A Very Shiksa Seder
By Ellen Snortland on April 06, 2012
Raised in South Dakota, the only Jewish person I was familiar with was Anne Frank and, of course, Jesus. The third Jewish person I knew, I married. His family was mortified and had to muster every “good sport” molecule they had to accept his choice of me as his fiancée: a SHIKSA, a non-Jewish woman. Oy Vey!
My ultra-Norwegian-American Lutheran grandmother morphed her own religious bigotry into bittersweet acceptance. Grandma walked up to my handsome new groom at our wedding reception. She peered up at him, and yelled as only slightly deaf people can bellow: “Your people killed my savior… but YOU seem like a nice boy!” Uff da! (Uff da is Norwegian for “Oy vey!”)
Before our wedding, I offered to convert to Judaism because frankly, from what I could see, the world needed more Jews. Who doesn't like witty, frugal shoppers and conversationalists who throw in oh-so-handy Yiddish exclamations? I figured I could add to the numbers.
My new husband, petrified at the idea of me becoming Jewish, envisioned my conversion and gently talked me out of it. He was clearly familiar with my meshuggah approach to life. (Slightly nuts, but with zeal!)
He realized if I converted, next I would become a Rabbi, remodel the kitchen to accommodate kosher requirements, and he'd spend his adult life like his childhood: going to temple all the time and wearing things on his head. (My new hubby was a bareheaded-type guy.)
Imagine his chagrin when I announced, “I'm creating a Seder!” I LOVED the idea of Seder, the ritual at Passover, which is a commemoration of the Jews' Exodus from Egypt at the hands of Pharoah. Of course, we all have Pharaohs we need deliverance from, whether that Pharaoh literally enslaves a whole race or is the newly-elected Tea Partier who wants to prevent you from getting birth control. Seder is a beloved holiday for everyone, Jews and shiksas alike.
Image: JEREMY LYVERSE/Napa Valley Register via ZUMA Press.
A theater producer at the time, I sucked in every theater friend I could find and created a Seder production team — not all shiksas, some of us actually knew what we were doing. We also decided our Seder would be a feminist one and we would include — hold on to your yarmulkes — women!
Being an ardent women's rights advocate, I was taken aback with some of the customs my husband had grown up with. His mom had dairy dishes, meat dishes, Passover dairy dishes and Passover meat dishes. I'm thinking, “Geez, women did not make up these rules.” And THEN, the patriarchs had the audacity to create ritual texts for the Seder (called a Haggadah), and not make one mention of women in the flight from Egypt? Really? Come on! Let my people go, except we're going to keep our women serving us like slaves. You let US go!
Oh sure, we were supposed to gather manna, milk the goats, clean the tents, bake the unleavened bread — quickly! — keep the kids quiet, separate the meat and dairy dishes AND the separate set of Passover dishes, prepare the table and cook the special Passover meal, and smile at relatives we don't really like… but then, to not even have a nod to our own unique form of oppression while we wait on you patriarchs? Oh, no, no, no, no! Not at our table!
This goyishe momma wasn't having any of the same ol' same ol' in an ancient religion celebrating liberation. (I have the same disdain for the Christian holiday of Christmas where the women do all the food shopping and prepping, wrapping of gifts, decorating and then Santa gets all the credit.)
My first Shiksa Passover finally came to pass, excuse the expression, and was a sit-down Seder for 60 people. As custom dictates, we set a place for the wandering prophet Elijah, just in case he decides to return. (As it turns out, Elijah probably did more to wipe out the matriarchal Goddess cultures than any of other the prophets did, but that's another post.) In any event, we set a place for Miriam too, just in case she wanted to drop by.
After all, if it hadn't been for Miriam and that ancient shiksa Princess Bisyah, Pharaoh's daughter, Moses would have had a very different fate than leading the Jews — males and females — out of Egypt. Throughout history, there have always been women and girls, making everyone's history possible.
This year, my Shiksa Seder will include having each guest reflect on:
1. Current oppression in their lives: “I feel enslaved by the addiction to please everyone all the time,” or “I think I have a drinking problem,” or “I have a compulsion to customize holidays to my personal liking.”
2. Actions to take in the coming year to cut those self-designed ropes of said enslavement.
3. Five things they are grateful for.
Sadly, my marriage to my first husband ended, but I'll always be grateful to him for being a mensch and opening a door onto a rich heritage I continue to celebrate.
Happy Pesach everyone!
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