There are few posters more iconic than “Daddy, What did you do in the Great War”— an image designed to make men feel guilty if they didn’t sign up to fight. When my son, now nine months old, asks me what I did in this — viral —war, the sad answer will probably be that I bought too much pasta and spent my days keeping up with my colleagues via Slack and Zoom. I’m not a frontline worker; I have no skills to help stave off the spread of this cruel disease, save a good line in nagging my grandfather to stay at home.

All people like me can do is to sign up to help those who need it. It’s been edifying to see mutual-aid groups springing up across Britain, encouraging the young and able to check on neighbours, and support those who need to self-isolate.

Unsurprisingly, the Jewish community has been part of this response, in addition to the many Jewish healthcare professionals on the frontlines. Both my shul and the United Synagogue have sent out appeals and sought to match-make volunteers with those needing help. It’s been the most vivid demonstration of the centrality of the values of tzedakah and tikkun olam.

One glimmer of hope is that this crisis has a positive effect on us as a Jewish community, not just now, but after. Will we continue to look after our most vulnerable when the need feels less existential? Will we still check on elderly neighbours, offer help with errands, after the storm has passed? And, as an often — albeit not exclusively — privileged group, with many members in senior business roles, how will we prevent the most deprived from losing out the most? Will we go above and beyond?

I am confident we will rise to the occasion. But there are other questions, too. Will this kick off a time of compromise and collaboration — of Jews putting aside our differences, regardless of where we stand on Israel or which denomination we’re from? And, as British politics moves towards consensus, and with Labour set to name a new leader, will this close the door for good on a period in which being Jewish here has occasionally felt uncomfortable?

Equally, will we use this strange moment to embrace new ways of doing things, not least by integrating technology into the core of Jewish life? We are already seeing the benefits that live-streamed services like kabbalat Shabbat or JW3’s digital library of cultural fodder can bring to those reduced to the confines of their homes; a taste of how online communities can bolster, if not replace, the real thing.

Such innovation could surely be a lifeline to shrinking communities, or a way to engage those who don’t feel comfortable attending traditional services.

Yes, there are difficulties relating to Shabbat, but I note Israel’s Sephardi Chief Rabbi advised his community to keep their phones on over Saturday for coronavirus news. Adapting is not beyond the realm of possibility. Shuls already have Shabbat lifts, or operate loop systems for the hard of hearing. How different, really, would it be to livestream services so even the infirm can still participate?

Meanwhile, as Pesach approaches and the word Seder — order — feels slightly anachronistic, will this be the catalyst for us to go “back to basics”? We are used to the perfectly planned Seder, with home-made charoset and four desserts. We expect substitute cereal and to enjoy our favourite brands chametz-free. Yet we all know Pesach can happen without any of that; that yom tov is about more than the trimmings. It was in the shtetls, it was in our grandparents’ day; it is today, for those who cannot afford the madness and excess.

The truth is, we can adhere to the rules and observe the spirit of all aspects of Jewish law, without obsessing over the letter of it. Wouldn’t it be amazing to see our rabbinic leadership affirm that; encouraging flexibility in religious practice when it comes to Pesach and beyond?

These are small, unimportant matters right now, but life rolls on even as it feels like the world is ending. If this crisis shows anything, it is that rules can be broken; the impossible can happen. Schools can be shut indefinitely, the economy can go on hold. Diametrically opposed politicians can put aside their differences. Orthodox Judaism can mature and develop.

This unprecedented crisis could be a chance to build Jewish life in Britain as it could be and become a stronger community — one that remains giving and generous, but becomes more flexible, innovative and dynamic. Then we can tell our children about the aftermath of this war, and the good it led to.