There was a lot of bustle in town, with men, women and children packing for Pesach (Passover). Everyone seemed to be going to Jerusalem. For seven days, all Israel would be commemorating their freedom from Egyptian slavery. Mary had learned about it from her father, Heli Joachim and Hanna, her mother, who, in turn had retold the story, they had heard from their forefathers. At nightfall, Hebrews would honor the memory of the midnight of the 15th of the month of Nissan in the year 2448 from creation, when, during special Seder meals, chametz (leaven) would be replaced by matzah (unleavened bread) and maror (bitter herbs). Over four cups of wine, they would retell how, after many decades of backbreaking labor and unbearable horrors, God had sent His last warning to Egyptian pharaohs, to set Israelite slaves free. Despite ten devastating plagues that had destroyed everything from livestock to crops, Egyptian pharaohs still held them hostage. Because God wanted His people to serve Him, He wrought upon Egyptians, the death of all their firstborn children, “passing over” Hebrew homes, whose children were spared.
For Mary it was not a celebration that she wished to remember. She would have preferred to totally overlook the date, blocking it out completely, if it hadn’t been for Sarah, Her eldest son’s wife, who had insisted on having them join the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The date evoked painful memories of a similar massacre which she and Joseph had rushed from, scuttling their firstborn out of Israel, back into Egypt when he was just a baby. It had been horrible. She still couldn´t understand what had happened. If it hadn´t been for her loving angel, who had warned them just in time to flee, she herself would have chosen to be killed along with her adored Jhesus.
It was early spring, the Hebrew month of Nissan, and the trip to celebrate Pesach, gave her the perfect excuse to go to Jerusalem. She was planning to go anyway, and it would avoid having to find a reason why she wanted to go, in the first place. She really didn´t know. Confessing it was because of an intuitive presage, would have put her in the lips of all, who were already spreading venom critically, about Jhesus and His friends.
She had continued pondering over the killing of Egyptian firstborn and her similar experience, wondering why such innocent sacrificial lambs had to die in the first place. It almost seemed to be a prerequisite for Life, to continue. Her mulling was abruptly interrupted when Sarah rushed over to hug her. “Thank you”, she said effusively, “Oh! Thank you! I’ll be able to see James! He will be so happy to see the children!”
Later that day, while starting to bake provisions for their trip, her thoughts went back to Egypt. She thought of the food needed to feed the six hundred thousand men, women and children, leaving Egypt on their trek to Mount Sinai. ‘Of course!’ They would have to prepare matzah, flat unleavened bread, zealously guarded against moisture, instead of chametz, for it to last! ‘So that´s why handmade schmurach matzah was dried from the moment of harvest’, she thought.
Celebrating the Passover Seders required strict adherence to traditional Hebrew rituals which would be difficult to adhere to, while travelling. She tried to convince herself that honoring the miracle of liberty didn´t need strict following of the obliged fifteen-ritual-ceremony. ‘Just bringing the family together and sharing Seders with the boys in Jerusalem was a feast in itself. They were travelling from so far away’ she reflected. ‘The greatest miracle they would celebrate would be the life they had had after such near death’.
Back home, the celebration would require intensive spring-cleaning, in search of all leavened grain. Any food or drink with a trace of wheat, barley, rye or oats would have to be disposed of and destroyed. Mary was convinced that the burning of the chametz ceremony, the morning prior to Pesach, could be replaced with acts of humility. ‘The flat, unflavored bread just required ridding inflated selves, to be able to tap into the miraculous well of divine energy we all have within our souls’, she thought. So, taking her cue from the matzah, she would give away something personal to the needy, before they left. That would cleanse her from chametz.
‘Of course, the recitation of the Haggadah, could not be replaced’. It was an obligation to recount the story of the Exodus on the night of Passover.
Though the commemoration should last the whole week, the first two Seder nights would be enough to rejoice over the miracle of being together; that in itself would be a full celebration.
‘Oh!’ She thought suddenly, ‘She must take the wine for Kiddush. Sanctifying the shabbath would require wine!’ She would ask Sarah to make a leather bag, from the sheeps´hide they were preparing. The trip´s continual travelling would help crush the grapes and shake them enough to settle into wine, just in time for Pesach.
Urgency pressed her on. So, she eked out the strength to continue her diligent preparation.
‘Where was it they were going!?’….she rummaged. Again, the familiar foreboding had her envision a coming storm… She automatically diverted from her pressing pessimism, assuring it was because it would surely rain. ‘She had to ask her little grandson, Omar, to cut some palm tree leaves to take along, for shelter’.
For years, Mary had opened her home to villagers for afternoon prayers. They had formed quite a large group of regulars, that always left an air of benediction. And she was grateful for it. But lately she had left vespers and preferred to pray alone in the garden´s grove. Her spirit stirred with unrest and only solitude gave her solace.
That afternoon, she had unwittingly kept repeating ‘Abba, Aboon’ (“Father, Our Father” in Aramaic). Over and over, her heart beat to that mantra-like plea, surging from some profound, dire prayer.
‘Aboon Dbashmayo’ (“Our Father who art in Heaven”)… she continued, with desperate persistence. ‘Oh! But “heaven” seemed so far from the everyday chaos which Romans had wrought…’she thought hopelessly. As if to suppress her distrust, she suddenly remembered the comforting words with which Isabel had greeted her, years back, when both cousins had shared their fears during pregnancy.
“Moran a'amekh”, (“the Lord is with thee”), Isabel had reminded her, as they greeted… ‘Yes, my Father is always with me’ she repeated to herself, again and again, till her anguish was finally appeased.
As I reflected, in contemplation, I found myself, too, keeping unconscious rhythm to the same urgent plea…inhaling “Bless me…”, and exhaling “Bless all…, Abba, Aboon”.
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