Last spring, I sat on a particularly memorable beit din (a panel of rabbis who make religious decisions) to approve a conversion. When we asked the candidate, a joyful man in his early 30s about to welcome his first child, which holiday he appreciates most, he said, “Passover.” When I asked why, he replied, “I love how weird it is!”, and then immediately covered his mouth, worried he’d said the wrong thing. Meanwhile, the other rabbis, his very pregnant Jewish wife, and I were laughing with delight. He had named something we often forget: Passover is weird. It’s counter-cultural, detailed, and particular. It makes our kids stand out in school with their peanut butter matzah sandwiches.
Many of us avoid that “weirdness” by attending a seder and then returning to normal life. But what if this year, we leaned into it? I want to encourage you to “get weird” this Passover, to keep it in a way that works for your family but still stretches you. For example, my in-laws don’t keep kosher during the year, but on Passover they strictly avoid bread. It’s meaningful for them even if it results in things I’ll never try, like a lobster roll on matzah. It’s not how I observe, but their intention makes it spiritually real.
As Reform Jews, Passover observance often exists on a spectrum. We want to honor tradition without feeling trapped by it. One of the most common questions I hear is: why is flour itself not kosher for Passover if we eat matzah? The answer goes back to the Exodus. The Israelites fled Egypt so quickly their dough didn’t have time to rise. To commemorate this, we avoid chametz, leavened products made from five grains (wheat, barley, rye, oats, and spelt) that have come into contact with water for more than 18 minutes. The rabbis taught that fermentation begins at that point, which is why matzah must be
made quickly under strict conditions.
Regular flour is problematic because modern processing may expose it to moisture before we even use it. That’s why specially supervised flour is required for Passover baking. But beyond the legal details, Rabbi Rachel Adler offers a deeper insight:
“Chametz is about control. Regular bread takes time, it requires planning and predictability. Passover reminds us that true freedom often means letting go of control and moving
forward before we feel ready.”
So how do we make this mitzvah our own in 2026? The Hasidic masters teach that chametz represents ego and excess, the spiritual “puffiness” we carry. Passover invites us to
simplify and reset.
Instead of focusing on what we can’t eat, we can savor what we can. Lean into foods that feel special: matzah brei, Sephardic rice dishes, or even a little “matzah crack.” Maybe you skip bread but keep corn tortillas. Maybe oat milk stays in your coffee. That’s not failure, that’s thoughtful, intentional engagement.
For our kids, those “weird” lunches can become a point of pride, a chance to share their
Jewish identity. A simple conversation ahead of time can transform it from embarrassment into empowerment.
And for those who don’t want to cook all week, you’re not alone. You can still honor
Passover while eating out: corn tortillas at Mexican restaurants, eggs and fruit at breakfast spots, or rice-based dishes where appropriate. It’s about spirit, not perfection.
This year, let’s approach Passover not as an obligation, but as an opportunity for mindfulness, connection, and renewal. And yes, by day five we may all be dreaming of bagels.
But for now, may we embrace the beautiful, meaningful weirdness of Passover and
through it, discover the possibility of real transformation.
Chag Pesach Sameach,
Rabbi Rose