This weekend I took part in two Passover Seder meals. Both were very compelling. Both were hosted by my partner Fran Englander who is a Reform Jew.

Although the two Seders both followed the same wording or liturgy (called a Haggadah) that had been developed and modified by Fran, the two gatherings included decidedly different groups of people. The first gathered together 21 people, almost all of whom are Jewish. Those gathered included Fran’s family and many of her close friends. The Seder on the second night included a group of Jews, Christians and Muslims that Fran and I had invited to participate. Many of those on the second night had never experienced a Seder before.

A Seder is a ritual meal, usually celebrated by Jews as part of Passover each spring. The meal and its rituals mark the liberation of the Jews (actually the forebears of the Jewish people) from enslavement in the land of Egypt. The story recounted over a ritual meal of wine, herbs, and other symbolic foods, recounts the details of the 10 plagues visited upon the Egyptians by God in an effort to soften the heart of Pharoh and, in the words of the famous Gospel song get him to, “Let my people go.”

The story continues through the 10th plague, which is the death of the firstborn male in each Egyptian family. God commands the Israelites to mark their doorposts with the blood of a lamb so that the Angel of Death will “Pass Over” their homes and families.

The ritual meal goes on for about two hours (and I understand that this is a somewhat shortened version of a Seder), and during this time the story as it was presented in Fran’s version touched on a number of things that had deep meaning for me.

First, I was pleased that at the moment that a roasted lamb’s bone is presented for all those gathered to see, this Seder also included a roasted beet, to recognize that some of those gathered did not condone the killing of animals or wish to eat their flesh.

Second, I was moved by the telling of a midrash (a commentary on the story) that said that the Israelites had walked into the Red Sea until the water was up to their necks before the sea finally parted. I was overwhelmed by the trust in God exhibited by a people who had been told that the sea would literally part for them and continued to trust God as they walked into water that was up to their ankles, then their knees, their waists and finally their necks before it parted. This story raises questions for me about my own sense of trust.

Finally, and perhaps more importantly for me and a few others who commented on this, I found it very powerful that in the Seder Haggadah there is sorrowful mention of the Egyptians who suffered and died, and an expression of hope that in any future liberation from whatever enslaves us, no one else will have to suffer to ensure our freedom.

Whatever our religious traditions, I believe that it is important to celebrate our connection to the past and to our cultural history. It is just as important to modify our collective stories to recognize the deeper meanings and troubling questions that our historical legacies raise for us.