Sometime between now and soon, we will be preparing to eat the ultimate fleish: the Korban Pesach.
The guest list will be carefully curated, since the korban can only be slaughtered on behalf of its specific group. We’ll make lists of exactly whom to invite: people we’re close with, or who we want to be close with, or who we feel responsible for. Good eaters are needed – we have to finish it – but not too many; everyone needs a k’zayit.
We will carefully choose the spit: It can’t get so hot as to roast the lamb instead of the fire, but it also has to be moisture free, so it doesn’t emit any water or steam that cook our korban. Special spits – perhaps most popularly made of that just perfect pomegranate wood – may become more expensive. Some families will commission special ones; others will use the one they got as a wedding present.
Then, of course, it will be time to roast. The korban will be handled with care so that it doesn’t touch the walls of our grills or suffer any broken bones. Family recipes will be hidden and shared.
The seder will commence. Some people will report the next day that it was perfect: the meat was amazing, the company and conversation sparkled and inspired, and for a few minutes, when we ate that meat, we did no more and no less than exactly what G-d commanded. We were perfect.
