Pesach: My Relief Amongst the Plague of COVID-19

Gary Hofman

Covid-19 is a topic that has plagued our minds. The global pandemic has forced us into isolation and removed the luxuries from our lives that we take for granted. For those things that we miss the most we will constantly search for something to fill the void. Something to plug the unfillable void. For me that plug came in the form of a chag. For me, that void has been theatre. Sure, the bountyless Netflix and Disney+ options have been able to patch the wound of this loss but the bandage always seems to rip and I had no idea why. Until Pesach.

Pesach to most, including me, is a week where we loose other luxuries – namely bread and other foods that are staple to our diet. It’s a week of slightly burnt tasting water crackers and endless forms of potatoes. I personally love Pesach; I love Matzah and I love being able to use it as an excuse to justify fires as a “meal”. But this year, the lead up to Pesach didn’t feel right. I can’t remember the last time I celebrated the Pesach seder with just my family. Not even the whole clan at that. The seder night was something that, leading up to it, didn’t seem right.

This years seder was like many I have been to. A little smaller but we made do. We sat down, we read the haggadah and we ate a meal. I went to bed happier than I had ever been before after the seder. Perhaps it’s because I found the afikomen, perhaps it’s because my rendition of Mah Nishta Na was particularly brilliant (no Bar Mitzvah boy voice cracks for this singer) or perhaps it’s because I found something that managed to fill that void for a time. Let me tell you, the prior was icing on the cake but it was indeed the latter.

We all probably know what the haggadah sets out. Reading the haggadah out loud has always seemed like a chore to me. A task that results in the award of a nice meal that we don’t usually have (because we’re usually at someone else’s house and we’re not supplying the meal). I will often flick through the haggadah and figure out how many more pages there are until the meal, scope the area for likely hiding places for the afikomen (I take my job as the youngest very seriously) or just stare into space. But this year, the boredom of isolation and sheer need for a thought that wasn’t about how good High School Musical the Musical the Series turned out to be, made me really listen to the haggadah. Take in all it has to offer.

It’s a story. Starting with Magid all the way down to Shulchan Orech we read out loud the story of the Jewish exodus from Egypt. There are subplots along the way in which old Rabbis debate over the meanings of words and some sons ask some questions of their parents but in whole, it’s a compelling narrative filled with musical numbers and edible props. There’s symbolism and characters that you love and hate. You find yourself routing for people and scoffing at others (Wicked Son, I’m looking at you). More than that, it’s you and your and dinner mates who have the joy of telling the story; creating the drama and sharing in the joy of storytelling.

More than that, you make a story for yourself. A bit like meta-theatre, the act of sitting down with your family and enjoying a meal is a dramatic event (especially in my family). Your conversations and distractions from the main event of the haggadah add to the richness of entertainment that comes from the seder. It’s the dogs barking as the nameless people in the distance and reigning them inside from the heightened state or the smell of burnt that comes from the kitchen prompting a brief intermission that make the story personal and more fulfilling.

I found something in Pesach that I have wanted to find for a good few weeks now. Although a direct consequence of the lockdown, it saddens me that I didn’t find this sooner. While the way of life has briefly changed the seder hasn’t. It is my fault for not finding the beauty of this event sooner. Pesach 2021 could not come soon enough..