Some Pesach memories I want to keep

[rhu]

I'm gonna have to post in dribs and drabs
As minutes make themselves available.
So first, three days of notes from synagogue.

On Saturday, our shul did congregate
At seven in the morning, so that we'd
Be done by nine, and then a bagel brunch
Was offered so that we might all fulfill
Our obligations: (a) two loaves of bread
For Shabbat lunch, and (b) no chametz past
The hour of ten. (We didn't get to shul
In time to pray, but got there just in time
To hear kiddush, and tromp downstairs to wash
And eat the bagels for which we'd signed up.)

On Sunday, I was at hashkama. (That's
the earlier of our two services.
It starts at eight; the other starts at nine.)
Just after kedushah, the gabbai sat
Beside me, and he asked if I could lead
the musaf service. This caused me alarm:
The musaf said on Passover's first day
Includes Tefillat Tal (the Pray'r for Dew)
Whose melody is a "from Sinai" tune:
An ancient chant, and one which one ought not
To change in any way. 'Tis not a thing
(In normal times) to spring upon a soul
With scarcely thirty minutes to prepare!
Apparently, the gentleman they'd asked
Last week, and who'd agreed, had lost his voice.
His kittel was passed o'er; I put it on,
Ascended to the bimah, took deep breaths,
And from the depths of memory, I called
Upon our God to bless the land with dew
With our tradition's nusach. Afterwards,
When I got home, I checked it in my books,
And to my great relief I'd done it right.

The second morn of Pesach, I was asked
To lead the Shach'rit service. My reply
was "Since I just led musaf yesterday,
Is it not inappropriate for me
To be shaliach tzibbur yet again?"
The gabbai said he'd asked nigh half the room,
And all had turned him down. And so I got
To chant Berach Dodi and Hallel, too.
Joel Sussman, of Safam, was visiting,
And briefly I considered if I should
Sing "Pit'chu Li" by Robbie Solomon
(Another member of that famous band)
When we had reached that portion of the Psalms.
But no, I thought, we'd massacre the tune,
And that would cause poor Joel such agony.
Instead, I used my favorite tune, one which
I like to start quadruple-p, and then
As pasuk after pasuk builds and grows
A slow crescendo rises to a shout:
This is the day our God has made! Let us
Rejoice and be exuberant on it!
And, finally, I give a primal shout:
O please! O God! Save us! O please! I cry;
The congregation shouts it in response.
(Now, normally, the congregants have such
Enthusiasm that what I describe
Is only in my mind; they start it off
Fortissimo, and there's no room to grow.
This time it worked: Not only did I start
So quietly they had to hush to hear,
I kept a wav'ring hand held low, and they
Apparently saw what I meant to do.
And when the tutta forza did arrive
The overflowing joy and praise of God
Was a cathartic moment.) After shul,
I walked the block to Comm. Ave. just in time
To see the women's wheelchair lead fly by.
(We're right by Heartbreak Hill, and Monday was
The Boston Marathon.) It was quite odd,
A bit like Ascot was my thought, to see
This bunch of well-dressed people, with big hats,
Applauding as the racers thundered past.
I stayed, and saw the women's elite pack,
And then the leaders of the elite men.
By then 'twas time to head back to our house
For lunch --- but that is for another post.