The Essence of Passover

I have just returned from a Passover Seder at our daughter and son-in-law's home and I was struck by several things, in addition to the fact my grandchildren are far smarter and far more handsome and beautiful than I remember them from several weeks ago. The meal was perfect; the brisket wonderful; the wine was overly sweet for my taste but the occasion was without flaw.

However, the religious part of the Seder, a recounting of the escape of the Hebrews from Egyptian slavery, seemed out of touch with today's culture and language. The prayer book was the same as can be found in the homes of observant and not-that-observant Jews in the United States, published and distributed by a major coffee company.

Many of the ritual prayers are written in Hebrew, but the English translations were awkward and stilted. For example, did God really speak in Elizabethan English? What's with "Thou shall..." and so forth?

So I have attempted to shorten the tale, keeping its essence of a people to whom freedom of religion and an escape from slavery were concepts that were unheard of at that time.

Many, many years ago there lived a good man named Jacob. Jacob, like his grandfather Abraham, may have been a local notable with many animals and a large household. Jacob, his two wives Leah and Rachel and two concubines, Bilhah, and Zilpah, had twelve sons. Each of these lads eventually grew up and founded a tribe, but for now, let's just consider one of them, Joseph.

By most accounts, Joseph was a good enough kid, second youngest, and sharp as a tack. His Mother, Rachel, and even his father, seemed to dote on the boy who seemed to have a knack of figuring out the meaning of dreams. It may have been his parents' favoring him or his suggesting to his older brothers that, someday, he would rule over them, but in any event, the ten older brothers sold him to a bunch of folks passing through. Joseph was brought to Egypt.

Where he got in trouble almost immediately and was thrown into jail.