Every element on the table was deeply symbolic, from the bitter herbs (horseradish, a reminder of the bitterness of slavery) to the candles (below left, one made on their trip to Israel, the other they made from beeswax) to my favorite, an orange. Once, a man declared that a woman belongs in the role of preacher every bit as much as an orange belongs on a seder plate. Hence, the new tradition!
One of the things that stood apart was that, in the midst of this very traditional meal, my friends kept it both reverent and fun. There was laughter, singing, and a few readings tucked in-between that conjured challenge, conviction, and truth delivered in a bemusing and sometimes appropriately subversive way. I loved it!
Sheila and I (left) and friends from around my table, Emily, Sarah and Morgan (right).
I'm so grateful to have shared in this tradition in a home so full of hospitality. Happy Pesach!
