The fifth son doesn’t even have the Seder marked on his calendar

“And it will be when your children say to you, ‘What is this service to you?’” (Shemos 12:26)

This is the wicked son’s question during Leil Haseder. The rasha refuses to recognize the Seder’s ceremony as Divinely ordained. Yet despite the nature and t

enor of his words, he still attends the Seder and interacts with his family — a major step in the direction of connection. (Rabbi A. L. Scheinbaum, Peninim al HaTorah)

Sometimes it seems like a stroke of luck puts you in a situation at a certain time. I was waiting to check in for my flight home from JFK last winter. A massive snowstorm was scheduled to hit New York, so crowds were attempting to fly standby to beat the blizzard.

I’d already printed my boarding passes and was just davening that my suitcase wasn’t overweight. Yet my preflight preparations didn’t speed up the process, as the clerk kept clicking away at her keyboard.

Finally, she looked up, a lacquered smile on her brightly painted lips. “I’m sorry, there seems to be a mix-up.”

“With the surge in standbys, your seat was mistakenly reassigned.”

Excuse me?

“Not to worry.” She seemed impervious to my impatience. “I’ve upgraded you to business class. You’re a frequent flyer and we’re sorry for this inconvenience.”

My previous mood did a quick and hasty adjustment jig. “Not to worry,” I echoed her. “Business class is never an inconvenience.”

The questions of the four sons offer much material for homiletic exposition. Harav Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, suggests that the four sons represent the four generations of the American experience.

The wise son represents our European roots, the generation who immigrated with their European garb and tradition still intact. But in their naiveté, they didn’t guard against the spiritual vacuum of America.

Their children, raised in the “melting pot,” felt above the old-timers. Similar to the ben rasha, they resented their roots and tried to assimilate, distancing themselves from the shtetl.

Their children, the third generation, were confused. Zeidy made Kiddush, while Daddy denied knowledge of the Hebrew alphabet. At a loss for why his parents and grandparents seem diametrically opposed, this child simply asks, “Mah zos — what’s going on?”

It’s no wonder that his son, the fourth generation, doesn’t even know what to ask of his anti-religious grandfather and agnostic father. This is America of today.

As I settled into my wide seat, I almost purred. I should schedule all future flights before blizzards. My seatmate extended one perfectly manicured hand over the distance between our seats, “Hi, my name’s Melissa. I’m visiting Israel.”

“First time?” I asked.

“Actually no.” She gave a well-bred laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but my daughter became Israeli. My mother pushed her to take a Birthright trip after graduating university and,” she paused and graciously accepted a flute of wine from a passing attendant, “well, she fell in love with the land and now lives in Haifa.”

As we chatted away over the next 12 luxury-ensconced hours, Melissa and I became fast friends. She had a need to know more about the land and the people who’d pulled her daughter so far away. “I scarcely know anything about Judaism,” she confided, “although my mother’s thrilled my husband’s Jewish. But now my daughter’s engaged to a hayal!”

But the story gets worse: There’s now a fifth child who doesn’t even know the festival of Pesach exists. Judaism isn’t even relevant to him. The wicked son may have serious religious issues, but he shows up at the Seder. The fifth son doesn’t even have it marked on his calendar. We must seek out this child before it’s too late.

Upon landing, we exchanged contact info and parted with warm feelings, way more than could be chalked up to wider seats and comfy cushions. We’ve talked a few times. It doesn’t seem like much. But I tell myself not to devalue the power of connection. It may make all the difference in the final destination.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 727)