; The furniture will be moved; the counters and corners will sparkle, cleaner than ever before; the dishes and silverware and beautiful serving plates will be ones she does not remember seeing before. Even the guests circling the table and gazing at her as she sings will be new faces, invited specially for this sacred gathering. Everything will be different! A night like no other night!

 My big job this year is to lead the seder. In preparation, I have been slowly reading our Breslov Haggadah, which is full of Passover commentary by Reb Nachman of Breslov. I love going deeper into the mystical meaning behind the seder. My readings are like drinking from an oasis in the midst of trekking through the desert of deep cleaning our entire house.
I said to Alon, we need to focus our kavannah (intention) this year on WHY we are cleaning and re-organizing and turning our kitchen upside down. We sat down today to discuss our cleaning schedule as well as our seder. Somehow, though, we never moved beyond the details into the meaning behind the details. There are just so many details!!

But then I read a commentary on the Haggadah’s four sons/children (wise, wicked, simple, and "asleep".) Reb Nachman reminds us that although the wise son is on the right track, he sometimes lacks humility and he sometimes tries to find inspiration to the exclusion of relying on Faith. Nachman concludes by stating: "devotion to God is greatest when it involves self-sacrifice, when we are not motivated by inspiration." Let's try that!

2 days later…
We are down to our last couple of days of cleaning (with Shabbat rest in the middle-- thank goodness). Despite my intentions to focus on devotion and sacrifice, I found myself yesterday truly enjoying Passover cleaning. I remembered why Passover is my favorite holiday after Yom Kippur-- the renewal goes so deep, right into our most intimate places. I mean the kitchen: food and eating. As pieces of our home and especially our kitchen begin to sparkle and gleam, my heart speeds up with excitement and anticipation.
And I remember that even though the tasks seem endless, they aren't. At some point every year we finish every bit of cleaning possible. The enormous burden of preparation actually ends and our home is kosher-for-Passover. Further, by the time we are ready to cook for our seder, our kitchen is inevitably smaller, or at least more simplified. We use fewer drawers and cabinets, less dishware and silverware, eat a smaller variety of foods. Even the refrigerator is half-empty! To me, a messy artist living in a household of almost-five (plus two pets) yet with the soul of an ascetic, this is liberation indeed!
We have been preparing for Passover for 14 seasons now. I have always been able to set aside the time necessary to do this holy work – what a blessing to be my own boss! Yet, Alon and I always struggle with the sacrifice of putting aside piles of work and the callings of our art in order to scrub residue off counters and pick up bread crumbs that will soon be replaced by seder food and matzah crumbs. Can we really afford to slow down our "real" work for Passover preparation?
A better/bigger question is: Can we really afford NOT to slow down?
Reb Nachman writes about the "Pharaoh" we face in our lives: "Even today, ‘Pharaoh’ denies us the thing we need most: the time and composure to yearn for greater awareness of God, so that we might become aware of what our Jewishness is all about." That’s right! -- seemingly mindless, repetitive tasks such as scrubbing, dusting, wiping, and boiling silverware create space (perhaps even a need?) for my mind to wander and explore.
Sometimes I use this space to explore my place in the greater Jewish community. Our practice falls somewhere between strict observance and unaffiliated. We have learned about much halacha (Jewish law) on Passover, without being pressured to follow the laws. We, our friends, and our families practice a wide range of traditions. Meanwhile, the intensity of preparing our homes and seders leaves little time for communal spiritual preparation. As a result, we rarely have the experience of a fellowship of like-minded people all preparing for Passover together. At this time of year, I deeply yearn for a bigger family of souls with whom to connect and prepare for the season.

9 days later…
Judaism is meant to be a communal religion and Passover in particular is a communal journey from slavery into freedom. I feel sure that my search must include a search for people with whom to make this journey. But where do I look for them and, more importantly, how do we find the time and ability to connect and prepare our souls together? Am I looking for a Rabbi or a spiritual mentor, or am I meant to teach and lead those around me? Do I need to live with these people, or can we connect “virtually”? Is it even possible to create such a spiritual connectedness in this modern world? If not, is there a less-modern world in which I, a very liberal female Jew, might fit?
Sometimes yearning feels like an abyss at my feet. I sense that there is much more to be aware of, but I am not sure where to look.
Could this yearning be a form of deep yearning for God? Reb Nachman hints to me that my struggles and yearnings are not all bad. In response to the moment in the Exodus story when the Hebrew slaves “cried out to God,” he comments: “The sigh of a Jewish heart is very dear to God, even if it be muffled and inaudible. Through it we “breathe life” into the world. We bring to life the things which we are lacking (Likutey Moharan I, 8:1). If nothing else, the sigh expresses that deep in our heart we know what we lack. And, as long as we know this, to whatever degree – there is hope. We hope. We yearn. And, in time, our yearnings turn to reality.”
This year, Alon and I are attempting to stay with our yearnings, despite the urge to turn away from them in our yearly post-seder anti-climactic exhaustion. We have some ideas for “virtual” connections and preparations for next year’s Passover. We hope to bring these to fruition through Creative Jewish Living. As my favorite line in the Haggadah reads, “This year we are here, next year we will be in the land of Israel! This year we are slaves, next year we will be free men!”