Ready Or Not, It's Passover Time
By NEHAMA STAMPFER GLOGOWER
The thought of preparing my
house for Passover is so daunting
that I don't check the date of the
first seder until early February. It is
a little like giving birth: you know
you are going to make it, but aren't
quite sure how.
Passover requires more physical
preparation than any other holiday.
Somehow we must rid ourselves of
every speck of chametz (leavened
wheat products) that we can find.
That includes cookie crumbs your 3-
year-old left behind the sofa, the old
sandwich that your 8-year-old left in
the closet and the granola bar you
hid for yourself but forgot to eat. It is
an enormous job. "Some holiday of
freedom," I grumble to myself.
There are two schools of thought
regarding the timing of Passover
cleaning. Advocates of the first
school begin no later than Purim (I
suspect that these are also the
people who have their taxes done
by Purim). There is an organized
plan, usually beginning in bedrooms
and moving ever closer to the
dragon's lair — the kitchen.
The other school of thought can
be classified as the mad dash
approach. Proponents of this school
realize that beginning too early is
only an invitation for people to leave
new chametz in previously cleaned
and supposedly-off-limits rooms.
Passover cleaning is completed in
an all-out effort in two-and-a-half
weeks. Families whose young
children like to hide snacks for later
are more likely to fall into this
category.
After many years of trial and error
I have evolved my personal
approach to Passover preparations.
The first step is acknowledging that
Passover is unavoidable. Then the
bedrooms are attacked. It isn't often
that children can be taught mitzvot
and how to clean under beds at the
same time. By necessity, it is a
family project. But you've got to
keep your eye on the prize, so to
speak. The object is to get rid of
chametz, not to redecorate, clear
out outgrown clothing or wash
windows. This is a very common
trap and uses up energy needed to
get the real job done.
Once the bedrooms are done, a
sign goes up on the stairs,
threatening dire consequences for
anyone who would dare take food
out of the kitchen or dining room. (I
know, they're not supposed to
anytime, right?).
I like to give myself a little head
start in the kitchen. About three
weeks before the holiday I clean out
a kitchen cabinet I can live without
and fill it with Passover groceries.
When Passover approaches and the
kitchen seems impossible, I take
courage from that lone cabinet
labeled "Passover" standing like a
beacon. A quick peek under the
stove burners is usually enough to
send me scurrying to the phone to
hire a cleaning company; there is
plenty of work left for the local work
crew.
The culmination of all this work
occurs on the night before the
seder, with the ritual search for
chametz (bedikat hametz).
Traditionally, the hunt is conducted
by candlelight, using a wooden
spoon and feather to gather any
crumbs that might have remained in
the house. My kids really enjoy this
ritual. How often can they go around
the house dripping candle wax?
Since the chametz has already
been removed (we hope), many
families have a custom of putting
out Cheerios or crackers to be
found during the search. The only
trick is making sure you collect at
least the same number as were put
out!
I usually don't participate in the
search. The family quietly tramps
about the house (you're not
supposed to talk unless it directly
relates to the search — another
advantage to this observance). I, in
the meantime, am usually frantically
unpacking boxes of Passover,
dishes and starting my cooking.
While they get rid of chametz, I've
already moved completely into
Passover mode.
Chametz found during the search
is burned the following morning. At
that time any chametz that may
remain in the house is declared to
be "as the dust of the earth." One
year my brother found me frantically
scrubbing the ancient remains of
crumbs off the cord of the Cuisinart
(which would be put away for the
holiday anyway).
After watching with some
amusement, he said "You know,
Nehama, it is a serious
transgression to make a blessing for
no reason. When you make the
statement that any remaining
chametz is to be like the dust of the
earth there has to be some chametz
left to refer to." All the years I
suffered from older-brother-teasing
were instantly forgiven with those
words!
Despite the hard work, Pesach
remains my favorite holiday. I love
the moment when my husband and I
can bring up the boxes of Passover
dishes, pots and pans and put them
in the cabinets, gleaming with their
new shelving paper. I love picking
out outrageous patterns of contact
paper to cover my kitchen counters.
I love finding so many lost things
when I clean the house. It is like a
new beginning, a transformation into
a different plane of existence.
Everything around me is the same,
yet different enough to remind me of
the specialness of these days.
The feeling of renewal, of
connection to past and future is so
intense that every year I am struck
by a tremendous sense of awe to be
a part of this grand enterprise.
My mother told me that there is a
Ladino saying that goes "We all sit
down at the seder table at the same
time." I cling to that happy thought
every year. When I do make it to my
seat at the seder table, I know that
my sense of accomplishment flows
directly from the care and effort I
have given to create that moment.
And I know that somehow I have
successfully guided our family to
another Pesach.
Nehama Glogower is a free lance
writer, teacher, rebbetzin and mom
living in Ann Arbor.
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