Passover, the Evelyn Wood Edition

How We Read The Haggadah

Who made the following statement:  "I'm never coming to this house for Passover again!" 

a. Glenn Beck
b. The woman married briefly to my brother-in-law
c. Golda Meir
d.  All of the above

The correct answer is B.  Anyone who believes Jewish holidays call for serious observation would be wise never to marry into our family, for disappointment awaits them at every turn.  Case in point:  The gal who wed hubby's brother. Boy, did she mean business.  She never did come back for another Passover.  Do we miss her?  Let me think about that.  No. 


When it comes to Passover, we mean well, we really do, but year after year, we go the comedy route, as opposed to the uber-religious one.  It's just more fun.  Plus, we can't help ourselves.  The meal, we take seriously.  There's gefilte and matzoh ball soup and macaroons.  It's very authentic and rather delish, thanks to hubby's mom.  I'm only good for the chopped-up apple thingie, aka, charosis.  Typically, we do five minutes on that name alone.  "Help, I've got a bad case of charosis" gets the ball rolling, and then we go from there.

When it comes to the Haggadah, we fall short.  We do a quick and silly recap that would make Evelyn Wood, the goddess of speed reading, proud.  We do a mini-review of the Seder plate (always good for a giggle), we stumble through the Four Questions (often condensing them in one long nonsensical question).  Collectively, we adore the part about reclining.  Why do we recline?  Because we can.  What else do we do?  We spill wine and sing, "Let my people go" in ten-part harmony. We debate who gets to be the leader.  At the beginning, it's my father-in-law, but then others grab the spotlight away and chaos ensues.  Last night, the SJG got pouty when I didn't get to read.  "I want to be the leader," I whined, and started to read random selections about plagues and such, until someone with a louder voice drowned me out.

So, if you're looking for a lengthy exploration of the text, I encourage you to follow Elijah to a more observant household, where they know what they're doing.  Even a nice cup of Manischewitz isn't enough to entice the mysterious E to stop by. Much like Santa, he's a busy guy.  He knows better than to break matzoh with us, and so should you.  Unless you're shopping for a few laughs.  One joke, the lamer the better, gets you in the door.