Yizkor Pesach 2014
The Seder Table at my grandparent’s houses was one of those interesting affairs. The table started in the dining room, made its way past the wall into the living room and hung a right turn into the foyer. This was unlike my great-aunt on my father’s side, where the table started in the living room, ran through the dining room and into the kitchen, where the kids sat. Now I realize why the two families never got along; I always thought it was because one was Galitziana and the other Litvak…
At Nanny and Grandpop’s house, my mom’s parents, the table seemed to groan under the weight of the Seder Plates and bowls of salt water and bottles of wine and the platters upon platters of food. The table was laden with a stuffed breast of veal and brisket, homemade gefilte fish and chicken soup with dill and soft matzoh balls that my father mocked because they were not hard enough. My mom made them like rocks, which according to my father who actually loved them, could be used by the Israeli army as provisions to be eaten or if necessary as a weapon to be thrown. I recall my hand being slapped by my grandfather as I tried to take the Afikomen a bit too early in the affair. I eventually would get it, but only after an appropriate amount of time and tries had elapsed according to his calculations. I recall the mixing of English and Hebrew, the raucous noise of talking, singing, laughing and of course arguing, and sharing the story from the Hagaddah. The three major denominations of Judaism were all represented and all joined together to celebrate this mix of religion and family at the festive table.
I can trace my life through my movement along that table. I moved from the kids table, where I once chanted the “four questions,” to the main table where I chant the Kiddush, and ultimately now to sit at the head of the table to help lead the Seder. And there I sat this year, with my wife’s family.
They have their own interesting rituals and traditions, as does each family. But one is particularly worth noting. At the conclusion of the Seder, my mother-in-law plugs in the cassette player with a very special recording. They recorded her mother on one of her last Seders at the table, telling stories sharing recollections of times past and a poem. My mother-in-law sits transfixed, the voice carries her someplace else as she listens to her mother re-tell the telling of the Exodus. She drinks in her mother’s words and for those brief moments, Rose Mandel comes alive for her. That is truly the high point of the Seder. And why we need to commemorate those we loved this Yizkor.
For Yizkor is our time to remember. It is our time to reflect back on those we loved. This is our time to recognize how much they continue to mean to us. Often they fade into the background. We are so caught up in the day-to-day things that fill our time. Kids, food, shopping, the house, the spouse and our own selves, just to name the short list. But now is our time to remember them. Those we loved, those who we have lost, often too soon. Oh to have a few more moments of them. For when we remember them, we remember the blessings they brought to our lives. The richness that is ours because of them, the history that is uniquely our individual own because of the way they shaped and influenced our lives. We remember to offer gratitude for their being in our lives. We remember their best as a means to help propel us to be our best. And therefore we remember them as we strive to create the memories for those who come after us as the legacy we leave to them in an unbroken chain of loving and caring.