Holiday Greetings, Cleaning Seasons, and 3 Questions

This year, Eid el-Fitr was less than two weeks before Passover. I was remiss in posting holiday greetings to those who celebrate. Using AI, I prompted the design of a greeting card, and sent it to some colleagues, friends, and family, regretfully missing some. Apologies. When sent, it was with sincerity, the kind my friends and colleagues in Israel and Palestine associated with holidays that are not happy days – again.

Today, another holiday. Just saying, not making arguments to justify or condemn. This Passover afternoon, we were making tea when we heard air raid sirens. An attack from Yemen, the Houthis. We had just seen headlines about expanded Israeli attacks in Gaza. In the West Bank, occupied territory, Israelis responsible for random destruction and death. Is that the answer to terrorist cells? I don’t know how Israel, Israelis, will recover from October 7. I don’t know how we will recover from knowing – or avoiding knowing – that the magnitude of retaliation has taken so many innocent Gazan lives. I believe that avoiding knowing the narrative of the other, of the Palestinian people, throughout the history of the State of Israel and the period that led to its establishment fails to serve the people of Israel and obstructs all paths to healing and rebuilding.

Anticipating this holiday, I did my share of traditional home cleaning. The traditional happy holiday greeting at Pesach is like the traditional “chag sameach” – happy holiday – for every holiday, with an added wish for it to be kosher. This year, the greetings seem partially related to the degree of familiarity with the individual to whom the greeting is extended. Or maybe it’s random, or calculated, or the dynamic of the moment – fewer strangers than usual saying “chag sameach” to each other. Sometimes, as an afterthought leaving a store, I said “chag tov” to a cashier. Sometimes “chag sameach.” The added part about being kosher is generally less significant. Chag tov – a good holiday – has emerged as the alternative greeting, reflecting general inability to truly be happy. As I type, the uncle of a hostage in Gaza is speaking on television, acknowledging that life goes on, but when people say, “chag sameach,” he just can’t. Can’t be happy. Some greeting variations demonstrate cautious sensitivity with people saying, “chag sameach to the extent possible,” or “chag tov since we can’t say chag sameach,” or exchanges beginning with “chag tov,” and in an apologetic reflex, ending with “chag sameach.”

With Easter a week away, if my good wishes don’t reach you, they could be stuck with other wishes stored in stuffy emotional space, space in the soul I consider as parallel to the space in our kitchen and our closets that we clean for Pesach. When I discard items after the expiration date has passed or because keeping them no longer justifies the space they occupy, I think about things in my heart and soul that could be discarded and things like an old sweater or useless piece of costume jewelry remaining in the closet for sentimental reasons. Their sentimental purpose may trigger a memory, reminding me that alongside cleaned and emptied space, memories can be rearranged, and a new response to the trigger can be evoked.

That spring cleaning is symbolically parallel to autumn teshuva – repentance – as per one translation of this nuanced word. Teshuva – soul cleansing in anticipation of Rosh Hashana and during the ten days leading to Yom Kippur, the Day of Judgement.

Teshuva also translates as “answer” – expected in response to a question. I have a few in search of teshuva. Why have we yet to find the way to an agreement enabling Israelis and Palestinians to live in peace, sharing this blood-soaked land? When Israelis and Palestinians largely object to hearing the word “peace,” would it help to convey the message that other decade and century-long conflicts resolved between nations did not end their mutual distaste for one another? Can we end this war?

Harriet Gimpel, April 13, 2025