Post Matza Syndrome

For the Seventh Day of Pesach this year I was in Har Nof, at my friends the Golans. It was very nice. I davened at the Breslov minyan there, and had the parting seuda at Breslov too.

After the holiday I helped the Golans to pack up the Pesach dishes, etc.

So by the time I caught a bus home, it was close to 11 pm.

As the #2 bus climbed to the top of the neighborhood, near the entrance with the silly sculpture, I saw two young kids gleefully carrying a pizza home. It reminded me of when I was a kid visiting my gramma in Florida and how we also went out for pizza at the end of the holiday. I smiled to myself, glad that those childish chametz needs no longer suppress me. But like Ezekiel in his visions of the dream (Ch. 8), a voice silently whispered from behind my head, Wait, Son of Man, I will yet show you worse than this!

The #2 bus goes down Bet Hadefus Street, which is home to two major Jerusalem Bakeries: Berman’s and Angel’s. Wow! What a mob scene. The stores were packed, and nearly completely by religious people. People are literally running back to cars, bags of bread in hand. Double-parking, honking. The bakers are dumping the rolls into baskets and the people are scooping ’em up like seagulls grabbing minnows.

In the car next to my bus, opposite Angel’s Bakery, a family is waiting for the light. In the back seat, a boy of about nine is munching some chametz, as he looks out the window watching the other lunatics running down the steps of the bakery with the “goods” in hand. His father, driving, evidently unable to contain himself any longer, has his wife pass him a half a roll and tears off a piece with his teeth.

I laughed out loud, and still feeling completely contented with the matza shmurah I had eaten at the parting meal, was glad that there are at least some desires in this world which I have risen at least somewhat above. Better we should rise than the dough.

30 Nisan 5769  Baka-Geullim