It’s not often I have the fortune of citing the late great Michael Jackson, and so it is with great pride that I reappropriate his gang-busting hit of the 1980s for the purpose of the entry.
As is tradition in the Blumenthal-Fredrick household, we enjoy Passover with certain individuals of celebrity proportions. The reason for this is two-fold. First, we believe holidays are an excuse to reunite with friends and family you all too rarely see. And second, because we believe that said individuals make for excellent blog material.
One such celebrity, present at this year’s seder, made himself known quickly and affectionately. High as a kite, he all too warmly hugged me and then not-so-subtlety attempted to kiss me on the lips in front of my mother. Needless to say, Mama B was not impressed with his lack of decorum.
As the Seder began, Mama B and I watched as this celebrity– we’ll call him Andy– drank an entire bottle of white wine. We hadn’t even made the blessing on the first of four cups of wine to come when an already incoherent individual began to make grunting noses from the corner of the dining room.
When we arrived at an explanation of the Seder plate, Andy seemed quite confused by the shank bone. He mistook its symbolism, thinking it represented the hand of G-d and that we were quite disrespectful to burn a symbol of G-d’s strength.
I, amused and perturbed, responded, “It’s not G-d’s hand, you fool. It’s symbolic of the Passover sacrifice. And last I checked sacrifices are burnt.” There were those who shot me a death glare or two, but my mother grinned politely. She had trained me well, or so she thought.
Andy silenced, began to play with the frogs on the table (symbolic of the plague of frogs that struck the Egyptians). Anyhow, while Andy amused himself with the green plastic toys, the Haggadah textual interplay continued.
We soon arrived at the “We were slaves in Egypt” diddy. Now at this particular Seder, we decided to act out the years of enslavement– to keep the “children” entertained. A friend of Mama B began chasing an unsuspecting 28 year old male with a leak. Beating, whacking, and whipping him with the root vegetable, she attempted to impart the severity of Egyptian cruelty.
However, with only a sip of wine in my system, I broke into uncontrollable laughter. This was absurd with a capital A. And if I was going to bear witness to anymore childish displays of biblical proportions, I, too, would need to down a bottle of white.
It was at this point that Mama B turned to me and said, “Have I got a blog title for you? ‘Just Beat It’: the Passover edition.” As the leak beating continued, I hummed the words:
Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it
No one wants to be defeated
Showin’ how funky and strong is your fight
It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right
And with that my dears, I conclude part one of the Passover Seder 2011 series. Stay tuned, as in between the thesis madness, I shall provide additional details to the night of redemption in question. For now, I leave you with the latest Passover e-card I had the pleasure to receive: