To whom or what am I a slave?
The question is on my mind as I clean for Passover. The evidence lies before me, in trails of crumbs.
There is chometz by the computer. What is a slave, if not someone who cannot rise from her task long enough to eat a meal? Is that addiction to work, or addiction to mindless wandering on the Internet? Addiction to netflix or addiction to facebook? Make a note and find out.
There is chometz in the car. Again, I could not stop to eat like a civilized free person?
My addictions/slaveries are writ large on the kitchen shelves: I buy processed food for “convenience” but the question is, does it nourish? Some does, some does not. A free person would have the time to find out. That is, if she were truly free from her addiction to the tastes of processing: sugar, salt, and who knows what unearthly thing from the likes of ADM.
Then there is the source of all this bounty I am pondering: where did my food come from this year? Did I enslave anyone, or benefit from their slavery? Did the crunch in my salad come cheap because someone else was in chains?
Passover is about the passage from slavery to freedom. The question is, Will I make that passage to genuine freedom? And whom shall I bring with me?