Close your eyes, breathe in deeply, now exhale slowly… That was easy, wasn’t it? Not for everyone…
“We were slaves down in Egypt,”
The young, cheerful mother said,
As she knelt on the floor
And swept under the bed.
“We toiled so hard
And lived in constant fear,”
Avowed the perky young mother,
As she dusted the chandelier.
“Everyday the children of Jacob
Would cry out and tearfully daven,”
Pointed out the bubbly young mother,
As she scoured her kitchen oven.
“Hashem heard our prayers,
And sent Moshe to get us out!”
Affirmed the chirpy young mother,
As she bleached the bathtub grout.
“Moshe went to Pharaoh, saying,
‘Let my people go, or you will fall!’ “
Announced the smiling young mother,
As she scraped the garage wall.
“Moshe had asked politely,
But stubborn Pharaoh was a grouch,”
Panted the young, buoyant mother,
As she moved the living room couch.
“He refused Moshe’s request, yelling,
‘Don’t bother me anymore!’ “
Declared the young, upbeat mother,
As she washed the basement floor.
“Said a determined Moshe,
‘You’ll change your mind, that’s for certain’ “
Exclaimed the happy young mother,
As she hand-vacuumed the study’s curtain.
“Hashem sent down 10 plagues,
And Pharaoh stopped being so smug,”
Gasped the delighted young mother,
As she beat the dining room rug.
“Pharaoh ran to Moshe, pleading,
‘Leave the country tonight!’ “
Narrated the young, jubilant mother,
As she dusted the porch light.
“The Children of Israel hurried,
Not for a minute did they hesitate,”
Stated the young, elated mother,
As she hosed the fence and gate.
“And that is why we eat matzah,
There was no time for proper bread,”
Confirmed the young, exultant mother,
As she stripped the guest room bed.
“And so we rid our homes of chametz,
But we shouldn’t get too frantic,”
Insisted the young, exhilarated mother,
As she lugged the vacuum to the attic.
“Each year we celebrate our freedom,
And invite all to the Seder meal,”
Crowed the young, euphoric mother,
Eyeing the potatoes she had yet to peel.
“How lucky we are to have Pesach,
We are free,” the mother gleefully did shout,
“No more toil, drudgery and hard labor,”
She warbled – just as she passed out.
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Aside from my own 485-page tome on the subject, Red Army, I think Jamie Glazov did an excellent job at framing things in United in Hate: The Left’s Romance with Tyranny and Terror.
We studied his seforim together, we listened to famous cantorial masters and we spoke of his illustrious yichus, his pedigree, dating back to the famous commentator, Rashi.
Cantor Moti Boyer came from the East Coast to support the event.
Personally I wish that I had a mother like my wife.
What’s the difference between the first and second ten-year-old?
What makes this diary so historically significant is that it is not just the private memoir of Dr. Seidman. Rather, it is a reflection of the suffering of Klal Yisrael at that time.
Rabbi Lau is a world class speaker. When he relates stories, even concentration camp stories, the audience is mesmerized. As we would soon discover, he is in the movie as well.
Each essay, some adapted from lectures Furst prepared for live audiences, begins with several basic questions around a key topic.
For the last several years, four Jewish schools in the Baltimore Jewish community have been expelling students who have not received their vaccinations.
There are fathers who bravely step up to the plate and fill in the maternal vacuum with their love and devotion.
Divorce from a vindictive, cruel spouse can be a lifelong nightmare when there are offspring.
Not knowing any better, I assumed that Molly and her mother must be voracious readers.
Unpleasant happenings are quickly discarded if they do not affect us directly.
I have always insisted that everything that happens to anyone or anything is min Shamayim.
It is so hurtful to heighten people’s sense of inadequacy and guilt in a matzav that is already horrendous and difficult to bear.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/the-passover-story-as-told-by-a-young-mother-to-her-daughter/2008/04/16/
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