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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S APOCRYPHA #3: Pesach

(c)2003 David Lefkowitz.

Shalom oovrachah, everyone! Happy Passover, dammit! A most joyous and happy Pesach to you and yours. I’m Rabbi Sol Solomon of Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York. And I’m happy to be your Passover guide on this segment of Dave’s Gone By.

Last time I was here, we were celebrating Purim, wherein the Jews were saved from extinction by a hot chick and her uncle. This time, the Yehudim were saved from a fate almost worse than death—eternal slavery—by a stuttering little fella named Moses, his faithful brother Aaron, and a little bit of help from You Know Who. 

I think we all know the story. After Joseph (the guy with the schmatteh of many colors) did so much good for Egypt, he settled there. And his brothers settled there. And they told two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on—until the Jews made up a significant portion of the population. The new Pharaoh was a bissel nervous about this. But rather than exile everybody, he figured, “Hey, slave labor! There’s no union, no Workman’s Circle — let’s make them slaves!” 

So, the Jews were put to hard labor building the pyramids, and the roads, and doing touch-up work on the sinks. But they were cruelly treated: working from morning till night, not enough food, long lines at the bathroom — yet they still found a way to keep multiplying and making more Jews. So, Pharaoh demanded that all male Jewish children be cast into the river—splash. One of those kids was a little baby whose mama gave him a chance. She put him in a tiny waterproof basket and pushed him into the bulrushes. Why the bulls didn’t rush out and trample him, we’ll never know. Instead, he was found by Pharaoh’s daughter while she was bathing in the stream. 

She named him “Moishe,” or Moses, `cause he moseyed down the stream into her arms. The Queen saved him and raised him as her own. And he became an upstanding member of Egyptian society. He saw a task-master brutally whipping a Hebrew slave with a cat o’ nine tails. Moishe was outraged at this use of a deformed pet to hurt someone. So he slew the Egyptian. Then he ran away.

While he was gone, he went wandering and came upon a burning Bush. He told Bush to go invade Iraq, he’d feel better. But then he came upon a second burning bush—burning, but it wouldn’t be consumed. For that bush was God who told Moses to tell Pharaoh to tell the children of Israel they could leave. Moses, who had a bit of a lisp, took his brother Aaron along for support. Ironically, Aaron had also seen a burning bush that morning and tried to consume it, but his wife said, “No, you go with your brother. I’ll just use my toy.” 

The two siblings arrived at Pharaoh’s palace and were greeted with hatred and derision, which Moses promptly reported back to God. HaShem said, “This guy doesn’t know what he’s fooling with. I’m gonna give you some magic tricks. Go, do the Copperfield thing. Tell me how it comes out.” 

So, Moishe went back to Pharaoh and changed his stick into a serpent (that’s not a metaphor) and some other cool things, but Pharaoh had a guy who could sit buried in an ice block for days and another conjuror who could hang from his nipples indefinitely, so he wasn’t impressed. 

“That’s it,” said God. “I gave Pharaoh a chance. Now I’m gonna give him ten chances, each one uglier than the last, and he won’t budge for any of them until the last one.” 

Moses said, “You know, God, you could have saved me a bunch of trips back and forth if you just did the last one first.” 

But God said, “Don’t be a smarty-tunic, Moses, or you won’t see the promised land.” 

So, Moishe and Aaron went back to Pharaoh—back and forth to Pharaoh!—visiting ten horrible plagues upon him. We remember those plagues at the Seder, spilling drops of Manischewitz out of our glasses at the misery each affliction must have caused the Egyptian people. 

The first couple were manageable. Blood. Frogs (that was probably kind of cute. Little froggies everywhere like the shower in the movie Magnolia). Then lice, flies—weird that He does lice first before flies, since lice sounds a lot worse than flies. Unless you’re Chinese, in which case you’re used to flied lice. But seriously, the plagues sound hideous, even though they sound a little odd to modern-day ears. Like that cattle disease: murrain. Or why the swarm of locusts came after all the hailstorms. I mean, after hailstorms, what would be left to eat? 

So, to make the concept of the Ten Plagues more immediate, more tangible to the modern listener, I’ve come up with a different list of pestilences, a new “top ten,” as it were. It’s not meant to replace the originals—chas v’chalil! [heaven forbid]. It’s just a way to get you to imagine how relentless, how blechy, how terrifying this must have been. So, these are Rabbi Sol’s Ten Scourges!

Number one: Roaches. Icky little disease-carrying bugs. They cause emphysema, they may be responsible for this new SARS virus, you kill one and there’s three more to take their place… I know my wife. If she were Pharaoh, and that were the first plague, forget it! The Jews would be out of Egypt so fast, the matzoh would still be dough!

Scourge number two: Paper Cuts. Imagine falling naked into a pile of scattered sheets of 20lb. bond paper, and each time you move, you cut yourself. And then, every five minutes, HaShem pours grapefruit juice on you. Not very nice, hah? HAH?

Plague three: Those little rectangular advertising cards they put in magazines. Every time you open a book, a newspaper, a diary, there’s one of those on every page. Even if you shake them all out into a garbage can before you read, it doesn’t help. Because every other page has those perfume sniff things in it. Every book in your house will stink like the fragrance counter at Macy’s. And the only thing worse than that is the stench of your own vomit because you’re so nauseous you can’t stand it anymore.

