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