Flashback: It is April of 1957, and I am in second grade in East Hartford Connecticut, seated at the lunch table in the school cafeteria. Each lunch table is long enough for the whole class, with benches on each side, like a long picnic table. We are free to arrange ourselves along the table in any order we choose, and we are usually able to sit near a friend. On this particular day, I am sitting next to my new friend. She is fair skinned, with freckles, and bright red hair. She wears bangs, but her hair looks untended, shoulder length, and a little scraggly. To my eye, her clothes seem a little shabby. She, however, doesn't seem to notice. She is always smiling, she is confident, she is fun to be with, and I am glad she is my friend.
Although I sometimes buy my lunch, on this particular day, I have brought lunch. In fact, I am bringing my lunch for the entire week, because it is Passover. As usual, my lunch consists of a sandwich, but during this week, my sandwich is made of Matzah. Matzah, or unleavened bread, is like a large cracker. It is eaten during Passover to represent the unleavened bread that the Israelites ate when they hastily fled Egypt to gain their freedom, without having time for their bread to rise. During this week, the eating of bread, or any product made directly from flour, is forbidden, although the Matzah itself may be crushed into a meal and used for baking.
For lunches, my Mother makes a sort of roll from Matzah Meal and eggs, but I find it indigestible. I prefer to have my sandwiches on Matzah. This is a little problematic for my mother, because a Matzah sandwich needs to be made from something that will stick to the Matzah, not the bologna or tuna fish that my mother usually used for my sandwiches. Although peanut butter and jelly would be the perfect combination, I am allergic to peanut butter. Thus, on this particular day, I am happily eating a Matzah and jelly sandwich for my lunch. I am happy because it is Passover (a joyous holiday which I love), because I am sitting with my friend, and because my friend has taken an interest in my special sandwich.
This happiness, however, is abruptly interrupted, as the principal walks by, stops at our table, and harshly says to me, "Why are you eating your dessert before your lunch?" I am stricken with fear and embarrassment. What can I say? He clearly does not know about Matzah, Passover, or the 5,000 years of Jewish history that have led me, a seven year old, to be eating a Matzah sandwich in an East Hartford school in 1957.
In an instant, I picture myself in trouble, in the principal's office, waiting for my parents to come and give the explanation. In an instant, I know that I am in the right, that he is wrong and ignorant, but I am tongue-tied, afraid of this large and powerful man. I am aware that he is tall, with olive skin and dark hair, and I am small and pale. My very blondness makes me feel more frail. I feel no hatred for this man. Having grown up in East Hartford, where the Jewish population is small, I have no expectation that the people around me will be familiar with Judaism. In an instant, however, I feel frustration at a system that would allow a foolish and ignorant man to become the principal. Too much is going through my mind for me to speak, but, in an instant, my friend speaks for me. With her confident smile, she looks at the principal and says, simply, "It's not dessert, it's Matzah." "Oh", he replies, and walks away.
How amazing! My friend is truly an amazing person! She is my champion, and the champion of Jews everywhere, even though she isn't Jewish! She was not even trying to be brave, she simply was brave. I marvel that despite her scraggly hair and shabby clothes, she is so confident with grown-ups. I vow at that instant never again to cower in fear and embarrassment at being Jewish, or at engaging in any Jewish practice. I vow that from that day forward, if anyone questions me on Jewish practice I will simply smile and explain it. I will do this for my entire life, and I will do it in honor of my brave friend.
Flashforward:
It is 2004, and for the last 15 years I have been working in a law firm with roots going back to the mid 1800's. The firm is sometimes referred to as a "white shoe" firm, meaning it has existed since the days, perhaps in the early 1900's, when men wore white shoes. By 2004, I am a partner in the firm. Before preparing the annual calendar for partner's meetings, the managing partner calls me to ask about the dates of Jewish holidays. I give him the information he requires, and any other explanations he may want. I am seen as the firm's resident expert in Judaism. Because of my red headed friend, I have never shied away from explaining what the holidays are about or when they take place. Thank you, my red headed friend, who, by example, gave me a voice that allowed me to be myself in all aspects of American life.
