I inform my husband that, Baruch Hashem, the date change has been implemented, but he cannot change the topic. He shrugs and assures me that he will deal with it.
Soon after that conversation a flyer in my inbox informs me about a shiur titled “The Four Sons: Who are These Children Anyway?” scheduled for Tuesday evening and presented by Rabbi Klein. I wince a bit when reading the topic, knowing that my husband prefers a different one. But I’m confident that he will deliver his usual fine class. The addendum – Suggested Donation: 20 Shekel – has me smiling and smirking simultaneously. I always contribute to the cause, but find it awkward when my own husband is the featured speaker.
A few minutes later I receive an amended updated flyer. I am notified that one of the shiur regulars will be sponsoring Nissan’s shiur, l’ilui nishmas her mother. Nix the suggested donation. My smirk is transformed into a genuine smile.
On Tuesday evening, my husband has not yet managed to finish his dinner when he must rush off to deliver the shiur in his shul. He races home, wolfs down the next course, and both of us set off to our neighbor’s home for the second shiur. After a brief introduction he hands out his prepared reference sheets charting the four sons as furnished in both Torah and Haggadah sources. He then delivers a riveting, eye-opening class, replete with both knowledge and humor. The women are enthralled.
The lecturer makes his escape as soon as he finishes. But I remain for a few more minutes, basking in the praise and compliments and relishing the extra moments of reprieve before returning to my Pesach cleaning.
I finally leave, calling out thanks and chag kasher v’sameach to the hostess and shiur participants. I then head home, accompanied by the shiur sponsor. Practically glowing, she is effusive in her gratitude. “My mother, a”h, would have absolutely loved this shiur,” she says. “She spent so many years working as a preschool teacher, and every year she taught a little song about the Four Sons. All of us children would sing it as well…” With a faraway look in her eyes, my friend sings a few lines of the jingle, and then marvels: “How did your husband know to choose the topic of the Arba Banim?”