Bread of liberation
Apr. 13th, 2025 02:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adrian_turtleLast night, the three of us had a tiny little seder that used up every spoon in the apartment. It was good. I love celebrating holidays with Redbird and Cattitude. I like the patchwork haggadah, even though I always seem to spend the day before the seder putting it together, where "together" means only a cover sheet saying things like "2p urchatz readings" or "Gates of Freedom p.18-20" or "Angels of Bread" and a stack of printouts hopefully in the right order.
I like being able to celebrate Passover in a way that feels right to me. I love both a non-Jew and a thoroughly non-religious Jew, and I study with people who are awfully frum. Finding the right balance has been very peculiar indeed. Discussing it with Andy who knew so very little about Passover observance made it clearer to me what I cared about and why. (Rice and beans for lunch? No thanks, I don't eat kitniyot. Margarine? I respect that some people care but I do not.) I used to think about whether anyone else would be willing to eat from my kitchen...since Covid, I know that nobody will, and that makes me sad.
I resent that Covid stops me from being hospitable. "Let all who are hungry, come and eat!" Last week I learned of a lonely person who wants a seder to go to, and didn't feel safe inviting them to join us in this home where we don't let people in without masking. Not even a stranger, but someone I like. Yet another way Covid makes me sad. Immune disorders make me sad. Lack of public health makes me sad. Part of our patchwork haggadah is from HIAS, and I think that's the part that urged us to overcome our fears when we open the doors, to let everyone in.
I like being able to celebrate Passover in a way that feels right to me. I love both a non-Jew and a thoroughly non-religious Jew, and I study with people who are awfully frum. Finding the right balance has been very peculiar indeed. Discussing it with Andy who knew so very little about Passover observance made it clearer to me what I cared about and why. (Rice and beans for lunch? No thanks, I don't eat kitniyot. Margarine? I respect that some people care but I do not.) I used to think about whether anyone else would be willing to eat from my kitchen...since Covid, I know that nobody will, and that makes me sad.
I resent that Covid stops me from being hospitable. "Let all who are hungry, come and eat!" Last week I learned of a lonely person who wants a seder to go to, and didn't feel safe inviting them to join us in this home where we don't let people in without masking. Not even a stranger, but someone I like. Yet another way Covid makes me sad. Immune disorders make me sad. Lack of public health makes me sad. Part of our patchwork haggadah is from HIAS, and I think that's the part that urged us to overcome our fears when we open the doors, to let everyone in.
