A Baldasare Pesach: Part 1

Anything that involves the entire Baldasare family is an event. Pesach with them is an experience. I arrived in Maale Adumim Sunday night, 24 hours before the first (I mean) ONLY seder- too late to help with any of the major Pesach prep but just on time fork the inevitable ogranized chaos. I helped out where I could: mopping, folding laundry and odds and ends in the kitchen. Before I think any of us realized it, Yom Tov (or "Yontif") was upon us.

Got dressed and headed up to the Happy Minyan with Rina, Michal and Levia. This shul prides itself in their devotion to Shlomo Carlebach. The ruach and singing and dancing (on the men's side) is always great. Except when it's lail Seder, we're on the wrong side of 8pm, have yet to finish Hallel, still have a Seder to start that night and the men are "Ya-di-di-da-ing" with no end in sight. Gotta love 'em.

We finally settle around the Seder table. Someone comments how small it is: just family. Of course that still means we were ten people (see Bubbie, ten people- including hungry teenage boys- no big deal). No one person had the same Hagaddah but I managed to snag the one Artscroll as a matter of tradition and what we use back at home. We started out great. Got up to Magid in a timely fashion. Completely devoured the potatoes and eggs. One of the kids asked, "Why do we eat potatoes and eggs? Where does it say so?" Karen and I just replied: "Tradition."

On that note I shall digress. Studies show that the Pesach Seder is the most widely followed Jewish practice. It seems ironic. When lighting Shabbat candles or Chanukah candles seem so simple in comparison, yet there is something about the Pesach tradition that (provides the mother of the household with an annual panic attack and) allows it to live on so strongly. This year more than ever I was able to witness how much of this holiday is rooted in tradition, a notion seen most clearly in the issue of "Kitniyot". I still don't know exactly how or when it transpired except for that one week a year I wish my family had been Sephardic. I used to think Kitniyot just meant rice and legumes. And anywhere else in the world that would probably be the case. Here in Israel, being able to eat Kitniyot means a world of difference. There is absolutely no halachic anything stopping us from eating the ice cream bar and yet it says "לאכלי קיטניות בלבד" and so we buy the other brand.

Tradition is also a huge part of the Pesach seder itself. Just like Shabbat or any other holiday, every family has their own habits and ways of doing things. During the Seder I couldn't help but think about all the little things that happens at our Seder every year: someone calling "Susan, 2nd cup"- though that hopefully was not the case this year, Zayde using the same tune every year to chant through the few paragraphs Rachel, Julie and I didn't already claim, the "Pesach, Matza and Maror" paragraphs that the three of us always do, the songs from the other booklet mommy always insists on singing, the orange on the seder plate story that mommy tells, the competition to see how fast I can sing "echad mi yodea" before mommy gives me the look, always (without fail) stealing the afikomen when Zayde goes to the bathroom and always (without fail) hiding it in the same place, gefilte fish, chopped liver (not that I ever touched the stuff), Papa's vegetarian liver (that he insists is appetizing), Bubbie's pot roast and of course Mommy's desserts (the one time of year she actually bakes).

Turning back to this year's Seder. Magid. It is a mitzvah to tell the story of יציאת מצרים and at this Seder table that meant asking questions. Lots and lots of questions. If we were lucky we would get through a paragraph before someone would go: I have a question! The ensuing discussion/debate/screaming match would last anywhere between 5 and 20 minutes. Don't get me wrong, they were great discussions. Most were very insightful and touched on many different aspects of the Seder, the story and the Pesach holiday. Of course I thought my one contribution was the best. Unlike the other questions which were being taken from Midrashim in the various Hagaddahs and had the rabbi answers written beneath, mine was a genuine question for which I have never received a truly satisfying answer: Why is it that the Seder is supposed to be the telling of the Exodus from Egypt and yet very little of Magid actually speaks to the story we read in the book of Exodus? At first there was the expected uproar with answers involving the words "Rabbis" and "Midrash". I shot those down searching for more. Unsurprisingly, it was Karen and Levia who gave me the best response. In short, יציאת מצרים is less about the details of Moses floating down the Nile or the burning bush but rather its implications as a turning point in the history of the Jewish nation. This is also why the Hagaddah begins the story with Avraham instead of starting straight with the Exodus. It says "בכל דור ודור חייב אדם לראות את עצמו כאילו הוא יצא ממצרים" and one way of interpreting that is not only that we have to understand the meaning of the original Exodus but every generation since has had to discover its own version of the Exodus.

Somehow we finally managed to arrive at Shulchan Orech. And then I fell asleep.