Passover in Oz
Apr 6th, 2009 by Roxana
If there’s something I’m not good at is on being part of a group. Anything that involves more than three people, singing and smiling, turns me into Melvin Udall.
That’s why I enjoy spending Passover back home, where my dad reads a very short version of the Haggadah and where the gefilte fish doesn’t taste like cat food. And yes, I leave the post-traumatic Chippewa Camp syndrome behind and even enjoy asking the four questions:
Spending Passover far from home is like hanging out with the Wicked Witch of the West: in the end, there’s no place like home, where the ceremony is short and painless.
After all, more important than how many songs we sing, and how long we take telling the story, is to remember why we celebrate Passover. And there’s where I get my dad’s Martin Luther King inspired speeches: Passover is about freedom, so why would we spend it doing things that we dislike?
