Passover and More Preparation
I was complaining about getting ready for Passover when I remembered my blog post about preparation. If I did not have anything to do it would not feel like Passover. Sometimes, I think the most important part of preparation is the setting aside of time, the acceptance that I must grind up almonds and chocolate to make our Passover dessert instead of lolling around on the sofa as is my wont on Sunday nights. My son’s French mother made Passover sound glamorous yesterday when we talked on Skype. “Ah oui, Passover,” she said. “La mer rouge.” Then, it occurred to me that preparing is actually a luxury, testimony to the safety and certainty of our lives. After all, the Israelites had to rush away before their bread rose, which never struck me as such a tragedy until I realized that the urgency of escape, racing ahead before one has fully prepared is a terrifying thing, like that perennial nightmare, sitting down for an exam without having studied, or rushing out of a burning building, not that I have ever rushed out of a burning building. Personally, I never feel fully prepared for anything. But I am trying to take more time in my life for preparation, largely for the sense of security it gives me.
Here are the two Passover cakes I made yesterday night. Note how flat and unappetizing they look. But then, no Israelite would have had time to press walnuts onto the date cake, let alone grind almonds.