This year I am observing a Treyf Pesach.
Help me sweep the chometz back into the house, for we need to get dirty.
Help me replace the wine with whiskey, lots of it, so we can forget the horror.
Once we were slaves, and now we are slaves again.
Instead of matzo symbolizing the haste in which we fled slavery, stack up slices of white bread, any kind of leavened bread because now Pharaoh Bibi holds our people in thrall.
Chop up the apples and nuts to represent all the Palestinian houses blown up.
Eat the bitter herbs to remember how the beauty of our culture has been infused with hate.
Slap down a pork chop rib to remember how all of the hopes and dreams of freedom have turned ugly, have turned to blood, have become a vile joke.
Eat the slimy kale to recall all the olive trees torn out of the ground.
Dip the leafy slime into the salt water to cry over how young kids lording over old men at checkpoints.
Eat the horseradish to recall the bitterness of lies in our name. Shove spoonfuls of horseradish down each other's throats so we can never forget what we have done.
Put the egg in the center to recall that once we were a people rich with variety and joy and now we are a cartoon of ourselves -- but even then spring will come, maybe, if the warming earth allows.
Why is this night different from all other nights? It's not, it's the same old story of using our own pain to cause the pain of others.
The foolish child is the only wise one around. He says, I want to get out of here, I'd rather live in Berlin or LA than stomp on other people and call that democracy.
The wise child is a fool, asking why he can't get lower rent and doesn't notice the bloated settlements.
Let the girls sing the new Dayenu.