Despite the snowy weather, חג האביב (Chag Ha-Aviv), the Spring Holiday – one of the many names for Passover – is fast approaching. Maybe this email is the wake-up call you needed to sort out your Pesach plans (in which case, don’t miss the Temple Shalom community seder on 1st night, Saturday, April 12!), or perhaps you have been immersed in menus, shopping for special Passover ingredients, and choosing just the right selection of supplementary haggadah readings (haggadot.com is an excellent resource for this!).
In our home, getting ready for Passover takes place over the course of weeks. I’ve been mulling over our seder menus since before Purim, and we took a family trip to the No Frills in Thornhill on Sunday to stock up on all sorts of Pesach goodies. It’s easy to get caught up in the physical preparations of the holiday, and to lose sight of the spiritual preparations as well. And yet, they are also one and the same. This poem, by Rabbi Hara Person, found in the haggadah Mishkan HaSeder, speaks to the interwovenness between the physical and the spiritual.
Passover Love Song
The seder is a love song written
in the language of silver polish
and dishpan hands
freshly grated lemon zest
blanched almonds
ground pecans
shelled pistachios
pitted olives
sliced meat
matzah meal
white tablecloths
to-do lists
trips to Boro Park and Sahadi’s
This is how it’s done.
ashkenazi haroset
vegetarian chopped liver
my mother’s real chopped liver
Bonnie’s matzah ball soup
Israeli salad
gefilte fish terrine
chestnut farfel stuffing
tzimmes
leek and shallot kugel
salmon in grape leaves with pine nuts
turkey and brisket
coconut macaroons
sephardic lemon pistachio cookies
pecan meringues
chocolate dipped apricots
Remember.
tables stretched the length of the house
tulips on the mantle
my grandmother’s blue glass plates
Aunt Hannah and Uncle Joe’s silver
Nana’s candlesticks
the silver salt bowls from my mother
Frieda and Solly’s cut-glass horseradish pot
the wedding present seder plate
grape juice stains on the tablecloth
thin paperback haggadot
our mismatched family of friends
silly half-versions of songs
and don’t lick the wine from your finger after the plagues
Don’t be fooled by the easy domesticity of these words.
This is more than a recipe for nostalgia.
This is an urgent coded message of
survival
adaptation
love.
Read between the words.
