The Gift

By Rachel Kann

Don't I know this

Feeling of homelessness.

And don't I know

How real the loneliness

In your bones is.

Slow down and notice 

The gloriousness afforded;

The view through the newly-opened window 

Of your broken heart.

This gift of clear vision.

Think on

The sacred company 

You're in:

Has there been one instance

Of wisdom 

In the history

Of this misbegotten existence

Elicited from anything but heart-brokenness?

It is an act of grace

To shatter the packaging,

To peel the encasement,

To reveal your true soul’s face and,

Say, with outstretched arms,

Here, here is the shape of my heart.

There is nothing left 

but to be swept 

away by love.

As we begin retelling the story of our redemption, we take the three pieces of matzah before us, remove the center piece, and split it in half. We eat the first half at the beginning of the Seder and hide the other half, which serves as the afikoman we eat at the conclusion of the Seder. It is worth noting the bread of slavery consumed at the beginning of the Seder and the bread of freedom we eat at the end of the Seder both come from the same piece of matzah.

Sometimes the difference between the things that cause us pain and those that give us pleasure is simply a matter of perspective. When seen through the lens of miraculous redemption and a recognition of the larger picture of our path to freedom, the bread of slavery transforms into the bread of freedom it was always intended to become. We must also remember — or hope — the potential for recovery isinside of us, waiting to be recognized or — like the afikomen — found.

Prompt: What experience in your own life caused you pain but, in hindsight, can be seen as a blessing? Or, if you currently find yourself in the midst of a painful experience, can you try to identify one positive aspect or lesson you can learn from it?

From the Mental Health Passover Seder Companion by The Blue Dove Foundation