Passover

My memories of Passover when I was a kid are of lots of people crammed around a too-small dining table at my Grandparent’s house in Connecticut. I don’t know how many seders we had there - for all I know it could have been one - but it is forever burned in my memory. I see my Grandmother in the kitchen with lots of steaming pots and my cousins and I were running around the house, jumping from bed to bed, and sneaking into the basement to look through dusty old trunks that were full of old mementos.

I don’t believe my Grandmother ever actually sat down at the table. She might not have even had a chair. My Grandfather sat at the head of the table and we all squirmed and complained that it was taking too long. All seders take too long when you are a child.

For my college graduation, my mother bought me my own set of brass candlesticks. At the time I thought it was a rather odd gift to give a 21 year old girl. 27 years later, those candlesticks still sit on my fireplace mantle: aged and caked with years of wax build-up. They might not get a lot of use these days, but every so often there are prayers said over them on a Friday night.

For my wedding, I received another gift: a seder plate. I don’t know how long that seder plate sat in it’s box in my garage before I opened it and let it air out. It was a long time.

Today, I moved the car out of the garage, moved the bikes that were blocking the storage cabinet and dusted off that old seder plate box.

If you haven’t prepared a Passover seder yourself, you have no idea of the work involved. It isn’t like any other holiday dinner. There are so many steps to take, foods to think about, and table settings to get just right. You need a seder plate, a matzo plate, a cup of wine for Elijah. You need haggadahs and something to wrap the Afikomen in. You need salt water and a pitcher to wash your hands. You need hard boiled eggs and gefilte fish and horseradish and parsley and charoset. You need the meal itself: brisket, chicken, soup, matzo balls, and the obligatory vegetable. You need wine. Lots and lots of wine. And you need matzo.

Tired yet?

I wasn’t going to do a seder this year. The kids just started back from Spring Break and I needed to get back to some kind of work schedule and I just didn’t have the energy. A small, simple dinner is all I could muster up this year. Our big family seder was moved to next Friday night… SO much more convenient for everyone involved. Unfortunately, our country doesn’t recognize Passover, or Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, as important enough holidays to actually give us the day off. The kids had school, everyone else had work. It’s certainly not convenient to be a Jew in America these days. 

As I was thinking about what I would make for “dinner” instead… David said I needed to make a brisket. My mother offered to make chicken soup and matzo balls. Hmmm… sounds awfully familiar.

I woke up this morning with thoughts of a simple dinner in my head… and then something happened. I thought about spending the first night of Passover NOT having a seder. NOT reading the haggadah and NOT breaking out the traditional foods. I thought about NOT dusting off that seder plate in the garage and it hit me… I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let this first night of Passover go by without acknowledging the struggle of my ancestors.

It wasn’t convenient to be a Jew back in Egypt.

It wasn’t convenient to be a Jew during the Middle Ages.

It wasn’t convenient to be a Jew during World War II.

It isn’t convenient to be a Jew in much of the world today.

If I don’t teach my kids to remember the struggle… who will? And if my kids don’t teach their kids… we will eventually reach a point in history when nobody remembers. And when nobody remembers… we start the cycle all over again.

No… it’s not convenient. It’s a pain in the ass. And I’m doing it… because it’s what we Jews do. We struggle.