A Concert in the City: Passover 1943

The meal on the first night of Passover, the Seder, was and remains a highly structured and rigidly ritualized meal that marks the Israelites passing out of slavery under the Egyptians and into freedom. Every Jewish household, especially observant ones, followed the rituals strictly, but in the Strauss household, Seder was also an opportunity to build bridges with the other none Jewish urban communities in Haifa, of which this German Jewish family of four have become a part. In fact, the Passover meal at Herr Strauss’s had become a much-anticipated social occasion for many of his Jewish and none Jewish students, Michel included. 

 

As a music teacher of some renown, Herr Strauss’s home was a sort of cultural epicenter for the urban elite and the aspiring secular, liberal socialites of the city. As in many Arab cities today, learning a musical instrument was and remains a sign of social advancement, learning to play the piano was especially favored for young girls. As with each Passover celebration, the maestro would at the end of the meal lead his advanced students in a recital of classical favorites. This year, Michel would attend Passover at his teacher’s house for the first time. 

 

 

By now, the war in Europe was beginning to turn against the Germans after their invasion of the Soviet Union. But, news of the concentration camps, to which millions of Jews were sent to serve as slave labor, was beginning to filter out and reach immigrant communities in Palestine. Herr Strauss’s own elderly mother, who refused to join them in Palestine, had been taken only a year earlier to one of these camps, or so family friends who were still in Frankfurt claimed. They managed to get word out through red cross letters. Her fate was unknown and unknowable until the war’s end. As such, this year’s Passover celebration was tinged with sadness in the Strauss household. The chair traditionally left empty at the Passover table had an added poignancy. Herr Strauss wished to end the Passover meal and rituals this year with a Mozart recital, his mother’s favorite classical composer. This concert would be dedicated to her.

 

Michel had been anticipating the concert eagerly, he was chosen to play second violin to his teacher’s first, his cousin Ramzi would play Viola and David, a young German Jewish student, would be on Cello. In the past week, they practiced together whenever they could. Michel felt ready and yet he had butterflies in his stomach, he thought he might throw up. “I mustn’t, oh horror, I mustn’t, this is the night, I am ready, I am ready,” Michel repeated to himself as he walked the two blocks in the dying embers of the day to his maestro’s apartment, clutching his violin case close to his chest.

 

Upon arriving at the entrance to the apartment, Michel adjusted his tie, combed his hair back and knocked on the front door. Rachel, Herr Strauss’s youngest daughter, opened the door. She was 14 and had beautiful long black hair. Michel was spell bound and tongue tied. “Hhh Hi, I’m Michel,” he said finally after an almost interminable pause. “Yes, I know, I’ve seen you before,” Rachel said with a smile, “come in,” Always verbose and a bit of a tease, Rachel went on: “My father never allows us to sit in on his teaching sessions, but my sister and I sneak a look every now and then from behind the curtains to see you students sweat. Welcome, Micha-el,” she said mysteriously.

 

Michel was stunned, that was a strange pronunciation of his name, he always used the French spelling and pronunciation, although he was flirting with the idea of using the shortened, Americanized Mike. He knew his teacher had two daughters, but he would have never guessed they were such stunningly beautiful young women. 

 

“Michel, come on in, why are you standing at the door,” Herr Strauss motioned with his hand. “Welcome, welcome… This is your first Passover meal I understand?” To which Michel nodded: “Yes, it’s my first time.” 

 

“Relax, we are informal in this house, just sit and follow what we do, Rachel will sit next to you, you can ask her if you get lost,” Herr Strauss said. Michel sensed his cheeks heating up, he was blushing and desperate not to show it. “Stop it Levi,” Golda lovingly admonished her husband, “can’t you see the young man is blushing,” noticing Michel’s red cheeks. “What did I say?!” Herr Strauss said obliviously.

