I’m pretty sure that the spiritual, “Let My People Go”, included in most American Haggadas, does not refer to layoffs but, unfortunately, this Passover season occurs in the midst of unprecedented number of job losses here in Israel for the third month in a row.
The unemployment rate at 6.5% is still much lower than in the States, but it’s likely that the ripple effects from the economic balagan (mess) will continue to roll in. The downturn has shown up not only in layoffs but also in the sale of the deluxe Ramat Aviv shopping mall. In this climate, the government has threatened to deport Thai agricultural workers, sending them back to their home country without the resources to pay off the debt they accrued to the recruiters who brought them here, an exodus in reverse.
Although the celebrations and gift-giving this year may have been tempered by the bad economic news, Passover is still a huge holiday here, much like Christmas in the States. Children are out of school for three weeks, workers get time off, those who have the resources take vacations, companies give bonuses and gifts to their employees (often tableware such as the set of Italian appetizer plates we received from Shetufim) and large plastic sheets cover the non-kosher-for-passover foods in the supermarket aisles. Family members pile in their cars and convene en masse at grandma’s or elsewhere, as evidenced by the massive traffic congestion we experienced at 6 pm and again at 12:30 a.m. going and returning from Kibbutz Ha’rel which is about half way between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. We were delighted to be invited to share the seder with Edna and Lee Perlman, their children Udi, Inbal, and Eli, Edna’s sister and brother and other extended family along with some other residents and friends of Kibbutz Ha’rel. Edna’s sister, Orna (the director of public health for the kibbutz movement) has been a kibbutz member for many years, as was Lee for a number of years when he first came to Israel, and that is how Lee and Edna met. The kibbutz has a progressive heritage but has now become privatized with members commuting to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem for work. The main kibbutz “industry” is tourism with bed and breakfasts that are popular with city residents who want to relax in the lovely countryside.
Forty people, from very young to very old, sat around two large tables, festooned with paper coverings and tissue-paper decorated coffee cans holding beautiful spring flowers, in the community/youth center of Kibbutz Ha’rel (formerly the children's house). The walls were decorated with Passover-themed scenes drawn by the children. Edna’s sister prepared food and coordinated the potluck meal. We contributed chocolate, toasted almond and matzos candy, a recipe from Lew’s Aunt Ida (on his blog). Lee played the role of Abba shel ha-seder (father of the seder), directing the action and calling on people to read from the Kibbutz Artzi Haggadah (from a left-oriented perspective) or supplementary readings from Xeroxed pages compiled by Kibburz Ha’rel and other sources chosen by Lee and Edna. There were the usual components—the four questions, the four children, the four cups of wine (yes, four is an important number), the 10 plagues, the telling of the story, the matza, charoses and bitter herbs, the hiding of the afikomen (middle matza) for the children to find, and so on—with some special twists. The singing was enlivened by the musical accompaniment of Udi (Edna and Lee’s musician son) on accordian and guitar. He teamed up with the kibbutz gardener—an older hippie with long, grey dreadlocks---on sax for a jazz rendition of “Go Down Moses.” The spiritual dimension of the seder was expressed in paens to nature—the rain, dew—rather than references to God. Several participants shared stories or commentaries (in Hebrew, of course, so I only got the gist and not the details and missed most of the jokes): Edna’s brother-in-law, who works for the Committee to End Torture, spoke about the need for hope and commitment to justice; a family member originally from Buenos Aires shared memories from seder celebrations in Argentina; the kibbutz kindergarten teacher told how the children are disturbed by some elements of the Pesach story that have to do with seeking vengeance and punishment such as the plagues visited on the Egyptians and Moses’ banishment from the promised land. My favorite, though, was the joke told by the father-in-law of someone in Edna's family, an older gentleman who came to Israel from Argentina many years ago. When he first arrived in Israel he asked some people where to find a seder to celebrate Passover. “Pesach, ma ze Pesach? (Passover, what's that?)", they asked. After going back and forth, one man exclaimed, “ah yes, I know Pesach” (spelled in Hebrew with the letter Pey for P, samech for S, and chet for the ach sound), “it means Protectzia (pays offs), Savlanut (patience) and Chutzpa (utter nerve).” That’s what it takes to adapt to Israeli culture and survive Israeli bureaucracy.
After the potluck meal---the familiar gefilte fish and matzo ball soup, brisket, chicken, salads and veggies, with a surprising addition of sushi(?)--the seder concluded with desserts and a sing-along of popular Israeli and American songs (Bob Dylan, We Shall Overcome). A highlight was the “Chad Gadya” performance, children and adults marching around the tables wearing masks—goat, cat, dog--- enacting the song's story by throwing water and wielding a cardboard ax. It put me in mind of one of my favorite Passover memories from our first seder after moving to Chapel Hill, in the spring of 1991 when Gregory had just turned 4. Sometime well into the reading of the Haggadah, as boredom set in, he disappeared from the dining room. A short time later he made a startling and hilarious reappearance decked out in swimsuit, goggles and green fins, prepared for crossing the Red Sea and, hopefully, gaining his freedom from the seemingly endless ritual!! Luckily for him, as you can read in his blog from Buenos Aires, his host family for this year’s seder favored a shortened version.
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