Seder
I’ve never really understood Passover for more reasons than I can explain here. But my college friend Rachel “I betcha can’t wait, Rachie” was in town from New York and invited me to Seder and I couldn’t say no. Rachie got her nickname when she was at the movies with her brother and grandparents. Rachie must’ve been eleven or twelve when a sex scene came on screen. Rachie’s grandmother leaned forward and in a not too quiet whisper yelled, “I betcha can’t wait, Rachie. I betcha can’t wait.” Rachie’s grandma was not at Seder. It’s too bad, because she seems like a bubbie I could party with.
My Mom always taught me that whenever invited somewhere, it is imperative that you bring something. I asked Rachie is I could bring a bottle of Ciroc, vodka made from grapes. She explained that it wasn’t kosher for Passover. The last Seder I went to was at my friend Andrea’s where I put a hurting on a bottle of Ciroc and ended up putting my dick in the mashed potatoes. Alas, this would not be one of those kinds of parties. There were ten of us at the table. Like any Seder, we went around the table reading from the haggadah, which is the religious text that sets the order of the Seder. Rachie’s father put it to the table, “Should we read in English or Hebrew?” Now working in an Irish Pub I’m quite aware of being Jewish, but put me at a table of Conservative Jews reading in Hebrew and I feel like I’m a traitor to my people. I don’t feel guilty about it, but I did find that when the blessings were being spoken, I would move my lips like I knew what was being said. There have been times when I felt that I should learn the blessings. None more so then when I was at my friend Andrea’s and saw that her Phillipino nanny knew them by heart and I was just flapping my lips. Luckily, we read most of the haggadah in English. I, also, don’t know Passover ettiquette. I’m the one guzzling wine, yelling out things like, “Grab me another bottle of this kosher hooch, Rabbi” when we get to page four and the haggadah instructs us to “Take the first sip of wine.” Woops. Fine, I’m a bad Jew. Sue me.
I wasn’t gonna bring up my lack of understanding of Passover, but here goes. The thing I don’t get is how is it relevant today? Passover is the telling of the story of the Jews being led out of slavery, but how many Passovers took place before six million Jews were led to slaughter in the holocaust. I know we observe Passover to tell the story, but are we learning anything from it? I went for a walk with my friend Julie today who explained that when the Jews were fleeing Egypt, twenty percent went and eighty percent stayed, they stood at the edge of the Red Sea and many wanted to go back. Moses explained that Pharoah’s henchmen were chasing them, but many would rather return to their secure lives as slaves, than drown in the Red Sea. She explained that Passover is about do we have the faith to take that plunge. How do we throw off the yoke of our own slavery? I never realized how Passover applied to me until she said these words. This idea is with me all the time, because I won’t be bartending at forty-five, but what will I do and when?
We got to page thirty and it was time to eat. Seeing friends and eating are the two reasons I observe Jewish holidays. We started with matzo ball soup, which was delicious. Then we had a choice of gefilte fish, which my mom always called filthy fish, and/or chopped liver. When it comes to food, “and” is one of my favorite words. For the main course there was chicken, brisket, potato vegetable kugel, blended veggies baked into a casserole, and steamed asparagus. It was yumbo. The conversation was lively. There was the Jewish Rush Limbaugh at the table telling everyone the problems with world and why liberals are bad. I let it go for a couple of minutes, then decided to jump in. I found that I was pretty much alone in my debate. What’s that old saying in poker, “If you don’t know the sucker at the table, it’s you.” These people all knew Rush Limbaughstein. I didn’t find out until later that this guy starts political arguments at weddings and funerals just begging people to jump in. Yes, I was the sucker. After dessert, it was back to the haggadah. The groan I let out was probably too loud. Rachie’s father told us to jump from page thirty-eight to forty-nine and I shed tears of joy. Turns out he got ahead of himself. He said, “Let’s go back to page forty and sing some of our favorite songs.” I busted out with my karaoke favorite, “I like big butts and I cannot lie. You other brothers can’t deny…” and they were singing songs in the key of Hebrew. Thank God for Alan, Rachie’s husband, who said, “Yes, let’s sing some of our favorite songs.”
It was really a lovely time, but the dirt didn’t come out until later. Turns out that one of the guests is a compulsive liar. She told people at the temple that she was having thirty people over for Seder on each of the two nights. She was obviously lying unless she left all those guests at her place while she dined with us. Turns out all the elders knew each other from their temple. Some great stories came out about affairs had and spouses left. Negro, please! Tell these stories at holidays and I’ll join a temple. Rachel’s parents couldn’t have been more gracious. Rachel’s mom said, “If you ever want a home cooked meal just come over.” I’m sure I’ll be a bit peckish after work tonight. When I got home, I scraped the left side of my car on the pole next to my spot. I didn’t think I drank too much, but I may have been over served at Seder.
you couldn’t party with your mother’s mother?