Whether under some illusion of tribal invincibility, or perhaps simply obtuse to the realities around them, it doesn’t require any special clairvoyance to realize that the world is burning and too many American Jews are standing around fiddling with violins — and I mean the bouncy, and not mournful kind.

Another year lacking in levity, and soon another unleavened Passover will be behind us, too. The calendar has become a cruel joke of anti-climactic moments. Three years ago, Passover coincided with the early days of a pandemic. Millenia later, a new plague had made a laughingstock out of locusts. This modern-day outbreak was especially harsh. The Angel of Death visited not first-born Egyptians, but people of all religions and nationalities, especially the elderly and those with co-morbidities and pulmonary problems. The bread of affliction became an omen of far more severe deprivations. (Ironically, there was a matzo shortage.)