Pesaẖ is a yom tov
replete with dichotomies. One dip or two? Regular veggies or maror? Sit
up straight or recline? And, of course, the basic dichotomy: Hametz or
matzah?
From the history of baking and bread, we know that the main difference between ẖametz and matzah is explained in the Torah: They baked unleavened cakes of the dough that they had taken out of Egypt, for it was not leavened, since they had been driven out of Egypt and could not delay; nor had they prepared any provisions for themselves (Exodus 12:39). Had the people of Israel wanted the dough to be leavened they would have had to delay to allow the dough to stand. What occurs during this standing that causes dough to become ẖametz?
Most people imagine that the main essence of leavening—becoming hametz—is the rising when the dough is left to stand. But fluffy bread was not common in the ancient Near East nor in the times of the Mishnah. Most ovens were small structures. Bread was prepared by sticking dough to the sides of the oven. The heat of the oven walls, not the air in the oven, baked the bread (BT Shabbat 20a). Only after Talmudic times did "our ovens" become widespread, when light loaves were baked on a flat surface.
We are used to hard flat matzah, but Yemenite matzah is closer to laffa bread, more soft and pliable. Shabtai Ha-Cohen Rappaport explains that the main difference between ẖametz bread and matzah was not in its texture, but in its flavour. The benefit of the fermentation, even when the bread remained flat, was in the formation of food chemicals that gave the dough and the bread a special fermented flavour and extended the shelf-life of the resultant bread. Take a moment to recall the scent of fresh baked bread.
In order to make leavened dough by natural yeast fermentation, it is not enough to utilize the wild yeast cultures in the air. One must add a quantity of dough containing a very high concentration of yeast to a new batch of dough. This is se'or ("sour-dough starter"). If you go to San Francisco, there are bakeries there that proudly advertise the age of their sour-dough, some as much as 150 years old!
Bread that received flavour from starter dough was fit to eat long after it had been baked. People who wished to prepare food for a journey would see to it that they leavened their dough. But leavening by yeast, involving natural fermentation, requires time. The Children of Israel, leaving Egypt בבהילו, in haste, did not keep their dough long enough to give it the flavour of leavened bread. They stuck it onto the oven walls and baked it immediately. To give up ẖametz in later years meant to get rid of starter dough and begin fresh after Passover. It was a great deprivation.
Pesaẖ really was a holiday of deprivation and plenty. Lack of familiar foods led to limited diet. Potatoes and fresh veggies, meat and fish, butter and eggs. Sometimes old-timers will complain that Pesaẖ shouldn’t feature matzah lasagna, chocolate velvet macaroons and many other products now available for sale. Yet Passover was also a time when we developed special foods to bring the joy of yom tov to our tables: kugels and cakes, using potato starch or matzah cake meal.
This year, I was reminded of the difference between Passover of the past and of the present. Josette and I visited Warsaw to see Polin, the Museum of Polish Jewish history. It is clear from the museum, how Polish the Jews considered themselves. Relations between them and Christian Poles had not always been without conflict, but nothing prepared our people for the savagery of the Nazis.
Beginning in 1940, eventually 450,000 of Warsaw’s Jews were packed into the dense neighbourhood in which about 1,500 previously had lived. In the past, Jews had faced persecution, so there was no obvious reason to suspect that this time would be different. But initial efforts were made to construct as normal a life as possible soon failed. Food became scarce, hunger and disease increased and killings by the Nazis accompanied the herding of Jews at the Umschlagplatz, the space from which men, women, and children, young and old, were shipped by railroad for “resettlement.”
On Sunday, April 19, the eve of Passover 1943, the Nazis entered the ghetto to complete all deportation. The Warsaw Ghetto revolt began.
