Seattle 5, or Next Year In...?

Davey wrote an excellent entry over at "Sometimes Davey Wins" about his favorite part of the Passover story. It got me thinking. For the last four years, I've spent a significant amount of time working on a Haggadah in the weeks leading up to Pesach - sometimes mine, sometimes a different one. It always makes me feel really grounded and connected with the holiday. I usually focus my edits on one or two sections each year, trying to find new meaning in a ritual, or in a retelling.

This year, what with the moving and packing and all, I haven't had much time to sit down and really focus on the Haggadah. Most of the edits I made this year were about improving the flow of the seder, adding an explanation here or there, and updating certain sections so they would appeal to a group of 20somethings instead of 4 year olds. Not wholly engaging.

I didn't even go to a seder last night. Instead, I chose to go to the poetry slam. That's why I'm here, isn't it? And I'm going to one tonight, so I don't feel bad. I just feel disconnected. Tonight's seder promises lots of good singing. I hope it brings me back to the holiday. It's one of my favorites.

Sidenote:

I had an adventure trying to find matzah today. Trader Joe's was all out, the not-fancy supermarket only had whole wheat and onion flavor left, but the co-op had a few boxes still sitting next to the matzah ball mix when I got there. It was in the cracker aisle. Oh, Jewish neighborhood grocery stores, how I miss your Kosher Aisles, your Jewish Holiday sections...but at least now I'm very well stocked with all of the aforementioned list items (except almond milk - but I bought almonds to make my own milk with in the super-powerful blender!)

Back to random Pesach musings:

If you asked me today what my favorite part of the Pesach story is, I'd say the story of the Gentile midwives, Shifra and Puah. In the traditional seder, they're given about two lines of text and three seconds of thought, but I wrote a longer version of their story for my own Haggadah two, maybe three years ago. These women put themselves at immense personal risk to continue delivering Jewish babies and finding ways to hide baby boys. The recognition of their righteous actions not only echoes through Jewish history, but reminds me of the risks and sacrifices people have made for me. It's humbling.

And at the same time, it pushes me to not only support my communities (Jewish, family, poet, friends) in all the ways that I can, but to support others who are struggling under unfair and oppressive rules/laws/customs/situations/governments. I had a job interview yesterday at a residential treatment center for younger (6-12) kids who've been abused and neglected. In all honesty, the job description is scary. It's messy, and sometimes violent, and is full of things I'd rather not deal with. And yet, I'm feeling called to it. Partially to learn, and partially because it's righteous work. And, in doing it, maybe I will learn not to be afraid. Or maybe I will start to understand what it means to keep going in spite of fear.