Pesach is almost here. Time for Jews to gather around the Seder table, retelling the ancient story of the Exodus — how our ancestors were enslaved in Egypt and, through great struggle and divine intervention, were led to freedom. We read aloud the words, “Avadim hayinu l’Pharaoh b’Mitzrayim — We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt, but now we are free.”
But this year, those words catch in my throat.
This year, we know that not all of us are free.
As I prepare for the Seder, I can’t help but think of the hostages still being held in Gaza. Their plight pierces through the joy of the holiday. In so many ways, they mirror the experience of our ancestors — torn from their homes, stripped of their freedom, and suffering in a foreign land. Just as Pharaoh refused to let the Israelites go, so too do those who hold our loved ones today.
At the Seder we say we ourselves were taken out of Egypt. If we were once slaves, how can we celebrate redemption while members of our own people are still in chains?
In our tradition, we are taught kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh — all of Israel is responsible for one another. Our freedom will never feel complete while others remain captive. Just as Moses cried out to Pharaoh with divine urgency, “Let my people go,” we too must raise our voices — in prayer, in advocacy and with compassion.
Passover is a celebration of hope, of resilience, of a future shaped by justice. It reminds us that liberation is not a one-time event in ancient history — it is a continuous effort. With the raw wounds of the Holocaust still not healed we find ourselves crying out again. Needing again to shout out to the world, and to fight for the freedom of those still waiting to come home and do what we can to hasten their return.
And as we say at the close of the Seder, “L’shanah haba’ah b’Yerushalayim” — Next year in Jerusalem — may that prayer for peace and reunion be fulfilled, not only in spirit but in reality, for all who long to be free.
