Many life lessons fill plates at keiki Seder

By Mary Kaye Ritz
Religion & Ethics Writer

Thirteen-year-old Jacob Washofsky knows the ceremony planned for Saturday on his parents' lanai isn't your typical Jewish grandmother's Seder.

Jacob Washofsky, left, and his brother, Ben, prepare for the annual keiki Seder. At the Seder, the youngest generation sits at the head of the table and leads prayers, using age-appropriate text. Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser

Why Saturday? Because it's not a school night, of course. Everything about the keiki Seder is seen from the kids' point of view.

Here's how the seventh-grader at Le Jardin describes the keiki Seder:

"It's just a reform Seder, I guess, rather than the traditional, die-hard Seder where they have to say every (Hebrew) word (properly) or start all over," Jacob said.

"I don't think they start over," said his older brother, Ben, a junior at Punahou, correcting him.

Both do agree, however, that the second-night Seder certainly has a different flavor to it.

Yes, they eat the same traditional foods as they do the first night at the family Seder, which brings together nearly 30 friends and a family spanning four generations, beginning with the boys' great-grandfather, Rabbi Morris Goldfarb, resident scholar at Temple Emanu-El. That food would be the beitza (egg), zeroa (lamb shank), moror (bitter herbs), karpas (vegetables), charoset (a chutney-like mixture of apples, nuts and wine) and matzo, or unleavened bread.

But at their grandparents' home, a prayer like "Take Us All Out of Egypt" wouldn't be sung — and certainly not to the tune of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game."

Although his grandparents have attended the keiki Seder, there's no kids' table here. In fact, the youngest generation sits at the head of the table and leads the prayers, using age-appropriate text and assigning the different readings and Seder traditions to their contemporaries.

Dad Craig says it's fitting that they should.

"The whole story of the commandment is to tell the story of the exodus from Egypt to your children," he said. "So what better way to do it than to have the kids lead it? That way, they're getting the story firsthand."

The keiki Seder, now in its seventh year, teaches the boys more than the story of the exodus, said their mother, Dana.

She gets a bit misty when she remembers how Ben, then a pre-teen, asked before an earlier Seder which of the kids at the table could read, so he could assign them age-appropriate parts of the prayers. He was learning the all-important lesson of inclusiveness.

And Ben made a point to mention during the interview at his Enchanted Lake home how he and his brother extend warm greetings toward the new families invited for the occasion.

"Treat the stranger well, because you were once the stranger," Ben paraphrased, though couldn't exactly remember the source of this wisdom.

Matzo is the traditional Passover bread. Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser

The boys help prepare each of the 40 guests' plates, the contents of which will mirror those of the ceremonial Seder plate that Jacob and his mother made for the occasion at Paint-It Pottery. The boys clip the parsley, slice the radishes, break up the matzo. Jacob is a good chopper, his mother said, and helps make the charoset.

Craig talked about how it started seven years ago, when a group of friends with children the same age came together with the right number of elements.

"I've been going to Seders for 40-some years now," he said, "and the kids always tend to get pushed to the kids' table. Or they're bored. These kids were smart enough to read. We found a Hagadah (Passover text) that was made for kids. All those things came together."

The kids were proud of being able to read the English and Hebrew text; the parents were proud, too, seeing them do it.

What do the boys enjoy most? In his best Yiddish, Ben quotes "Fiddler on the Roof":

Part of that tradition is to hide a piece of matzo. Last year, when the lucky child spied it in the upstairs area by the stereo, everyone received a yo-yo, and the lucky finder was given the fanciest yo-yo of all.

Asked if they would continue the tradition of the keiki Seder when they are grown with children of their own, both boys looked at each other and blinked. Talk about a "duh" question.

"We'll just come here!" Ben said.

When his mother heard that, she laughed, knowing that someday her boys will grow up and start families of their own. And when they do, they'll start their own traditions.

"Part of our philosophy is that children should grow up to be competent adults," she said. "... Traditions we set now, while they can't see the application later in their world, will grow into something that works for them. It may evolve differently, but they will know the process and have an understanding of what it takes.

"They can't see themselves as adults, but I can see them growing into that."

With a mother's eye, she can see how the traits it takes to put on a keiki Seder — reaching out to strangers, helping the younger children and making their tasks appropriate to each one's ability — are taking hold.

"Those are very good traits to take with you later," she said.