Jo Ann Howard, President
This Passover writing is filled with sensory images to put us in the mood for Pesach.
Freedom’s Table
(Author Unknown)
The door is open — not only for Elijah, but for the wind that smells of spring
and the dust of long roads walked.
Bitter herbs bite the tongue, sharp as the memory of chains;
matzah cracks beneath our hands,
its silence louder than any trumpet. We dip parsley in salted tears, taste the sea we once crossed,
and in the candlelight our shadows lean toward one another like travelers who have found
the same fire in the wilderness.
The youngest voice asks, and the oldest eyes answer without words —
for the story is not only told,
it is eaten, it is sung,
it is lived again.
Tonight, we recline as free people, yet keep a place for the stranger, for we remember how it felt to be
on the other side of the door.