NORTHAMPTON – It’s safe to say that Passover this year was like none other in Jewish memory.
Many of Judaism’s rituals and traditions are communal, and few are more so than the Passover seder, a ritual meal where the story of the Jewish people’s liberation from slavery and their exodus from the land of Egypt is retold.
But how do people perform this ancient tradition when we are social distancing, particularly if one is social distancing alone, like myself? This year, I, along with other Jews around the world, turned to the power of videoconferencing.
Although I’ve never been particularly observant, Passover has always been very important to me. Its theme of communal liberation, which is extended to the liberation of all humanity, appeals to me on a deeply personal level, and the seder table is one of the places where I’ve felt closest to God.
Since I was a small child, my family has celebrated Passover with the Engelmans, a mixed-faith family like my own in upstate New York. Over the years, a community has developed around the seder the Engelmans hold in Bainbridge, New York, with people coming from as far away as Massachusetts and Connecticut to participate.
This year, the Engelmans chose to do their seder via Zoom. Before they did so, they asked for the addresses of those participating so they could send them boxes of supplies. Included was the latest copy of the Haggadah used by Ed, the father in the Engelman household; the Jewish text has grown and evolved over the decades that the family has held their seder.
Doing the seder over Zoom meant that I had to put together my own seder plate for the first time, as well as light a candle to begin services and be responsible for both Elijah’s and Miriam’s cups. Elijah’s cup is filled with wine for the prophet Elijah, for whom the door is opened at the seder so that he may attend; Miriam’s cup is filled with water to commemorate the prophet Miriam and her well, which sustained the Jewish people as they wandered in the desert after leaving Egypt, as well as the contributions of all Jewish women.
The seder plate consists of a shank bone, symbolizing the paschal lamb, an egg symbolizing renewal, bitter herbs known as maror (in our case horseradish) that symbolize the bitterness of slavery, a sweet paste known as charoset that symbolizes the mortar the Israelites used as slaves to build Egyptian cities, greens known as karpas to remind participants that Passover coincides with spring, and the unleavened bread known as matzo, which baked on the backs of the Israelites as they hastily fled Egypt. An orange is also included on our seder plate to remind participants that our community is strengthened by all who join us.
Getting everything into place on Saturday (I was helped with a number of supplies from the Engelmans, including blisteringly hot horseradish from their garden, homemade matzo and a small shank bone) was an unexpected milestone for me, as my kitchen table transformed into a sacred space .
The seder itself was like none other that I’ve been a part of, and reciting the 10 plagues and singing a reworked version of “Go Tell it on the Mountain” in unison with the others was not easy. Still, the feeling and community was there, as strong as ever.
One tradition that I don’t observe for Passover is abstaining from leavened bread and other foods that are forbidden during the holiday. My friend and colleague Dane Kuttler does, however, and she said that social distancing this year means that it has been easier for her to keep to it. The tricky part, she noted, is seeing people post all of their sourdough starters on the internet while maintaining abstinence.
Passover will end Thursday night, and there is no ritual traditionally associated with its conclusion, although Dane did inform me that she has some frozen slices of pizza ready to go in her basement freezer.
The Engelman Haggadah states that the work of saving the world “must be taken up by us mere mortals, by common people with shared goals.”
For me, the seder is a reminder of that duty, and I hope to be able to celebrate once again with my community next year, hopefully in person. Next year in Bainbridge.
Bera Dunau can be reached at bdunau@gazettenet.com.