Passover--a confession

Sunday, April 12, 2009

If Passover is the holiday of deflation--wheat, food, money, ego, etc. It's working.

This day started before dawn. Once every 28 years is the Blessing of the Sun, we raced around our neighborhood with 2 sleepy children on our backs looking for a taxi. As was every other person in the 'hood. Hopeless, I stalked the roof of a nearby building, thinking I'd just watch the sunrise from there, but at the last moment, we caught a cab and found our Renewal Congregation: Nava Tehila, on the Tayelet. This view is unforgettable, it overlooks the Jordanian Mountains to the East, and the Kidron Valley, Old City, and Temple Mount in front and to the West. We made it just as the sun was reaching up above the horizon. Wow. They say that the sun was in this exact position, on the Tuesday of the week that the world was created. Look at that sunrise.

By mid-afternoon we all smelled like smoke. This was the day of the seder--when people were burning all their hametz over make-shift campfires in parks, backyards, garbage cans...probably not so safe, but the kids were mesmerized. All kids are pyromaniacs, right? When I was little we just had that candle, a feather, and a spoon; but here people were burning pizza, pasta, pretzels, pitas, all the wrappers, quiches, (yes, there was a quiche) and the piles just smoldered. I hear Lag B'Omer is just like this, fires everywhere. We gleaned off someone else's fire, tossing in our 1/2 loaf of bread, we're not so strict, everything else we have was stored on top of the microwave.

I really liked doing a seder in Israel. Ein Karem is so beautiful, it feels like Italy--granted I've never been to Italy. But the Israeli family we were joining was so warm and into having our kids there. There were more kids than adults, which is the way I remember seders growing up. With the two 5-yr olds crawling under the table, just like I remember doing. We all used a different Hagadah, which was a bit of an eye-opener for me, that the text is all the same, from Hagadah to Hagadah, the blessings, the order (of course), and all the rabbinic dialogue in the middle. It was actually really cool to all have  different Hagadot, it somehow connected us even more. The words are the same everywhere in the world--it's just the colors and pictures that change.

As the 5 year olds crawled around under the 25 foot long table, and the 8-15 year olds read, the patriarch led, and the mothers sang, I realized who the seder is really for. We tend to tailor it to the preschool aged kids--the ma-nishtana crowd. But I am thinking it's for the 8-15 year olds, who are old enough to sit, read, nibble, participate, and be embarrassed by their parents; while the kiddies come and go, and just absorb good family vibes. Then, it's the mothers singing and squeezing in all the words to the verses of 'dayenu' and 'adir hu' (finally heard the whole thing sung in person) that infuses the atmosphere with the feeling of togetherness and the sense that everyone has been doing this for years. These were not people who would consider themselves religious, yet culturally, these are the traditions that they grew up with. Not one eye rolled that night. The moms hugged and swayed with their daughters toward the refrain of 'ki laolam chasdo'. I learned more when I had my head out of the Hagadah. And remember that Ron Wolfson was right last May when he said at Club Med that you have to do these holidays and traditions for yourself--not only for your children. They join in when they see it resonate for you, otherwise they won't buy it. I think he's right.

Meanwhile, we went around the room reading...in Hebrew of course. Ofer, my friend's husband, who teaches voice at the Jerusalem music academy read so fast I started to flush. I figured I had about 20 minutes until they came around to me. I felt my ears get hot, but I read my little paragraph in Hebrew. Phillip boldly followed with several paragraphs in loud English. Why so nervous? They were so positive towards us, and happy for us trying. I read fine, and yet still so so nervous. What was I thinking, that their image of me would be shattered? What image--they hardly knew me. So silly. It was a beautiful night.

Amazing, delicious food.

You could buy kosher for passover cookies everywhere!

The next morning we went to Har-El because Andrea was doing the Blessing of the Dew with the cantor there. This is the day when the added phrase in the Amidah changes from praying for more rain in the winter, to dew throughout the summer. Well if I thought I was going to have a relaxing prayer experience...ma nishtana? The 'greeter' asked me to read the Mi Shabeirach paragraph for IDF soldiers--in Hebrew. Oh my god, I'm sitting on the side feeling confident, doing lamaze breathing...then I go up without a tallis, and I think my eyesight is getting worse from all the reading in class, suddenly I can't see any vowels. I wouldn't say I butchered the prayer. I would say, however, it was not my finest Hebraic moment. But when it's important to you and you really want to get it right; you know, you really want it to be right. So, I guess it was fine. But I didn't feel so fine.....really...I suppose a bit of self-inflicted humiliation is good. A la pesach I suppose.

So if you thought every day here was filled with amazing Israel experiences...it's only because I only write and show pictures of the amazing things that happen. There are many days that I don't elaborate how behind my smile, I do inwardly mope around. So many times I catch myself--in my fatigue-- feeling sorry for myself that my hebrew isn't where I want it to be. I made a choice that since I have such limited time to do homework and study after hours, that at least I will make sure I go to class--that there must be some inherent value in absorbing it in person... Then why can I only understand my teacher, and not the guy from the taxi company who hung up on me. Or the impatient clerk at the drug store who snaps at me to "just speak in english" when I needed to buy lice shampoo for Coby.  As soon as I get home I put all my work away until after Ben and Coby go to bed, but is that enough for them? That I have the best voice teacher in the world but no time to practice. Theoretically I think its great and beneficial to have 50% of my classes in Hebrew, but sometimes feel like a child in a foreign country because though I understand most of what's going on, I always suspect that there are deeper concepts being explored that I didn't catch. My language is not nuanced yet, and sometimes I feel like an idiot.

So, no its not all amazing all the time. I do always step back though, breathe in the desert wind, and look at myself, and recognize this is part of a process here, and remind myself how much I have learned, how far I have come, how much deeper my relationship with Judaism and Israel is, how much I love it here. But if I'm really desperate, I tell myself how brave I am to try to pull this off at 40 years old. And that some of my best hebrew comes out when I'm yelling back at someone--like an Israeli. Sometimes when I am walking home from class and it's already dark, and I know Ben and Coby are already eating their pizza, and Phillip is waiting for me, and I'm another day closer to this very special year ending,  I just breathe and listen to my ipod, just breathe.