It is without doubt that our Seders are going to be very different this year. Many of us are without the nice trappings we would normally have at a Seder, without guests, and most importantly, without family. At this time, we must ask ourselves an important question:

What is the Seder really about?

Often, with historical world events, those who didn't live through them cannot fully understand their particularities and significance. Even seeing concrete evidence does not give people true understanding or awareness of what happened. We see even with catastrophies as well documented as the Holocaust, there are still people who doubt. People can look at evidence right in front of them and still question it. The next generation will read about this pandemic in textbooks; and though they may understand it conceptually, they won't  really  get it. "What do you mean you couldn't be in contact with people?" They'll ask. "What do you mean people couldn't go out?" Evidence can only go so far. 

But inter-generational personal testimony is very powerful. When we sit down with our children and tell them, "Hey, this is what I went through. This is what happened to me, " that is powerful. A child trusts their parents; a child believes their parents' words. One day, we will try to explain to our kids what we went through during this time. And it will be up to us to make it real for them, to make it present for them in a way that the textbooks will not, by telling them the story of what happened to us. 

The Seder is that first-hand account. It's about saying, "This is what happened to me when G-d took me out of Egypt." It's not only telling that story, but re-living it. This act of re-experiencing is so powerful that even one who is having a Seder alone is still obligated to tell the story of the Exodus to himself. When we recount the story, we become the living testimony. And that's what keeps the memory alive.  


haggadah Section: Introduction
Source: Paraphrased from Rabbi Yaakov Kirschbaum