18/4/97

Virtual Reality Seder

This year, experience a do-it-yourself seder.

    Why is this night different? That's a silly question, because it's not: Seder night this year will be exactly the same as seder night last year, and the year before, and probably 3,000 years before that.
    Yeah, I know, we Jews like it like that. But maybe it's time we got with it; you know, with a revamped, all-new, totally relevant, virtual-reality Pessah seder.
    The first thing we're going to do is get out our old Haggadot -- that's right, put down this newspaper, get up and rummage around until you've found them, pile 'em up on the coffee table -- and then don't forget to pick up this newspaper again and take it up from here.
    Now: get a pen. Any color will do. Doodle a few swirls until you've got it working. Next, cross off all the instructions that comprise the seder: Urchatz, etc. Finally, replace them -- and this is the beauty of the Virtual Reality Seder -- with your choice of any of the following, whichever you feel best represent your traditional seder experience:

Hashva'a: The seder officially commences early in the evening, in synagogue, where according to tradition everyone hosting a seder compares who they've invited. This one's got a real Russian, that one a Russian and two Ethiopians; he's invited a former ambassador and a big UJA donor; somebody else has an Egyptian-Jewish bricklayer who just immigrated.

Yeshiva: The seating arrangements. Who sits where, next to whom, who gets the plush chairs and who the wonky folding chairs, where to put the kids, who gets stuck at the corner and who will have the table leg at his crotch all night long; who gets the good china and silverware, and who gets the chipped dishes and plastic cutlery.

Shvitz: Ma in the sweatbox kitchen, fretfully stirring and basting and deciding which dozen pots can be removed from the heat to make way for the next dozen pots that are cooling on the counter.

Shvitzer: Pa, already comfy in his chair at the head of the table, proudly shows off that he can host 31 people for a seder, no sweat.

Ta'am va-re'ach: Moments before everyone is invited to take their places, a  crowd gathers in the kitchen, checking out what's cooking.

Krechtz: The Jewish mother's ritual piteous utterance, when she finally sits after six straight weeks of cleaning and cooking. According to tradition, the mother is supposed to say "oy" and nothing more. 

Shpoch: the first glass of wine is ceremoniously poured. The first glass of wine is ceremoniously spilled over the Haggada.

Maror horror: There's always someone tasting the bitter herbs for the first time. He is required to take a large bite and then state these words: "This is not so -- WATER!!".

Oof!: Traditional rolling of the eyes of children when Daddy says, as he does every year, that "this maror really clears the sinuses."

Shikker quicker: The second cup of sacramental wine is imbibed. It is downed in one gulp. 

Yitzhak: All the drunken children giggle.

Yitzak: The giggling becomes infectious, and Dad shouts at the drunken children to stop, which just makes them giggle harder.

Haham: Precisely when everyone's starving, and silently praying for this part of the seder to speed up, some wiseass kid who's been learning higher-order interpretations of the proceedings stands up and delivers forth a protracted rabbinical treatise.

Nu!: The kids are getting restless.

Tzil'tzel (Diaspora seders only): the phone rings. Happens every year. It keeps ringing until it's impossible to ignore, the seder is halted and everyone becomes anxious that it might be an emergency. By now frantic that maybe God forbid somebody's been rushed to hospital, the phone is answered with a hysterical "Hello, hello, who is it?!", and a dull-witted voice responds, "This is Johnny, can I talk to Bruno?"

Ma zeh?: The food is served. The children, unaccustomed to such exotic fare, ask what it is. Tongue, they are told. They are horrified. Mom has anticipated this and brings out a plate of roast chicken.

Hafrada: Ceremonial separation of bones and meat, to feed the dog. 

Zichron: Over dessert, one uncle or another spins yarns of unforgettable seders past, inevitably embarrassing someone else at the table.

Revenge of the youngest: the youngest child present, who earlier was entrusted with hiding the afikoman, is by now fast asleep, and the seder can not proceed.

Sherutim: Thirty people excuse themselves and slip off to the bathroom, urgently. The poor woman who spent days over the hot stove wonders why she bothered.

Zhlok: The door is opened to allow Eliyahu the Prophet to come in and sip from the cup of wine set out specially for him. Everyone swears the wine receded. Some glum non-believer says it must've been due to evaporation. (In the Diaspora, a non-Jewish neighbor is required, at this point, to pass by and ask why the devil somebody's standing idly by an open door.) 

Nitzach (Canada only): it's 10:45 p.m. and everyone's dying to know the score of the just-completed hockey playoff game. The eldest boy is permitted to leave the table and run to the nearest Gentile home to find out.

Murmur: The boring part of the seder. It's read fast, and no one speaks because everyone wants to get it over with and anyway, the wine and heavy meal have taken effect.

Nigun: It's singalong time, just as everyone's a bit giddy. Each participant has a different tune, and everyone wants to sing his own. And everyone does. The traditional tune, passed down through the ages, is, in fact, the caterwauling cacophony of all these tunes combined.

Blessing the State of Israel: O Lord, our God, we thank Thee for leading us to the Land of our Forefathers, where we don't have to do this again tomorrow.

Hashana haba: Mom fervently prays that next year, we'll get an invitation to someone else's seder.