Shoshana Baharir, in the Yad Vashem Archive, testified: It was Passover eve, 1943, and we had arranged everything in the house in preparation for the holiday. We even had Matzot (unleavened bread), everything. We had made the beds… The policeman who lived with us always told us everything that was going to happen… He told us, "You should know that the ghetto is surrounded—with Ukrainians. Tonight will not be a good night." He had heard this. We took all our belongings and went into the bunker. Why wait? … So we took what we still had at home, whatever food we had, everything, and went down into the bunker. And waited.
Tuvia Borzykowski, a member of the Jewish Fighting Organization, described the Seder in Rabbi Eliezer Meisel's apartment: Amidst this destruction, the table in the center of the room looked incongruous with glasses filled with wine, with the family seated around, the rabbi reading the Haggadah. His reading was punctuated by explosions and the rattling of machine-guns; the faces of the family around the table were lit by the red light from the burning buildings nearby. Between Tumbling Walls, p.57
And Aharon Carmi, one of six survivors of the Ghetto uprising, wrote of the events:
We were slaves in
the ghettos of Poland
to Hitler, Führer of Germany, accursed be his name
And we were taken
from there… to be
killed and enslaved
led naked across the
snow and ice,
—and even were we all were wise and smart
able to work tenfold
our strength,
a downright miracle
would it be
if from every
community of Jews one or two remained,
And those who tell
of the suffering of the Jews of Poland
will live to see the
downfall of Hitler and Germany. From
That Inferno, p. 113
In contrast, nowadays many Jews look to Pesaẖ as a time of great feasting. A new example of excess has been described as the Poshest Passover. At $11,000 per person, the “Prime Passover Experience” promises Viennese dessert tables, open bar until 1:00 a.m., and hobnobbing with reality stars (last year they offered a kosher lunch with the Kardashians).
The St. Regis Monarch Beach in Dana Point, California offers a weeklong holiday celebrating the Israelites’ emancipation from slavery—on 172 acres, with a private beach, luxury spa and championship golf course. Although it is expensive, at $11,000 per person, guests can add on amenities such as a recording session with Ariana Grande ($3,800 per person) and a meet-and-greet with Kylie and Kendall Jenner ($2,200). Also available are a trapeze class, a petting zoo with animals brought from the San Diego Zoo, a kids’ fashion show and organized trips to Beverly Hills for some shopping on Rodeo Drive or a VIP kosher lunch at Disneyland. There are star athletes: last year, former Knicks guard John Starks played pickup games, while NFL player Mark Sanchez scrimmaged on a converted football field.
Another dichotomy was pointed out by my friend, Rabbi Donniel Hartman, who will be joining us at the end of April. He points to two aspects of the Seder narrative that we experience and that guide us throughout the year.
We were slaves… and the Egyptians were decimated … by 10, no 50, no 250 plagues. Pour out your wrath on the nations that do not know you.
Or, we were slaves, and God took us out of Egypt. Therefore, mol dikhfin, let all who are hungry come to our table. Pour out some wine when mentioning the plagues. Remember to teach your child what it means to be oppressed and enslaved. You shall love the stranger.
Do we see our history as a justification to do whatever we must to survive. Do we say, “the world doesn’t care about us. We must be strong. Don’t tell us about morality.”
Or, do we see our story as leading us to care about others, to seek ways to relieve suffering, to join our national narrative to a universal aspiration for justice and compassion.
Pesaẖ is not simply one story. It often sets up competing narratives, dichotomies. Which story we choose to tell, the narrative that we emphasize, determines the type of Jew we want our children to be.
http://www1.biu.ac.il/indexE.php?id=14849&pt=1&pid=14327&level=0&cPath=43,14206,14211,14327,14849
http://www.hakirah.org/Vol17Zivotofsky.pdf
http://www.biu.ac.il/JH/Parasha/eng/pesah/gim.html
http://www.yadvashem.org/yv/en/exhibitions/warsaw_ghetto_testimonies/last_passover.asp
http://nypost.com/2015/04/02/at-11000-a-head-this-is-the-poshest-passover-in-the-world/
