From Pharaoh to Freedom: Lessons in Leadership Found in the Haggadah

Introduction: The Haggadah as a Leadership Manual

In commemoration of the 21st yahrzeit of Efraim Chanoch ben Dovid HaLevi, zt”l

The Haggadah is more than a liturgical script for the Seder night; it is a masterclass in Jewish leadership, woven into the very structure of our national narrative. It is not incidental that the foundational moment of Jewish peoplehood, our redemption from Egypt, is also the moment when our tradition begins to explore the traits of ideal leadership. Yetzias Mitzrayim (the Exodus from Egypt) is a story of transformation: from slavery to freedom, from silence to speech, and from despair to destiny. But it is also a story about the people who helped facilitate that transition and the kind of leaders who either uplift or oppress those they guide.

The Seder is designed to be an educational encounter with the past that illuminates our obligations in the present and safeguards our future. It is a multigenerational transmission of memory, identity, and moral vision, in which each participant is both student and teacher. The youngest ask questions, the elders share wisdom, and all contribute to the collective unfolding of the Jewish story. No one is too small to spark a conversation, and no one is so learned that they have nothing more to learn. Each voice adds depth and richness to the experience, reminding us that teaching and learning are not confined to roles or ages but are woven into the very essence of the Seder.

At its core, the Seder exists to pass the mesorah (tradition) from generation to generation: to teach our children not just what happened in Mitzrayim (Egypt) but why it matters, what it means to be free, and how that freedom demands responsibility. The Haggadah’s structure, its storytelling, and its interactive rituals are all centered on this sacred duty to educate and inspire the next generation to live lives of purpose, dignity, and service.

When we turn to the characters and arc of the Exodus story, we discover deep lessons about what it means to lead with humility, courage, moral clarity, and a deep sense of service to others. We see:

• The courage of Shifrah and Puah, who defied Pharaoh’s orders and protected innocent lives
• Miriam’s foresight and bravery as she ensures the survival of her brother Moshe, safeguarding the future redeemer of Israel
• Moshe himself, who initially resists leadership, recognizing the immense responsibility it entails, and ultimately becomes the humble shepherd of a people in need of redemption
• In stark contrast, Pharaoh embodies the archetype of abusive power, obsessed with control, resistant to truth, and dismissive of human dignity

These figures illustrate how leadership can either liberate or destroy. The Haggadah offers a vision of leaders shaped not by ego or dominance but by humility, empathy, discipline, and covenantal responsibility—qualities essential for guiding a people toward freedom and sustaining that freedom through the generations.

The leadership insights embedded in the Exodus narrative have been unpacked by generations of rabbinic commentary, including the Maharal, the Netziv, the Sefas Emes, Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik, zt”l, and the late Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom, Rav Lord Jonathan Sacks, zt”l. Each of these Torah luminaries, in their own unique way, draws out the moral demands of the redemption story and its implications for those who guide and serve the community.

Rabbinic Perspectives on Redemptive Leadership

The Maharal: Leadership as Moral Formation

As we begin to explore the insights of the Torah luminaries who illuminated the redemptive themes of the Exodus, we turn first to the Maharal. In his commentary on the Haggadah and other works, the Maharal emphasizes that the Exodus was not only about physical liberation but the emergence of a new spiritual identity. He teaches that true geulah (redemption) is transformative—it constructs order out of chaos and aligns society with divine purpose.

The Maharal sees Egypt as the embodiment of existential chaos and spiritual distortion, a society in which human dignity is erased, divine order is ignored, and fear replaces freedom. In such a world, there is no structure to support moral clarity or divine truth. By contrast, the redemption from Egypt inaugurates the creation of a divinely ordered society, one whose identity is shaped by justice, discipline, and holiness.

Building on this vision of Egypt as existential chaos and redemption as the reintroduction of divine order, the Maharal deepens the idea that the geulah was not simply a release from external bondage but a profound internal reconstitution of the people’s identity. The miracle of geulah reshaped a mass of downtrodden individuals into a unified nation with a divine mission.

Central to this transformation is the role of leadership. For the Maharal, a true leader does not merely manage logistics or maintain external order. Instead, they serve as a moral architect: someone who molds the ethical and spiritual character of the people, restores coherence to a fractured society, and guides the nation toward a purpose anchored in divine truth.

Geulah, in this sense, is not simply about freedom from Pharaoh. It is about becoming worthy of revelation at Sinai. The leader is charged with preparing the people to receive the Torah, building not just their bodies for the journey but their souls for the covenant. In a time when society can be easily thrown into disarray by demagoguery or ideological extremism, the Maharal’s model of leadership is a call to moral formation, to discipline, and to spiritual vision.

