How People Are Celebrating Passover, Ramadan, and Easter In Quarantine… Again

This time last year, COVID-19 cases surged throughout the United States. Businesses shut their doors; schools and many workplaces went remote. People began adapting to an uncertain future, in which seeing family members seemed unsafe for an indeterminate future. 

The changes included holidays, and while seemingly a small thing to give up, the sacrifice of not celebrating in traditional ways was a painful one — but also a necessary step in order to prioritize public health. Instead of typical Passover, Ramadan, or Easter celebrations with extended family members or prayer services with full congregations, people were tasked with finding ways to stay connected, even while physically apart. 

Things are a bit brighter in 2021, as the U.S. is several months into a rapidly accelerating vaccine rollout plan. Even so, not everyone will be able to celebrate in person this year, meaning some families and communities are looking at a second year of virtual celebrations. 

To find out how people are approaching the holidays after a full year of living with the pandemic, we turned to members of various religious communities who had been deeply touched by last year’s adjustments, as well as faith leaders who have been working tirelessly to stay connected to their congregations. Since last spring, they’ve found new ways to honor holidays with families and community members, while building new traditions out of a lost and uncertain year.   

Faiza Susan, a 30-year-old from Texas, recalls spending Ramadan inside her home with her family, and attending online sermons via Zoom. “In non-pandemic times, we would normally go to mosque every weekend to break our fasts, and on weekdays, we would break our fasts at home,” she explains, adding that to her, Ramadan is an introspective time for prayer and worship. While it wasn’t always so bad staying at home, Susan notes that the frequent screen time eventually became draining. “As Ramadan is also a time for communal celebration, it really felt odd not to see my mosque friends and celebrate with them,” she says. “I have a lot of online friends so I didn’t feel so much the loss of connection — but there are times you want to speak to someone and talk and touch and hug. And you can’t.”

Susan is also spending this year’s Ramadan at home, but she feels more prepared this time around. “My mosque is still shut down so we are going to have a lockdown Ramadan again,” she explains, adding that she’s already equipped with ideas for meals and decorations. “I hope it will be more relaxing without so much fear; last year, you really felt the pain of the pandemic so much.”

Elana, 27, also turned to Zoom for her 2020 Passover plans, which typically include a big family gathering at her parents’ house. Last year, she attended four virtual Seders, noting that while it was a little awkward to sing through a computer screen, “it was nice to have something in lieu of being together in person.”

This year, however, Elana is looking forward to seeing her friends IRL again. “I’m going to have a small socially-distanced Seder outside with some friends who live nearby,” she says. But she might pop into a few virtual Seders as well, as the technology allows her to stay connected with family and friends who aren’t local — a silver lining to last year’s events that she plans to carry forward.

With Zoom also comes technical challenges. (Who hasn’t shown up to a meeting accidentally on mute?) Kelly, a 40-year-old from Texas, recalls the stress of trying to help her parents and her in-laws feel comfortable with the video platform in order to celebrate their annual Easter brunch. “It was hard,” she recalls, noting that there were several technical snafus, leaving her feeling like the conversation was ultimately disjointed. 

It’s partly why Kelly has high hopes for Easter this year. “We’re having my parents over for brunch this time around,” she says, noting that both of her parents have received their vaccines. But like Elana, Zoom will still be a part of her 2021 celebration once again. “We’re doing a virtual dinner with my in-laws,” Kelly explains, noting that her in-laws are having an in-person celebration with their other children, so they won’t be entirely alone. “I am looking forward to having my parents this year here but am sad we aren’t able to be all together. I am hoping the Zoom is smoother!” 

Rev. Patt Kauffman still recalls the day St. Paul Lutheran Church in Teaneck, New Jersey, shut down in 2020, and how she hoped that the closure would be temporary. “Being an extrovert and loving to be around people, it was so hard to just see everyone on a screen,” Rev. Kauffman tells Apartment Therapy, noting that she has gotten pretty imaginative in order to facilitate a close connection with her churchgoers. 

“Going to church isn’t just about the worship,” she adds. “It’s the coffee afterwards. It’s the comforting hand on your shoulder if you’re having a hard time. It’s the peace that’s offered in the midst of the service.” As a result, she’s participated in everything from drive-in sermons to parking lot coffee hours to socially-distanced home visits in order to maintain the relationships she’s built with her community over the years.

Imam Taha Hassane of the Islamic Center of San Diego in California feels similarly. “There’s nothing better than coming together physically as a congregation and as a community to worship as one,” he tells Apartment Therapy.

But when the ICSD was forced to close last year, Hassane and his team had come up with different ways of celebrating Ramadan, which began on April 23 last year. With a combination of virtual events and a drive-by caravan in the center’s parking lot, the community managed to find ways to celebrate together, even though they couldn’t gather in the same room. 

Restrictions have lifted a bit this year, and Hassane is looking forward to having a small portion of his community at the Islamic Center for Ramadan, as they are able to operate at 25 percent capacity per local guidance. However, they still plan to share the service virtually for anyone who isn’t comfortable or able to participate on site. “We’ve missed our community members, and I hope and pray things will continue to get better in the future,” he says.

