In 1980 at InstiPrints in Jerusalem I self-published a little hand-bound and colored edition of a book I called Her Haggadah, a multi-media Pesakh scrapbook starring the Jewish (wo)manifestation of the divine feminine (what Raphael Patai called The Hebrew Goddess) . It was dedicated to my mother and so many generations of Jewish women who "made Passover" but were invisible in the Haggadah and often absent from the pillowed thrones of this celebration of Spring and liberation; they were too busy cooking and serving and cleaning up to sit down for long-- let alone recline. My version of "Her Haggadah" is still evolving, but there are a few original copies left; one is in the Judaica collection of Harvard's Widener Library. I encourage women to use the stories and images and songs and recipes dearest to them -- and borrow from centuries of favorite Haggadahs and other freedom texts-- to create their own Haggadahs. Leave blank pages for the children to fill.
In 1980 at InstiPrints in Jerusalem I self-published a little hand-bound and colored edition of a book I called Her Haggadah, a multi-media Pesakh scrapbook starring the Jewish (wo)manifestation of the divine feminine (what Raphael Patai called The Hebrew Goddess) . It was dedicated to my mother and so many generations of Jewish women who "made Passover" but were invisible in the Haggadah and often absent from the pillowed thrones of this celebration of Spring and liberation; they were too busy cooking and serving and cleaning up to sit down for long-- let alone recline. My version of "Her Haggadah" is still evolving, but there are a few original copies left; one is in the Judaica collection of Harvard's Widener Library. I encourage women to use the stories and images and songs and recipes dearest to them -- and borrow from centuries of favorite Haggadahs and other freedom texts-- to create their own Haggadahs. Leave blank pages for the children to fill.