Sadly, sardines packed in a can turn my mind towards the worst of Holocaust imagery; from cattle cars to mass graves to the haunting words of poet Paul Celan: “We are near, L-rd, near and graspable. Grasped already, L-rd, clawed into each other, as if each of our bodies was your body, L-rd.”
Perhaps this is due to the ongoing trauma of post-October 7, in which I imagine terrorists bursting through locked doors, or see Hamas gunmen in trucks that I pass on the highway. Nothing seems simple and lighthearted anymore; even something as silly and smelly as sardines conjures up plague and death and insecurity and the worst points of Jewish history.
My father, who is a big sardine consumer, is currently in Israel as a new-ish oleh. Because sardine cans are nonperishable and highly unappealing to most of us, whenever he visits, he is usually able to dig up an old can in the back of the pantry that was probably leftover from the last time he was here. This brings to mind a more hopeful Jewish idea, this one penned by David HaMelech: “Even maasu habonim haysa larosh pina – The stone that the builders rejected has become the main cornerstone (of the Temple).” When my father is digging through our pantry looking for something he can eat, the find of a quality organic sardines can is like a treasure. Though despised and rejected for months, these sardines now emit a glow of nourishment and satiety.
May we all emit that glow in our relationship with G-d. I guess these sardines pack a powerful punch.
