At the very beginning of the Seder we read, "Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are in need come and share the Pesach meal." That line has always chided me because I can't recall ever inviting a stranger or someone who was truly hungry or in need to my Passover Seder. Every year, my table fills up with a combination of Jewish and non-Jewish friends and family, a comfortable group of well educated, mainly white, native-born Americans who relive the Passover experience as a theoretical journey, not a remembered past.

Last year, my husband and I decided to change this by inviting Zamat, the leader of Augusta's Iraqi community, to come to our family's Seder with five members of his community. Although Maine is among the least diverse states in the nation, the capital Augusta has attracted an increasing number of Muslim immigrants in recent years many of whom are from Iraq, and some from Syria and Afghanistan. As the rabbi of the city's only synagogue, Temple Beth El, I have worked with my fellow clergy to welcome these newcomers and help them adjust to life in central Maine, especially in the face of prejudice.

Instead of enjoying a familiar tradition with people we knew, we struggled through an awkward evening. Although we had previously met Zamat and his two children, the other two guests were complete strangers, and neither of them spoke any English. We modified the Hagaddah to include simpler English, but we ended up abandoning the written text in favor of on-the-spot explanations of what we were doing and why. Cell phone conversations interrupted our evening several times. The food, with the exception of matzo and citrus fruits, was not well received.

The experience was a surprising reminder of how difficult it is to live out the words and values of our tradition of welcoming. But there also were many highlights. The chorus of "Dayenu" was a big hit--our guests reminded us that dai means enough in Arabic.One participant shared his experiences visiting Egypt. Others asked thoughtful questions: Why is matzo flat? Do you have a meal like this for many other nights? Do you usually sit on the floor? The experience left me pondering: What is the true purpose of the Seder?