If the Devil Had Menopause has generally stayed out of religious waters.

The Devil prefers lighter fare—entertaining, educating, and the occasional unsolicited opinion.

Religion, to me, is personal. You can follow it devoutly, loosely, culturally, or not at all.

Entire wars, mountains of bodies, all in the name of God, which feels like a branding problem of biblical proportions.

And yet, here we are again. Passover and Easter arrive this week. The world is on fire—particularly in the Middle East—and instead of plagues or resurrection, I find myself thinking about pivots, possibly because March Madness has rewired my brain into bracketology and upsets.

Which brings me to Mordecai M. Kaplan, a Lithuanian-born rabbi, founder of Reconstructionist Judaism, and, frankly, a disruptor before disruption required a hoodie and a TED Talk.

Kaplan believed religion had to evolve to survive. He did not see God as a supernatural puppet master pulling cosmic strings. He saw something far less convenient, an internal moral force pushing us to do better.

Less miracles. More accountability.

For some, that was heresy.

For me, it feels…necessary because eventually, old frameworks crack. Belief gives way to behavior and you realize like a brutal game of Marco Polo no one is coming to save you.

You’re it.

Which is why this moment feels so… off.

The louder faith gets proclaimed, especially by those in power and their ever-reliable evangelical echo chamber the less it resembles anything sacred.

When belief aligns with power instead of responsibility, it stops looking like faith and starts looking like marketing.

Kaplan paid for saying as much. He rewrote prayers, introduced the first bat mitzvah for his daughter, reshaped the Haggadah and got himself excommunicated. Systems, as it turns out, don’t love being updated from within.

This year, I am less interested in getting the words right and more interested in getting the meaning right.

The Passover question asks: Why is this night different from all other nights?

Maybe because it is time.

Time to trade doctrine for decency.

Ritual for responsibility.

Certainty for kindness.

To love in the name of religion instead of using it as an excuse for division which, historically, has not been our strong suit.

So wherever you land, Passover, Easter, both, neither or a different deity entirely, here is a modest proposal.

Try a little more humanity.

A little more patience, understanding and compassion.

And maybe—just maybe—we all get along.

Wishing you peace, kindness, and a shared sense that we might still figure this out… together.