Scourge number four: Home Shopping Network. Every single channel on your television dial (I know, we’re almost there already). Not one item under $200, and Joan Rivers on every third program…naked. The only way she’ll put her clothes back on is if everybody buys her grotesque jewelry, so everybody does. 

Plague five: Intestinal gas. Not just the smell but the cramping, the bloating. Every single person on the Long Island Rail Road. Every co-worker on the elevator letting off enough gas to put KeySpan out of business. Then everybody starves and freezes to death because no one dares light a match.

Roaches, cuts, inserts, Joan Rivers, and gas — sounds grisly, hah? But those are just the first five, with five more to go! This is the kind of revenge HaShem deals out when He’s mad. 

Number six: Freezer burn. All your meat, all your ice cream, all your TV dinners—they all taste like someone basted them with nitrogen. And that’d before your wife cooks them and makes them taste like she burned them with nitroglycerin. 

Plague seven: Militant Arabs. Oh, sure. We slew a few in Iraq, and the Israelis are getting tough on Hamas. But imagine walking down the street, and everywhere you look is a kid throwing a rock, a woman wearing a burqa shooting at you, a man with a grenade in his knapsack—and you don’t even live in West Hempstead. 

Plague number eight: Prostate cancer. What Jew can’t relate to prostate cancer? Well, maybe the women, but other than that? Imagine your little sack with shrinking matzoh balls and a gland that’s already halfway to the graveyard. And your proctologist is a former professional wrestler with big, meaty hands. He wears welding gloves because his other ones keep getting torn up by his long, dirty fingernails. 

The ninth plague: Oh, this is a bad one: never-ending dental work. Every other week for years, that little sucky thing in your mouth going “pffthhhfffhhhh.” And the novocaine. And the picking at the gum line. And every time he finds another cavity, it’s under the filling. I don’t care how much God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, if He gave the Egyptians never-ending dental work, the Jews would have been shipped across the Red Sea and given free chariot service into Canada if they wanted, just to make it stop. 

And now, finally, the tenth scourge, the deal breaker. The one to make every father, mother, brother, and sister weep without end: everywhere you go—inside, outside, the kitchen, the bathroom, the courtroom, the park, the subway, underwater, on a mountain—everywhere you go: inspirational music by John Tesh.

I know, I know. What merciful God would visit that even on a hated enemy? But these are plagues, people, not annoyances. HaShem didn’t go, “Hmm, I think I’ll bother Pharaoh with ten nuisances.” No, he gave the ruler and his people ten plagues—including death of the first born—and the Jews were finally allowed to leave Egypt. 

They had more adventures to come, but I’m running short on time, so I thought I’d share a little bit of a happier aspect of the holiday. At the seder, where we eat and drink and retell the story of Pesach (much as I have done now), we also sing songs. Hymns of praise, questioning, and delight. One of the tunes that comes early in the proceedings is called “Dayenu.” It means “enough,” as in, HaShem has done so many miracles for us, but even if he’d done only a couple, one or two, it would have been enough for undying gratitude. Normally, we sing “Dayenu” in Hebrew with some Aramaic in it, but I’ve prepared some special English lyrics. So feel free to sing along or clap your hands or pick your nose—whatever you wanna do, but get into the spirit. This is “Dayenu.”

(sings) “Ohhhh,
Even if he had been sleeping
While six million Jews were slaughtered
Even though he watched us tortured
Dayenu.
(Dayenu) Day Dayenu, Day Dayenu, Day Dayenu, Dayenu Dayenu.

Even if the Muslim putzes
weren’t blowing up our buses
Yadda yadda, Intifada
Dayenu.
We’re all crazy . . . about you.
Couldn’t live without you.
Who needs happiness?

Even if there was no Hitler
Even if there was no Haman
Why so many snippy gay men?
Dayenu.
We are chosen
So we’re coping
We’re just hoping
You’ll choose someone else.

Even if we have big noses
Even if we’re prone to hair loss
Even if there was no Tay Sachs
Dayenu.
God is looking
God is watching
God is botching
Everything He does.

Even when the goyim tease us
Even when the gulags freeze us
It’s okay, we murdered Jesus
Dayenu.
(Dayenu) Day Day Dammit! Day Day Dammit! Day Day Dammit
Let’s sing it one more time, why don’t we?
Day Day Dammit! Day Day Dammit! Day Day Dammit
And circumcision hurts, oy!”

Were you singing along? Were you bouncing up and down to the spirit of the holiday? Good! Now go out and make this a wonderful Passover. Have a seder, or, if you’re not, find someone who is and go invite yourself. Kidnap a child so they can answer the four questions, read the Haggadah, greet Eliyahu, connect to the holiday and to your fellow man. 

On behalf of myself, my dear wife, Miriam Libby, and our children, Nechemiah, Josiah, Shloime, Chanah, Rivki, Yehuda, Moishe, Yechezkiel, Boruch, Avigdor, Yisroel, Hepzibah, Shaul, Aliza, Shimon, Gedaliah, Naftuli, Benyamin, and Fred (by my first marriage), plus one on the way (Baruch HaShem!), this is Rabbi Sol Solomon saying  chag sameach [happy holiday] and shalom oovrachah, from every one of me to every one of you.

© 2003 David Lefkowitz & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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