Not passed-over

By MAURICE STEINHART

Pesach in our family begins very shortly after the last Purim disguise has been put away. Then, cleaning the house from top to bottom begins and usually doesn’t finish until 5 minutes before burning the hametz.

The first year in our new house was no exception and we were making the final preparations for the Seder when I went outside for a breath of fresh air. Our neighborhood is largely religious although one of our immediate neighbors was decidedly secular. I had observed him smoking and driving his car on Shabbat.

It occurred to me that here was a golden opportunity to bring someone back to the Jewish fold. I asked my wife if we had enough room and food for some visitors at our Seder. She was most enthusiastic at the idea of inviting our neighbors. Here was our chance to demonstrate the positive side of our religion, and, who knows, maybe we could have a good effect.

After some discussion between us as to how to phrase our invitation so as not to cause embarrassment, I went next door and gingerly rang the doorbell. A voice shouted for me to come in. I did so, running over my prepared speech in the manner of a politician about to persuade the opposition to change their views on a matter important for the good of the country.

I entered the house unprepared for the sight now before me. The dining area had a long set of tables set for about 25 people. The tables were beautifully laid, together with wine, matzot, Seder plates et al.

My neighbor appeared and politely asked me what he could do for me. Stuttering, I managed to say that I had just come over to wish him a happy holiday. He reciprocated my good wishes and then said how glad he was that I had dropped in.

"I’ve been meaning to mention to you that I hope we won’t disturb you tonight but we always have a large crowd for the Seder and it tends to get a little noisy," he said.

I assured him that this would be no problem.

"We also tend to finish rather late so if you don’t, we’d be delighted if you would join us for the final Pesach songs!" he added.

I thanked him warmly, excused myself and crept back home.

"Well,‘ said my wife, ’How many will be coming?"

"None,‘ I said. ’In Jerusalem, this night is truly different from all other nights!"