MY PESACH CURSE

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that God must have a sense of humor. How else could we explain Poodles or Alvin and the Chipmunks or species extinction and most other kinds of irony? Being a...well, a God, he (or possibly she) need not answer to us for what amuses him or her. But clearly irony is his or her major playing field.

The most recent evidence for this occurred last Monday, on the eve of Passover, the Jewish holiday commemorating the Hebrew slaves being freed in Egypt, crossing the parted Red Sea and trekking for 40 years across about 12 miles of desert to the land of Canaan. (I won't even go into the irony of THAT one.)

The irony of which I speak, was in play beginning Saturday. My non-Jewish wife... (Actually, to be completely accurate, she is 1/4 Jewish on her mother's side.) ...and I were helping our son, raised in both the Jewish and Catholic worlds to move into his new apartment. My wife's cell phone rang. It was her sister. She, our niece and my wife's mother were coming down for a few days visit. And no, this was not the curse. I actually like my in-laws, once one gets past their idiosyncrasies.

My lovely wife...and she is a lovely wife indeed, immediately decided that she would make a traditional Passover dinner for all to celebrate, on Monday, Pesach eve. She had long ago learned from my mother how to make all the traditional foods and was quite good at it. Her brisket rivalled my mom's and her seltzer-leavened matzo balls were so light it was difficult to keep them in the soup. They almost seemed to want to float above the table like bubbles.

It was also an opportunity for me to dig out the "Passover at the Weinstein's" Haggadah for the service portion of the meal. Having a mixed-religion family, I long ago abridged a translated-but-traditional Haggadah to make it a more relevant one. (The translation of that sentence is, this Haggadah was one that my children might sit through and maybe learn a bit about, from whence they came.)

The traditional Passover story is full of amazing tales about the will of God and the Exodus from Egypt...the ten plagues that God visited on Egypt to convince Pharaoh to let his chosen people go...the burning bush, through which God spoke to Moses...the Ten Commandments, which made Charlton Heston a star...and of course the forty years of roaming aimlessly about in the desert for that Golden Calf thing.

And there are moralistic lessons to be learned from the stories. One of which is: "Don't tick off God." After all he did for the people, Moses was never allowed entry to the land of Canaan. Why? Because instead of speaking to a rock, he struck it. He got his people their water, but God nailed him on a technicality. Why was it a technicality? Well, the way I see it, a shepherd with a wooden staff can't do much damage to a rock. God could've learned something from The Mikado about the punishment fitting the crime. Okay, I'm getting a bit side-tracked.

The thing I'm trying to say, is that on this particular Pesach, I'm just hoping that God's sense of humor was with him.

First off. I couldn't find the Haggadahs. I knew I put them somewhere, but years ago before my dad passed on, was the last time we held a real seder. (albeit a Weinstein, Reader's Digest condensed edition seder) Six years of stuff piled atop some spiral-bound booklets is nearly impossible to dig through...especially when one's body hurts from moving. And I had body aches in parts I didn't know I had. I had pains in countries I'd never visited. I had agonies I wouldn't wish on Pharoah!

The next day I went to work, while my wife, with the help of my in-laws, made the dinner and set the Passover table. The traditional Passover seder table has a plate for Matzoh, also, the "Seder" plate, with all manner of symbolic foods placed on it to enhance the story-telling for the kids. There would also be a few bottles of Kosher wine and various assorted plates for gefilte fish, horseradish, salt water and hard-boiled egg, condiments and the like. There are usually candlesticks as well.

I finished my day at work, and headed home to my family. As I entered the front hall of my home, I was met with the mouth-watering aroma of the traditional Pesach feast emanating from the kitchen. I looked forward to the sight of the beautiful blue and white Seder plate as I entered the dining room. What I got, was bunnies!

There was no Seder plate. There was no Manischewitz wine. There were no bowls for gefilte fish and the salt-water/hard-boiled eggs. There was no matzoh plate. There were no candlesticks.

There WAS a tulip centerpiece and cute little paper Easter Bunny napkins. There were colored wine goblets from years of trips to the Madonna Inn. Frosted pastel glass Easter bunny salt and pepper shakers were scattered about the table. And the floral table cloth on which it all sat was distinctly un-Hebrew!

Now I like a festive table as much as the next guy, but when God looks at his "good" and "bad" ledgers come the High Holidays, where do you think I'm going to fall? How COULD I celebrate Passover with Easter bunnies. Oh the sacrilege! The worst part of all, was that I enjoyed myself! I will be cursed for all time for my behaviour.

That is of course, unless God has a good sense of humor.