I LOVE PASSOVER. And while it’s not strictly in our religious heritage, we celebrate it yearly with friends. The meal we prepare is not always possible to perform during the proscribed days (everyone is so busy), and the music is not exactly traditionally keyed (one singer brings a decidedly Motown bass line to the otherwise melodic solemnity), but no matter. It is the traditions of the annual meal that inform me, including, as they do, the ancient questions that are repeated and pondered again. One of those questions only I ask, and ask of no one but myself, as I am reminded of my personal all-time favorite man of faith, and quietly reassure myself that it’s just fine that he was imaginary. Meet him now.
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