It’s stumbling across a local FB group called “Shayna Maidels” for local Jewish women to come together once in awhile to connect. And laughing to myself because this is what my grandparents often called my sister growing up. Sheina is her Hebrew name. It’s in these little things that remind me I’m not, actually, disconnected from the culture. It’s validation that I do, in fact, know a few things.

Looking back, it seems obvious now how intentional my grandparents were in trying to keep our Jewish heritage alive in us kids. When we were younger, we spent many weekends with them at their condo in downtown Chicago. We’d meet halfway at “Grandma’s Restaurant” where our mom would see us off and go back to Indy to do children’s parties for the weekend. 

I remember being excited to be with them. We always did fun things together. We also regularly went to synagogue with them on Friday nights too, and even then, they somehow managed to make that tolerable, and even enjoyable. 

As I got older, I really lost touch with organized religion in general almost as soon as I could. Coming from the background I had, I couldn’t wait for some of my own agency to, honestly, just stop fucking with it. Because I can’t say I felt like I belonged wholeheartedly in anything I was raised with. So much of it always seemed to come with some level of judgment from someone or another.

I would tell people I was half Jewish when it came up, or occasionally I’d share this information even when it didn’t “come up”. But by the time I was a young adult, I knew the various types of responses or questions I’d get about it from Jews and gentiles alike. 

These days, more times than not I feel totally sure of myself and claim being Jewish with ease. And other times, it feels really complex, difficult to unpack, and filled with insecurity. I think it really wasn’t until both of my grandparents passed away that I faced the question, “where does this leave me and my Jewish identity?” I had always counted on them to be that part of me, for me.

But what happens to that part, if they’re no longer around?

It left me with a lot of questions. 

I remember my grandma, when she was in the nursing home and couldn’t host Passover at her house, asked us, “Please tell me you at least celebrated Passover?” 

I could see how this might seem like a statement intended to be loaded with guilt. But that’s not how I took it. It just felt like one of the ways she was asking if we were planning to “keep it up” – at least this holiday, for them, but also for us. 

And for all the things they did, it hardly seems like a big ask. In a way, I wanted, maybe actually needed to hear it.

As I got older we didn’t talk about Judaism as much together. Still, it’s always been a part of who we are. I’ve always identified on some level as Jewish. So from here I’m exploring where to go…

If I could talk to my grandparents now, I’d tell them their efforts weren’t for nothing. You may never find me in a temple every week, in fact you may never find me there at all, but I will pass down what I learned from them onto my kids. And I’ll learn new things too and I’ll figure out how to make it ours. 

Just like how now our seder plate looks different. We include an orange and a piece of fair trade chocolate. We read from progressive Haggadahs that my sister and I actively screened and sought out. We don’t read every single section. Now we have discussions about the words in the Haggadah and what they mean to us. We apply them to what’s happening in the world today.

And this seder feels super special in a whole new way. 

It’s not just waiting for everyone to finish the long reading so that we can start eating or trying to hold back laughter with my sisters when one of the older folks would fall asleep at the table or when we saw strange images in the Haggadahs my grandparents used to have. That were old and worn – never replaced year after year after year. 

My kids so far are not different in this way. They struggle to sit through seder, just like we did. But I know this all actually means something. That it’s a part of something bigger about building tradition. And it feels important to me that we’re doing it. 

It’s in a lot of the little things, like the fact that today I made them matzo brei for lunch. Mainly because it’s one of three things I know how to make and we still have leftover Passover matzo… And it will never not make me think of my grandpa.

If I could talk to my grandparents now, I’d tell them how much I miss them and thank them for showing me our culture in a way that makes me not only want to, but actually proud to pass it on <3

---