Covid Seder
Passover, which commemorates the end of the Israelites' slavery in Ancient Egypt, was always my favourite Jewish holiday growing up. My parents observed it strictly: our entire sets of plates (for both meat and milk dishes) were changed over for special, delightful Passover ones, and we had kosher-for-Pesach everything: toothpaste and dish liquid included. Every surface was covered, including foil on the stovetop. But it was the Seder that was the most memorable. Instead of regular dining chairs, we would sit on living room chairs and couches, covered in doonas/ duvets, which was my mother's family's interpretation of reclining* which is mentioned in the Haggadah. We had our four cups of wine out of tiny gold rimmed glasses emblazoned with cherries. Elijah always came and "sipped" from the large cup when summoned. The food was extra delicious, especially my mother's charoset, drowning in cinnamon and nuts. We had a family contest to see who could go the reddest from the home made horseradish - my brother, usually, because he ate the most, but in later years my nephew Joshua's skin flamed brighter. When I was young, the couch seating was helpful as the hour grew longer, and I'd sink happily into the cushions as the clock closed in on 11pm. After, we would often walk the streets of Elwood, just to walk off some of the meal.
Over the years, I've had some cherished seders. I hosted my own in New York together with my room-mates, and I was invited to the beautiful Port family Seder in Altoona, where Steve posed thoughtful questions, some of which were met with equally thoughtful answers, others with wisecracks. I was at a multicultural Seder at the home of Vicki in Los Angeles, and another in Orange County with my cousin Ruth. But generally, even though I was living overseas for 7 years and interstate for 3, it was Passover that beckoned me home.
This year, I have Pesach when neither of my parents are alive. My siblings are isolating separately, as are their families. But I want my children to feel what I felt when I was growing up. So, we will be covering chairs with doonas as an homage to my family seders and using special, decorative plates. We will be singing the same songs from the Haggadah that we always have. I will be making, for the first time, horseradish from its root and matza balls. I've just toasted my first shank bone and egg for the Seder plate. We will be joining several households by zoom, and we will celebrate what we have, rather than dwell upon what is missing. When the Seder calls upon us to remember the hardship of our people, it might be easier than most years. But considering what my parents went through - there was no Seder in Concentration Camp for my mother - we feel incredibly lucky, as always, to have each other and this opportunity to mark an important date on the Jewish calendar. There's no better time than figuring out what's really important to you than at this moment in history.
Over the years, I've had some cherished seders. I hosted my own in New York together with my room-mates, and I was invited to the beautiful Port family Seder in Altoona, where Steve posed thoughtful questions, some of which were met with equally thoughtful answers, others with wisecracks. I was at a multicultural Seder at the home of Vicki in Los Angeles, and another in Orange County with my cousin Ruth. But generally, even though I was living overseas for 7 years and interstate for 3, it was Passover that beckoned me home.
This year, I have Pesach when neither of my parents are alive. My siblings are isolating separately, as are their families. But I want my children to feel what I felt when I was growing up. So, we will be covering chairs with doonas as an homage to my family seders and using special, decorative plates. We will be singing the same songs from the Haggadah that we always have. I will be making, for the first time, horseradish from its root and matza balls. I've just toasted my first shank bone and egg for the Seder plate. We will be joining several households by zoom, and we will celebrate what we have, rather than dwell upon what is missing. When the Seder calls upon us to remember the hardship of our people, it might be easier than most years. But considering what my parents went through - there was no Seder in Concentration Camp for my mother - we feel incredibly lucky, as always, to have each other and this opportunity to mark an important date on the Jewish calendar. There's no better time than figuring out what's really important to you than at this moment in history.
* from Chabad: Maimonides writes: One is required to see himself as if he had just now left Egyptian slavery. Hence, when a person eats on this night, he is required to eat and drink while reclining, as a sign of freedom.
posted by RachelleCentral | Wednesday, April 08, 2020
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