| Last week, my household celebrated the arrival of a new family
member. Dear friends were present, and my son made a special two hour drive from
his home to be part of the occasion. At first, Wagsy made rather a nuisance of
himself by barking as the addition was settled in a place of honor, but
eventually quieted down, and after playing a bit, seemed to allow that this
might not be a bad idea.
There were many compliments, and admiring caresses, before we all sat down to
enjoy our meal. Yes, this treasure was exactly right. How had my little nest
grown? We were seated around the new dining room set: a marble-topped table, and
leather chairs. Oh my, we are an elegant bunch now. Of course, my practical side
is never far from the fore. In recognition of that, a girlfriend brought a box
of special cookie mix, to help me enjoy having such a large, luxurious surface
for rolling dough.
Yes, a dining table is part of the family. It is there that many of our dearest
moments will occur: we'll celebrate birthdays, observe holidays, and offer
confidences. There will be laughter, singing, and perhaps the occasional tear:
all shared around the welcoming surface. I shall light candles, arrange flowers,
prepare special treats of love to enjoy, and think about the faces present or
absent from the circle.
Every clan has absent faces, and the table is where they are most sorely missed.
Some have other commitments, but will be present for the next feast. Others will
feast no more; they will be memorialized with candles at the coming new year.
Those unseen visages which evoke the most sadness belong to dear ones who have
not been invited, or who have declined to attend.
Each year, we are commanded to seek and grant forgiveness to one another. Yet,
families have members in exile, whether that isolation is imposed or
self-inflicted. Too many people say that family is a primary value in their
lives, but when it comes to festive meals, decide that pride is what matters
most. Pride? Yes, because those who harbor grudges usually have a story to tell
about why their decision for estrangement was both good and just. These tales
are too often told without regret.
And so it came to pass that last week, amidst the joy of our table party, I
spent a sad moment, and was even more grateful for the comfort of my other
assembled loved ones. Twenty years ago my younger sister, Camille, told me that
neither I, our brother, nor my son would ever be part of her life again. She has
not seen nor spoken to any one of us since that day. The reasons for her
decision do not matter, for there is nothing which would ease her absence
despite the overtures which we have made in her direction.
Now, dear readers, I ask you to avoid my situation, and do whatever is possible
in your lives to keep from having absent faces around your tables. Do not
postpone gestures of peace, but learn from the recent tragedy in New Orleans
that love may be washed away, and all chances for a hug vanished. Rosh Hashanah
is the birthday of creation. I can promise that if you are able to end any harsh
feeling and start a new year with warmth, the taste of an apple and honey
Kiddush will be more sweet that it has ever been before.
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