It's axiomatic that nobody's really from New York: this
is the place we come to escape the places where people just don't get us, or
are actively out to get us. But when we break free of the ties that bind, sometimes
we also lose the cords that tether, those traditions that link us to other people,
that remind us that our times are not the only times, our lives not the only
lives. It's a matter of ballast--we've
got to find traditions that fit who we're becoming as well as who we were, that
let us both soar and glide.
Later today I'll celebrate Easter with a couple
of lesbian pastors in a 150-year-old church
in Greenpoint, and earlier this week I was privileged to attend my first Passover
service, in which a large, unruly family alternated between Haggadahs to find
the right balance between history and modernity. On the table was a Haggadah
by the amazing Arthur
Szyk, anti-Nazi cartoonist
emigre, who celebrated
his adopted country without ever forgetting his history.
So here's to tradition: Next year in Brooklyn!
Easter Egg Slideshow)
photo credit: erica harris