In New Jersey, St. Paul is still closed, and while Kauffman is eager to get back into the building, she’s currently preparing for another live-streamed Easter service. “I try to bring some semblance of what the worship space looks like,” she explains, adding that she’ll usually set up in front of a blank wall in her kitchen, adorned with a cross. She plans to add a floral arrangement for Easter, as a symbol of springtime. “It works as well as it can,” she says with a laugh.

Rabbi Suzie Jacobson is also preparing for a second year of virtual Passover celebrations with Temple Israel of Boston. Their congregation plans to host two “Grand Communal Seders” via Zoom, and they expect hundreds of attendees to log on and participate. “No, it’s not ‘the same’ as gathering and eating together in the same room, and so many, myself included, yearn for a Seder in person with friends and family,” Jacobson says. “But we will sing, laugh, learn and discuss the important Passover values of freedom, justice, and community — just like any year.”

Even though some restrictions have been relaxed due to the vaccine rollout (fully vaccinated people are permitted to gather with low-risk, unvaccinated folks from a singular household, for example), a general sense of caution is still advised by health officials — especially if you have family members who are at higher risk for COVID complications.

It’s the exact set of circumstances that are leading Sam, 31, to a virtual Seder for the second year in a row. Last year, the Connecticut resident gathered virtually with his extended family, which included grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and children. “There was an exciting newness to it, because the novelty of Zoom hadn’t worn off yet,” he says.

But with that buzz of excitement came a heavy sense of worry. “My grandparents are both elderly. There’s always this morbid thought at every holiday, wondering if it’s the last one we’ll share together,” Sam adds. “It was really sad to have that thought, and not be together in the same room.”

This year, he and his family are opting for a hybrid Seder; his grandparents are fully vaccinated now, so some members of his family have decided to visit them. “My sister hasn’t gotten her vaccine yet and her partner is high-risk, so we are going to Zoom them in,” he adds, noting that he feels even sadder about it than last year. “If someone had asked me if I thought we would be virtual again this year, I would have said no way. There is still that worry about my grandparents, wondering if we will be able to be all together in 2022, and if they will still be here. It’s like being cheated out of time.”

Heba Mohammad, 29, has gotten used to spending Ramadan alone, having lived far away from her immediate family for over a decade. However, in the past, she often spent Eid with her extended family, including siblings and nephews, so last year’s holiday proved to be much quieter on her own. 

Instead of focusing on what was lacking, Mohammad found a way to make everything feel festive even while alone. “I dressed up on Eid just for myself,” she says, adding that she wore a floor-length Palestinan dress consisting of tan and red hues. “Even though I wasn’t seeing anyone, I wanted the visual reminder of how special this time is for me, and to assert my right to celebrate just for me.” This year, Mohammad is living closer to her immediate family, so she has an opportunity to celebrate in person — assuming her loved ones are able to get their vaccine in time. “I’d rather not see them if it’s the only way to keep us all safe,” she shares. “Before it was physical distance that kept us apart, so to now have the option of seeing them and to actively decide not to — it feels different. But I know it would be the right choice.”

And despite the sadness that came with their virtual Seder, Sam’s family sprouted a new tradition as well that he plans on carrying into his hybrid celebration this year. “We added a scavenger hunt portion for the kids, in place of the traditional hiding of the afikoman,” he recalls. “It was my sister’s idea, and we talked about doing it in the future when we’re all together in person again.”

A new tradition was also sparked for Rev. Kauffman this year when she needed to arrange an alternative to Ash Wednesday on February 17. Instead of the traditional marking of the ashes, she and her colleagues mailed congregation members a special piece of paper that is able to dissolve in water. 

“I encouraged people to write down things that were problematic — something that’s troubling you that you might have said or done,” she says. “There’s a point in the service where we would have said, ‘You are dust and to dust you shall return.’” With those words, they were invited to put the paper in water [at home] and dissolve it.”

While a second year of virtual or hybrid celebrations might be bittersweet, there is still a great deal of hope for the future. 

Elana is looking forward to “a rager Seder” in 2022, and Sam hopes that next year includes a “rowdy celebration” with a healthy family. Mohammad has faith that Eid will return to what it was during the before times, too “I crave those social interactions,” she says. “I’d often see people during Ramadan that I wouldn’t see any other time of year, and I took that for granted.”

Hassane has continued to encourage the members of his congregation to have patience and take solace in their faith as they wait. “Things are improving,” he says. “We will be there soon; we’ll be able to go back to our ‘boring’ life that we had before.” 

Jacobson emphasizes the importance of validating those feelings of loss and frustration. “There is no use lying to ourselves and pretending this isn’t hard — it is hard!” they explain. “Even for those with family close by, vaccinated or podded, we have had an extremely trying year. We have to name the feelings of sadness, frustration, even anger. But then, like our ancestors who suffered through challenging years, personal exodus and disconnection, we will open the Haggadah, we will sing and read and learn and listen.”

For Rev. Kauffman, faith is also essential amid such an uncertain and anxiety-driven year. She encourages families to continue to find meaningful ways to stay connected, whether it’s through FaceTime or Zoom, or engaging in socially distanced activities together. After all, however you choose to celebrate, finding ways to interact with the people you love the most can be a comforting act of self-care. 

“It’s been so hard,” she acknowledges, adding that there has been a great deal of pain for family members who have gone a whole year without seeing each other in person. “Try to be as optimistic as you can. The hope is within all of us.”