It’s nearly Passover. First seder is tomorrow night. I’m not remotely ready. I never am. I’ve done some cleaning, emptying deep drawers and scrubbing their bottoms, restocking them with Pesach victuals. My husband is in charge of most of the cooking, by his own choosing. I’m relegated to vegetables, charoset, and the rest of the seder plate.

I decided that I do not want to go page by page through the traditional readings. I just cannot hear myself or anyone else go on about the rabbis in Bnei Brak. Not this year. Maybe not ever again. I’ve chosen some random other readings, including an excruciating meditation on Dayenu by an Israeli woman I follow on whatsapp and instagram. She captures everything I would want to say, only better than I could say it, and from the perspective of someone living in perhaps the narrowest place on earth in this moment. Her........

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