Passover is a holiday centered around a few key themes: sacrifice, preparedness, and liberation.
It is a story that features a hero with a disability who finds his courage with the help of his family and his faith, perseveres, and ultimately prevails against tyranny.
It is a story that teaches us to fight oppression with every means we have; it calls upon us to identify personally with the subjugation of others and fight theirs as we would our own.
Last year, we skipped Passover. It was out of an abundance of caution (remember those days?), when Covid hadn't really come to our corner of the US yet but was enough of a threat that we wanted to adhere to that very Jewish-feeling aphorism: better safe than sorry.
We told each other that in 2021, we'd have Passover together.
While that didn't come to pass, the spring of 2021 is starting to look hopeful. As I prepped and planned to host Passover at Scott and Robby's (it would be the first year they'd joined us for this particular holiday), I received a notification that I was eligible to sign up for available appointments for my Covid vaccine.
The vaccination date was Saturday, March 27, the same day I was planning to host our Seder.
I couldn't say no, of course. I booked a morning appointment, and that was how it came to pass that my first step toward liberation from Covid-induced fear, anxiety, isolation, and uncertainty coincided with a holiday that pretty much beats you over the head with the significance of liberation in all forms.
Our Seder went over well. There were only four of us, but I didn't skimp on the cooking. We had all the usual: matzo ball soup, charoset, brisket, and — of course — my flourless chocolate cake.
|Note to self: whip this batter less intensely next year!|
Over all, it was a perfect day, and now I can start to believe that next year things will be back to normal enough that I'll be able to make a trip to Florida to celebrate with my parents and siblings, my nephew, my aunt and uncle, and maybe even my cousins.
I've got my fingers crossed and a sore arm to give me hope.