How we dressed

As I start to prepare for Rosh Hashanah, I am reminded of how we celebrated when we were not able to gather as a community — when we were isolated in our homes during the covid pandemic.

With creativity, we found ways to observe the holiday. The smallest customs and traditions reminded us of our heritage.

When Rosh Hashanah arrived in September 2020, I hadn’t worn a dress in six months. Pants or shorts were sufficient for my cloistered needs in the covid world.

In my pre-covid life, I would arise each Shabbat morning and put on a dress, shoes, and jewelry. I would walk to Shabbat morning services, where my husband, David, was awaiting me. We prayed, greeted friends over kiddush, and walked home for lunch and a Shabbat nap. Sometimes there was a bar or bat mitzvah or another simcha to celebrate.

We were service regulars.

But once covid 19 created a new normal, we remained at home. We did not participate in Zoom services because we were reluctant to use electronics on Shabbat. We dressed in our weekday clothes. I lit candles on Friday night. We made kiddush, motzi, and recited the grace after meals. We ate our Shabbat challah. We read books, took walks, and sometimes went swimming during the day when the weather was warm. To be honest, our Shabbat was boring. It resembled every other day of the week.

Rather than remaining totally isolated, we decided to participate in electronic services for Rosh Hashanah. Our adult daughter, Alana, made plans to join us for the holiday. In one conversation, she asked: “Should I bring a dress?” I said, “You are driving, with plenty of room in the car. Bring a dress.”

I prepared special Yom Tov meals. I baked homemade round challah, I polished our silver candlesticks and kiddush cups, I bought flowers. I set the dining room table with a white tablecloth and our good dishes and silverware. I wanted everything to be as festive as possible. We ate a traditional and delicious dinner. Our daughter showed us how to cast the smart phone image onto our smart TV. We participated in and enjoyed erev Rosh Hashanah services from synagogues in our hometown, New York City, and Scotch Plains. (We also have two sons, Howard and Avrum. Howard is a rabbi in Scotch Plains, but we had never seen him officiate on Rosh Hashanah.)

On Saturday morning, my husband and I were eating breakfast in the kitchen. We were wearing our everyday clothes. We both looked up as our daughter entered the room. “You’re wearing a dress,” I exclaimed. “You told me to bring one,” she answered. I immediately left the room and quickly changed into a dress. My husband was directly behind me and changed into a button-down shirt, tie, and jacket. We looked like a family ready for Rosh Hashanah services.

After breakfast, we all sat in the family room to watch services on our large-screen TV. My husband put on his tallit. It was almost magical. We prayed, heard several sermons, sang familiar melodies, and heard the Torah and haftarah chanted. On Sunday we again dressed for the holiday and journeyed on our television to different congregations to celebrate. We listened to the sounds of the shofar. We felt engaged and uplifted. We were not physically present, yet we experienced the spirit and majesty of Rosh Hashanah.

During the previous week we had invited neighbors to join us on our front lawn for shofar blowing. A friend announced the call, and my husband blew shofar. Both Jews and non-Jews joined us. Many said that being able to hear the shofar in person was the high point of their Rosh Hashanah observance.

Since that Rosh Hashanah we continue to participate in Shabbat and Yom Tov services at our son’s congregation by Zoom. We decided that for us, being able to feel this nachat was sufficient to justify the use of technology. Occasionally, we visit other congregations throughout the United States. We became comfortable with our modified level of observance.

There are many parts of a holiday, including food, family, prayer, music, and clothing. Taking the time to dress for the holiday elevates our celebration to a higher level of hiddur mitzvah, glorification of the mitzvah. The manner in which we choose to celebrate is very personal. Sometimes we must adapt or change to meet unexpected or unanticipated circumstances.

Shana tova umetuka.

Ellen Tilman of Scotch Plains retired as the director of Library Services at Reform Congregation Keneseth Israel in Elkins Park, Pennsylvania; she is past chair of the Sydney Taylor Book Award Committee of the Association of Jewish Libraries; member of the book selection committee of the Philadelphia One Book One Jewish Community program and the One Book program of the JCC of Central New Jersey. She and her husband are the parents of Rabbi Howard Tilman of Congregation Beth Israel of Scotch Plains.