Musings on a Friday Night

My home is warm this Friday night,

The Sabbath meal, all fresh and good,

Containing every kind of food,

Presents a most inviting sight.

I look around the table laid,

With silver, china, crystal lead,

The candles’ glow, the flowers’ bloom,

Content and comfort fill the room.

My Zaide sits at table’s head,

Recites the blessing on the bread

Which fresh and sweet, this very day,

My aunt has baked in her own way.

My Baba’s soup is world renowned,

The very best that can be found.

My Mother’s art is more discrete,

Yet everything smells good to eat.

Uncle and cousins, each their own style,

My Brother’s laugh and Father’s smile.

The ones I love and hold so dear,

All those who’ve shaped my life are here.

But is this true, this simple thought?

Who would I be if it were not

For those who cannot join us here,

In comfort, plenty, free from fear?

They lived in homes of straw and wood,

Worked harder than our bodies could.

Yet what gained they from all their toil?

A scrap of bread? A bed of soil?

Their days were filled in struggling,

A fight to gain each little thing,

No guarantee to eat at night,

Though they did rise at dawn’s first light.

The very simplest of life’s needs,

Which here today we hardly heed,

For them consumed most of each day.

Could we survive a week this way?

Yet, through the hardship, toil, and pain,

With efforts I could not sustain,

They made some time, I know not how,

To shape the life I strive for now.

Their language is my mother tongue,

The voice in which their songs were sung.

The holidays I hold so dear,

My forebears passed on through the years.

The history that makes me real,

The culture which can make me feel

That I am not just me, but more;

I owe to those who came before.

When I enjoy my Friday meal,

A feast resplendent with appeal,

I must give credit for the feat,

That made this festive time complete.

So as I sit down at this table,

I’ll try as well as I am able,

To make a place inside my heart,

For those who cannot now take part.

Jason Berman

April 19, 1996