Pesach, Baby

Passover really has it all: elaborate symbolism, spring fever, an epic redemption narrative, matzo balls, even a distinct Tupac vibe. (Witness the downfall of my ene-meez.)

It's one of those rare Manischewitz-swilling Jewish holidays that we get to celebrate, not just "observe."

(When a well-meaning gentile says, "Happy Yom Kippur" we have to be like, "Oh, thanks, but I'm uh...fasting for my sins." Here's what to say for Yom Kippur: "May you have an easy fast." No seriously. Aren't we a fun-loving people?)

But Jews do bust out on Passover. We were slaves and we were freed! When else do white people sit around a table singing, "Let My People Go"? Jews belt it out, too: Waaaaaay dooown in E-gypt! la-aand! We're commanded to recline during the seder, like free people (apparently) do. That can be tough on the digestive tract, but it's pretty sweet for the spine.

The Passover story is kind of like an HBO series: there are so many damn characters and plot churnings that you're always just shy of knowing what the hell's going on. Which is my absolute favorite thing. And, God? Eh. He's one character.

Pesach falls this weekend, right at peak lay season. Which is most opportune since it's a holiday dripping with eggs, even by Jewish standards. (Challah: eggs. Kugel: eggs. Latkes: eggs. Matzo brie: eggs, eggs, eggs.) Hennessy and Camilla are all too happy to show off. They're like, Brawk, quadrupling the matzo ball recipe? Not a problem, not a problem, back to the nest box.

The egg is right there on the seder plate with the maror (horseradish) for the bitterness of slavery and the charoses (apples-n-nuts) for the sweetness of freedom. Passover has pagan roots as a festival honoring the return of spring. Hence the egg, symbolizing renewal, both earthly and spiritual. And this, from the resplendent Song of Songs:

For lo the winter is past

The rain is over and gone

The flowers appear on the earth

The time of singing is come

Happy Passover.

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