The rabbi in jeansspoke of matzah,
not the matzah
in the grocery store,
but the matzah
that was eaten by
the Jews many years ago,
that was cooked
a little less than hummus,
and symbolized
that Jews,
being on the run,
were not able
to wait
for their bread to rise,
even before rabbis,
he said, when the sages
were called something different.
And I worry about
whether I have
any rich traditions,
born to skeptic parents
who looked to the future
rather than the past.
Yesterday I asked
what were her traditions
and she said
if she was having
trouble falling asleep,
she'd say goodnight to
the people she'd seen that day.
And I, frightened to be
swept away by any tradition,
embrace no traditions
one day, and (a little)
of all, the next.
3 comments:
I am empty of tradition.
I don’t really know what my parents believed as tradition dwindled, and then tradition was discarded in my own family.
I am empty of tradition.
My son and I had lunch at Bread Co. on Easter Sunday afternoon.
We talked, we listened to one another.
I am empty of tradition.
My father cooked fabulous meals very long ago when I believed there was tradition.
traditions are nothing unless there is a tradition to maintain them
You worry about whether you have any rich traditions? You religiously pour out your innermost thoughts every day in this public forum, and complement your essays with sincere, often humorous, illustrations. If this isn’t serious immersion in meaningful tradition, it seems to at least be compensation for the lack thereof.
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