Skip To Content
JEWISH. INDEPENDENT. NONPROFIT.
News

Lego, prayer, candy. How our 9-year-old scheduled Shabbat under quarantine in Teaneck.

Shabbat was not canceled in Teaneck, N.J. this past weekend — but it was radically altered.

When I first found out that the Rabbinical Council of Bergen County had shuttered area synagogues in an unprecedented move to help “flatten the curve” of the coronavirus pandemic, I was pleased with their leadership. The rabbis’ ban on in-home prayer gatherings, shared Shabbat lunch with guests, and even playdates in Teaneck and other Orthodox communities in the county wouldn’t be easy to follow — but these acts of social distancing were necessary for the larger community’s health and wellbeing.

Now we all know that Teaneck’s COVID-19 cases doubled overnight, and the township has the largest concentration of cases in the state of New Jersey. Local officials are following the lead of the rabbis and asking all residents to self-quarantine.

That’s what we did over Shabbat — a day normally filled with socializing and structure. I wasn’t too concerned about how to get through it. After all, the idea of spending most of the day in my pajamas reading a good book — without the guilt of not being in shul — seemed rather blissful.

The challenge would be more in keeping my children happy. They love going to shul — where they learn about the weekly Torah portion in youth groups, play with their friends and enjoy snacks. My three-year-old needs to spend time outside, and organizing afternoon playdates for my older children is key to keeping everyone entertained when screens aren’t an option.


As a public service during this pandemic, the Forward is providing free, unlimited access to all coronavirus articles. If you’d like to support our independent Jewish journalism, click here to make a donation.


A local day school leader in our community suggested that families transform this quiet Shabbat at home into a “family Shabbaton” — a kind of retreat, full of learning and fun. Did my children know what a Shabbaton was? Maybe not, but my nine-year-old loved the idea of creating a schedule for our Shabbat. She took charge. Here’s her vision for Saturday, as she wrote it. (“Bench” is the recitation of the blessings after eating.)

8:00: we all daven together.

8:40: Lego competition for best house. mommy and abba are judges

10:00: play Connect Four

10:30: relax and wait until lunch

11:00: lunch

11:50: bench

12:00: mommy and abba judge our houses

12:10: mommy takes a nap

1:45: early mincha

2:00: abba takes a nap

5:30: we wake mommy and abba

5:40: unicorn fashion show

6:00: have dinner

6:30: relax until shabbat is over

At 7:30 on Shabbat morning, our daughter came to wake us up. “Davening is at 8 a.m.,” she told us. We convinced her to let us sleep in, which disrupted her schedule, but she accommodated us.

An hour later, we all got dressed and prayed together – something I can’t remember doing together as a family at home, as my husband rarely misses minyan.

We taught our children the prayer of Nishmat, a poetic prayer thanking G-d for all he does for us; the prayer is not said during the week, so they hadn’t learned it in school. Despite being cooped up in our home, we are healthy. We have a stocked fridge and freezer, and we have each other. For that, we are incredibly grateful. We make a mi sheberach, a prayer for all those who are sick.

“We go to shul?” the three-year-old asked repeatedly. She didn’t understand what was going on, but maybe it was better that way.

At noon, we had lunch. My daughter prepared a fruit salad (the second miracle of the day, as she typically shows no interest in anything related to the kitchen). We ate gefilte fish and chulent, and studied together. Then, for dessert, we enjoyed a candy platter we received as part of mishloach manot, the gift packages exchanged on Purim. The kids were sated with candy corn and sour fish, and they were content.

But as we looked out the window, we were met with eerie silence. We live up the block from a synagogue, and usually like to watch as families walk by with strollers and kids in tow. But today, it was quiet and the streets were empty. We saw an Amazon Prime van pass by, and our mail was delivered, but otherwise it was like we were living in a remote village. Everyone was inside.

Before long, Shabbat was almost over. The kids had eaten and changed into their pajamas, the Lego competition had been judged, and the sky was getting dark. I wasn’t looking forward to turning on my phone. I wasn’t ready to see the latest news. I wanted to stay nestled in this moment of tranquility, grateful for these three precious children and a calm husband who let me take a long nap. I wasn’t quite ready to face the new week.

But the new week came. We made Havdalah, the ritual that closes Shabbat, then logged onto Yeshivat He’Atid, our children’s school, for their school-wide ceremony. More than 100 families tuned in, and we wished each other a good week. We were all a little startled, wondering how we got to this place, but eager for the social interaction, even if it was only virtual.

As my world grows smaller and smaller, I think about how difficult “social distancing” is, particularly in a close-knit community like Teaneck. But I’m confident that we will find ways to be there for one another. I’m looking forward to going back to shul, the kids going back to school, life returning to normal. The hectic schedules, the busyness of it all — how I long for all that now as I look at a calendar filled with emptiness and cancellations.

I’m sure my children and I will soon tire of being stuck at home. My husband and I will snap at each other, and the kids will get on each other’s nerves and fight over toys. When that inevitably happens, I will think back to this peaceful Shabbat spent at home.

Tamar Snyder Chaitovsky is an award-winning journalist and marketing/communications professional. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and three children.

A message from our Publisher & CEO Rachel Fishman Feddersen

I hope you appreciated this article. Before you go, I’d like to ask you to please support the Forward’s award-winning, nonprofit journalism during this critical time.

We’ve set a goal to raise $260,000 by December 31. That’s an ambitious goal, but one that will give us the resources we need to invest in the high quality news, opinion, analysis and cultural coverage that isn’t available anywhere else.

If you feel inspired to make an impact, now is the time to give something back. Join us as a member at your most generous level.

—  Rachel Fishman Feddersen, Publisher and CEO

With your support, we’ll be ready for whatever 2025 brings.

Republish This Story

Please read before republishing

We’re happy to make this story available to republish for free, unless it originated with JTA, Haaretz or another publication (as indicated on the article) and as long as you follow our guidelines. You must credit the Forward, retain our pixel and preserve our canonical link in Google search.  See our full guidelines for more information, and this guide for detail about canonical URLs.

To republish, copy the HTML by clicking on the yellow button to the right; it includes our tracking pixel, all paragraph styles and hyperlinks, the author byline and credit to the Forward. It does not include images; to avoid copyright violations, you must add them manually, following our guidelines. Please email us at [email protected], subject line “republish,” with any questions or to let us know what stories you’re picking up.

We don't support Internet Explorer

Please use Chrome, Safari, Firefox, or Edge to view this site.