The centerpiece of the Passover table is the Seder plate, on which is arranged a shank bone; a green vegetable; a boiled egg; bitter herbs; and a mixture of chopped apple, nuts, cinnamon and wine called charoset.
The bone represents the lamb traditionally offered as a sacrifice at Passover. The green vegetable is Spring and renewal. The egg is a spirit toughened by adversity, as an egg hardens when cooked. The herbs are the bitterness of slavery. Charoset is the mortar Jewish slaves used to build structures for the Egyptians.
Last month, I asked my 17-year-old daughter to arrange our Seder plate while I set up a Zoom Passover meeting and sent my mother-in-law the link.
“What do you want me to use for the plate?” my daughter said.
“We always use the platter from your great-grandmother’s set,” I said, referring to the plates and serving dishes decorated in a lovely green fruit pattern that we have from my father-in-law’s mother. She used the set for every day; I use it for special occasions.
“And what do we use for a shank bone?” my daughter asked.
Long story. After a dinner of lamb chops when she was toddler, my daughter decided the bone on her plate was especially graceful. We cleaned it for her. She’s held onto the bone and other little treasures – leaves, rocks, sticks, sea shells – she collected when she was little. Yes, our bone symbolizes Abraham’s faith that God would provide a sacrifice other than Isaac. But it also evokes a childlike sense of wonder my daughter still has.
“We always use your lamb chop bone,” I told my daughter.
“You keep saying ‘always,’” she said. “This is only the second time we’ve done our own Seder plate.”
Past Passovers had been at the home of my mother-in-law, who arranged the Seder plate. We did our own Seder plate last year, early in the pandemic. Everything we did for the first time in the pandemic has great weight in my mind.
Last year my mother-in-law made Passover dinner for just her and her partner at their table, and my husband made our meal. We “gathered” via Zoom last year as we did this year. But this year my mother-in-law and her partner were at their table with more people – all fully vaccinated against COVID. My mother-in-law prepared all week for this year’s Passover. I know she enjoyed cooking for a crowd in part because it felt like always.
I, my husband and daughter have received only our first COVID jabs and won’t be fully vaccinated until later this spring. My mother-in-law prepared enough matzah ball soup, gefilte fish, baked chicken with prunes and dried apricots and other fixings for us as well as for the friends she invited to her home for Passover. We wore masks when we stopped by to greet her guests and collect our share of the meal - stored for us in take-away containers we’ve all collected during this year of not eating in restaurants. Once we got back to our home and Zoomed in, we felt something of the spirit of Passovers past.
During the Seder, we refer to the items on the plate as we recite the Hagada, the story of the Jews’ exodus from Egypt. Our daughter is known for her very dramatic rendition of the death of the first born during the recounting of the Ten Plagues unleashed against the Egyptians after Pharoah initially refuses to free the Jews.
Questions frame the narrative of the Hagada. Our daughter is usually the youngest at the table, and so, as tradition dictates, she asks the key question: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Her grandmother always answers – and I do mean ‘always’ here: “This night is different from all other nights of the year because tonight we celebrate the liberation of our people.”
Every question asked during the Seder has an answer. Every object on the plate is heavy with meaning. But the Jews of the Old Testament were no doubt anxious and unsettled as they faced the challenges of their time. They looked back on older testaments for the strength we find in their story of leadership, innovation, cooperation and courage.
During our Seder last year, much about COVID was unclear. This year, vaccines have given us hope we will soon leave the pandemic behind. Whatever lies ahead will be shaped by our year of isolation and political and social division. The Hagada is also a story of resilience, which resonated this year – and always.