It’s that time of year again! A time when we gather round a table (or three) with old relatives and starving children so that we can recount the history of the Jewish people. Only this year, instead of regaling them with inconceivable tales of persecution from centuries, nay millennia past, we can just point to what they all see for themselves. That is, except for cousin Jacob’s university-age daughter, Amanda Feinstein (née “Abe”) who converted his/her old tallis into a “Queers for Palestine” poncho, and continuously interrupts reading of the Haggadah to correct improper gender/pronoun references.
The one great thing about Jews, and Judaism, is that we can usually escape, if only briefly, the issues of the outside world as we “lean into” our grand holiday of “Pessach”. Because if there is one thing history has taught us, it’s that no matter what ill-treatment or persecution we are forced to endure, no degree of torment or oppression can kill our spirit! Or our appetites. Even if you take away our delicious challahs and replace them with something that looks like a giant cracker, but tastes like a plank from “The Karate Kid”, we of the Jewish faith remain undeterred. We simply apply some “Kasher l’Pessach” facsimile of a condiment where the main ingredient has been replaced with some unimaginable substance not traditionally associated with cuisine, or conventional adjectives like “Tasty” or “Edible”, and we are off to the races! Or the washroom.
Some would say we have come a long way in terms of “Chametz-free” culinary selection. Those people are either in the kosher food business, or they are alcoholics who lost their taste buds back when The Ten Commandments was still playing in theatres. But who are we to complain? Some of us are still lucky enough to have great matriarchs who have not only retained the succulent secret recipes of our ancestors, but have passed them on to their daughters, who will no doubt pass them on to their non-binary, vegan, test-tube clones so that their robots can artificially simulate what humans once referred to as “flavour”. After all, is there really anything wrong with a $12 carton of milk that expires before the children have found the afikoman? I don’t know.
Personally, I think it’s a magnificent holiday. Especially when celebrated and honoured the way the good Lord intended: You’ve cleaned out your house, no doubt uncovering snack items in places that food should never be. You adorn yourself with your finest garments. You go to Synagogue, Temple, or Reconstructionist commune, and if you are a Sephardic Jew, perform your seder rituals late into the night, and wake up early to return for another 4-5 hours of prayer before the mid-day feast that some dare to call “lunch”. This ceremonial gathering usually ends with plenty of minutes to spare for the old “Da Vinci power nap” before repeating it all over again. Ah, I feel rested just thinking about it.
Anyway, all this to say that now, more than ever, Jews should relish the opportunity to gather together and commemorate another time in our history when we were faced with imminent subjugation and despair, and we prevailed. We must remind ourselves, and each other of this fact, and always keep in mind that giving up beer, and eating wood chips, and foods fried in a breading-substitute that looks and tastes suspiciously like sand, is a small price to pay for freedom.
Can I get a “AMEN!”?
Leave a Reply