Sedar Manners from New York to Israel and Back Again

Sedar Manners from New York to Israel and Back Again
by Dorit Sasson

As I watch my three year son slurp chicken soup after Friday night’s service, I am almost home. Well, almost. I want to get on that LIRR train to Far Rockaway so much. But for the sake of Sedar manners, I push that memory just a bit back in my subconscious.
I truly feel like an outsider now that we’ve moved back to the States. I’ve lived in both Israel and American in equal numbers of years, but when it comes time to slurping soup, time stands still. Momma tried to teach me what she thought were Sedar manners for eight years, and she didn’t compromise - even on a Sedar night. She thought the excitement of singing the four questions (what has changed, Ma Nishtana?) would perhaps distract me from slurping soup and watching others slurp. The thought of watching her almost eighteen year old daughter become excited by little cousin Zackary’s version of “Ma Nishtana?” (what has changed) made her finally realized that I was busy to be bothered with keeping up with sedar manners.

“Don’t you have something you would like to share with the family?” she asked me on my last Passover sedar.
“What, what are you talking about?” I asked as uncle Eddie put down his soup spoon and lifting his head.
“You know, about you volunteering on a kibbutz and moving to Israel.” My mom said.
Sharing my decision of emigrating to Israel, I felt like I was Moses leading the people across through the Dead Sea with his stick. All eyes were upon me. But I slurped my matzah ball soup quietly in order to distract myself from the silence. The truth was I was scared. I knew that Far Rockaway and Greenwich Village were really the only two homes I knew.
Uncle Eddie smiled. “Well, at least we know who’s going to be in Jerusalem next year, as they say in the Torah.”
Since then I have spent the next 18 Passover sedars in and around Jerusalem. Only last year, I’ve discovered a need to come back home, perhaps to understand that slurping Matzoh ball soup is just as universal as I thought it is.


After a long hiatus from submitting posts to Scribbit's Write Away Contest, I'm happy to say that I've found myself a bit inspired and submitted again.