Well, it’s that time of year again, and we hope you can join us for our second annual Zoom Seder. That’s right: another Zoom Seder. You thought we were one and done last year, didn’t you? But no, sadly, we remain in exile from each other. So get your virtual burnt offerings ready because here we go again.
I can’t believe a whole year has passed over since our first Zoom Seder. Get it? That’s both a play on words and a ridiculous statement because of course time is passing so slowly, and doesn’t really exist anymore, and is as dreary and meaningless as the middle part of Maggid.
But we should remember that we definitely made the right decision in 2020 because if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that having two-dozen people gathered around a table plastered on Manischewitz and belting out “Chad Gadya” is the perfect storm for a superspreader event.
Still, it’s hard not to be disappointed. We assumed that it would be different by now. We all thought we’d be together, with uncle Myron passed out on the couch in a carb coma and cousin Ethan freebasing horseradish.
How very wrong we were. How bitterly, bitterly wrong — as bitter as bitter herbs without the mitigating taste of apple-walnut paste.
Look on the bright side: at least we’re Zoom experts now. Man, we were all so naïve back then, still learning how to mute and unmute and share screens and change our backgrounds so it looked like we were on the beach or in the woods or on Tatooine. Those were the days before we got ring lights that make us look like we’re being illuminated by a weird burning bush. Before our hair and beards looked like Charlton Heston’s in The Ten Commandments. Before Room Rater, Zoom bombing, and that cute little kitten who kept insisting it wasn’t a cat at all, but a real, live lawyer. Ha! As if we don’t know a lawyer when we see one.
And wasn’t the Seder just a little bit fun last year? Trying to sing “Dayenu” in unison and then explaining to Aunt Freda about sound latency. Pretending we were the Brady Bunch, only much less blond and with bowls of matzo ball soup instead of pork chops and applesauce. And who could forget the Zoom account we created for Elijah, with that hilarious avatar of Elijah Wood?
Now we get to do it again. Yay?
No, not yay. More like oy vey. Because Zoom fatigue is real, my people. Since that first Zoom Seder, we’ve had Zoom High Holidays and Zoom Hanukkah. There was Zoom Thanksgiving, Zoom Grandma’s Birthday, and Zoom We Got a New Labradoodle. We even had a Zoom Family Zumba, which was only attended by Ethan and Elijah Wood.
Damn. Zoom Seder 2.0 is definitely going to suck.
For lo, we were expecting to be free from coronavirus bondage by now and on our way to the Promised Land of Herd Immunity. Yet we are still lost in the desert of isolation, with nary a Moses or a Moderna or even an AstraZeneca jab to lead us to safety.
Let’s just admit the truth. We hate Zoom now. It’s as dry and depressing as the last part of Maggid. I mean, I guess we could try to spice things up. How about a new and improved Four Questions, like “Why is this night the same as every other night?” and “Why can’t we be in New Zealand?” and “How come baking matzah never took off like sourdough?” and finally “If no one sees your chametz on Zoom, does it really exist?”
We could also add some extra plagues and call them “variants.” And you don’t have to be a wise son to know we’ll need a drinking game to get us through the night. How about every time you hear someone say “Pharaoh,” “karpas,” or “indigestion,” drink a shot of Cherry Heering.
Can we count on you? Awesome. We’ll see you there. Let’s hope and pray this will be the last one on Zoom. We can sing a mournful song in a minor key about it. And let us say: Next year in… absolutely anywhere, all together, in person.