Seders and Traffic Jams

April 9, 2009




We left Tel Aviv at about 6 pm with the Perlman family. The distance to Kibbutz Har’el is only about 20 miles, but the traffic jammed up on Highway 1, shortly after leaving the Tel Aviv portion. It was not until nearly an hour later that we exited the highway at the Har’el turnoff. Off in the distance, Lee pointed out Kibbutz Neve Shalom, a joint Jewish Arab undertaking on a neighboring hillside. Kibbutz Har’el was home to Lee for 5-6 years after he made aliyah in the early 1980s. It has had a rocky history with several starts and stops, over political and economic disagreements and challenges. The entire kibbutz movement has undergone dramatic changes, and Har’el, faced with huge debt, is now basically no different than a condominium community in the U.S. There are no shared economic activities, but there are some shared community activities and upkeep. The location, halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, makes it ideal for housing for both cities, so the kibbutz rents many of its housing units.

Our seder took place in the kibbutz community center, formerly the children’s house. Folding tables and plastic chairs for 40 filled the space. Tables with main courses and desserts were arranged in an adjoining space. The 40 or so in attendance included relatives of Edna, including her sister Orna, who, by the way, directs health promotion programs for the kibbutz movement, as well as friends from the kibbutz. There were children as young as 3 or 4, all the way up to elders. Lee led the seder using a haggadah written by kibbutz members, with the primary focus on agriculture and nature, rather than the traditional story. For example, although the first of the four questions was about matzah, the fourth was “why on this night to we engage in long and serious discussion about our lives?” There was generous participation with readings and commentary. In a truly practical vein, somebody pointed out that in some ancient cultures, the ritual was to eat the meal and then tell the story, so we consumed a fair amount of matzah, charoset, and moror, as we proceeded.

After the meal, the tradition in this kibbutz is to act out the song Chad Gadya (Just One Kid), about the escalating costs to oppressors—the cat who ate, the goat, the dog who ate the cat, the stick that beat the dog, all the way up to the Source who destroyed the angel of death. Wearing a goat’s mask, a 3 year old girl was carried around the room by her dad during the first verse, followed by others in masks or props playing their roles for each verse. We enjoyed a jazz version of “Go Down Moses.” Udi on the accordion was joined by Aiton, the kibbutz gardner. Probably in his 60s, this tall, slender sax player had long, gray dreadlocks, a linen shirt, and plaid pants that may have come from the second-hand shop for golfers. When we finished the traditional songs, we moved on to a contemporary sing-a-long, with songs like Jerusalem of Gold, before closing with a lively rendition of Dylan’s “It Ain’t No Use to Sit and Wonder Why, Babe” and a hardy “We Shall Overcome.” At around 11 we shifted into cleanup mode and in 45 minutes the chairs were stacked, the tables folded, the floor swept, the compostable and recyclable trash sorted, and the simple cut flower arrangements distributed.

So familiar and so different. What a wonderful experience.

As we headed back onto Highway 1 at close to midnight, think New Jersey Turnpike on the Sunday after Thanksgiving or Interstate 40 from the beach at the end of 4th of July weekend. Maybe this is what it was like when 600,000 Hebrews were crossing the Sea of Reeds. Even though Pesach is a holiday in Israel-- offices and shops are closed—many participants in the tens of thousands of seders here in Israel are returning from evenings with friends and family to their homes in Tel Aviv.