The other night at services, the rabbi challenged us all to do something different at our seder this year. I think that our seders are always different, one year to the next, and what changes them the most is the group at the table. We often use a variety of haggadot, so we aren't all reading the exact same words -- the order is always the same, so you can't get lost, and it is interesting to see the range of interpretation that exists.
About a month ago when I was just sitting around, I decided to be pro-active and invite people to our first night seder. Then I didn't think about it again until a couple of days ago when I suddenly decided that we needed to make up a menu and be ready for this meal. Jon does all the shopping and virtually all of the cooking but I am always part of the planning and execution, and for some reason Jon wasn't worrying about it as early as he usually does.
Jon decided to make both brisket and a turkey, along with a bunch of vegetable side dishes. Guests were bringing matzoh ball soup and kugel and Alissa arrived in time to make the desserts. All I had to do was make sure to pick the spinach and lettuce and get it washed in time, and help with setting up the furniture and the ritual items.
Yesterday the weather was glorious, and it was still going to be warm and beautiful today. So we decided to have dinner outside on the porch. Only trouble is our porch has been a dumping ground for everything that doesn't fit in our house or doesn't have an official destination (bags of ashes, for example) or is potentially useful in some fantasy future. But this task has been on Jon's list for years, so it was an opportunity. While I was at choir rehearsal last night, Jon and Alissa tackled the porch. Luckily Alissa was there to coax her father into discarding many bags of trash, and they cleared enough space for a big dinner table. It was awesome.
Jon got all the meat cooked just right, in plenty of time. While Alissa and I were doing our jobs in the last few hours before guests arrived, Jon suddenly had new priorities that seemed to me to be off track. He kept going back to the farm for more supplies or something, He wanted to fix that rotting board under the sink. Oy gevalt. And then, about a half an hour before everyone arrived, I hear him calling me from outside. He is finally, finally attempting to remove the four floating, bloated, dead giant goldfish that have been grossing me out for weeks. I have asked him repeatedly to get those fish out of the cistern but the task was daunting and unappealing. So now it has become the top priority. He is standing on a ladder, precariously leaning against a round plastic tank, and he wants me to hand him a bucket. He has fashioned a fish-catching net on the end of a stick and he is leaning over the black water, trying to snag one of those misbegotten fish. The net falls off the end of the stick and he begins to slowly fall to one side -- I lean over the edge of the porch and grab the ladder so it will stay upright while Jon gets his balance back. Of course I am laughing hard by now, despite the dead fish. Finally I look over my shoulder and see the chimney cleaning brush and that is what he uses to gently lift these smelly corpses out of the water. This task rose to the top of the list because it was possible that one of our guests might look over the edge of the porch and see four belly-up koi (that were supposedly worth hundreds of dollars when they were alive but they did not thrive in these rugged living conditions in the winter).
We had a lovely seder, in spite of the distractions preceding it. We often ask Paul to be the leader because he is a good teacher and a thoughtful facilitator. After we finished recreating the story from memory, complete with side trips. and before we got to eat the festival meal, he asked each of us to answer two questions: talk about one thing that you were grateful for in the last week and what do you like most about Passover. This is always such a meaningful and worthwhile tactic at the dinner table. Lots of good answers, plenty of depth.
What was different about this night? There were plenty of children who had all grown up together -- now all in their mid 20s. We were outside on a balmy evening, with a large crabapple tree blooming over us. Everyone at the table was Jewish. That has never happened before -- but we did invite my sister and her husband to join us for dinner so they could see Alissa but avoid the long preamble. The rabbi always says it doesn't matter how long you are there, it just matters that you show up for some piece of it (he is talking about services, but I extend this to everything). Our porch was revitalized. We talked politics for a very long time, as this cannot be avoided this year. The entire group was left of center, some more left than others.
When it was my turn to answer the questions, I took note of Passover seders that have been interrupted by unexpected health crises, and I expressed my gratitude for this evening when we are all healthy.
Tonight was a night for a heartfelt Shechechyanu.
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