I woke up early and drove to the airport this morning to give away some of my personal property to a complete stranger. Why? Well, the short answer is the Jews made me do it. The long answer also involves Jews, so if you’re feeling anti-Semitic, you might want to take a cold shower or go for a jog before reading this post, you know, to relax yourself. It’s THAT Jewy.
Well not really...I just wanted to use the word “Jewy.” It rolls of the tongue, does it not?
A friend invited me to a fancy Passover dinner at my alma mater, Brigham Young University. We did the whole deal -- the ceremony, the hymns, the symbols, the bitter, bitter herbs. It was hosted by a professor of Hebrew and Jewish studies who was very good at explaining the significance of every part of the festival to non-Jew, all-Mormon participants.
I had to quickly familiarize myself with the terminology of the Passover, as I was forced to play the role of “patriarch,” since no other men were sitting at my table. The patriarch is required to lead several parts of the ceremony, reciting lines on cue, distributing symbolic food, etc. The patriarch is also required, as it turns out, to be royally screwed over.
Early in the festival the patriarch takes the middle of the three Matzahs (unleavened bread), and divides it in half. The smaller half gets wrapped up and hidden away; in our case passed around under the table where the patriarch can’t see it. Towards the end of the festival, the hidden Matzah is produced, and the patriarch must haggle with whoever ends up with it to ensure its return. The meal cannot end without the patriarch distributing the final piece of Matzah for everyone to eat.
And this is how I ended up driving to the airport early this morning to meet one of the girls at my table before she flew off to parts unknown. I brought with me the fruits of our strange little haggling session:
one camping tarp, unopened
a roll of toilet paper
some colored pencils
a black trash bag
a box of cake mix
Don’t ask how we settled on this list. It was all fun and entertaining while it happened, but waking early to drive to the airport several days later, all I could think about is how much sleep that stupid piece of bread was costing me.
Oh those silly, silly Jews. What will they think of next? It’s times like these that I’m glad I’m Mormon. We don’t do weird things like haggle over bread. I mean, how could we? We’re much too busy baptizing our dead and voting Republican.