Almost Pesach

Although it is still the pandemic, we know there will be spring.  Spring in spite of

anything else that happens.  Wars and Republicans.  Sickness and shootings. 

Sometimes spring is hard to remember.  And equally hard to forget.

About the holidays, I grew up in a traditional middle class Jewish home.  The

tablecloth for Passover was never anything but white, and we followed the Haggadah

rules without much deviation  although the Haggadah itself changed once, going from

free paper Manischewitz to hardback Reconstructionist, and it took years for me to

ask if there was an Egyptian side of the story, and what freedom actually means. We

debated both with intensity and rigor. Passover was always a good holiday in our

house. People came, we ate, and there was always much discussion.

Seders are often a funny mirror into our lives, and some of what matters to us all.

Moe Foner used to tell stories about his family non-Seders. His parents were

Communists, so no one said the words Seder or even Passover, but they gathered

together every year and ate. His son-in law, Peter, an only child whose parents were

both psychiatrists and commented on every single thing he did, said that at his first

Foner non-Seder, they all sat together at a folding metal table and began a vigorous

debate about Communism versus Socialism. The table collapsed, food falling into

a central well. Not one Foner noticed, Peter said.

Their other family tradition was to each buy a mandatory raffle ticket from their difficult aunt. No one defied her until one  year Moe actually looked at the ticket.  “The raffle took place a week ago,” Moe said to his aunt. “ You thought you’d win?” she replied.  So they continued to buy the tickets.

What I’ve done for Passover for many years is to ask my Druze friend Gazala, who

grew up in Haifa and loves Passover, to cook for everyone who wanted to join us. 

Thirty people or so came each year to her small restaurant on 9th Avenue and 48th

Street, all part of our ever evolvingchosen family, from Africa and China, Cuba and

France.  Annie and Joe would singThere’s No Seder Like Our Seder, and we would all

commit to working for freedom then we’d sing Go Down Moses along with Louis

Armstrong. 

Gazala’s small restaurant closed, and she moved uptown to a much bigger and less

personal place and it’s still this crazy pandemic so this year we are celebrating with

good friends at the Seder they will plan.  Next year, post pandemic, my hope is we’ll

rejoin Gazala and sing together with Armstrong again.

MEANWHILE  please do join us April 18, 7 p.m. for our Alte Passover Party. We’ll

be happy to see you. For the Zoom link, which will go out a few days before the

event, email altetogether@gmail.com. Love, esther

Here’s Louis Armstrong, for your Seder.