Nine out of ten Italian Jews attend a Seder most Pesachs, followed closely by Jews in Belgium (86 per cent), the UK, France and Austria (all 77 per cent), and then in Spain, Germany, Denmark and Sweden (all above 70 per cent).There is then a big gap to Eastern Europe, with only 54 per cent of Hungarian Jews and 45 per cent of Polish Jews saying they celebrate Pesach.

These figures are taken from the second survey of 16,000 Jews on discrimination and hate crime against Jews in the EU, undertaken by Jewish Policy Research (JPR).

The real story here, of course, is not about Pesach. Low levels of ritual observance among Jews in Poland and Hungary can be seen more widely, including the likelihood of lighting candles on Friday night (29 per cent and 21 per cent respectively, compared to 47 per cent across Europe) and attendance at synagogue services at least weekly (14 per cent and 12 per cent respectively, compared to 23 per cent across Europe).

Yet it’s worth noting that in all 12 EU countries examined in the data, the Seder remains the most frequently observed ritual, including among self-identifying Jews in Hungary and Poland.

The low rate of observance in Poland and Hungary stands out. However, when considered in the broader historical context of their communist legacy, these numbers take a on very different flavour, as evidence of a renaissance in observance.

Communism was enforced in different ways in Poland and Hungary, but one common trait was the anti-religious doctrine. Across Central and Eastern Europe, religious communities were suppressed and attacked.

In Poland, for example, the Catholic Church often suffered harassment and persecution because of its position as one of the main rivals to communism; Pope John Paul II is often credited for politicising the Poles during his visit to the country in 1979, sparking the beginning of the end for communist rule in the country.

The history of Jewish life under communism was well documented in JPR’s 2011 report, Jewish life in Poland: “The Soviet-imposed system, though initially responsive to some Jewish concerns, soon turned hostile to most Jewish aspirations to preserve their own separate identity, and occasionally lapsed into overt antisemitism…On the other hand, however, the communists were ideologically opposed to the traditional standard-bearers of antisemitism: the extreme nationalist right, and by keeping them at bay, provided the Jewish community with a basic sense of security.”

Few Jewish communal organisations existed during this time. In Poland, for example, beyond the Jewish Historical Institute and the State Jewish Theatre, there was essentially only the Social and Cultural Association of Jews in Poland, a secular organisation which had access to communist leaders, and the Union of Congregations of the Mosaic Faith which provided religious support for the community.

Moreover, it was particularly difficult to provide such support and facilitate festival observance and participation, since even importing matzot involved sensitive negotiations in government offices. In Hungary, the picture was similarly challenging: educational and cultural provisions were severely limited, Jewish pro-Zionist activists were arrested and much of Hungarian Jewish engagement, such as the bi-monthly New Life, had to promote the Communist Party line. Any celebration of religious festivals was difficult, if not dangerous, to arrange.

So today’s “low” rates of Jewish ritual participation in Hungary and Poland, including attendance of a Passover seder, are in fact a significant leap forward. Indeed, they can be considered as evidence of a renaissance and resurgence of Jewish life in these countries, alongside other sources of evidence and journalistic claims.

In Poland, there are suggestions that Holocaust commemoration has helped revive Jewish life. In Hungary, major changes have taken place in Jewish society since the collapse of communism, which have resulted in a significant increase in the number of people who are willing to identify as Jews, even if the depth of that identification is questioned by some of the more traditional elements in the Hungarian Jewish community.

While 50 per cent might appear to be a low rate of participation in the eyes of Jews living elsewhere, for the Jewish communities in Eastern Europe, these figures are a reason for celebration and something we should cherish.

Isabel Sawkins is Research Fellow at the Institute for Jewish Policy Research