The most difficult day of the year (I believe there is no argument about this) is the ninth of Av. Bad enough the fast and and all the historical disasters associated with this day. There is more: On verse four of chapter three of Koheles -- ...a time to cry, a time to rejoice... -- Rashi comments on "a time to cry": this is Tisha b'Av. Not "such as Tisha b'Av", but, "this is Tisha b'Av." We are so lost in sorrow that we don't even greet each other. At the last meal before the fast -- even if we sit together -- there is no zimun. Tisha b'Av is all loneliness and sorrow.
At the other end of the emotional and philosophical spectrum -- and nearly as far away in the year a can be -- is our seder. Pesach is the holiday when no Jew is alone. More than any other festival -- men, women, and children are all together. Special songs that are particularly fun for the children are placed at the end of the seder. We all spend weeks in preparation for the Seder... reviewing the hagada, preparing special foods, learning the four questions in a panoply of languages.
Therefore what, you are wondering. Yes, we have all sorts of different holidays and celebrations. Why is this contrast so interesting? They are both fatherliness meetings. The month in which we confront and commemorate our greatest failings and disasters is literally the Father month -- אב. And Pesach? The Torah refers to Pesach as חג האביב, which we translate as the spring festival. However, given that כלב mean dog and כלבלב means puppy; חתול means cat, and חתלתול means kitten... I feel on very good grounds understanding that אביב really means daddy.
Both the Pesach Seder and Tisha b'Av represent two different dimensions of a child's relationship with his father. When a child is born, there is nothing but celebration and encouragement. A baby smiles, the parents smile; a baby cries, the parents rush to remediate whatever is wrong. Mommy and daddy are bursting with pride and joy. As the child grows and develops, though, we all know what happens -- "Just wait till your father gets home!" (It's really hard to use the term "daddy" in anger....)
Which is a greater demonstration of the love that the father feels for his child? I heard once from R' Avigdor Miller, ztz''l: when you see a kid running around shul and you don't know who his father is, just wait. The one who goes over to pahtch him is the father. When the baby is cooing and the toddler is laughing, everyone wants to be close. When the kid is being unruly, though, it is only the father who steps up. A father's love for his son knows no bounds.
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