Well, let's see. Year after year, we gather together at seders to experience a bit of slavery and freedom by rereading, retelling and reliving the story outlined in the Pesach Hagaddah. We partake of foods we haven't tasted since the year before. Some of us have cooked for days on end. By the time we sit down to eat, we're completely and utterly exhausted. We smile at our guests, but at the back of our minds are the mountains of dishes that will have to be washed, which translated means that bedtime will be three days from the moment we sit down to dinner. And this we call 'freedom'?
The first part of the seder is joyous but lengthy, and before we know it, the hour begins to grow late. By the time the main arrives, everyone is already full from the soup and the fish, but miraculously (and this is a holiday of miracles), the food dispappears. After feasting and enjoying, everyone happily complains that they have eaten too much, until (of course) the desserts roll out. Once again, smiles abound and all is consumed. It appears that all that work, all that preparation had not been in vain....until the inevitable happens. The trump card is played.
A simple, $1.99 box of coloured jelly fruit slices is placed on the table, and the crowd goes wild.
It appears, my dear friends, that Pesach is not about freedom, or spring or miracles. It is about jelly fruit slices. No matter how delicious the meal, or how sumptuous the desserts, everyone wants those jelly fruit slices.
And here's the kicker. No one really likes them! In fact, (with apologies to the companies who make them...and I'm sure they know it and don't care, and who blames them anyway, because we buy them despite how they taste) everyone makes it seem like royalty has arrived as they arrive at the table. There's the big fanfare, the oohs and ahhs at the sight of the box, followed by, 'I can't stand those things', and then, 'Can I have one'?
Next comes the argument. 'I hate the red ones. Give them to Savta because she likes them' or 'I only eat the green ones', and of course, 'Here, save the yellow ones for later in the week'. Why wasn't the same fuss made for the brisket?
What I have neglected to mention through all of this, is that I am the one who can't wait for those jellies, and it is I who utters those above comments. I'll admit it. Pesach just wouldn't be Pesach without those awful candies. And yes, I do ration them, so they'll last the entire week. But wouldn't you know it, with all the shopping, this year I forgot to buy them!
Enter, the little girl who doesn't like Froot Loops. The day before Pesach break, she walked in to my Before School programme and presented me with that precious box of jelly fruit slices. I gushed. I'm sure her father thought that I was simply trying to make his daughter feel good. Little did either of them know that they had singlehandedly saved Pesach. Thanks to them and those disgusting jelly fruit slices, the seder was complete.
Pesach, Matza, Maror and Jelly Fruit Slices. That's what Pesach is about.
Wishing everyone a joyous end of Pesach and Happy Chometz!
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