Finding True Freedom this Pesach

Freedom—it’s the focus of our celebration every Pesach, as we tell and re-tell the story of our journey from slavery, oppression, and darkness, all the way to freedom.  

The Pesach story is an ancient one, but with modern resonance. Growing up, my grandfather would get emotional as he led our Seder, relating that he, too, had been a slave once, as a young boy in a concentration camp, and here he was, all these years later: A free man. This year, in 2025, we will sit down at our Seder tables thinking of the hostages still trapped below ground, and of the newly released who will experience freedom in a profoundly different way, having to create a new life after the trauma.  

We’d like to think that we are all at the end of the Pesach story—that we are all celebrating being free. And while that is true for our nation as a whole, too many of those in our community are still trapped, in so many ways. There are those that struggle financially, enslaved by bills and monetary demands, and those that struggle with children in crisis. And in many segments of the Jewish community, there are those whose home life seems happy on the outside, but is dark and confining behind the scenes.  

Image Credit: Jewish Life Photo Bank

Freedom can be defined as “a state of exemption from the power or control of another” (Webster’s Dictionary). As slaves, we did not have the power to choose what we ate, how we lived, or when we worked. Today, victims and survivors of domestic abuse experience similar powerlessness inside their homes and marriages, as the abuser tries to control their actions and decisions. For survivors of domestic abuse, even simple things—meeting a sister for lunch, applying to an exciting new job, or picking up a cup of coffee—are fraught with tension, and even fear. Scholars even compare abusive relationships to cults, with both employing similar mind-control techniques and exhibiting extreme levels of control.

Sometimes, we’d rather not acknowledge this aspect of community life. After all, isn’t being frum supposed to give a happy home life and a beautiful Shabbos table? How can people in our community act this way?  

And yet, if we can learn anything from the Pesach story, it’s that we’re not supposed to forget the bitterness of our slavery in Egypt. That’s exactly why we get together once a year—with great fanfare—to remember our redemption. Hashem tells us, “Love the stranger, for you were a stranger in Egypt” (Deut. 10:19). The purpose of a frum life is not to ignore pain and suffering. Rather, it’s to use our own experience of pain and oppression as a catalyst to support others. Paying attention to difficult issues like domestic abuse is not easy, but if our own experience has taught us anything, it’s that noticing the suffering of others is critical.  

Those of us who will go into the Seder this year truly free have a responsibility—to remember those still trapped; those still waiting to cross their own personal Yam Suf.  

When we learn to use our collective history to support one another through the pain we experience today, then we will fully become the nation we were meant to be, a source of light and justice—and freedom.