The Four Questions (and Many More)
Written by Diana - Colorado, USA
Growing up Jewish, my favorite holiday was always Pesach. Passover. Everyone else seemed to love Chanukah for the presents and dreidels or Rosh Hashanah for the sweet honey and apples, but my loyalties rested in the family Haggadah and annual seder. See, the Haggadah used to tell the story of Passover each year has not stayed the same as I have grown up. Sometimes a prayer was added or taken away. Sometimes we said a word for a lost loved one. But one of the most important changes to me and my cousins was the addition of the orange to the seder plate.
The orange was added inconspicuously without a word. However, when you place an orange next to a roasted egg, parsley, bitter herbs, a shank bone, and charoset, the unassuming orange stands out rather strongly. No one else seemed too bothered by the addition, so I kept my mouth shut. At the end of the seder though, while everyone searched for the afikomen, I stayed behind and asked my aunt and uncle what the fruit was doing at dinner. They informed me that it was part of a new tradition throughout Judaism to include the suffering and recognition of LGBTQ+ people at the holiday.
Judaism has a way with new traditions. The seeming dissonance of the words fit perfectly with the mindset of the faith, though. At its core, being Jewish always means the same thing of believing in something greater. To consider God as a part of life and act with kindness towards others living in the same beautiful world. But that world changes. We have questions. We have greater understanding. The thing about Judaism is that I have always been able to believe in the world around me because the faith assures that it does not only apply to the ancient world. Faith applies to the new world and the old one, to oranges and to shank bones. Having hope in the world as it seems to crumble becomes an increasingly difficult task with each new oppressive law, but understanding that there is a Jewish God and religion who keeps up with its people provides me more belonging and hope than any community ever could.
As I have come out to my family and extended family, the tenants of the Jewish faith are represented clearly in their actions. I am the orange on the plate. I have been added to the table, seen and respected as different. But I still ask the Four Questions, the Ma Nishtana– a task reserved for the youngest at the table. I am still the child I was, despite the recognition of my identity. Despite the recognition that I have changed.
“Why is this night different from all other nights?” I ask, the first line of the Ma Nishtana. Because we see each other clearly, and if we don’t, we ask more questions. Leave a spot open for change so that we can see our faith as a part of our ever-changing realities, not above it. Leave a spot for Elijah at the table. We leave a spot for the orange at the table, but we say the same prayers that have been said for centuries.
