delray beach orthodox rabbi

                                                                                      B"H
                       
           Beyond the Rules - The Inner Spirit of Passover
 
Passover is only a week away and the stress and anxiety has already started to take its toll. The cleaning is onerous without the extra burden of trying to find leavened products in our spotless abodes. One would think the task would be easier, but lo and behold the ingrained guilt requires us to look for that which can’t be found. What should be a festival of joy, relaxation, and spending time with family has morphed into a housekeeper’s worst nightmare. Then, as soon as the burden of cleaning is finally behind us we start the unenviable task of food preparation. And most households have a similar michigas, although only eight people are invited, we have this time-honored tradition of doing things iberemcup, or until the lava overflows the mountain. We never cook just enough. We have to have more than enough to feed the neighbors and their extended family.
 
But the guilt continues to wreak havoc on our emotions, lest God forbid we will be ostracized as untraditional or religiously lax.  Thus, we shop with abandon, purchasing all available kosher for Passover products regardless if we need or like them. Of course, every Jewish mother knows it’s extremely difficult to cope for eight days without pessachdike (inedible) pasta, pizza, marshmallows and potato starch rolls. What will the kinderlach eat? At my Seder we ask a modern-day question: why for 357 days of the year do we rarely if ever buy chocolate even when it’s bogo at Publix, yet over Passover, when the price of chocolate doubles and the package size is remarkably reduced, do we have to buy 14 bars?
 
I have yet to receive a satisfactory answer, but I do have a theory. I think there may be a genetic Jewish gene that compels us to binge buy non-essentials. Its scientific name is called “the JIC syndrome,” and sadly there is no known cure. You may have heard of it by its full name, “the just in case syndrome.” When your heart starts palpitating out of concern, there will be a run-on chocolate covered matzah. Or the thought that 10 boxes of matzah are necessary, just in case a cure for gluten related diseases is remarkably found a day before Passover. It is no different than the run-on toilet paper and other essentials during the pandemic. We make ourselves meshugeh and ultimately play that role quite well.
 
I can write about how nonsensical it is but I’m cognizant that my words will have little to no impact. In all honesty, I can’t even convince myself of the futility of my own actions. My freezer is currently full of Passover food that will last until the summer because I, too, carry the JIC gene. Like most people, I spend an inordinate amount of time on frivolous concerns while barely having the stamina to prepare a meaningful Seder.
 
And then we get into the technical side of being a good Jew. Of course, there are rules that are integral and an essential part of Yom Tov. But we get bogged down on the minutia and fail to grasp the bigger picture. Is the concern if the cup of wine is 3, 4 or 5 ounces more important than comprehending that wine represents freedom? Is when or how we recline more important than acknowledging that reclining is a means of expressing our freedom? Do I have to physically tear up to grate the bitter herb moments before I consume it? Does it really matter if it loses some of its pungency? And the volume of matzah that certain rabbis demand would ultimately be to the detriment of the yummy chicken soup with matzah balls and all the other goodies. It’s a conundrum. If you follow the rigidity on some measures you end up violating the sanctity and enjoyment of Pesach. Unfortunately, it’s a no-win paradox.
 
And now we have to introduce the Passover pontificators - the people who believe that leading a Seder requires the experience to be inexplicably boring. They not only slowly recite every word of Haggadah out loud, but they analyze and discuss trivial nuances to the chagrin of their guests. Not that it’s wrong, it’s just done at the wrong time. The Haggadah tells the story of the five rabbis who joined together in Bnei Brak and recounted the story of the exodus the entire night. Did you ever wonder where the lay people and children are during their discussion? The Talmud states that the great Rabbi Akiva would come home early on Passover night to share the Seder with his family. It doesn’t seem reasonable that the other participants are present, but they remain as passive observers. In all likelihood the rabbis only got together after they concluded their personal family Seder. The intellectual theories discussed by the five rabbis would have been boring and meaningless to the average person. The uniqueness of the mitzvah of v’higadta l’vincha - explaining the exodus to our children- is that it must be age appropriate. That is the real essence of the discussion and precedes the adults’ academic pursuit.
 
There are no magical incantations or divine interventions that render the Seder night different from all other nights. It has little to do with an abundance of food or beautifully adorned tables. What makes the Seder different is that we decide to make it different. We must realize that we can’t replicate last year's seder and hope to keep people interested. I may want to continue serving traditional foods my bubbe cooked, but I can almost guarantee that serving an array of ancestral favourites will not earn any thanks. I don’t know what is the matter with this new generation, but for some strange reason they don’t appreciate the European culinary delight of gribbenes, p’cha, fricasee and boiled chicken. And a bit of sagacious advice: serving these delicacies with the hope of changing their mind will be an exercise in futility. If we want to keep our children excited and make them want to continue to come back, then our challenge is to make this year uniquely different to last year's Seder.
 
And just in case you imagine that I want to change tradition entirely, I vividly remember the aroma of fried potato kugel wafting throughout the apartment. Obviously, some traditions are indeed worthwhile leaving alone.
 
Shabbat shalom,
 
Rabbi Jack Engel
 
 
PS: There have been over 250 views of Rabbi Engel’s Pre-Pesach discussion on Facebook.
 
Click here to view Rabbi Engel's Pre-Pesach discussion