-Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
As the Jewish holiday of Passover (Pesach) approaches, more and more work colleagues are taking random days off work to 'clean' their homes. Pesach cleaning in Israel doesn't necessarily mean washing the floor. It means cleaning out clothes closets, washing the windows inside and out, even on the 52nd floor, scrubbing between the tiles with a toothbrush, painting the entire house from top to bottom, getting a manicure and a 750 NIS haircut, and replacing your entire wardrobe. The essence of the holiday is having clean filters in the air conditioners and driers.
I don't get carried away with cleaning for Pesach. Don't get me wrong, I clean out cabinets, and sweep and wash behind the beds. Once a year, I figure, it's got to get done, so why not now. But I never get down on my knees and pick dirt out of the carpet with tweezers.
I have more important things to do to get ready for Pesach.
There are rabbis and others out there who claim that one can prepare for the holiday in less than a day. I honestly don't understand that. These rabbis are not taking into consideration the sudden urgent need to buy sneakers for the kid who has a tiyul with his youth group because they are off school.
Or the other kid who has decided that this year he's going clean out his own closet (I never do it) and get rid of EVERYTHING. Getting rid, however, means putting the torn sweatshirts and army socks, the collections of stickers and election posters, used notebooks, and birthday cards all in the living room 'in case someone else wants it'. If I'm lucky, the kid will haul the stuff back into his closet because it's 'good stuff - it's a waste to throw it all out'. But usually, it just stays in the living room, and I have to clean around it, which, of course is more time consuming.
Also not taken into consideration is the iron / vacuum cleaner / washing machine / car that simply and annually stop working. The technician can't come to fix it, the mechanic doesn't have the part, and the store just sold out. You have to walk to the river / wash the clothes by hand in the stream / bang the wrinkles out against a rock. Then you have to walk back home and sweep the carpet with a broom. This can be very time consuming - especially the walking to a river as the nearest one to my home is in Egypt. And that one has a reputation of turning to blood at this time of year. The rabbis never seem to think of that scenario. (I might be exaggerating here - I never vacuum, so I didn't even notice when the vacuum cleaner died - presumably of loneliness.)
The rabbis also never had to go to twelve different stores to find the right peeler that not only perfectly fits your hand, but whose blade is strong enough not to break after peeling 3 carrots - which is what happened to me last year.
Simply inviting people to your seder can be a week's work. Every person you invite - especially your own kids - mumbles some sort of answer, which in fact can be translated into "I don't know. I want to wait to see if anyone better invites me." You have to ask over and over again so that you can plan menus, make shopping lists, buy the suitable items.
To ensure the maximum stress, after everyone finally gives a definitive answer - one way or another - and you go shopping and start preparing, the person who said that he's not coming calls to say that the other, better, invitation fell through, so can he come after all? and can he bring a friend? and reminds you that he just became vegetarian, and the friend is allergic to wine and paprika.
Of course, in the end, everything gets done. The house is clean (maybe not enough for your mother-in-law, but it's kosher for Pesach), the table is set (with 6 different glasses from 6 different sets because every year you break another glass or two) the food is prepared (even if I didn't make that chocolate tart with a chocolate chip crust), and the guests show up (bringing another friend and his sister, who doesn't eat nuts.)
I have more important things to do to get ready for Pesach.
There are rabbis and others out there who claim that one can prepare for the holiday in less than a day. I honestly don't understand that. These rabbis are not taking into consideration the sudden urgent need to buy sneakers for the kid who has a tiyul with his youth group because they are off school.
Or the other kid who has decided that this year he's going clean out his own closet (I never do it) and get rid of EVERYTHING. Getting rid, however, means putting the torn sweatshirts and army socks, the collections of stickers and election posters, used notebooks, and birthday cards all in the living room 'in case someone else wants it'. If I'm lucky, the kid will haul the stuff back into his closet because it's 'good stuff - it's a waste to throw it all out'. But usually, it just stays in the living room, and I have to clean around it, which, of course is more time consuming.
Also not taken into consideration is the iron / vacuum cleaner / washing machine / car that simply and annually stop working. The technician can't come to fix it, the mechanic doesn't have the part, and the store just sold out. You have to walk to the river / wash the clothes by hand in the stream / bang the wrinkles out against a rock. Then you have to walk back home and sweep the carpet with a broom. This can be very time consuming - especially the walking to a river as the nearest one to my home is in Egypt. And that one has a reputation of turning to blood at this time of year. The rabbis never seem to think of that scenario. (I might be exaggerating here - I never vacuum, so I didn't even notice when the vacuum cleaner died - presumably of loneliness.)
The rabbis also never had to go to twelve different stores to find the right peeler that not only perfectly fits your hand, but whose blade is strong enough not to break after peeling 3 carrots - which is what happened to me last year.
Simply inviting people to your seder can be a week's work. Every person you invite - especially your own kids - mumbles some sort of answer, which in fact can be translated into "I don't know. I want to wait to see if anyone better invites me." You have to ask over and over again so that you can plan menus, make shopping lists, buy the suitable items.
To ensure the maximum stress, after everyone finally gives a definitive answer - one way or another - and you go shopping and start preparing, the person who said that he's not coming calls to say that the other, better, invitation fell through, so can he come after all? and can he bring a friend? and reminds you that he just became vegetarian, and the friend is allergic to wine and paprika.
Of course, in the end, everything gets done. The house is clean (maybe not enough for your mother-in-law, but it's kosher for Pesach), the table is set (with 6 different glasses from 6 different sets because every year you break another glass or two) the food is prepared (even if I didn't make that chocolate tart with a chocolate chip crust), and the guests show up (bringing another friend and his sister, who doesn't eat nuts.)
The weather is lovely, so it doesn't really matter that the air conditioner doesn't work because I forget to clean out the filter.
And then, the handle of the peeler I carefully chose breaks.
And then, the handle of the peeler I carefully chose breaks.
