(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)
It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.
I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?
To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.
So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.
The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!
More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.
Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.
Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.
My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.
Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.
Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.
For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?
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