Pesach Ready?
And so the season of celebrating our freedom is nearly upon us, and Jewish households around the world are either in the throes of Pesach preparations, beginning to think about it, or now panicking because they haven't started yet.
Before today, I was blissfully ignoring the fact that Pesach was round the corner.
I always try to rationalise to myself that, surely, if it's our festival of freedom, when we're remembering the speedy exodus from slavery in Egypt of our ancestors, surely it's not the intention for us to literally slave away cleaning out our cupboards, removing items of food we won't eat for a week, deep cleaning, preparing the special foods., driving ourselves mad and spending a fortune on food that is especially prepared to be Kosher L'Pesach.
Surely a couple of boxes of matzah will do the trick, which surely will be readily available when I get round to buying them before the deadline of Monday night looms too large (Monday lunchtime perhaps?).
What usually happens next is I receive a letter in the post from a Jewish charity, or an innocent text from a family member asking what they can bring for the Seder night, and the cogs start turning in my brain, and the overwhelm begins, as I contemplate the reality of what I am really feeling I need to do to be ready for Pesach....
This year was no different. Except that for six months now there's been a dark cloud hanging over us. Except that for every thought about preparing for our festival of liberation, there's an equal immediate thought about those who will not be sitting around their families' tables this year. Those who were murdered on October 7th. Those who are still in captivity in Gaza. Those who have been killed since.
How can this be? How can we celebrate our communal liberation story this year, living through this current communal trauma of captivity, and war, and hatred? How?
Because that's what we do. We celebrate life in any moment that we can.
That's why, on Saturday morning when the tension of the Iranian threat against Israel reached its peak, I sent messages to friends in Israel saying I was thinking of them and would be watching the news and praying for them.
The reply came back; "Please don't follow the news. Be in the here and now with your precious family! If there's something you need to know, I promise you'll find out. Love you so much."
Wow. Yes. And such a Jewish response. We live with the trauma and the joy. That’s why we stamp on a glass under the chuppah and that’s why we celebrate life whenever and wherever we can.
So here I am, truly now thinking about celebrating Pesach, and all the coconut pyramids I’m going to make, and, oh dear God it's Thursday already and I'm really running out of time.
At least if I just get the matzah… maybe I’ll take a look now and add a few boxes into my next Ocado order.
Except, logging in, oh dear God, no availability before Monday.
It's fine! There's a pop up Pesach shop in Leeds, I'll go there. I jump in my car and dash over. Oh dear God, none left except the chocolate covered ones and some *ridiculously expensive* extra special ones.
Whilst I'm there though, I can't help but start having a chat with the two chaps who've set up the shop. They're true mensches - seven years ago in response to a lack of options in the local supermarkets, Marshall and Simon set about setting up their own pop up to supply the Leeds Jewish community with their Pesach needs.
Whilst I just don't agree with the way 'Kosher L'Pesach' has become totally ridiculous to the degree that butter, toothpaste, ketchup etc are having to be especially produced, costing a fortune, I do admire these two guys for responding to those who feel that’s what they need for Pesach to feel like Pesach in our local community.
I felt bad that I was going to walk out with no purchases, so I asked Simon what I could buy that they have sold the least of, and he said it was the Hazelnut Oil, though we both agreed that seeing as we don't use Hazelnut Oil the rest of the year, and no special Pesach recipes spring to mind, he urged me not to feel the need to buy it, but I cheerily agreed to, for the story, for the beginnings of the inspiration for this blog post, and to support them.
When I went to check out, on the table were fliers from CST about staying safe, and all around the building were posters for the hostages: Bring Them Home.
This is just the reality that we are living right now. It felt comforting though, to be in an environment where the posters were up, where Simon was wearing a yellow ribbon and Marshall was wearing the Bring Them Home dog tag, where I felt safe being Jewish, amongst other Jews, where I didn't have to watch my words or worry that my words would be taken out of context or the posters would be ripped down or I'd be shouted at. I enjoyed just being there.
But on I needed to go in my mission to buy matzah - the one item I really felt I really do need for Pesach to feel like Pesach. I wasn't panicking, not really. Until I went to Tesco and the shelf was empty. Oh dear God.
This was getting ridiculous now. Surely there must be some matzah (not chocolate covered and not extra special ridiculously expensive even for Pesach) somewhere in Leeds to fulfil the mitzvah of tasting the 'bread of our affliction'. Surely? Oh dear God, please help me!
I got back in the car and went to Sainsburys. There, my prayers were answered. Thank you God. Stacks of the famous Rakusens Red Box. I filled my basket, headed to the checkout and drove home with relief as I feel I have finally begun to feel Pesach ready.
And when the table is laid, and we are once again retelling our story of liberation, and there is an empty seat for one of the Israeli hostages still held in Gaza, we will raise our glasses and toast each other with a L'chaim - to life. To living and to celebrating and to enjoying being with our precious families.
Oh, and if you happen to have any recipes with hazelnut oil, please do let me know!
Chag Pesach Sameach
