked hr for her honesty and told her that he and his wife would now try to b more sensitive to others when they took their child along with them. I was completely amazed by the level of gentleness with which he shared this and like to imagine that he was able to be as compassionate as he was because they'd finished reading The Haggadah in their room after they had left the seder.
So I am a promoter of self-liberation Passover seders, be it The Santa Cruz Haggadah or any new ones as they make their way to the marketplace or any that individuals writ for their own use. I like to see our past honored by incorporating much from the traditional-historical approach; I acknowledge present external reality by incorporating aspects from the politically-based haggadot. But at least once a year, in the company of people I care about, I need to focus on the here and now as it exists inside me and share the ways in which I want to liberate myself; I need a personal liberation seder.
New Menorah - Spring, 1993
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