Easter: bonnets and bunnies.

After expressing on Facebook last Friday that I wished I was home 'celebrating' Good Friday, it was explained to my by my dear colleague that one doesn't celebrate Good Friday. One observes it. Because Good Friday is the day that Jesus was killed. And one just doesn't celebrate such things. Got it.

I also learned that Easter, marking the day of Jesus' resurrection, is the day we do celebrate. Why we celebrate with eggs and bunnies and bonnets, I'm still not sure I understand in full. Jesus rose from his grave and I, in turn, search for painted eggs in my backyard, donning a large, decorated hat, new baby bunny in tow, eatting jelly beans and chocolate. Hmm. I just don't know that the plight of an egg hunt pays full homage to--oh, ya know--rising from the dead. But I do like the chocolate part and so I'm off to my first ever Easter brunch. Jews for Jesus! [Or at least for wearing fun hats.]

Matzoh and mayhem: the plight of an unleavened Passover pastry.

I am back from the shortest seder I have ever attended. This is the way seders should always have been. I might not have abandoned religion had Passover dinners always been this brief. Growing up, dragged to family members' houses for yearly torture at the dinner table, I used to count the pages in the haggadah, over and over and over again. 'We've gone through 4 pages, there are 77 left,'...'On page 5 now. Only 76, godawful, painstakingly slow pages left to get through.' And so on and so forth. Tonight, the story of the Jews' exodus from Egypt read more like a tabloid than a religous service. I heard 'Moses.' I heard 'Matzoh.' I heard 'wine.' And that was enough for me.

To all of you Jews more religious than myself--well, you're probably still reading about locusts. I'm sorry.

To those of my beloved Goys out there, may you find a chocolate bunny in your easter egg this weekend and may you celebrate the resurrection of Christ in the most fabulous bonnet you can find.

Kisses and unleavened hugs,
Jessie B. R.