It's Hard To Be A Jew... Especially on Passover

Whenever I hear of someone converting to Judaism, I squint with incredulity. Being born a Jew is one thing, but opting in is a whole different kind of nutty. There are so many rules and traditions and deprivations. Frankly, it's exhausting. And expensive.

I've been Jewish all my life, but every time I buy a grey, shriveled little piece of kosher steak, ironically wrapped in discarded newspaper containing ads for plump & juicy, red, delicious-looking, 12-ounce pieces of treyf that cost $5, I lose my mind. So you can imagine how some of us feel around Passover.

Will somebody tell me what, in heaven's name, is going into our chametz-free food that warrants charging $8 for a bag of chips? Is Eliyahu hanavi actually in the bag? Does he grant me some kind of Passover wish? Because if so, I wish NOT to clog my colon with wood-chips just to commemorate that our people were in a rush to get the heck out of Egypt. After all, if we are memorializing a moment of great haste, perhaps a more appropriate ritual would be to pick up the pace at seder-time! Seriously, regaling little children with brutal stories of our historical suffering is nice and all, but is the perfect moment to do this way past their bedtimes as they're passing out from hunger? Let's not even consider the older children whose first experience with alcohol will be intoxication from über-sweet Manischewitz on an empty stomach. It's no wonder Jews are rarely big drinkers.

And for a people so renowned for their humour, it seems we're missing an opportunity here. Why not have the elders recount the historic narrative just after they've had their four glasses of wine? What I wouldn't give to have seen my grandfather slur and swear his way through some thinly-veiled metaphor of his own life disguised as a great lesson for the ages, before falling asleep in a bowl of haroset and everyone realizes that the reason the kids couldn't find the afikoman was because it was tucked in the back of his pants.

I'm sorry. Have I gone off-track? Please forgive me. Here's the bottom line:

We must preserve our traditions. We must instill in our young the values of our forefathers who suffered for thousands of years so that we could benefit from the wisdom of a people that were chosen toward a life of holiness and of the highest fulfillment. I agree with all of that.
"Love your neighbour". Great. "Honour the sabbath". Sure. "Be fruitful and multiply". Hey, that one's my favourite. But when the great scholars of the Sanhedrin united some 1800 years ago to nit-pick, I mean, discuss the particulars of each and every one of our 613 laws ad nauseum, and the final question came to whether we would do this or do that, did they ever once choose the easier way?

That was not rhetorical. I'm serious. If anyone knows the answer, please submit a comment so we can all be enlightened.

As embittered (pun intended) as this may sound, the coming of Pessach is always accompanied with excitement and joy. When all is said and done (preferably by my wife), the holidays are a time, not only to remember our past, but also our present. To reunite with friends and family (sometimes even those you could live without), to love each other, and take pride in the long, rich, and storied history of survival that makes us awesome. Because we are awesome. You can bet your tzitzis on that!

Now, let's get this seder started! Hag sameach.