tradition
You know what's amazing? How you don't necessarily realize how important something is to you until it's yanked out from under you.
This is my second passover away from my family, spending it with my aunt and uncle. Now, as most of you know, I'm not a particularly religious person. I consider myself a cultural Jew - I like to celebrate, but the prayers don't mean much to me - it's the tradition. But what I realized tonight is that it's the specific tradition.
My sedar tonight was a shambles - they do not care one jot about the holiday, they sung none of the songs (one attempt was aweful), they don't even know how to do certain aspects of the service (like, what you do with maror). And to top it all off, my aunt used mustard in one of her dishes - mustard is not kosher for passover! Also, the food wasn't very nice - it was cold meat with salads. The gefilte fish was boiled not baked. The salt water was too salty. And there was no wine. There was very little interesting conversation. SHAMBLES.
And the whole time I just kept thinking, 'this isn't right, I shouldn't be here.' I miss the tradition of being with my family: my mum and her friend getting drunk and trying to sing the songs they've downloaded off the internet, everyone making the same jokes in the same spots, the dessert one of the guests brings ever year, the jovial nature of the whole affair, the wine and the laughter and the arguing over stupid things, and sneaking out for a cigarette with my friend once the meal is done. It's all part and parcel of the whole thing. It's not about the religion, it's about the tradition of spending time with family. Sadly, even though I'm related to the people tonight, I really feel like the people we celebrate with at home are my holiday family.
It's who you make your traditions with, your holidays with, and your special moments with who are your family. And I miss that. I miss knowing that Renee's always going to spell my name wrong on the placecards when the sedar is at her house, and knowing the jokes we'll make about it. I miss running around looking for the afikoman even though I'm way too old (I especially miss getting money for doing so). I miss finishing the sedar, bleary-eyed and half-drunk. I miss listening to my dad stutter over the Hebrew and tell us all, again, that he got his hagada when he was very young and oh, we're all on different pages. I miss laughing at the weird translations. I miss seeing how much my sister's reading has improved over the years. Basically, I miss my family.
It's amazing to me how much these traditions matter to me. It's part of my family, my past and my future. I cannot believe I was grumbling about going to my cousin's sedar tomorrow night, but it's not a sedar if it's not family. Last year with Jess and Tim was good because we made it our own thing - we were all learning from the beginning how to have a sedar together. Maybe it's hard to join in on someone else's tradition - maybe that's the problem with tonight's sedar shambles. But maybe it's more about missing being with people who gives two shits about what the holiday means - the coming together in freedom, the being together and drinking and eating together - that makes a difference.
Either way, I'm homesick. Next year, I will not miss my Toronto sedars, no matter where I am in the world. Next year I will be running around with my mum, huffing and puffing worried that Dad won't get home in time again this year. I will be moaning that I don't want to dress up. Next year I will be home. With my family.
Mum is coming on Thursday, but she can't bring gefilte fish on the plane.
This is my second passover away from my family, spending it with my aunt and uncle. Now, as most of you know, I'm not a particularly religious person. I consider myself a cultural Jew - I like to celebrate, but the prayers don't mean much to me - it's the tradition. But what I realized tonight is that it's the specific tradition.
My sedar tonight was a shambles - they do not care one jot about the holiday, they sung none of the songs (one attempt was aweful), they don't even know how to do certain aspects of the service (like, what you do with maror). And to top it all off, my aunt used mustard in one of her dishes - mustard is not kosher for passover! Also, the food wasn't very nice - it was cold meat with salads. The gefilte fish was boiled not baked. The salt water was too salty. And there was no wine. There was very little interesting conversation. SHAMBLES.
And the whole time I just kept thinking, 'this isn't right, I shouldn't be here.' I miss the tradition of being with my family: my mum and her friend getting drunk and trying to sing the songs they've downloaded off the internet, everyone making the same jokes in the same spots, the dessert one of the guests brings ever year, the jovial nature of the whole affair, the wine and the laughter and the arguing over stupid things, and sneaking out for a cigarette with my friend once the meal is done. It's all part and parcel of the whole thing. It's not about the religion, it's about the tradition of spending time with family. Sadly, even though I'm related to the people tonight, I really feel like the people we celebrate with at home are my holiday family.
It's who you make your traditions with, your holidays with, and your special moments with who are your family. And I miss that. I miss knowing that Renee's always going to spell my name wrong on the placecards when the sedar is at her house, and knowing the jokes we'll make about it. I miss running around looking for the afikoman even though I'm way too old (I especially miss getting money for doing so). I miss finishing the sedar, bleary-eyed and half-drunk. I miss listening to my dad stutter over the Hebrew and tell us all, again, that he got his hagada when he was very young and oh, we're all on different pages. I miss laughing at the weird translations. I miss seeing how much my sister's reading has improved over the years. Basically, I miss my family.
It's amazing to me how much these traditions matter to me. It's part of my family, my past and my future. I cannot believe I was grumbling about going to my cousin's sedar tomorrow night, but it's not a sedar if it's not family. Last year with Jess and Tim was good because we made it our own thing - we were all learning from the beginning how to have a sedar together. Maybe it's hard to join in on someone else's tradition - maybe that's the problem with tonight's sedar shambles. But maybe it's more about missing being with people who gives two shits about what the holiday means - the coming together in freedom, the being together and drinking and eating together - that makes a difference.
Either way, I'm homesick. Next year, I will not miss my Toronto sedars, no matter where I am in the world. Next year I will be running around with my mum, huffing and puffing worried that Dad won't get home in time again this year. I will be moaning that I don't want to dress up. Next year I will be home. With my family.
Mum is coming on Thursday, but she can't bring gefilte fish on the plane.