Amen

נרצה

We rarely make it this far in the seder. Maybe that's because we don't want to worry about whether we can sincerely say "Next Year in Jerusalem." I think I've got a work-around. Jerusalem means "city of peace." We can all hope to be in a city of peace next year.

Speaking of things we say but don't necessarily mean, Chistopher J. Moore claims in his book In Other Words that the Japanese word tatemae means "the reality that everyone professes to be true, even though they may not privately believe it." Please send in your favorite examples of tatemae.

Before calling it a night, let's fill and deplete a final glass of wine. Some call it Nirtzah or Conclusion, I call it the perfect end to another fabulous Austin seder.

Ken

This Seder started in 1985 (back in the 5740s) with Ken Schubb, who had to leave us. We leave a glass of wine for Ken too.

Elijah's Coming

בָּרֵךְ & הלל

As we near the end, we'll give thanks one more time. You can never overdo that at a seder.

מוֹזְגִין כּוֹס שלִישִׁי וּמְבָרְכִין בִּרְכַּת הַמָזוֹן

(. . . boray pri hagofen)

That's our ticket to a third glass of wine. Third one's a charm -- bottoms up!

Now that we're all full of wine, it's time to offer it up for Elijah the prophet. Elijah - come on in and please, when you do, bring us peace and freedom!

At this point we ignore the requirement to sing songs of praise and go directly to the end, נרצה

Les enfants juifs, however, love to sing les chants de Pessa’h.

Dessert - not a highlight

צָפוּן

Although this portion of the seder is called "tzafun," it's not that much fun. Tzafun is when the kids find the afikoman and share it for dessert.

Phil's hiding places are lame, and, as I said earlier, everybody gets a little bag of gelt, whether they look for the afikoman or not.

Also, while the Passover meal is pretty impressive at the start, the Tzafun can be a little disappointing. I really can't believe we used to think the afikomen counted as dessert. Then again, we didn't have obese children running through the bullrushes.

The afikomen is so not a dessert that Ella ignores it.

Mitzi Matzah

שֻׁלְחָן עוֹרֵךְ

It's time for Shulcan Orech -- the meal! As if we hadn't been eating all evening. But now it's time for the crowning glory of our Seder: Mitzi's matzah ball soup. It's so good even our vegetarians overlook the chicken broth.

While we're eating, we can try to figure out whether this bunch is also enjoying a seder meal. If so, the idea of having everyone sit on one side of the table can't have worked very well.

If that doesn't interest you, see if you can solve a puzzle.

First unscramble the following words, which are all standard English transliterations of Passover terminology.

THAAZM ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

ORMAR ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

SHAKED ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

DIGAMG ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Now rearrange the letters underlined in orange to find the answer to this question: What do pigs do on Passover?

__ __ __ __ the

__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __ .

Sandwich Time

כּוֹרֵךְ

You may have read the Book of Numbers where God wants Moses to talk to the Israelites about the Passover sacrifice. Back then, the blogs weren't as well kept, so in order to remember the story, God said "They shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs, and they shall not leave any of it over until morning."

Rabbi Hillel, who lived back when the Second Temple still stood, obeyed the commandment by making a sandwich out of matzah, maror and pesach. It was a tricky one to eat - always crumbling. Now that there's no more Second Temple, we go with the vegetarian version - just Matzah, Maror and Charoset.

Some say that Rabbi Hillel invented the sandwich--not the name, of course. That was the Earl of Sandwich. (Well, I though it was the Earl of Sandwich, but that's controversial. Find out more here: http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/SandwichHistory.htm)

In any event, Hillel invented the concept, a much higher-level achievement. Without Rabbi Hillel, we would never have had these delights:

Who's Bitter?

מָרוֹר

Slavery isn't any fun. In fact, some would call it bitter. To remind myself of those terrible days, I eat Maror - the bitter herbs. We use horseradish.

Culinary tip - to juxtapose it against the sweetness of freedom, and for a spicy yet sweet delicacy, try dipping the maror into the charoset.

Come to think of it, I like horseradish so much that it doesn't remind me of slavery at all. Maybe we should use arugula. Any other ideas?

Another problem is that there are genetic differences in the ability to taste bitterness. Maybe food is the wrong approach all together. Maybe we could use grating sounds to remind us of slavery.