GoldbergBlog

“Happy” Passover

I am not a good Jew. I haven’t been since I was bar-mitzvah’d at thirteen. Last night was the first night of Passover and my largest concern was getting home before sundown so I could hide behind the safety of my mezzuzah and have the Angel of Death pass over me and not kill my firstborn ass. This is, of course, not religion but superstition. I just don’t know what’s the difference other than one’s codified and one’s not. And as I returned home before the sunset, I wondered how the rules applied. If the firstborn son is already dead, then does the second born son have to worry? What if the firstborn son is stillborn? Does he still count? What if it’s conjoined twins and one is a dead fetus but the dead fetus was born first? What then? If my understanding is correct, there’s a whole series of commentaries known as The Talmud which seems like the biggest fanboy attempt in the history of mankind to fill in all the gaps in the Bible. The fact that there has to be a user-manual seems a bit odd.

But as I was thinking about these question, I started thinking back to all the Jewish misery I’ve been taught over the years. If anything, it seems inherent in the Torah (or what Christians know as the Old Testament and not the shiny, brand-new iTestament 2.0 with messiah-ware upgrade) with its angry God who kills a lot of people. And I got to wondering: why is it necessary that the Jews put up the mezzuzah? Shouldn’t the angel just know? It seems like kind of a dick thing to do to tell the Israelites “Alright, you can leave Egypt but first you have to do these minor tasks so I don’t indiscriminately murder you.”

Since my fellow passengers on the drive home wished to know more about my Passover superstition, I told them I wouldn’t be going to seder because it’s just too miserable.  I told them about how you’re supposed to dip parsley in salt water to remember the bitter tears of the Jews.  On Passover, we literally re-enact the drinking of human tears.  Then we move on to the mazzoh which I never understood.  It’s supposed to remind us of how when we fled Egypt, we didn’t have time to let the bread rise.  Here’s my question: why shouldn’t we be enjoying the bread they couldn’t?  We made it!  We got out of Egypt!  Now here’s a giant saltine without salt.  If you find half of it hidden around the house you get a dollar.  Next year in Jerusalem (provided we can get rid of all those filthy Palestinians).

And then it hit me: we are all about misery.  THAT has become our tradition.  Even our victories seem minor.  Look at Hanukkah: we thought the oil in the lamp would last for one day and it lasted for eight.  We don’t celebrate our unlikely military victory; we celebrate a good cup of oil.  That’s like having a holiday where you celebrate how your car pushed the gas-needle further than you thought it would go.  I’ve seen better miralces on “The Price is Right”.

Or what about Purim?  Purim is supposed to be the happiest of the Jewish holidays.  You dress up, you eat pastries, you play games, you use noisemakers.  It’s a party!  What does is celebrate?  Our Jewish queen saved us from getting wiped out by someone who wanted to exterminate us.  Jews not getting genocided.  That’s the victory.  We weren’t murdered en masse.  While I am grateful for that, it’s not exactly what I would qualify as an “accomplishment” as much as a “necessity”.

So last night instead of being at seder, I was out with friend playing trivia at a local pub.  The MC asked the following question: “How did the Egyptians build the Pyramids?”  Reflexively, I shouted out “Jews!” even though you’re not supposed to shout out the answer.  While the question was actually asking what technology was used (answer: ramps), it made me realize that Jews have a lot to be proud of and they don’t teach you (or at least not me) one damn thing about that in Hebrew School or synagogue.

Jews built the Pyramids.  Jews created comic books.  Jews created the garment industry.  Jews created banking.  Jews created and run Hollywood.  And yet these accomplishments and others are ignored.  The best we get is “Sandy Koufax was Jewish.”  I have a theory that Jews don’t brag about these accomplishments because we don’t want to play into the bigoted and ignorant belief that “The Jews Run Everything!”  This is apparently a bad thing since we don’t believe a guy died for our sins.  And if he tried, we wouldn’t want him to.  If he had told us that killing him would absolve us of our sins, we would have told the Romans to get him off that freakin’ cross (Yes, it was the Romans who killed Jesus because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the Jews who ruled the world in 33 C.E.).  Us Jews NEED our sins!  How else could we accept all the terrible things that have happened to us and still believe in a loving God?  It’s the ultimate abusive relationship.  “Oh baby, why you gotta make me Holocaust you?”

That’s all you learn in Hebrew School:  Holocaust.  Six million of us were murdered by the Nazis and in the 20th Century no less!  And we were white Europeans!  Never forget.  Never forget.  We have Holocaust Remebrance Day so we never forget even though basically every Sunday and Tuesday at Hebrew School was Holocaust Remebrance Day.  We have Holocaust Museums so we never forget.  “But what about all the genocides that continue over the world?”  Never forget that it happened to US.  “Ohhhh.”

The Jewish life is book-ended in suffering.  What happens when you’re born a boy and you’re seven days old?  They chop off a piece of your dick.  That’s the sign of the Jewish covenant with God.  Couldn’t be something painless.  Couldn’t be a nice dunk in the water like the Christians.  Couldn’t be a cracker and some wine.  Noooo.  Here’s the most painful way imaginable .  Welcome to the club.  It doesn’t get much better.

And when do you finally get some good treatment?  When does the pain end?  When you’re dead.  Your corpse is sacrosanct.  If you put a tattoo on it, you’re out.  If you’re cremated, you’re out.  But provided you kept your body as God intended (minus the penis part), then women will lovingly wash your body and carefully lay you to rest.  Well, they’ll lay you to rest where there’s room.  I was walking through a graveyard with a friend just chatting and we came upon the Jewish part of the cemetery.  We both wondered by the graves were so close together and then it hit me: it’s because Jews have to be buried with other Jews.  If you look at the Jewish part of the cemetery that’s on Memorial St. in Atlanta, you will notice that the tombstones are practically stacked on top of each other.  “What should we do with Josef?”  “Eh, just toss him on top of Herschel.”  But when the Leviathan comes to turn us all into zombies (don’t ask), it’s all about location, location, location.

Now compares the Jewish minority to the African-American minority.  The timeline may not be as long and the discrimination and hardship may be based on race instead of religion, but they inarguably have suffered.  But they celebrate their achievements.  They devote an entire month just to successful black people.  The highest tribute to Jews is Adam Sandler’s “Hanukkah Song”.  Then compare their religious services to ours.  Yes, they’re Christian but they’re so happy (unlike other Christian sects which also are bizarrely miserable)!  Even when they’re focused on how they’ve been wronged, they’re not defeated.  They’re angry and rightly-so!  They’re not angry with God, but they sing and cheer and rise up stronger the next time and persevere!  I attended synagogue on a fairly regular basis as I prepared for my bar-mitzvah.  Here’s what I gathered: we have no rhythm, no musical ability (unless we’re singing “Adon Alam” or “Aleinu” so that’s a fun ten minutes in a three-hour service), and the service consists mostly of standing-up, sitting-down, and telling God we’re not worthy.

Sadly, it seems ingrained in our Jewish-DNA that we’re set as the morose people of history, remembering mostly the bad times, breezing through the good times (or inflating minor victories into good times), and the best we get out of it are some great neurotic Jewish comedians.  Of course, we won’t note them.  We’re too busy not forgetting the Holocaust.

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