Finally... something good!

Passover dinner guests 2008:
From right to left: Uncle Barry, Mom, Cousin Emilie, me, Eric, Kitty, Cousin Jenny,
Kitty's sister (whose name I don't remember), Dad.

In a week that saw two major disappointments (Battenkill, the airport), there was one highlight. That would be Passover. Although I'm not the most observant Jew (ie: I don't keep Kosher, I think religion is a sham, I don't believe in God, etc...), I do love to participate in the religion's cultural traditions. Like I've said before, Hanukkah is a great favorite, and for as long as I can remember, I've celebrated it with family friends Harvey and Jackie.

In my family, Passover is like a second Thanksgiving, with some religious lip service thrown in for tradition's sake. One of the best things about Passover is that it's celebrated over two nights, which means that if you play your cards right, you can celebrate the holiday with two groups of people.

When I was a kid, my family would often convene in one place or another -- either at our house in Brooklyn, in D.C. at my uncle's house, or in Florida, with my grandparents. Florida was always the best, because, with a little coordination, we could have Seder with the Bernsteins on one night, and with the Blechmans on the next. It was twice the fun... plus Passover food is delicious, even more delicious than latkes on Hanukkah.

Favorites dishes include Gefelte fish (although Eric told me that this species is endangered, so we might not be enjoying it for much longer) and matzoh ball soup. Of course, the one thing that gives secular holidays a decided edge over Passover is the pesky Seder.

It goes something like this: You've spent a fun day hanging out with relatives. You've helped prepare some delicious foods, and been treated to mouth-watering aromas emanating from various pots and pans in the kitchen. You've put on some nice clothes, and you're ready for dinner. You sit down at the table, only to realize that there's not a scrap of food to be seen anywhere. Then someone hands out the hagadahs.

This takes me by surprise every year. I'm always ready for dinner, and then suddenly, I remember that I have to sit through the prayer service designed to recall the Israelite's exodus from Egypt. In my family, the seders have become less and less orthodox as the older generation passed on. Then I went to college, and suddenly Passover conflicted with bike racing, and I missed a few years of Seders.

This year was finally time to get back to my holiday roots. So I made the aforementioned trip to D.C.

At my uncle's house in D.C.
From right to left again:
Uncle Barry, Mom, Cousin Emilie, Eric, Kitty, Cousin Jenny, Kitty's sister, Dad, Cousin Ali

The Seder went something like this: my uncle made a moving -- but decidedly secular -- toast to offer his thanks that the family was all together for the holiday. We took turns reading prayers, skipping over the ones we didn't like, and occasionally repeating the ones we liked. Diaynu is always a favorite, so we unleashed a raucous chorus, which was followed by a chorus of laughter.

The service was frequently interrupted by various things like political commentary, editorials over certain overly-zealous references, Eric lamenting the plight of the Gefilte fish, or my Mom asking us to please use gender-neutral pronouns in referring to God, because, after all, God could be a man or a woman, or a cockroach. We tried to get Cousin Zack, just four years old, to read the four questions, but he wasn't quite up to it. Cousin Emilie, who is very much 15, had to take over the task.

Eventually, we got to the part of the Seder where the meal is served. It was delicious, but the best part was sharing time with my family, who flew to D.C. from as far away as Fairbanks, Alaska and Oregon. After the meal was over, we all went downstairs to play with my uncle's birthday gift, a Nintendo Wii. If there's anything sillier than a bunch of adults sitting around a table praying to a "manly God in all his manliness," then it has to be a group of adults playing virtual doubles tennis in front of a TV.