As a Jew in the Tufts community, I feel it is my personal responsibility to make all those not blessed with this robust identity aware of a particular phobia that has been affecting so many of their classmates during the past week: chametzophobia.
For all of you who were living under your respective rocks eating bagels and oatmeal, this past week was Passover, the Jewish holiday of physical redemption. Chametz refers to anything containing wheat, barley, oats, rye, spelt, leavened bread and (depending on your strictness) anything that could have potentially touched leavened bread.
It could even apply to any product that could theoretically be ground into flour or similar product, like beans, rice, mustard, tofu, soy, chick peas and icing sugar. Basically, anything could potentially be chametz. That's right, folks. Anything.
You probably know by now that I think in extremes. When I make a decision about something, I'm really not one to turn the other cheek halfway through. This being my first year away from home, I decided I was going to try to completely avoid chametz. To me, this didn't just mean ordering a burger and tossing the bun. This meant eating only food that had been overlooked by a rabbi, off of paper plates, with plastic silverware. I discovered that you can buy Passover-safe napkins.
Paper towels.
Table cloths.
Dishwashing fluid.
The list goes on and on.
If you've recently paid our good friends Carmichael or Dewick a visit, you might have noticed something new: a table with various kosher for Passover foods, including matzo, yogurt, cottage cheese, jams, fruits and the like. Most of the times, there were plastic plates and cutlery near the table. There were only a few things that semi-wigged me out about the setup.
A) People who weren't keeping kosher for Passover, or in many cases, weren't even Jewish, were snagging the super-convenient (and super tasty) yogurts. Come on, guys. Is Hodgdon really that far away? And don't they have a wider variety of yogurts? The yogurts you stole weren't just any old yogurts. They were watched over by a rabbi from start to finish to make sure that the cows weren't milked improperly, and that they couldn't have possibly come into contact with any of the foods mentioned above.
B) Paper cups were always missing. The plastic cups and coffee mugs in the dining hall could have easily contained soymilk or cereal at one point or another. In the least, someone might have dipped a cookie in their glass of milk. Either way, cups can be chametz the same way plates can. I found that the paper cups used in making Belgian waffles were very useful in successfully accomplishing this mission.
There are a slew of other customs that go along with Passover as well that are perfectly fitted to the needs of the obsessive-compulsive. In a room where cooking is to take place, for example, all surfaces that could have potentially touched chametz must be covered or thoroughly cleaned. While this rule lends itself nicely to all the good Jewish boys out there who wouldn't have otherwise cleaned their rooms, someone with OCD can take it to a whole new level. Countertops were sanitized and covered with saran wrap, the stove was scoured, the fridge was taken apart, even light switches and paper towel dispensers needed to be either replaced or sanitized.
Speaking of which: I love sanitizer. At this point in my life, it's probably totally ineffective on me. I've been using hand sanitizer since fourth grade, when it was released under the moniker "waterless soap." I probably have more disinfectant resistant cultures growing on my hands and arms than some urban neighborhoods. I also love all Clorox products, including sanitizing wipes, sprays, detergents and emergency spot treatments. Sure these products' boxes say "not for personal use," but I think that's a load of malarkey. How else am I supposed to get totally sanitized? Baby wipes? Soap? Pish posh.
There's also the issue of "accidentally" semi-leavening matzo by getting it wet. Some people have a custom of not putting anything on matzo - meaning no matzo pizzas, no guacamole or matzo sandwiches, no matzo ball soup. After finding out about this custom, how could I live with myself after accidentally putting charoset (an apple wine mix) on my matzo the first night? What if I eat a piece of matzo and start choking on it? Can I drink some water to wash it down? Obviously the answer to this is yes, but the fact that this thought would even go through my head is outrageous.
Customs are customs, not religious commandments. I could have relished in some tasty matzo lasagna, or matzo soup crackers, or matzo with jam, but having a temporary phobia of anything leavened was enough to keep me away.
The thing that separates this phobia from others, I suppose, is that there is no real consequence to eating leavened bread apart from severe disappointment in oneself. I doubt God will be smiting any chametz-eaters anytime soon. For those of you who swore off chocolate during lent - what was stopping you from eating that Hershey Kiss you found wedged in your recliner? To me, it's about knowing that you can. You made a conscious choice to give something up, and lying to yourself about it would ultimately make you a slave to your desires. Rejoice in your freedom! Eat some matzo.
