Revealing What Was Hidden, Finding What Was Lost

This is one of the final seder instances in which we conceal and reveal special holiday objects or foods. But hiding and finding the Afikoman isn't just peek-a-boo child's play; it's high drama that comments on appearance and reality.

So many superheroes wear masks to conceal their true identities, but the civilian and super sides may push against each other and create confusion about which side is the true self and which is the secret identity. Often, what's concealed isn't just a face, it's vulnerability, weakness, or emotion. Elsa of Arendelle has been told her whole life "conceal, don't feel," because her emotions are so powerful that they will put her or someone else in physical danger.

While not the case for most of us — when we get angry, we don't accidentally freeze our siblings — so many of us obscure our true selves from public view. Whether it's claiming a Facebook that's happier and more #blessed than we may feel or telling white lies to spare someone's feelings at the extent of our own integrity, we've all been there, in those moments that we hide ourselves away, suppress emotion, afraid to let it go, and to let ourselves go into the unknown.

As we find the lost afikoman, we reveal the hidden. Here we are, confronting the fact that we are nearing the end of the seder ritual. And although we're tired and maybe we're even ready for this whole thing to be over, this last bit of pageantry lets the unleavened bread take its curtain call, and remind us that whatever we conceal from ourselves, our loved ones or the world at large, it does not go away. It waits while hidden, for the reveal, for the reckoning. However we lead in our daily lives — with our intellects, with our bodies, with our emotions — it's only part of us, to be reconciled with the rest, toward wholeness. 

[Image Source: GIPHY]

haggadah Section: Tzafun
Source: Esther Kustanowitz