 

Soon the family table was full, 22 friends and family squeezed in around a rectangular table too big for the space it was in. The table was filled with many delicacies, matzo ball soup, gefilte fish, potato kugel casserole, tzimmes stew of carrots and prunes, and roast lamb. Every participant in the ritual meal is required to drink four cups of kosher red wine, each cup drunk at a specific time during the ritual. This was a highly structured and ancient custom and Michel had never experienced anything like it, not even in the formal Latin Christian service on Sunday.

 

“Family, friends, as with every Passover, today we celebrate the passing of our people out of slavery in Egypt, saved by the intervention of the Almighty. On this day, let us also remember our brethren who are still suffering in war and imprisonment, but let us also be grateful for our deliverance to the promised land and for our neighbors, Jew and none Jew, may we always be grateful for that precious measure of peace we have found here,” Herr Strauss said, pausing a while before the blessing of the wine, followed by the ritual washing of hands, and the breaking of the Matzo, the unleavened bread traditionally eaten during Passover. Arabs know it as Khibz Massa, a rigid, flat, wafer-like bread.

 

The rituals continued, first with the retelling of the story of the exodus from Egypt followed by reading from the old testament, specifically four verses from Deuteronomy read out by Herr Strauss’s daughter Rachel.

 

“And thou shalt speak and say before the Lord thy God: 'A wandering Aramean was my parent, and they went down into Egypt, and sojourned there, few in number; and became there a nation, great, mighty, and populous. And the Egyptians dealt ill with us, and afflicted us, and laid upon us hard bondage. And we cried unto the Lord, the God of our parents, and the Lord heard our voice, and saw our affliction, and our toil, and our oppression. And the Lord brought us forth out of Egypt with a strong hand and an outstretched arm, and with great terribleness, and with signs, and with wonders.”

 

Even in the midst of Passover celebrations, Herr Strauss knew that his people were now facing a new kind of oppression, a fascist blight that had plunged Europe into darkness. 

 

He continued with the rituals: “We eat only matzo because our ancestors could not wait for their bread to rise when fleeing Egypt so it was still flat when it came out of the oven. We eat only bitter herb, Maror, to remind us of the bitterness of slavery our ancestors endured. The first dip, green vegetables in salt water, symbolizes the replacing of our tears with gratitude.”

 

The ritual end of the meal signaled the start of the night’s concert. Unlike his nervous self when he first arrived, Michel was now calm and filled with a centeredness and peace he had rarely known in his young life. He took his place by his teacher’s side as did the two other students. His violin resting between his left shoulder and cheek, awaiting the start. Maestro tapped thrice on the music stand to begin. Soon the pure crisp strains of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik rang through the small apartment and out the open window. It was a still night, and the familiar melodious Baroque music echoed and reverberated over empty streets. Michel was smiling and happy, he saw Rachel, she was looking in his direction admiringly. “Could it be possible to dream of such happiness?” he thought before resuming his focus on his sheet music, turning the page in unison with the others.

 

The night’s entertainment ended with a delightful piece played on piano by Rachel’s older sister Rebecca: Piano Sonata No. 16 in C major. Michel sat, his violin resting upright on his right thigh, looking in the direction of the piano at the center of the sitting room, every now and then he would steal a glance in Rachel’s direction. Rachel smiled when their eyes met. Michel quickly looked away, nervous and reddening.

 

The night ended with heartfelt congratulations for the budding young musicians from their teacher and the adult guests. 

 

Michel was walking out the door when Rachel tapped him on his shoulder, he turned to look at her gentle face. “Bravo maestro,” she said teasing, “You played beautifully… Micha-el, the god-like (Michael is a Hebrew name which means God like).” Michel blushed: “Thank you, you are very kind, but I’m still a beginner.” They smiled and parted, Michel’s cheeks were now crimson and as he walked home, humming the music to Mozart’s piano sonata No. 16 in C in the cool evening breeze. His smile was as broad as the Cheshire Cat’s. He was in love, or so his hormones intimated at least.