In my heart I hold a memory. It Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and a glorious new Autumn season. Friends have gathered in our home to perform the tashlich, an ancient ceremony in which one casts stones into a body of water to symbolize the removal of misdeeds and regrets from our bodies and souls. It is a gesture which says, "a new season has come, a new beginning, and we are ready to let go."

I confess. I love meaningful ritual. I look forward to Passover seder with the same core group of people every year, reading the same liturgy, eating the same food. I don't regard this as spiritually stultifying, I see it as connecting me with eons of people and families around the world who recognize these nights as special and sacred. The Passover ritual, like all rituals, grew from a story -- in this case the story of the Israelites slavery and exodus and eventual entry into the Promised Land.

Purim has always been one of my favorite holidays, because it celebrates the story of Esther, one of the few women in the Torah who is widely remembered.