It must be...

A long time ago, in the magical decade known as the 90's, my then future hubby and I had a talk about the way things might be were we to come to a more permanent arrangement. At this point, we completely dropped the pretense that our relationship was a fling, the word "love" had been uttered in moments of both high emotion (ahem, it was college) and calm. At this point we both knew, as Ming Ming the Duck might say:

One of the things my hubby wanted was a kosher home. Sure, I thought. Not such a big deal not to have cheese on everything and hey, if I only ate bacon outside the house, that would be a good way to limit at least one really unhealthy food I liked. But there's kosher and then there's Passover kosher.

I loathe Passover.

There, I've said it.

OK, I don't hate the holiday itself. And a lot of the food is good. But the whole house, especially the kitchen, needs deep cleaning. The daily meat and dairy dishes need to be swapped out for special ones that have never touched chamtez (leavened bread) or stuff that's even chametz like. Besides the regular rules, there's no bread, no corn, nothing made on machinery that might have touched bread or corn (we even have to get new salt, pepper, sugar and oils because of that). No pasta except for stuff made from matzoh meal. But most of all, there's no beans and no rice.

NO RICE. AT ALL. FOR ANY MEAL.

Even people on hard core no-gluten diets get rice! Why can't I have rice? There's no leavening in rice. Rice is just sitting there, minding it's own business, being a beloved staple of many different world cuisines...except ancient Hebrew! I'm sure Moses didn't even know rice existed. Why is it on the banned list?!?!? It's not on the no list for Sephardic Jews. Why can't be be Sephardic instead of Askenzai for week? They get to have rice and I'm sure I have ancestors from Spain (that's what my mom says).

One of the worst fights my hubby and I ever had was just before Passover. I spent the day cleaning with little children underfoot and he suggested we go out to eat so as not to have to redo any of the work I already got done. I said, terrific, where to? He suggested a Brazilian steak house.

A BRAZILIAN STEAK HOUSE?!?!?! I'm going to have to eat pretty much like I'm on the Atkins diet for a week, spent all day cleaning while trying to keep an eye on small children and you want all you can eat steak?!?!?!

Yes, we resolved things (we went for Italian instead and I went nuts on the garlic bread) but my loathing of the holiday continues to this day.

This year we had an out of town wedding to go to. The weekend right before Passover. And Passover starts on a Monday. Did I mention the wedding was for his side of the family? (My side would have no clue when Passover starts, nor would they need to, but his side????)

Yeah, I went. I'm actually very fond of the groom and his family. His new bride is a sweetie! And I really like weddings too. I had a great time reconnecting with family I don't normally get to see. Yeah, I've switched out the dishes, packed up the chametz, and won't eat any questionable food in the house (outside the house is another matter; who wants to join me for a sushi lunch that week?) and support my husband's traditions and beliefs. Because in the end, he does support mine, even if he doesn't get them all the time. He loves me. And I love him.

But I don't love Passover. So there.

Elders in Odd Places

So I got inspired by a blog post from the fabulous Magaly who in turn was inspired by an equally fabulous post from fellow Stew Chef, Adelina. I could go on (and on and on) about how certain experiences I've had in the Pagan community were a big let down for me and how jaded I've become at the idea of Pagans holding hands and singing Kumbaya (at least at the idea of it happening for more than a minute without some
sort of in-fighting breaking out). But I do try not to dwell on those things. In fact, I really, really was drawn to this idea in Adelina's post: do not convince yourself that the Elders you meet who will teach you about your Craft will only be those who practice your Craft. It made me look back at some elders who made a big impact on how I follow my path today who are definitely not Pagan.

First, there was this wonderful priest in the Catholic parish I grew up in. He was a bit unusual for a priest in that he had been married first and after his wife passed away, he took up the priesthood. I rather liked the idea of that at the time; I thought someday I might do the same - marry first and when my husband died become a nun. That idea definitely fell by the wayside (I'd make a horrid nun for one, plus I've found you can lead a very spiritual life while being part of a couple and a parent - though it's certainly more challenging this way) but one thing that stuck was that priest's joy in his path. It formed the seed for my later thought process that spirituality must contain joy, otherwise what was the point of it all?

Second, there was a sweet older woman who was a seasoned lay Eucharistic minister when I first became one. Her belief that magic was an essential part and parcel of this world was infectious. Now, she saw it a bit differently than I've come to see it - she felt that the Magi kneeling before the infant Jesus was an allegory for the idea that magic exists but ultimately kneels to Jesus - but to find a normal adult who felt that magic existed, well, that was a big revelation and inspiration to me.

Thirdly, speaking of revelations, I need to acknowledge the Catholic school teacher who said the fateful words that got me started on this path, "Our Mother Who Art In Heaven".  The idea to question what was traditionally thought of as holy, to rethink assumptions about the nature of Deity - it was nurtured and encouraged in that Catholic school classroom first.

Fourthly, and most recently, I was inspired by the previous rabbi at the Reform Jewish congregation my husband and I belong to. The rabbi never tried to convert me (though he admittedly was quite glad my kids were getting a Jewish education) and, like the priest at that Catholic parish I grew up in, seemed to really embody the idea of joy in his path. He also planted the idea of taking a disciplined approach to observances. If some observance wasn't useful or helpful in my desire to reach a spiritual goal, discard it. But if it added meaning, by all means, keep it close.

Last is my oldest and dearest inspiration, my father. My dad often would talk to me seriously about spiritual things. I learned about compassion, justice and critical thinking while growing up. There are quite a few fine details of faith we disagree on. But, when my dad waxed poetic about the beauty he finds in nature a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded that we still have some things in common after all.

My song for this post was a no-brainer. One of my favorite saints was St Francis of Assisi. I especially loved the hymns made from his writings. They were one of the first I committed to memory. The following hymn, sung by Sinead O'Connor, was always one of my favorites. Even though there are several lines in it that really don't work for me, I still find it comforting to listen to from time to time, and yes, I draw inspiration from it as well.