42 April 18 • 2019
jn
Matzah
Madness
W
hether you’
re 9 years old or
90, you probably have a fond
memory of the hiding of
the afikomen during a Passover seder;
whether you were the
one charged with con-
cealing it or if you’
re a
kid who has enjoyed the
reconnaissance mission
in search of it.
For our non-Jewish
friends or the uniformed
reader, afikoman is not
the former Secretary
General of the United Nations. That
would be Kofi Annan. And after much
forethought, I’
ve decided to stick with
saying “afikoman,
” although today it
would be politically correct to refer to it
instead as “afikoperson.
”
We all know the matzah basics. Bread
that was supposed to bake for an hour at
350 degrees was cut short by our peoples’
hastened Exodus from Egypt. So, techni-
cally, matzah became the Jews first carry-
out meal. The hiding of the afikoman is,
of course, just one of the many symbolic
moments during our seders that serve to
remind us of our escape from bondage.
My mission was to find some humor-
ous anecdotes that arose out of the tra-
ditional hiding, finding and awarding of
a prize for discovering the afikoman.
Thank you to the following folks
for sharing recollections from their
matzah madness past.
From Ronelle Grier, my esteemed
fellow JN writer and author: “While
my mother, Esther Rosenthal of
blessed memory, was a creative and
successful businesswoman (she
owned The Paper Place in Applegate
Square), housekeeping was not one
of her priorities. One Passover, she
hid the afikoman as usual, and we
were dispatched to look for it at the
appropriate time. No one could find it
and, eventually, we gave up the hunt
in favor of chocolate-covered matzah
and sponge cake.
” But wait, there’
s
more!
Added Ronelle: “I guess my mother
was busy in the kitchen and was unaware
it hadn’
t been found. Several years later,
when my parents were packing up the
house to move to a condo, they found
the afikoman. It was still in its original
hiding place, on top of an antique break-
front in the dining room.
”
For my cousin Sylvia in Toronto,
the finding of the afikoman provided
a life-changing bargaining chip. Says
Sylvia: “I was 17 and my religious par-
ents wouldn’
t let me drive. I got the
afikoman and held it ransom until well
after midnight until my parents agreed
to let me get my license so they could
end the seder. But then my mother
wouldn’
t give me her car. So I bought my
own car with my part-time cashier and
teller money!”
Sylvia attributes her staunch indepen-
dence and success as a business woman
to that fateful matzah mediation. By
the way, for you kids attending a seder
across the border, keep in mind that a
Canadian dollar awarded for finding the
afikoman is only worth 75 cents U.S.
My friend Linda Zyla lovingly recalls
her grandparent’
s Passover gatherings.
“My maternal grandparents were
larger than life,
” Linda said. And so were
their Passover seders. “Grandpa Morris
stuck to the book. Service before dinner,
enormous dinner and then service after
dinner. No corners were cut. Everything
by the book; including the bitter herbs.
”
It turns out though, that Linda’
s
grandmother was at the forefront of
creating a whole new twist of hiding
the afikoman. Said Linda, “Grandma
Ann knew that her grandkids didn’
t like
eating the bitter herbs — what kid does?
So, to protect her precious grandchildren
from bitterness of any kind, she would
come sit with us during the partaking of
the bitter herbs and slip the parsley into
her large apron pockets. Boy, do I miss
those seders.
”
I, for one, would like to see our
Alan Muskovitz
Contributing Writer
passover
N
ear the beginning of a traditional
Haggadah, the leader announces
“This is the bread of poverty that
our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.
Everyone who is hungry, come and eat.
Anyone who needs to, come and celebrate
Passover.”
Taken literally, that means that we wel-
come all sorts of guests to our seder. In
practice, if you want to make this real, you
have to look for guests. Where to look? The
easiest strategy:
• Another family that would have a seder
of its own. Each family’
s experience of
Passover gets enriched by sharing with the
other.
• A step more adventuresome: friends and
neighbors who would otherwise have a lone-
ly seder night.
• Folks too far away from family to go back
for the seder, away for studies or a new job,
or on a temporary work assignment.
• Jews too far away from observance to
plan for the seder, but close enough to accept
an invitation.
• Converts who literally have no Jewish
family with whom to share a seder.
• Folks estranged from their Jewish family
by quarrel or by divorce.
• Mourners bereft by the recent death of
relatives, whether recent or long ago.
• Non-Jews who have legitimate reasons
for attending a seder: conversion candidates,
students of comparative religion and com-
munity leaders.
Guests far from home may feel surprised
that a seder in suburban Detroit resembles
a seder back home in Brazil or Belgium.
Sometimes the guest brings an old custom
that seems new to us.
A couple of Iranian students at our family
LOUIS FINKELMAN CONTRIBUTING WRITER
A Seat at
the Table
Guests at the seder can
make the holiday more
meaningful.
continued on page 44
continued on page 44