08 Apr SECRET SEDER

It was a week before Pesach, and my twelve-
year-old granddaughter was in a class play.

No matter how busy a bubby is, there is
always time for a school performance. What I
didn’t plan on, was walking away with more
than just a small dose of inspiration.
The play depicted the difficulties and struggles
that the Marrano community endured while
trying to observe Pesach. A mitzva they
tenaciously held on to.
It took us back in time to the days of the
Spanish Inquisition. Spain was under the rule
of Ferdinand and Isabella, heartless, religious
zealots. They became known as the Catholic
Monarchs. In 1492, they ordered all Jews to
convert to Christianity or be expelled from the
country. Those who chose to leave were not
permitted to take any gold, silver, or money
with them. For all intents and purposes, they
left with not much more than the shirts on
their backs. Three-hundred-thousand Spanish
Jews left everything behind, and with great
faith and courage were ready to start life anew.
A life where they could remain true to their
G-d and their beliefs.
Of those who remained, sadly, some became

Conversos – “new Christians”, converts to
Christianity, under pressure from the
Inquisition. But even they were not guaranteed
safety. Many were accused of not being truly
loyal to the church, and were thrown into
dungeons or burned at the stake.
Many others became Marranos, Jews living a
double life. Outwardly, they accepted
Christianity, looking and living the part.
However, behind the closed doors and the
shuttered windows of their homes, they lived
as Jews. They studied Torah, observed
Shabbos, had kosher homes, and exerted
extraordinary efforts to keep as many of the
mitzvos as possible.
The term Marrano means pig in Spanish.
Some say it was used as a derogatory name
against the Jews. Others explain that the
Jewish converts’ fidelity to the church was
tested through a pig. A Christian neighbor
would extend an invite to the new converts for
an Easter dinner where ham was customarily
served. If the Marrano declined the offer to
partake in the ham dish, he would be reported
to the Inquisition, where he would face terrible
torture or being burned at the stake.
In Hebrew, the Marranos are called Anusim,
meaning coerced, for they were tragically
forced into a difficult situation.

Through drama, song and dance,
my granddaughter and her
classmates re-enacted the anxiety
and fear that the Anusim lived with,
day-in, day-out. Just going to the
marketplace before Pesach was a
cause of concern. Would they be
discovered if they purchased extra
vegetables for yom tov? Wherever
they went, whatever they did, they
were always looking over their
shoulders.
For the Anusim, Pesach was a yom
tov for which they made extra
efforts to observe properly. They
held clandestine Seders in dark
basements, with only the yom tov
candles to give them light. They
recited the words of the Haggada with
trepidation, always fearing an Inquisitor
knocking at the door.
The life of the Anusim intrigued me. I came
home and searched for stories of courage and
strength during those tragic times.
Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Virga, a prominent Spanish
historian and author during the time of the
Inquisition, wrote about the life of the Anusim.
He was a Marrano, who led the community
with great mesiras nefesh. He personally
witnessed numerous persecutions, including
the Lisbon massacre in 1506. (The
Inquisition had spread to include Portugal).
He wrote, “The Anusim have underground
shuls, deep beneath their houses, and serve
HaShem with heart and soul… they keep the
halachos of Pesach.”
I read the story of Moshe Aprengi, a
Converso, whose father made a last request
on his deathbed. He asked that Moshe return
to the faith of his people. Moshe wandered
from city to city, looking for a sign, a
message that will help him return. On the
fourteenth of Nisan, Erev Pesach, he arrived
to the city of Tulitula. He made his way to
the market. Upon observing a housekeeper
purchasing a large amount of vegetables, he
took it as a sign that she will lead him to a
Jewish home.
Moshe followed the housekeeper and saw
her enter a large, well-built home. He
knocked on the door, again and again,
begging to be let in. After many attempts, the
door opened. “Please let me in. I have
something of importance to share with the
master of the home.”
Moshe was escorted in, and upon meeting
the homeowner, revealed that he was Jewish.
He asked to join the family for Pesach. Out
of fear, the homeowner, a wealthy Marrano
businessman, denied being Jewish.
“Please, listen to me”, Moshe pleaded, “Let
me join you. My father’s last request was
that I find my way back home, back to my
Jewish roots.” The pintele yid is always
there. It yearns to return.

Still afraid to trust him, the man remained
silent. Moshe tried one more time. “If you let
me join you for the Seder, all will be good. If
not, I will reveal both your true identity and
mine to the Inquisition. We will both die in
their hands.”
The owner finally acquiesced. Moshe was to
join the family for Pesach. But one question
remained. The homeowner asked Moshe,
“How did you know that I was Jewish?” To
which Moshe replied, “The vegetables gave
you away.”
After the play, I was speaking to my
machateiniste, (yes, both bubbys were there).
We agreed that we were both walking away
inspired.
We thought about Pesach of the Anusim and
the Pesach we are fortunate to observe. Yes,
Pesach can be stressful. For those staying
home, there is the cleaning, cooking, hosting.
And, for those going away, that too can come
with stress. Shopping, packing, travelling, the
pressure of being on a hotel or someone else’s
schedule. Additionally, at times, when
extended family gathers, there are “ouch
moments”. Little things that can add up and
rattle nerves.
Boruch HaShem, we are fortunate that we can
make Pesach in freedom. We can sit down to a
Seder in a beautiful, well-lit room. We can
sing the songs of the Haggada to our hearts
delight, and not be afraid of a knock on the
door.
As we sit with our families this Seder night,
it’s important to keep things in perspective.
It’s time to let go of the stress. As my mother
a”h would say, “You don’t have to hear
everything, you don’t have to see everything.”
Let’s remember that history has not always
been so kind to our people. From the secret
Seders of the Anusim, to hidden Seders in
Communist Russia, in Nazi Germany and in
Arab countries, Jews have always risked their
lives to observe Pesach.
L’Shana Ha’ba’ah B’Yerushalayim. May we
be zoche to observe Pesach next year in
Yerushalayim.