My search for “silver linings” in no way minimizes the toll in suffering, pain, loss, and inconvenience the pandemic is exacting from our lives; I fervently pray it will end soon. Still, I believe that the secret to Jewish survival despite all the hardships and tragedy history has imposed on us is our ability to cling to the hope that things will get better.
Even as structure and routine begin to crumble, ritual observances don’t stop for the virus. As did many generations of Jews before us, we must adapt ritual to this unprecedented way of life, and Shabbat services, a mainstay for nursing home residents, necessitated creative adaptation.
And at this moment, in the midst of the pandemic, we are witnessing a time of reckoning for the racial divide that has torn our society apart for so long. What does it mean to bring a baby into a world in desperate need of r’fuah sh’leimah, the full healing of body, heart, and soul?
My boys are making forts using all the pillows in the house. They strong-armed my husband into setting up our camping tent outside, and they sit there as the day grows hot.
Now, as restrictions begin to lift, we are faced once again with how to conduct our worship in meaningful ways. Just because our synagogues can be open does not necessarily mean that they should be.
Together, we will champion the lessons of Passover by bringing greater wholeness, justice, and belonging to our world.