By Antony Lerman | 02/04/2010
As a child, come Pesach and I would long for that first taste of matzah, thickly spread with unsalted Dutch butter and covered with Gouda sliced from a thick wedge—all kasher l'Pesach, of course. I could eat mounds of matzah brei (crushed matzah soaked in beaten egg and scrambled) for breakfast or lunch. And there was never enough of grandma's plaver cake made with matzah meal (not to mention the tin of delicious cinnamon balls and almond macaroons to which I would return again and again). For a festival that imposes severe restrictions on the ingredients you can cook with, it's incongruous how my memories of Pesachs past are dominated by the taste of food.
Incongruous, but perhaps not surprising since I probably first recited the ma nishtana (the four questions) in 1950 when post-war rationing in England had yet to end and unsalted butter and gouda cheese were luxuries. But so strong are those early memories that seder night is permanently located in that far off still austere decade when bananas finally returned to our diets. Even as I sat at my older brother's seder on Monday night, looking down the table at the almost 20 guests present, including a 2- and an 89-year old, I'm immediately transported back to the 1950s. In front of me are the little bowls for the egg and saltwater, the very same kasher l'Pesach ones we would take down each year from the top of the kitchen cupboards. And I catch a glimpse of a child's haggadah, a replica of one I had when I was 5 or 6, with sliding cardboard tabs that change the visual images: Pharoah's army chasing the Israelites one moment, then plunged into the Red Sea the next.
It's at moments like these that I find the insistence on distinguishing between secular and religious Jews wholly inadequate. Round the table were non-believing Jews, Jews who did not belong to a shul, Jews who might describe themselves as secular, non-Jews and yet everyone was enthusiastically joining in the ritual and traditional elements of the seder, pointing to the shank bone and the karpas, spilling drops of wine as we recited the 10 plagues. I realise that downing one of the four glasses of wine does not a believer make, but that's not the point. Most of us are simply not all one thing or all another thing. The shifting and porous boundaries between secular and religious, or between secular and spiritual, are unmistakable at times like these.
This reality poses a particular challenge at Pesach for family gatherings that span generations, faith origins and cultures. The original text is, to put it politely, a challenge in such circumstances. And the fundamental message of freedom is easily lost in the recitation of archaic translations. In recent years the brother has experimented with alternative readings and the posing of questions that make you really think about what the absence of freedom means today for refugees and asylum-seekers. For example, do Jews have a special responsibility for such people that flows from our history and our texts?
Wedded as I am to my 1950s ur-seder, I'm very comfortable with other versions: the ones we wrote anew each year in the Zionist youth movement; the haggadah we used for the three years of seders I experienced on kibbutz; the Liberal Jewish movement's version we read at a collective shul seder when we were members. There was enough core tradition in each one to make them authentic variations on a theme.
That doesn't alter the fact that juggling myths and reality, cruel punishments and consideration for the stranger, much mention of the Almighty and basic human rights values, is not easy. Pull your seder too far in any one direction and the golden chain may snap. But it's remarkable how, by keeping a balance, or perhaps by operating on different levels at the same time, the event can contain something which touches people of diverse backgrounds. And I can tell you: the food helps. This year, we began a new tradition: crudités with houmous and aubergine puree to nosh before the meal. And there was a great coleslaw salad. Even my flourless hazelnut cake went down a treat.
