The Promised Land

Even though DEI isn’t a big focus anymore, spring always brings a wave of religious holidays at work. In HR, making sure everyone feels included can be a real challenge.

Religion is always bigger than just what you grew up with. Lunar New Year kicks off in February, bringing travel, family time, and traditions for Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, and other Asian communities. Then comes St. Patrick’s Day, when suddenly everyone in America is eating corned beef and drinking BORGS.

This year, Ramadan happened around the same time. It’s a month where people fast from sunrise to sunset, ending with Eid al-Fitr, a celebration with three days of shared meals and gratitude. Holi, the Hindu festival of colors, also marks the arrival of spring.

Easter comes next, which is the most important Christian holiday. Working in HR, I also learned that Vesak, which happens in May, honors the Buddha’s birth, enlightenment, and death. There’s also Ziyarat al-Nabi Shu’ayb, a Druze pilgrimage where thousands gather near Tiberias, Israel, for prayer and reunion.

I never really felt included anywhere. I was raised like a feral dog and grew up in a mostly secular family where arguments mattered more than traditions. I went to Catholic school for five years, but holidays just meant family members maxed out credit cards buying gifts for people they didn’t seem to like.

When Easter and Passover showed up on the HR calendar, I saw it as a chance to take a vacation from work and life. As I wrote about in my book, I had no energy for anything else.

My Own Version of Inclusion

A few years ago, I started thinking seriously about my values and what dignity and freedom meant to me. I wanted to find a community that shared those beliefs, so I joined a synagogue and made it my spiritual home. Last year, I went to a community Seder on the second night of Passover.

Passover is about remembering the Exodus, the story made famous by that Charlton Heston movie, when Moses led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt after ten plagues, through the sea, and into the desert. The holiday’s name comes from the tenth plague, when God passed over the Israelites’ homes and spared their firstborn.

Passover is called the holiday of freedom, but it’s more than that. After escaping through the Sea of Reeds, the Israelites spent forty years wandering the desert before they were ready to enter Israel.

The Seder meal, held on the first and second nights, tells this story. People eat matzah because there wasn’t time to let the bread rise before leaving Egypt. Sitting together, you realize freedom isn’t just one moment. It’s a process.

Last year, I sat at a table with new friends, two senior community members, their parents, and their children. We ate, sang, and I felt truly welcomed by individuals who just wanted to help me grow.

But I also felt a kind of unexpected grief. The children around me were loved, cared for, and connected to something bigger than themselves. They were learning and growing about history and, also, themselves. I didn’t have that growing up, and I didn’t realize what I missed until I saw it for myself.

I left that Seder feeling both grateful and a little bit in exile. How very Jewish!

The Promised Land

A year has passed, and things are very different. During the past twelve months, I kept returning to the synagogue. I’ve been working to grow personally and figure out how to leave a legacy beyond an optimized LinkedIn profile or quirky podcast. Last night, I returned to the community seder with a guest: a young woman I’m mentoring on her conversion journey.

The ritual was the same, but I am different. I thought about how long it took to get here and felt something new. It’s plain old gratitude. Nothing more. Nothing less.

This morning, a friend sent me a text:

I read that message a few times and thought about you. You deserve more freedom, too.

My Spring Wish For You

We’re all connected because you read my advice about work. Maybe you read my book and something stuck with you. Maybe you listen to my podcast for a different take on HR or the world. Or maybe you lost your job and came here looking for a new role.

Thank you for trusting me. I hear from you often and know that many of your jobs are tough right now. Some are gone for good. Even if you still have a job, it can feel like wandering in the desert, trying to figure out what comes next.

Whatever is dragging you down—whether it’s losing a job, a toxic workplace, old family issues, addiction, or a friendship that no longer helps you—I hope it’s just a temporary detour. The only thing that’s helped me is finding community.

The promised land isn’t a place. It’s a state you keep working toward. The community that helps you get there doesn’t have to be religious, and it probably isn’t made up of the people who brought you this far. You might find it by volunteering, taking a temporary job outside your field, or even going back to school. There are lots of ways to find your people. And if you do, it can truly save your life.

I hope you get some restorative time off for one of these spring holidays. Don’t believe in any of them? I’ve been there. Do better than me. Eat some chocolate and enjoy your PTO. That’s a start towards personal liberation, and you deserve it!

Love,
Laurie