Dear Friends,
What does it mean to be free? This is the question at the heart of Pesach (Passover). The ancient rabbis call it zman cheiruteinu — the season of our liberation. Freedom is a universal human aspiration. Of course, it’s central to the American story, too. And that’s probably why Pesach is the most celebrated Jewish holiday. A climactic moment of the seder is when we read in the hagaddah:
B’chol dor vador chayav adam lirot et atzmo k’ilu hu yatza mi-mitzraim.
In each generation, it is incumbent upon each of us to view ourselves as though we went out from Egypt.
Each year, then, we’re asked to put ourselves in the shoes of a newly freed slave. What does that mean in 2025? It may be helpful to start with where we came from. My great-grandfather Max came to America at the age of 14, traveling alone. His parents stayed behind in Belarus; they were later killed in a pogrom. His brother, with whom he lived in Wisconsin, was then killed in a freak accident. I never got to meet my great-grandfather; I never learned of his suffering, or how it impacted his life. But whether he knew it or not, he turned that suffering into a bridge: to allow a life of freedom and opportunity for my grandmother, my mother, and me. That gift comes with a responsibility I hope I will never squander.
Perhaps your family has a similar story. Our ancestors sacrificed for our freedom. It’s one of the things I think about when we pass the Torah from the arms of grandparents, to parents, to children in our B’nei Mitzvah ceremonies. This is an incredible gift; a rare gift; a gift that for most of Jewish history would have seemed impossible. It wasn’t easy for us to integrate into American society, but we have somehow gone from a hated minority to the most positively-viewed religious group. Despite the widespread and growing antisemitism in our country, we still live as comfortable and integrated a life as any Jewish community has in 2500+ years. That alone is cause for celebration.
We are fortunate to have the sanction of the court of opinion. And I give thanks every day that we still have the sanction of the court of law, too — equal as citizens with any other. Every previous time in history we have enjoyed similar protections, they have eventually been taken away. Around the world — from Turkey, to Sweden, to France, and beyond— these twin protections are diminishing and disappearing for Jews. France used to have the largest Jewish population in Europe. In recent years, they have been making aliyah in huge numbers.
Our American freedom is a gift, not a guarantee. As we gather with our families around the Seder table, let us express gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy. They can disappear if we do not protect them. Maybe this is why we are asked at each seder to see ourselves as crossing that bridge, from shackled in servitude, to the promise of freedom.
Chag Kasher V’Sameach — Happy Passover,
Rabbi Moss