This is my first Passover away from home. As a freshman, I’ve taken part in activities that have helped me feel more at home. I’ve continued to embrace my Jewish identity by joining Oregon Hillel and Chabad House, where I’ve met other Jews. I’ve appreciated the warm welcome both groups have extended and the activities organized in order to build community.
Last Wednesday was the first night of Passover, the Jewish holiday that celebrates the freedom of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. In an attempt to commemorate the rush our ancestors were in as they fled Egypt, we eat what they ate – unleavened bread called matzah. They were in such a hurry to escape that they didn’t have time to wait for their bread to rise. Avoiding foods that contain wheat, flour or yeast always proves itself difficult; however, it is doable. Usually.
Upon the arrival of Passover this year, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know some colleges have a Passover option in their dining halls. This actually says a lot about the college. It says, “We acknowledge it’s a Jewish holiday, and we took the time to create an alternative option.” This does not go unnoticed. I would have appreciated this gesture very much. Unfortunately, no such act occurred. In fact, very much the opposite.
Scene: A Jewish friend and I are standing at Carson’s brunch Sunday morning. We’re drooling over the assortment of cakes and muffins on the center table. We’re unsure of what one dish is composed of, so we ask a Carson staff person. She informs us it contains flour. Tired of suffering in silence, we ask if they thought to add a Passover option to their menu. The staff woman sends out her boss. When we inform her that it’s Passover and we’re hoping maybe at the very least they could set out a box of matzah, she replies that this isn’t her job. She does comment, however, that the Grab n’ Go is carrying matzah, and if we want a kosher option for Passover, we should go there. The funny part? Grab n’ Go is not carrying matzah. We looked the entire week before in the hopes of stocking up. We relay this to the woman at Carson, who argues and then proceeds to call up Grab n’ Go to verify. Minutes later, she returns and musters up a meager apology on behalf of her colleague. You know, the colleague who she said “forgot” to pick up matzah like she was supposed to. By the time this woman realized her mistake, the supermarkets were sold out.
There are several things wrong with this scenario. Why should my friend and I feel like freaks because we’re sentenced to more salads than any person should have to eat in eight days? Especially when it could have been prevented. I’d have more respect for a kitchen staff that bothered to prepare for holidays.
All I ask is that the kitchen staff, or any higher authority who reads this, is to realize something needs to be done. It’s too late for this year, but make a change for next year. Oh, and word to the wise: When a student asks why there’s no matzah available on campus, do not answer anything along the lines of “That’s really not high on my to-do list.” It will only infuriate students further. And rightfully so.

Talia Schmidt is a freshman at the University