Welcoming the stranger at Passover

Tomorrow night, for the first time in a couple of decades, I will not be hosting a Passover seder. I will not buy a lamb shank and horseradish, nor prepare my signature chopped liver. I will not place an orange on my seder plate to commemorate Professor Susannah Heschel's defiance, so many years ago, to the man who shouted during her speaking engagement, "A woman belongs on the bimah as much as bread belongs on the seder plate," - to which she replied, "The teachings of women do not violate the tradition, but renew it. Women bring to the bimah what an orange would bring to the seder plate, transformation, not transgression."

I won't be adding an olive to the plate as I have the past three years, to show hope for peace in Israel, nor will I place Miriam's cup of water adjacent to Elijah's cup of wine. I won't hear my close friends share poems, stories and articles that exemplify the spirit of the holiday. I'll miss them opening their hearts and souls, sharing their hopes and dreams for spring renewal.

I won't be setting a formal table, with wedding gifts of silver and crystal - one of the few times a year they would actually see the light of day. I won't be setting out our family Haggadot - the ones I had printed to capture the liturgy of the various sources I admire.

I am the stranger this year. Though I may not have wandered 40 years to get here, escaping slavery from Egypt, I am the new immigrant. As excited as my ancestors may have felt leaving servitude behind, I, too, am excited to be in this New World desert, for different reasons. Yet, as Passover approached, and I realized that my family wouldn't have any close friends to host this year, I became despondent. How could Pesach pass without the joy I gain from holiday activity? How would I cope with the loss of those close to me, whose relationships span years of history?

And then, a glimmer of hope. In the Valley of the Sun, a place where people are friendly and unassuming, an acquaintance e-mailed me, "Where will you be for first night Passover? Do you have plans for seder? If not, we would be delighted to have you join us."

In those words, faith and renewal flourished. Yes, I miss my life and close friends back home, and the adjustment to Phoenix in mid-life has had its challenges, but I am now part of the growing number of incoming Jews to this area. I am starting anew. Unlike the Jews of the Torah, who had no one to greet them upon arrival in the land of Israel, I am welcomed and embraced.

I will join a table of strangers at the seder, but somehow, I get the feeling that warm Phoenician hospitality will prevail and we will feel like family. I will play my part in the minhag (tradition) of my host family and celebrate the freedom of our ancestors, as well as my own.

Elaine Fogel is a marketing and communications consultant who recently moved to the Valley from Toronto.

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