Last Passover, my husband, my daughter and I decided to attend the Seder at the Jewish Community Center. This congregation is probably as multi-cultural as a Jewish institution can get. Jews married to non-Jews are welcome. Adopted and biological children of different races enliven the services. Same sex couples feel comfortable.
As I walked in, a woman dressed in a beautiful, black hijab, decorated with crystal beads also entered. For all this organization’s diversity, this was a sight I did not expect and did not understand. We greeted each other and I, half-seriously, thought, “is this the last day of my life”.
There were no assigned seats so my husband and I sat down at a table where two women were already seated, while our daughter walked around greeting people she knew. The four of us chatted and we commented on the Muslim woman. “ She must be someone’s guest,” one of us said. “I hope so,” I replied.
Eventually, as the ceremony was about to begin, our daughter sat down. She introduced herself to the women and promptly asked them, “are you a couple?” I stiffened. People of my generation do not ask strangers, immediately upon meeting them, questions about their private life. And what’s more, in this case there were no hints, from my perspective, that these women might be more than friends.
Much as my daughter shocked me, she did not offend the women. “Yes,” they said, and started to speak about how long they had known each other and added that when same sex marriage became legal in Massachusetts, they married.
The fact that my daughter felt comfortable plunging right in with such a personal question I thought was really amazing. Indeed, the times they are a’changing.
The Seder started. I looked over at the Muslim woman and she was following the Passover story in the Haggadah. When we started to sing the traditional songs at the end of the ceremony, I noticed her enjoying herself, clapping and laughing.
When we left our Muslim guest again was near me. This time she hugged me and I hugged her back.