You can download and print this Artnote and many others in the Passover Soul Kit available HERE. | The Last Day of PesachOnce, many years ago, when I lived 300 miles from the closest Jewish community, deep in the heart of the redwood forest, I decided to make the five hour journey to San Francisco to go to the Jewish library there. This was when I was beginning to wake up from my deep spiritual slumber and was beginning to return to my Jewish roots. I packed my bags and my Manishevitz matzah, and many hours later, I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and arrived in the Richmond district of San Francisco. I pulled up to the address of the Jewish Community Library and noticed there was a sign on the door. "Oh no! It couldn't be true after I'd driven all that way!" "Closed for the last days of Passover." What the...?! I knew that it was the 7th day of Passover. I was still abstaining from bread, but was the 7th day a holiday, too? I had never heard of that in my Hebrew school days. I was disappointed but I decided to look around the neighborhood. I still wanted a taste of something more Jewish that I could find in my redwood sanctuary. Nearby there was a huge, golden domed reform temple. It was open, so I decided to go inside. The place was beautiful and ginormous! Thousands of seats soared toward the inside of the dome - all empty. In front, on a large stage, stood two women and a man in front of an artistic bima, performing the prayers for a silent audience of 12 people, all over the age of 60, except for one teen who had accompanied her bubbe. The service soon ended and I left to explore the neighborhood. A few blocks away there was a conservative synagogue. Here, too, there was just a dozen or so Jews, most over the age of 70. They all participated in the service which ended about half an hour later. Again, I wandered around the neighborhood. I saw a Jewish bookstore, the Richmond Torah Center, and it was open. Hurray! I eagerly walked inside, but the bookstore itself was closed for business. It had been turned into the ladies' section of a small shul. There were no other women there but the men's section was packed with men and boys praying in such a lively way. The rabbi came back and welcomed me, gave me a prayerbook and showed me where to sit behind the first mechitzah I had ever seen. Now, I was a feminist at the time, but I have to say, I LOVED that mechitzah, the curtain that separated the men from the women during prayer. I loved the privacy it provided for prayer and I was intrigued that the men prayed, each at their own pace and in their own unique way, coming together for certain prayers. None of the, "All rise and say responsively..." brand of prayer conformity like in the temple I grew up in - the one that never taught me that the last days of Passover are also holy. Unlike the other two synagogues, this service was just beginning. I sat there with tears running down my cheeks as I listened to the beautiful cacaphony of prayers, each heart weaving its own holy path in the forest of prayer around me. I felt the same profound peace and sanctity that I experienced in my beloved redwood forest paths and discovered a new kind of Jewish spirituality that I had no idea existed. Later, I met the rebbetzin who was teaching the children in another room. I didn't realize until years later that this was my first encounter with Chabad which later became my spiritual home. It was also, a few days later, where I bought my first Rebbe Nachman book which led me many years later to publish, "The Secret Art of Talking to G-d." You just never know where your path will lead you. The main thing is to take a step in the right direction. The last day of Passover is filled with a powerful spiritual light and I didn't want you to miss it like I did all those years, so I wanted to be sure to make this Artnote available to you. What are you special memories of Passover? I'd really like to know, so please share them with me in the comments below. |
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