Question 1: Why "do" Passover?

Hey y’all. I’m Rabbi Emily, and this is “More Than Four Questions.” If you’re reading this, my guess is that you either know me or know my twitter or know my shul or know my public writing. But, if you don’t already have a sense of the type of rabbi you’ve chosen to spend some time with, you can learn more about me here.

I’ve thought about starting a Substack for a while now. Coming of age in the mid-2000s meant teen years spent on LiveJournal spilling secrets, and as an adult I dabbled in blogging — usually focused around experiences living abroad. In recent years, I’ve even started getting paid to write! But it’s nice to have this space now, something that’s mine and also shared, to explore big questions with all of you. And while I chose the name for this Substack weeks ago, and it’s definitely not a Passover blog, given the theme of four questions, I kinda have to put out my first post today, right?

So here’s the first question on my mind:

Why “do” Passover?

Today is Erev Pesach— Passover Eve. This morning I’ve been bouncing back and forth between my inbox and my kitchen cleaning (a hazard of rabbinic life is that there’s never enough time to prep holidays in advance). I have no idea when I’m gonna start the matzo ball soup or finalize the haggadah. I do trust that between now and sundown it’ll all, somehow, get done. But why am I bothering with all of this, and why might you?

To be clear, I’ve chosen a more fastidious level of observance than I grew up with. I wasn’t raised in a house where we did a major Passover clean. Sure, we had a seder or two, and for a week I brought matzah sandwiches to school, but we didn’t kasher any dishes or walk around looking for bread crumbs the night before Passover started. And while we avoided bread and pasta, we still ate beans and rice and corn taco shells and such. The holiday didn’t carry half the frenzy it does now. But y’know what? I kinda love the frenzy.

Passover is all about going from the constriction of Egypt (Mitzrayim, the Hebrew name for Egypt, comes from the word for narrowness) to the expansiveness of the Midbar, the Wilderness. During seder, we imagine ourselves as if we, truly, each of us, went on that journey with our ancestors. We can use the seder, and the whole 7- or 8-day holiday following, as a chance to consider our lives. Where are we free, and where do we feel trapped, and how can we use whatever freedom we have to further liberate others?

And that’s why I love Pesach cleaning. I love it as a chance to begin that process of taking stock of what feels expansive, and constricting, in my own life. Am I really going to defrost that sourdough starter in the freezer one day and bake again? Probably not— let’s toss it. Do I like the way the pots and pans are arranged? Nah— let’s switch things up. Are my many varieties of tea organized or all over the place? Definitely the latter— time to get things in order. Do I have so much of value in my apartment that I should live more fully into gratitude, and exhibit more generosity? 100%.

Particularly for those of us in the United States, where capitalism reinforces the fear of scarcity even among those with unfathomable abundance, Passover cleaning can be an opportunity to pause with deep gratitude for what we do have instead of focusing on what we don’t.

The same is true for Pesach eating. I love Pesach as a chance to simplify my diet for a little while. While there’s no real reason to avoid kitniyot for fear of chametz contamination in 2023/5783, I generally don’t cook with kitniyot on Passover. I like the mindfulness that cutting out a number of categories of food brings to my life. I like getting creative in the kitchen, having to think twice before just reaching into a cupboard or ordering takeout, actually eating whole foods most of the time rather than processed and pre-packaged items. And, of course, the ability to feed myself in this way is an immense privilege. During Passover I am constantly reminded of how lucky I am to have a budget for the food that I eat, easy access to grocery stores with a good selection, and the time and skill to prepare what I consume.

I recognize that I’m posting this mere hours before seder, and that if you haven’t already started to think about Passover cleaning and diet, it may be a little late to do a deep dive for this year. But I hope you can consider the deeper questions behind it all anyway: where are you held in narrowness, and where are you utterly free? In what ways can you explore those parts of your life during Passover? Whether your Pesach looks like a 5-hour seder with 20 people or an evening with the Rugrats and some grape juice, I hope you can have a mindful journey this year. Chag Sameach. See ya in the desert.