I was in the Stop & Shop line yesterday with my last minute purchase of matzo meal. Didn’t want to risk running out in the middle of making matzo balls. I do make a fine vegetarian matzo ball soup, incase you were curious. A pleasant looking middle aged woman in front of me was buying several sprays of pretty little roses. Making conversation, I asked her what was the occasion.

Here’s where it gets tricky. She cheerily responded: We have a little gathering each year to mark the exact moment when Our Savior was killed, and this year, I am in charge of the flowers.

My heart skipped a beat. Just one. I passed over the what-the-hell reaction and moved onto saying that I thought it was a lovely color choice. So…. how in the world can someone know what TIME Jesus died. I mean, who was watching the clock, whatclock, what time zone, on whose word are we going, here? My logical brain said, this is insane. But my kinder brain goes to, well, this is about faith, and who can mess with someone else’s faith?

I admit that all God-stuff or Goddess-stuff confuses me. It doesn’t make sense. I know that most people do believe in something godly but I can’t wrap my brain around it. I do, however, believe (pardon the use of the word) that the puny human brain isn’t built to understand things like this. I am a firm agnostic.  I’ve got myself a comfortable seat-on-the-fence and stay there.

I think it is one of those times when reality doesn’t apply. My Aunt Mary, who was the highest spiritual being I have known, appears to me every once in a while in a meditation or a dream or just an image in my mind when I am walking down the street. She is usually very vivid. She died a dozen years ago, but she continues to come to me with loving support and insights. I have this little discussion with myself: Is this really Aunt Mary come to me in spirit form or is it just a wonderfully clear bit of imagination?

Bottom line: It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if Mary is “really” here or not. Her spirit, in the metaphoric sense, is here and I am always so very happy and blessed to feel her near. Faith is like that. Reality doesn’t apply. Logic doesn’t apply. What you believe is personal, private, and if it works for you, that is all that matters. I am side-stepping people who use faith as a weapon, us vs. them crap. Just sticking with the good parts of faith and religion, the parts that support you in being the best person you can be, and offer comfort and strength when your load is too hard to carry alone.

If pale pink roses work for you, go for it. I bought a mixed flower bouquet for my Passover table.