An alte-kaker Seder

"How is this night different from all other nights?" It's the first of the famous Four Questions, the centerpiece of the Passover Seder traditionally recited by the youngest child present. Having received a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card when my oldest nephew, Shai, had matured enough to replace me in performing the task, I couldn't help but feel a little anxious about this year's invitation to a Seder with friends of my parents in Jerusalem, far away from my extended family, especially the youngest generation. "Just the alte-kakers this year," my mom repeatedly warned me. Please, please, I thought, don't make me perform. Imagine my delight when, upon entering Micky and Nili's Mevaseret home, we were greeted by their somewhat gangly sixteen-year-old son and thirteen-going-on-thirty daughter whose shimmery lipgloss framed a smile full of metal. Phew! Braces! A clear sign I'm off the hook!

After touring Micky and Nili's recent kitchen renovation, which included an incredible meat smoker and a taboon (a clay oven, used for baking Arab-style bread and other delicious things), I knew we were in for a treat... although I must admit I felt a pang of disappointment when it dawned on me that no fluffy pitas would be emerging from the taboon tonight!

Our friend Jonathan was the master of ceremonies and did an incredible job. I always thought what made the Seder enjoyable was all the munchkins singing songs and tearing the house apart in search of the coveted Afikoman. But the alte-kaker version turned out to be a lovely change. We discussed some of the theological and philosophical questions behind the story that we are compelled to recite year after year. For example, if Moses was the hero of the exodus tale, why does he escape mention in the Haggadah? One explanation, we learned from our guide, is that the book was compiled during the Mishnaic or Talmudic period (3rd-6th century CE), when Christianity was gaining in prominence and popularity, and the rabbinic authors feared that a great hero like Moses might be transformed into a Christ figure. Good luck getting a point like that across at a Seder packed with children spilling grape juice and dipping sticky fingers in the charoset!

Both Livny brothers, Jonathan and Micky, divorced and remarried a number of years ago, effectively trading in the original Polish wife for the younger Sephardic model. For the rest of us yekkes (German Jews), it was nice to hear explanations of Moroccan and Iraqi Passover traditions. More importantly, though, it also meant we got to supplement the standard gefilte fish with turmeric and paprika-spiced fish, and the bland Manishevitz-soaked charoset was replaced with a Yemmenite concoction redolent of ginger, cloves and cardamon.

Having cruised past midnight, the minimum hour marking the end of the Seder, we sang a verse or two of Chad Gadya, nibbled on chocolate and listened to Jonathan and Micky recount a few inappropriate tales about extramarital affairs ... in the presence of the protagonist, I might add. Good thing the protagonist happens to be their own mother, who, at 94, is sharp as a whip but can barely hear a word. Yet another reason to appreciate the alte-kaker Seder.

At one point, the attention turned to me. How am I liking living in Israel? What keeps me busy? What do I want to do next? And then, of course, How old are you? "Twenty-eight," I replied, now feeling content to be one of the few young people at the table, one of the few who can't claim multiple marriages, divorces or affairs. For some people, it turns out, twenty-eight is no spring chicken. Just imagine my surprise when the bubbly thirteen year old piped up: "Wow, but you look good!"