Rabbi’s Message, April 15, 2025
By Rabbi Lauren Ben-Shoshan
The creation of our new Mountain Jewish Haggadah came from a deeply personal place. As I prepared for our community seders this year, I found myself drawn—yet again—to my favorite of the Four Children in the traditional Haggadah: the so-called “wicked” child.
It’s a complicated love.
The question that child asks—“What does this mean to you?”—can sound dismissive, even defiant. But I love to take that question seriously. I let it sit with me, poke at me, and even provoke me. Over and over again, as I worked on this haggadah, I asked myself, sometimes with genuine exasperation, “Why bother?”
Why bother telling these stories again? Why gather around tables year after year to recall ancient miracles, recite old words, sing the same songs?
The answer came, as it often does, in the wisdom of both our tradition and our lived experience. In one section of our new haggadah, we shared findings from a study at Emory University that found that family stories are typically shared during meals, holidays, and vacations. These shared moments build what researchers call the intergenerational self, a sense of rootedness in a family story that transcends one’s own life. And this rootedness, they found, is closely associated with resilience, emotional well-being, and even better educational and clinical outcomes.
The researchers describe three types of family narratives:
The ascending narrative: “We came from nothing and rose to success.” (Like we find in the Cinderella Story)
The descending narrative: “We had everything, and then we lost it.” (Like we find in a Greek Tragedy)
And the healthiest one of all: the oscillating narrative—the story of ups and downs, hardships and triumphs, woven together by the enduring strength of a family.
This third story is the story of the Jewish people.
And every time we tell it—at our seders, around dinner tables, on holidays and in holy moments—we pass that story to both the next generation and also to our ever-growing selves. We say: this is our story, too. Not a perfect story, not a straight line of glory or despair, but a real story. A human story. A Jewish story.
So yes, I asked “Why bother?” again and again while creating this haggadah. And the answer I came to is simple and ancient and urgent:
We bother because our stories help us with ometz lev - the strengthening of our hearts - the courage and resiliency life asks from us.
We bother because our stories bind us to one another, strengthening our connections and community and our emotional well-being.
We bother because we are still writing the story - one of growth and joy and courage - together.
You can find a pdf copy of our Mountain Jewish Haggadah here.
With gratitude and hope,
Rabbi Lauren
