Politics

A Sine Die Seder: Why this night was different from all others

A Capitol Passover seder brought lawmakers, lobbyists and reporters together for a rare pause amid the end-of-session chaos.
Roger Panitch presides over the Capitol’s first Passover Seder on Sine Die, the last day of the legislative session, in Atlanta on April 2, 2026. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)
Roger Panitch presides over the Capitol’s first Passover Seder on Sine Die, the last day of the legislative session, in Atlanta on April 2, 2026. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)
13 hours ago

One of the central questions of every Passover Seder is: Why is this night different from all other nights?

I can promise you: I’ve never had a night quite like this one.

About 30 Jewish lobbyists, advocates and a handful of reporters crammed into a second-floor Capitol conference room better suited for lobbyist lunches and meet-and-greets than ancient religious ritual.

And yet it became one of the more meaningful seders I’ve ever participated in, an important reminder that some traditions endure even in the Capitol’s most frantic hours.

When the legislative schedule first came out, GOP leaders excitedly noted they had left a hole for the first night of Seder, which fell on Wednesday. We were, of course, grateful.

But that also meant the final, essential day of the session — the one that routinely stretches past midnight in a rush of votes, last-minute horse-trading and deadline brinkmanship — landed squarely on night two.

Attendees of a Sine Die Seder at the Georgia Capitol. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)
Attendees of a Sine Die Seder at the Georgia Capitol. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)

State Rep. Esther Panitch, the lone Jewish member of the General Assembly, quickly got to work organizing a Capitol Seder for lawmakers, lobbyists and the rest of us caught in the annual end-of-session whirlwind.

Among those gathered: former Attorney General Sam Olens, the first Jewish person to hold that office; and state Reps. Phil Olaleye and Deborah Silcox. The rest of the room was packed with a mix of advocates, operatives and Capitol regulars.

The normally hourslong ceremony was condensed, but all the highlights were there, just with a twist.

The traditional song “Dayenu” became “Sine Die-enu,” complete with inside political jokes.

When it came time to hide the afikomen — when a sliver of matzah is hidden and the finder gets a reward — someone joked that it would be tucked where no one would ever find it: in the budget.

And there was even a cameo by House Speaker Jon Burns, who has grown familiar with Hebrew after a 2023 delegation trip to Israel with Gov. Brian Kemp.

There’s a part in the ceremony where attendees recite questions of the Four Children to teach about the story of Passover. There’s the wicked child, the simple child and the one who doesn’t know how to ask.

And then there’s the wise child.

The speaker, of course, got that primo assignment.

After all, there were still bills to pass.

House Speaker Jon Burns, R-Newington, laughs with Rep. Esther Panitch, D-Sandy Springs, after putting on a  yarmulke during the Capitol’s first Passover Seder on Sine Die, the last day of the legislature, in Atlanta on April 2, 2026. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)
House Speaker Jon Burns, R-Newington, laughs with Rep. Esther Panitch, D-Sandy Springs, after putting on a yarmulke during the Capitol’s first Passover Seder on Sine Die, the last day of the legislature, in Atlanta on April 2, 2026. (Arvin Temkar/AJC)

About the Author

Greg Bluestein is the Atlanta Journal Constitution's chief political reporter. He is also an author, TV analyst and co-host of the Politically Georgia podcast.

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