By Miriam Abramovich

One of my greatest joys in life is hosting others in my home. Whether it’s a holiday dinner, a Shabbat meal, or a Sunday brunch, I find deep pleasure in the preparation of food and space. But more than the cooking or baking, though I do love that part, it is the mitzvah of hachnasat orchim, or welcoming guests, that grounds me. Hosting is creating a space or a situation where people can feel nourished, celebrated, and a sense of belonging.

Passover Seders are my favorite hosting gig of the year. For two nights each spring, our home is bursting at the seams—overflowing with ruach (spirit), too much food, sticky fingerprints, matzah crumbs, so many dishes, song, and endless conversation and questions. The Seder, which actually means order, gives form and structure to what is, in truth, organized chaos. But it is in that chaos – within the choreography of food, story, and a shared communal experience—that I find not simply joyful energy but deep blessings.

Preparing to host a Passover Seder naturally invites reflection on what it means to host and what it means to be a guest. Jewish tradition holds both roles as sacred.

We are offered a beautiful and enduring model of hospitality early in the Torah. In Genesis, Chapter 18 we read about Abraham and Sarah’s tent which we are told is open on all sides, symbolizing a pretty radical openness to others. One day, Abraham, sitting at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day, recovering from circumcision, lifts his eyes to see three strangers approaching. Immediately he springs into action. He runs to greet them, bows low, and pleads with them to stay. He offers water, shade, and food, and then rushes to prepare the meal himself. He asks Sarah to knead fresh dough, chooses a calf with care, and ensures everything is brought with attentiveness and generosity.

This story illustrates that hachnasat orchim—is not simply about providing food or a seat at the table. It’s about creating an environment of care, dignity, and belonging. Sarah and Abraham’s hospitality wasn’t performative, rather it was infused with humility, urgency, and joy. They anticipated needs, moved quickly, and made their guests, these absolute strangers, feel seen and honored and comfortable, without them ever having to ask.

Abraham and Sarah teach us that hospitality is a mindset before it’s a menu. And in that sense, preparing for Passover—clearing out chametz, setting the table, arranging the Seder plate, baking, cooking, fussing —is not only logistical work, it is spiritual preparation for the sacred work of hosting.

Judaism teaches that guesting (humor me as we make guest a verb) is also sacred work. Dr. Erica Brown writes that to be a grateful guest is to be humble—to receive someone’s food, their timing, and their way of doing things with gentleness and gratitude. The Talmud even offers a formal blessing for guests to say in gratitude for their host: “May it be Your will that the master of this house never know shame, in this world or the next. May they be exceedingly successful, and may their wealth be accessible and near to the city.” (Berakhot 46a)

Whether we are opening our homes or entering someone else’s this Passover, Jewish tradition invites us to approach both roles with care, with presence, and with intention. At the very beginning of the Maggid section of the Seder, just before the storytelling begins, we lift up the matzah and recite a radical, enduring invitation:

“Ha Lachma Anya… Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in need join us for Passover.”

This invitation is about more than hospitality, it’s a sacred calling, reminding us that sharing our tables and traditions is an essential part of Jewish life.

Whether you’re hosting or guesting this year, may your Seders be joyful, liberating, and delicious. Chag Pesach Sameach!

Miriam Abramovich is the CEO of The Buffalo Jewish Federation.