The Pesah Seder and Oxygen Masks
We’ve heard the instructions from flight attendants prior to take-off a dozen times: “In the event of loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will be released automatically. If you are traveling with small children or someone who needs assistance, place the mask on yourself first (!), and then help the person seated next to you.”
It is almost a counter-intuitive response, to put the mask on yourself first. But imbedded in these instructions is a key to good parenting. We cannot effectively teach our children what we don’t already do for ourselves. Those of us who are parents of young children are often worried that the length or rigor of the Pesah seder will leave our children bored and uninterested, so we tailor the seder to their needs: we sing about frogs jumping up and down, and “no, no, no, I will not let them go” (Not to worry! There is definitely a place for these classics!) – and the telling of the story is over and done in fifteen minutes. And we do not realize that we have inadvertently given our children the message that the Pesah seder is for little kids. And when they have little kids, it will be something for them to do again.
Put on your own oxygen mask first. We will have little to teach our children of lasting value if we don’t find interest and challenge in it, first, for ourselves.
The Passover Haggadah provides us with two parallel sets of instructions. Quoting from the Torah, it instructs us “v’higad’ta l’vinkha” – you shall tell this story to your children. Yes, we need to find a way to tell the story of our liberation – to communicate Judaism’s central vision that human beings are meant to live in freedom, and that the force of God can be found in liberation. There are (at least) four kinds of children – four kinds of learners – and we actually are obligated to tell the story in many different ways, so that all can learn.
For all the years of our children’s growing up, we created a huge “tent” in the living room, suspending sheets of different colors from the ceiling. We invited seder guests to dress as Bedouins and nomads, and we re-told the Pesah story seated on the floor, on cushions and couches. Children were free to stretch out or walk around without the constraints of sitting on chairs around a table. And yes, we jumped up and down like frogs, and shook tambourines as we walked across the sea. Traditional seder plates were arranged on copper trays under the tent as we ingested and internalized the bitter memories of slavery and the sweetness of hope. Snacks of nuts and raisins, fresh vegetables and dried fruits placed around the living room kept the edge off everyone’s hunger, enabling kids and adults alike to stay focused on the telling and re-enactment of the great story.
And then we moved to a table, in deference to David’s German Jewish traditions, formally set with silver and crystal. “Put your own oxygen mask on first.” The Pesah table conversation continues with the serious questions of the day:
- "B’khol dor vador – in every generation we must see ourselves as if we personally came out of Egypt.” With what issue of liberation do we concern ourselves today? Whose suffering is part of our awareness?
- We dip our fingers into our wine cups, reducing the fullness of our joy as we remember the suffering, even of our enemies. How do we translate this sensitivity into the issues of today, when religious conflict often centers on harsh and fundamentalist re-tellings of sacred narratives?
- and on and on. If we are fortunate, our table conversation will be animated by many different perspectives on real, profound, relevant issues, all in a Jewish idiom and setting. There is no confusion that this is an adult table, with places at the table for each of our children. Pesah is serious business, involving people who actually are taking responsibility for what happens in our world. And when the kids can no longer maintain interest, there are toys and quiet games (and maybe even a babysitter) in a space adjoining the dining room. And circling the periphery of the dining room is a ring of sleeping bags – so that our children can be lulled to sleep to the voices of the adults in their lives, well into the night, in song and meaningful conversation.
