The Great Adventures of Chol Hamoed

Pesach's Iconic Moments

Pesach is all about imagery. Almost every important moment of the holiday and every observance corresponds to its own iconic moment in the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt). At the seder we conjure the hardships of Jewish slavery, the Ten Plagues, and our hasty departure. From the second night we count the Omer, remembering the Jews' march toward Sinai, and on the last days of yom tov, we rejoice in the miracles at the Yam Suf. But what about Chol Hamoed? What storybook moment goes along with this holiday middle child?

The Cattail

My pick for a middle-day metaphor is Moshe in the reeds and rushes, where, after three months in hiding and a stint on the water, he was found by Pharaoh's daughter and finally alllowed to stetch out and "step out of the basket." In that scene, the theme of packed-in-to-spreading-out is vividly symbolized in particular by the bullrushes along the marsh. Also known as cattails, bullrushes are recognizable by the fuzzy-looking brown covering that sits at the top of thier long stems like a chocolate hot dog on a long, flimsy skewer.

Those brown "tails" actually consist of thousands of spores of pollen packed in more tightly than your kids when you visit your parents for Yom Tov. When the tails get loose or broken apart—like when an unsuspecting costumer, hypothetically, rubs one between his fingers after returning from the flower store—the spores expand to many times their compressed size and spread out in all directions.

Getting Together and Staying Apart

That's just what the Jews do on Chol Hamoed. Maybe it's because we've been cooped up all Yom Tov or maybe we don't get out much during the year, but for some reason whenever these days roll around, we all feel the need to pack up the family, grab our matzot and hit the road. It's as if  day-tripping is for Jews on Chol Hamoed the same as it is for Deadheads before a show: its just part of the experience. And we don't just go local, either. It seems like any place you go on Chol Hamoed, you're bound to find other Jews. I remember one Pesach staying overnight in Providence, Rhode Island only to find three Hassidic couples on line for a mansion tour who had driven in from Borough Park just for the day.

Part of this is the cattail phenomenon: we're packed in so tightly like the spores that when we venture, en masse, into the world outside, our numbers are startling. Some of it is also because of the age old "don't want to see other Jews" paradox: I am a Jew traveling because of the holday, but I'm bothered by seeing others like me doing the same. The funny thing is, that kind of Jew-avoidance does not just drive people's recration plans, it also underlies much of the way we interact when we get there. At a typical amusement park, for instance, you'll find all flavors of Jews: Modern Orthodox, Hassidic, Yeshivish, non-Orthodox, Sefardic, Lubavitch, and Other (Pacific Islander?). But rather than melting pots of Jewish unity, these sites are more often scenes of avoidance and Jewish judgementalism.

Of course, each denomination is judgmental in its own way. Some mutter under thier breaths (correctly, in my opinion) about how others cut lines or "make chillul Hashem," while others question another group's hechsherim (kashrut symbols). And they all comment about another groups' clothes. The one thing, however, that these groups hardly do is interact.

Next Year in Jerusalem

As I was observing that divide this year I was reminded of a moving experience I had while I was learning in yeshiva in Israel. Every Pesach and Sukkot thousands of Jews flock to the Kotel to pray together and commemorate the holiday pilgrimages in the days of the Temples. On those days I would go the Old City of Yerushalayim and just be. I would walk around, perch on some lookout, or just sit. And be with Jews. It was an incredible feeling, Jews from everywhere in the world coming together to one spot, just like they had two thousand years before. I felt like I was in the center of the universe.

The truth is, I was probably a bit naive back then: just because all those people were going to the same place that doesn't mean that they'd go have coffee together, or even talk to each other on that day, when they were together anyway. Still, that makes me wonder: we are promised from the Prophets and on that one day all Jews will come together and accept Hashem as our King. But could that happen? From where I'm standing that looks rather improbable. If we can't manage an afternoon together at Great Adventure, can we do eternity?

Maybe that's part of the wonder of the "Days to Come": that things will come together in a way that was previously unimaginable. I guess this is one of those situations where we just throw up our hands and say, "It will happen when Mashiach comes." This time, though, I think I'm actually trying to believe it.