As Christians celebrate the Holy day of Easter, children will be searching for eggs, and families will sit down to eat to their hearts’ content.
As a Jewish person celebrating Passover, I will be honoring my ancestors by starving to death. I am in the 6th day of an 8 day famine.
Yes, I am proud to be Jewish. Yes I believe my religion is important. I also believe that the only two things I ask for in life is not to disrupt my football games or my eating habits. I believe the Jews are the chosen people because our Sabbath is Saturday. Christians have to go to church on Sundays, which is in direct conflict with my belief that on the 8th day, God created the National Football League.
So no religion is perfect. Yet Judaism is killing my diet. Because Jewish history is basically one long struggle of trying to survive against people who want to kill us, our holidays are going to be about sacrifice and gratitude. As an ingrate, I find this tough.
Our ancestors had some Egyptians trying to kill them. They did not have time to bake bread. So they took unleavened bread (what the kiddies now call Matzoh, which is hebrew for “cardboard”). To honor their sacrifice, we cannot eat bread for 8 straight days. This means no pizza, no hot dog rolls, no hamburger buns, etc. We are not supposed to eat corn or rice either, but I can only do so much. I argued with a Rabbi that hardshell tacos were ok because they were flat like Matzoh. I lost that argument.
I am in walking distance this week to the House of Blues, and their salads are fine. I am surviving. My social life is going to hell because none of my firends want to go out because we cannot eat anything.
Some would argue that if our ancestors risked their lives, the least we can do is suffer for 8 days. I say this is nonsense. Each generation should live better than the one before it. Given what a bunch of spoiled brats and prima donnas the 1960s kids were, I should be beyond self indulgent. Then again, maybe the Sodom and Gomorrah of the ’60s kids was the breaking point, and my generation is the first generation to go back to being proper. Perhaps at this rate, in 100 years my ancestors can make it back to the desert and experience some real suffering again.
Some people say either obey the traditions and shut up about it, or disobey them and behave at will. That is nonsense. The point of suffering is to complain, not to appreciate it. I do not obey my traditions out of love. I obey them because God might shove a flamethrower up my hide if I don’t, and I am not going to test him (My dad instilled fear in his kids, my grandfather instilled fear in my dad, and my grandfather feared God. That tells me this God is one powerful Dude).
I never had to roam the desert. Heck, I have never even been to Phoenix. Have I suffered? Sure. My home did not have a microwave until I was 14. Waiting 35 minutes for frozen pizza was agony. I was not allowed to eat in my room, so if the pizza was not ready at halftime, I missed part of the game. Plus, before remote controls, we had a knob. There would be six feet of snow in the living room, I would have to leave it on a snowy channel. So yes, I was afflicted.
So I say to God…God…buddy…dude…you’ve kicked our @sses for thousands of years. We get the message. I know you’ve been ticked off since Adam and Eve, but is holding a grudge really the answer? Chill out, come on by, join me for a football game (if you can somehow keep yourself as almighty God from already knowing the score), and enjoy a soda and some food. If you are willing to split a pizza with me and eat half, I would be honored to eat the other half. Plus, if you’re eating pizza today, there is no way in Hell or Heaven I am refraining.
Only three days of suffering to go.
eric
We may be cursed with the matzoh, but we have been blessed by God with Manischevitz wine. Bring on the Concord Grape, better than any of those cheap, sweet, fortified nectars that skid row winos enjoy. And please, just try to name one other religious holiday where the consumption of mass quantities of wine is encouraged!