I’m not sure if Jesus had anything to do with planning the dinner menu for the Last Supper, but he was smart to keep it simple when serving the 12 apostles.

What with all the dietary restrictions he was facing around the table — apostles counting calories, having to deal with any food allergies or worrying about gluten-free and vegetarian options — Jesus was sensible to serve just flat bread and wine. It’s just not that filling.

They weren’t even offered a cup of decaf and a piece of sponge or honey cake.

Even a macaroon or a little butter for the unleavened bread would have been nice.

Now as imposing as it must have been to consider the culinary concern of a dozen close friends (OK, make that 11 friends), that’s nothing compared to the menu issues many dinner hosts are forced to deal with during this upcoming holy week for hungry Christians and Jews.

Think appeasing apostles was agonizing?

What about trying to comply with the kosher-for-Passover restrictions of the Jewish guest you invite to Easter dinner?

Conversely, while gentiles might not have to follow strict dietary observances during their holiday, should they have to give up fluffy hot-cross buns for bitter herbs or be denied spreading mayo on matzo when invited to sit at the Seder table?

Don’t even get me started on those Passover wines.

During Lent, Christians give up for weeks something they like.

At Yom Kippur, Jews give up everything they like for one day. Nobody is happy.

This week is different.

It is when friends and family gather in homes and partake in religious rituals thousands of years old.

When the youngest at the Passover Seder table asks why this night is different from all other nights and all get to enjoy many of the same foods that satisfied the taste buds of our ancestors.

I have found over the years that balancing religious devotion with traditional holiday delicacies can be as tricky as parting a sea. Everyone should experience the effects of what eight days of matzo can do to your digestive system.

We all know the story. When Moses led the Jews and, as Cecil B. DeMille reminds us, Edward G. Robinson, out of Egypt, they carried with them in the desert dough that, in their rush, didn’t have time to rise.

To commemorate the Exodus and freedom from bondage, Jews during the Passover holiday eat matzo, a bland, cracker-like flatbread made of flour and water, and refrain from eating bread and other tasty, leavened products. That was then.

Oh, we are still bound, and as a result, pretty binding after eating matzo. It’s just that everything these days can be made from matzo. And so many kinds of matzo: plain, onion, egg, egg and onion, slightly salted, whole wheat, chocolate covered and even gluten-free. With it we make matzo ball soup, matzo cake, matzo brei, matzo pie, matzo pizza, matzo nachos, matzo s’mores. Endless.

On Saturday night, we’ll have at least one of those matzo combinations along with a nice piece of brisket, a spiced fruit and nut spread and that infamous delicacy, gefilte fish, a holiday staple that neither looks nor tastes like any fish that came out of any body of water.

It’s made up of ground, deboned white fish that is more grey than white and formed into balls or patties, usually served with a gelatin-like jelly whose compound has befuddled scientists for decades.

My people call it one of those acquired-taste foods. You may call it something else. I’m not sure why we eat it on Passover, but it just wouldn’t be the holiday without it.

Barry Lewis is a longtime journalist and author who lives with his wife Bonnie in the Town of Neversink. He can be reached at      barrylewisscdemocrat@gmail.com.