freedom from slavery

Last night I went to a Seder for the first time in my fifty years. It’s strange that it’s my first. I’ve certainly been invited to many, especially by Starhawk, but something else always happened to intercede. This was the first Seder that Naomi, who was hosting it, was not spending with her family, as her parents are in Israel. It was an all women’s Seder and as the night went on, it turned out that for almost all of us, the dinner involved some kind of first. For several, it was the first time they’d met a witch. Naomi loves my witchiness, and persists in always introducing me as a Wiccan priestess. Finally I've gotten her to add on that I'm also a priestess of Elvis. That always lightens things up.

One of them, the fashion editor I think, said quite evenly; “Witchcraft seems to be really in style right now.” Well, she should know, it being her job and all to keep up on what’s hot and what’s not. So, it’s finally in style, and better than that, it comes in handy in feeling at home in just about any kind of ritual. All of it made sense to me, the bitter herb, the egg, the wine drinking, and of course, the questioning attitude as part of freeing oneself from slavery. I found myself amidst the Jews explaining to the non-Jews what everything meant. One woman asked me; “Are you sure you aren’t Jewish?” “No, just a witch”, I replied.

Springtime is the perfect time to do a ritual about freeing oneself from slavery, to taste the freshness of new growth flavored with the saltiness of tears. As we sat around the table, with the full moon beaming down thru Naomi's wall of windows, I drank in the beauty of my new friends, and the bittersweet flavor of moving forward, of crossing the desert to a new land.