Pesach Post-game

In the overview of the Jewish year, Pesach really has a leg up re: kid-friendly angles. Sure, Purim has costumes, graggers and mishloach manot but then there's the tough issue of keeping everyone quiet through the whole megillah reading. Chanukah has candle lighting and presents, but in our family both of those involve some amount of angst (for the former, maintaining appropriate fire safety, the latter, managing the grumpy weirdness that comes from somewhat gratuitous gift-getting). Pesach has the benefit of being rabbinically designed to be focused on children. So many of the details of the seder are there "so that the children should ask." Add to that the host of items people have designed to extend the involvement even further -- bag-o-plagues, a plethora of children's haggadot, afikoman cover and pillowcase crafts -- and Pesach is definitely far at the front of the pack.

At the other extreme is Shavuot. This past year my husband and I noted that Shavuot has the fewest readily obvious handles for engaging children. Staying up to learn all night? That no longer works well for any of us, least of all the kiddos. So family-wise we're left with cheescake, blintzes (granted, those are delicious), and the vague notion that this is when we received the Torah.

That said, even Pesach still feels like it's in need of more Beyond Noah's Ark magic (by which I mean, items that truly engage children of all ages in deeper questions of meaning and spiritual growth). The seder table matching game and seder plate puzzle that we were very kindly gifted by one guest were cute, and moderately engaging, but not terribly spiritually meaningful.

One new acquisition this year that definitely gets the Beyond Noah's Ark seal of approval was the Ayeka Haggadah, titled "Hearing Your Own Voice," by Rabbi Aryeh Ben David. I bought it, along with a graphic novel about leaving Egypt (thanks for having these in stock Israel Book Shop!), hoping to engage my 4 year old in some meaningful Pesach prep. I was a bit dubious about how he'd relate to the Ayeka haggadah given that it has very few illustrations -- even thought it is explicitly aimed to include children in its broad target audience. At any rate, the fears were unfounded. A little while into working on it together my son actually exclaimed "Mama! This is so fun!"



Among the elements that contributed to this:
- The haggadah got me to take 20 minutes out of pre-pesach hububb to sit and do a focused activity with my kid
- Mama was actually listening attentively to child's answers to deep, open-ended questions, and even writing them down
- Kiddo was being allowed to write and draw in a real book that was not a coloring or sketch book

One discussion that this process-oriented mama particularly loved was prompted by the Yachatz question which asks: What was the risk you took in the past year (or years) on your journey? What was the missing piece you fond for last year's journey? What is risky about the next step on your journey?

Ezra drew a picture and proclaimed "This is me on that giant rock in Dean Rd. park!" So I asked, "And you felt proud because you got to the top?" To which Ezra countered, "No, I felt proud because I climbed, mostly by myself."

That was just one of a number of wonderful/interesting/unexpected conversations that the haggadah helped bring about. All of which also got me thinking about what goes into crafting the sort of open ended questions, prompts, or items that spark real thoughtful contemplation, and could provoke new responses every time they're considered. There's a lot out there earnestly attempting such simple grandeur that unfortunately falls short, into the realm of getting asked, answered quickly if at all, and promptly forgotten. I'd love to get Rabbi Ben David's perspective on how he considered (and in my opinion, succeeded in) walking this path when crafting the haggadah.

At any rate, here's a cheer for the Ayeka Haggadah! (I am certainly not an affiliate, but if you're interested you can get a copy here for next year, or probably at your local Judaica store.) Did you discover any exciting additions to your family's seder this year? Looking forward to Shavuot, any ideas you've been imagining for items or activities to add more texture for the 3-13 year old set, either on the holiday, or in preparation?

I hate shul, I wanna go to shul

first sketches towards a Beyond Noah's Ark siddur

"I hate shul, I wanna go to shul. (Whaaaaaaa!)"

Thus spoke my four year old this past Shabbat morning. I hate Shul -- why should I stop playing only to get dressed in nicer clothes, be forced to walk, and finally, upon arriving, convince you that the only way I will remain calm is if I'm allowed to resume playing, now in the shul playroom with you there. I wanna go to Shul -- but if by staying home you mean that you will be davening, not playing with me or reading books to me, or running around pretending to be an elephant with me, then I take staying home to be, implicitly, a punishment, and I will have none of it.

In a co-written piece called Home, Mosque, and Synagogue: On Parenting and Sacred Spaces, Mom and incredible writer Shoshana Kordova articulated the Shabbat morning with kids experience pretty perfectly:

When you have little kids, taking them to shul on Shabbat can seem like one big errand, and a complicated one at that. Getting out of bed on Saturdays was never a problem for my kids. They’d be up at five or six in the morning, eating screaming fighting playing whining, and just as they’d finally start to settle into the day and there was a chance I might be able to lie down again (day of rest and all that), it would be time to try to pull a shirt over the head of a moving child, to nurse the baby one last time, to find something that still fit me, to make sure I had enough diapers wipes crackers bottles toys to last us through the half hour, maybe, that we’d actually be there.

While this describes our reality most Shabbos mornings, in this instance, I just did not have the energy for all that. So my husband set off with our 2 year old in tow, and I stayed home with the 4 year old and the baby. At which point I proceeded to stick to the plan -- I davened, and (wanting to preserve some hope of getting to shul in future weeks) no-way no-how did not acquiesce to having the time turned into momma play time.

Which, of course, was deeply unsatisfying. I did daven, which is more than I can say for the weeks when we actually all make it to shul, but the whole time was aware that my davening was essentially shutting my son out of an active experience of shabbos morning. And yet, I didn't want to proceed as he would have wanted to, because then it would just be like any standard weekday play time. What I really yearned for was a siddur, a script, a playbook of some kind, that would involve both of us in a genuine davening experience -- educator Amy Meltzer has coined the term "home-shuling" and I think that really reflects what I'm aiming at. Something that, on those shabboses when we just don't make it to shul, would set the time apart and create a focus on being consciously present in gratitude for the day of rest. For my son, and I imagine, many young kids, this would have to include lots of movement, some songs (but not too many), relatable explanations, and most of all, not take too long.

We're definitely fans of the Bim Bam Shabbat songs (including such favorites as "There's a dinosaur knocking at my door...and he wants to spend Shabbat with me") but I'd love some additions that focus on the core spiritual resonances of shabbat, while still being relatable (or even silly! Just maybe a little less silly than the Torah Pokey).

Then there's the question of how a book, in this case the siddur, can really provide the framework for a spirited, engaged experience. While I'm glad that many children's siddurim already exist, those that our family has tried seem to really stay on the page. The illustrations are pretty self-referential -- look! This is what children davening look like! -- and the chosen text is for the most part an abridged version of the traditional service. (The Koren siddur includes questions for thought, but it's not clear to me how often one would come back to these.)

I'm imagining illustrations that are evocative as opposed to proscriptive. I'm imagining content that draws from traditional sources, but focuses on embodied components of prayer, and is not devoutly tied to the standard flow of the service. There will be plenty of time for that once these youngins grow up and can actually sit in shul, which will only happen if they have positive associations with davening in the first place!

Still I'm not sure what can actually be accomplished through a even the most thoughtfully crafted siddur. Does the book itself create a cognitive dissonance with really engaging in an experience of prayer? What else might work that could be self explanatory (ie, not require a facilitator) for parents and children?

As always, I'm just gonna push myself to create something and we'll see what happens next time we home-shul. I will report back. In the meanwhile, I'd love to hear -- what are your experiences with Kiddie Siddurs, Tot Shabbat, Tefillat Yeladim, Mini Minyan, home-shuling etc?