NEW YORK — At last! The long-established, but until now little-recognized, syndrome that afflicts Jewish women is finally getting the attention it deserves.
The illness, known at Post-Purim Blues, shares some symptoms with Post-Partum Blues, the depression that some mothers experience after the birth of their baby. With help from friends, relatives and professionals, those afflicted with either problem generally overcome the ailment in a short period of time.
So serious is the after-Purim anxiety that it’s the subject of a scheduled conference of international medical, psychological and social work experts. Due to be held in Tel Aviv this month, the event has been postponed indefinitely due to the spread of the coronavirus. The postponement, said Dr. A.B. Gezunt, Israeli psychiatrist,who is to lead the conference,”will probably amplify the anxiety felt by some of the syndrome sufferers.”
He added that Post-Purim syndrome was “only the first half of a multiple disorder, with the more serous, sinister other half, Pre-Pesach Depression.”
Meanwhile, President Trump, once he was made aware that his daughter Ivanka, a convert to Judaism, was experiencing symptoms of the malady, launched an emergency investigation into the problem. He said he expected a vaccine would be developed “within two seders.” He added, “Crooked Hillary and Obama never even took up the subject.”
(In an unrelated development, Mr. Trump allowed himself to be tested for the coronavirus, and , according to the official results, he said: “The President is entirely negative. There is nothing positive about him.”)
Post-partum blues is a relatively well-known mood disorder that temporarily affects women after they’ve given birth. Instead of anticipated euphoria, the new mothers experience depression.
Similarly, women who suffer from post-Purim blues may have been euphoric about celebrating that holiday. But once the last hamantash is eaten, the (posssly ill-fitting) Queen Esther costume put away, the grogger blotting out Haman’s name silenced, the mood switches to anxiety about the forthcoming Pesach holiday.
“Four questions?” she may ask rhetorically. “I’ve got dozens!”
“Do we celebrate the seders in our shul, or do we host them? And if we decide to host them, how many and whom do we invite? Do we ask the eccentric uncle to come, the geezer who starts asking “when do we eat?” right after the first cup of wine?
“What about the sisters, both close relatives of ours, who don’t speak to each other?.Which grandchild or niece or nephew do we ask to say the Fear Kashes (Four Questions)? What do I serve, when one cousin doesn’t eat meat, and another won’t eat chicken? Should I serve both red and white horseradish?
“It would be nice to have the same Haggadah edition for all, but which of the dozen different ones should we duplicate?”
One socially acceptable way out is to attend seders one’s shul is offering. That resolves the big questions, but still leaves the gigantic task of making the house or apartment Pesachdik, Perhaps bringing the Passover dishes and cutlery from the basement or attic, and buying enough (usually overpriced) okay-for-Passover food to last the eight days of the holiday.
The pre-Pesach blues are also contagious. The youngsters get a kick out of searching with grandpa for chometz (unleavened items, taboo for Pesach). But many of the other chores are no great pleasure for husband and grown kids, such as bringing in Passover dishes and silverware –very possibly accumulated from many varied households of elders. Eating and other restrictions aren’t necessarily popular with some family members, etc., etc.
But once the holiday is over, the syndrome recedes and then vanishes. Not that they become “matzah-kists,” people who enjoy unleavened bread all year round.
But say the seders went off perfectly; the kids who did the Four Questions in Hebrew and English were great; the singing of the whole group was inspiring; the discussions, religious and even political, were interesting and civil.
The hunt for the afikomen was fun for everyone, and even the eccentric uncle behaved himself, keeping his plea for food later and more subdued than usual.
Still, there was mixed reaction when another uncle told a Pesach-related story: “A Jewish husband announced to his wife that because everything had been going wrong in their lives, they’re not going to be Jewish anymore She agrees. But after a period of time, he has another announcement. ‘Nothing got any better in our lives. So we’re going back to being Jewish.’ Says the usually compliant wife: ‘You couldn’t wait until after Pesach?'”
For some, that’s a joke, but for many a syndrome-sufferer, it’s an illustrative anecdote and true, so very true.
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Readers unfamiliar with Joel H. Cohen’s “Just Kidding” columns are assured they are satire and should not be taken seriously.