A Gentile at the Seder
Its just hittin me: as much jewish people I got on payroll, NADA ONE has invited me to the crib for dinner this week! #reUP?"
I laughed because I was thinking the same thing as Questlove: Where was my Passover dinner invitation? I have a number of close Jewish friends who love me, I know they do, yet nada. I understand that it is deeply spiritual and important celebration of the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt. But I also know that Christians are allowed to participate, and years ago, some time in the early 1990s, I did participate in the only Passover seder I've ever been to.
At the time I was palling around with a young woman who is the daughter of a renowned television journalist. We had met over our dogs in Tompkins Square Park. It was a week or so before Passover and she was surprised to hear I'd never been to one meal. So she invited me and another mutual friend, assuring us that there would be at least one other Gentile at the table. Still, I was nervous. Big-time journalist in his brownstone on the Upper East Side where other big-time journalists and TV producers and the like would be . . .
It became one of the best spiritual experiences I've ever had.
I know the story of Passover and the delivering of the Israelites from Egypt, how could I not? I heard more than my share of Negro spirituals, some of the more well-known ones having to do with that very subject. I had seen the Ten Commandments. I had Jewish friends. I had read the Old Testament. I experienced a facsimile of a seder every Sunday at mass during the Eucharist. I understood the significance on an intellectual level.
There was a pre-dinner cocktail hour, the said famous journalist and his wife were the easiest, most gracious people, and the hardboiled news people, although intimidating, took it easy on the kid (I was in my early 30s already) at the Passover table. One doyenne of the newsroom whispered to me when to dip the horseradish in the salt water (the bitterness and tears of the Israelites in slavery) and eat it, nudging me to sip the kosher organic wine (which was delicious) during the recitation of the ten plagues that Moses visited upon the Egyptians to force the Egyptians to let the Israelites go. She smiled after I let out a big "phew!" upon finishing my designated part of the Haggadah.
It was a smoking seder, announced at the start, and in between readings (we were told that the Haggadah, starting with the head of the household, would be passed around, and each guest would be required to participate), famous newsman would light up a cigarette, as did others. I don't remember exactly what was said during the meal, but I do remember that there was much laughter and merriment at the point when we drank through the plagues—I think I said "I have to take a sip after each plague?" "A big sip," beamed the newsman—I am convinced that bit was not regulation passover. I also remember whispering (in between bites of the matzoh bread, blessed in Israel) to the guy next to me—not my friend who sat at another part of the long table—another Gentile, also raised Catholic, that a few prayers here and there in the Haggadah sounded suspiciously like prayers said during mass.
From the Passover Haggadah:
"Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine."
From the Catholic mass:
"Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through you goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands. It will become our spiritual drink. Blessed be God forever."
The evening ended with the hunt, by us, the children (the youngest one there, the daughter of the newsman, was in her late twenties), for the afikomen, a bit of matzoh that is hidden and must be hunted, found, and returned to the Passover table for the dinner to conclude. My friend the daughter found it, and Passover came to an end. The room cleared out slowly and I found myself to be the reluctant last guest, alone in the dining room with famous newsman. He asked me if I had a good time, and I said yes. He smiled, and eyes twinkling said, "my favorite part of being the host and the head of the Passover table is that I get to have the leftover wine after everyone's left," and he poured some more wine.
Ultimately, it was a magical evening, full of meditation on hard times, celebration of good times, and appreciation of life and overcoming challenges. We were on spiritual common ground, Jewish, Catholic, whatever. To me religion is the language that we use to speak to God.
For the basics about Passover dinner visit Judaism 101
I laughed because I was thinking the same thing as Questlove: Where was my Passover dinner invitation? I have a number of close Jewish friends who love me, I know they do, yet nada. I understand that it is deeply spiritual and important celebration of the deliverance of the Israelites from Egypt. But I also know that Christians are allowed to participate, and years ago, some time in the early 1990s, I did participate in the only Passover seder I've ever been to.
At the time I was palling around with a young woman who is the daughter of a renowned television journalist. We had met over our dogs in Tompkins Square Park. It was a week or so before Passover and she was surprised to hear I'd never been to one meal. So she invited me and another mutual friend, assuring us that there would be at least one other Gentile at the table. Still, I was nervous. Big-time journalist in his brownstone on the Upper East Side where other big-time journalists and TV producers and the like would be . . .
It became one of the best spiritual experiences I've ever had.
I know the story of Passover and the delivering of the Israelites from Egypt, how could I not? I heard more than my share of Negro spirituals, some of the more well-known ones having to do with that very subject. I had seen the Ten Commandments. I had Jewish friends. I had read the Old Testament. I experienced a facsimile of a seder every Sunday at mass during the Eucharist. I understood the significance on an intellectual level.
There was a pre-dinner cocktail hour, the said famous journalist and his wife were the easiest, most gracious people, and the hardboiled news people, although intimidating, took it easy on the kid (I was in my early 30s already) at the Passover table. One doyenne of the newsroom whispered to me when to dip the horseradish in the salt water (the bitterness and tears of the Israelites in slavery) and eat it, nudging me to sip the kosher organic wine (which was delicious) during the recitation of the ten plagues that Moses visited upon the Egyptians to force the Egyptians to let the Israelites go. She smiled after I let out a big "phew!" upon finishing my designated part of the Haggadah.
It was a smoking seder, announced at the start, and in between readings (we were told that the Haggadah, starting with the head of the household, would be passed around, and each guest would be required to participate), famous newsman would light up a cigarette, as did others. I don't remember exactly what was said during the meal, but I do remember that there was much laughter and merriment at the point when we drank through the plagues—I think I said "I have to take a sip after each plague?" "A big sip," beamed the newsman—I am convinced that bit was not regulation passover. I also remember whispering (in between bites of the matzoh bread, blessed in Israel) to the guy next to me—not my friend who sat at another part of the long table—another Gentile, also raised Catholic, that a few prayers here and there in the Haggadah sounded suspiciously like prayers said during mass.
From the Passover Haggadah:
"Blessed are You, Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Creator of the fruit of the vine."
From the Catholic mass:
"Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through you goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands. It will become our spiritual drink. Blessed be God forever."
The evening ended with the hunt, by us, the children (the youngest one there, the daughter of the newsman, was in her late twenties), for the afikomen, a bit of matzoh that is hidden and must be hunted, found, and returned to the Passover table for the dinner to conclude. My friend the daughter found it, and Passover came to an end. The room cleared out slowly and I found myself to be the reluctant last guest, alone in the dining room with famous newsman. He asked me if I had a good time, and I said yes. He smiled, and eyes twinkling said, "my favorite part of being the host and the head of the Passover table is that I get to have the leftover wine after everyone's left," and he poured some more wine.
Ultimately, it was a magical evening, full of meditation on hard times, celebration of good times, and appreciation of life and overcoming challenges. We were on spiritual common ground, Jewish, Catholic, whatever. To me religion is the language that we use to speak to God.
For the basics about Passover dinner visit Judaism 101
Comments
It made me feel good that our ritual resonated with him on a high level.
If you peel the onion a little, I found a more spiritual version of the Passover story. Pharaoh is your ego and all your moves toward selfishness and not caring for other people. So the Liberation from Egypt is your attempt at getting rid of those selfish tendencies and to live a righteous life. Since this an ongoing fight, you have to liberate yourself each year as if it were the first time.