Thus, for the Maharal, leadership is not merely functional but formative: it shapes the soul of the nation.

The Netziv: Leadership as Emotional Intelligence

Flowing from the Maharal’s call for moral formation in leadership, the Netziv (Rav Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin) emphasizes a complementary but distinct aspect of ethical guidance: the indispensable role of emotional and spiritual maturity. While the Maharal presents the leader as a moral architect who brings divine order to society, the Netziv focuses on the leader’s relational capacity—how they respond to the people’s emotional and spiritual needs.

In his commentary on Chumash, particularly in his introduction to Sefer Bereishis, which he famously refers to as Sefer HaYashar (the Book of the Upright), the Netziv explains that true righteousness is revealed through a leader’s ability to engage others with sensitivity, patience, and emotional intelligence. He argues that the downfall of the generation of the Second Temple came not from a lack of Torah knowledge but from the absence of empathy.

According to the Netziv, leadership requires a profound sensitivity to the inner lives of others. A leader must be attuned to the individual and collective emotional states of the people, able to perceive not just their actions but their motivations, struggles, and aspirations. It is not enough to issue commands or deliver sermons; a leader must communicate in ways that resonate with the human spirit and give people the sense that they are seen, heard, and valued.

The Exodus, through the lens of the Netziv, is a redemption not only from physical bondage but from emotional erasure. The people, who had become voiceless under Egyptian oppression, are gradually restored to dignity and selfhood. This restoration is essential for true freedom to take root. Leadership, then, is not simply about guiding people from one place to another—it is about helping them reclaim their voices, their identities, and their emotional wholeness. By lifting up the silenced and attending to their pain, the leader becomes an instrument of divine compassion and justice.

In our time, the Netziv’s message is a powerful reminder that leadership devoid of empathy may maintain order but cannot foster redemption. True leadership listens, understands, and uplifts. It embodies a Torah of the heart as well as the mind.

The Sefas Emes: Leadership as Spiritual Authenticity

Continuing this progression from societal and relational leadership to the inner life of the individual, the Sefas Emes (Rav Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter of Ger) offers a deeply spiritual and introspective understanding of redemption. In his teachings on Pesach, he emphasizes that every external liberation must begin with geulah p’nimis—inner transformation. Before a person can leave Mitzrayim physically, they must first break free from the internal constraints that hold them back: ego, fear, apathy, and spiritual inertia.

The Sefas Emes interprets the Haggadah and the Exodus story as an invitation for each individual to uncover their own inner cheirus (spiritual freedom). This is not merely a psychological state, but a readiness to become a vessel for divine service. A true leader, in his view, must be someone who has grappled with their own limitations and emerged with clarity, humility, and purpose. Only someone who has experienced inner geulah can genuinely lead others to it.

In this sense, leadership is not granted based on charisma, intellect, or birthright, but earned through spiritual refinement. The Sefas Emes teaches that the journey of Yetziyas Mitzrayim is not locked in the past—it is a continuous process that unfolds within each generation and within each person. Every year at the Seder, we are invited not only to retell the story but to relive it inwardly. The call to see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt is not rhetorical; it is a demand for moral and spiritual awakening.

Thus, for the Sefas Emes, the Haggadah is not only a historical account or national manifesto—it is a personal spiritual roadmap. It teaches that redemption begins in the soul and that leaders must first redeem themselves before they can become agents of redemption for others. In this way, the Sefas Emes places the responsibility of leadership on the inner life and challenges each of us to lead from a place of sincerity, struggle, and spiritual growth.

Synthesis: Complementary Dimensions of Leadership

Together, the teachings of the Maharal, the Netziv, and the Sefas Emes reinforce the essay’s central claim by illuminating different yet complementary dimensions of redemptive leadership:

• The Maharal teaches that leadership is formative—it constructs spiritual order from societal chaos and prepares the nation for divine revelation.
• The Netziv emphasizes the emotional intelligence and empathetic engagement required to restore human dignity and give voice to those silenced by oppression.
• The Sefas Emes brings the focus inward, reminding us that true leadership begins with personal spiritual refinement, an inner liberation that precedes and empowers outward guidance.

Each of these sages sees leadership not as a platform for power, but as a sacred task of transformation—of self, of community, and of society. They collectively assert that the Exodus is not just a historical drama but a moral blueprint. And they demand that those who lead do so from a place of humility, integrity, and a deep responsibility to elevate the lives of others. These insights converge to form a profound and enduring Jewish vision: that leadership worthy of redemption must itself be redemptive.

Models of Leadership: Contrasts and Lessons

The Absence of Moshe: Leadership Beyond Ego

Building upon the teachings of these Torah luminaries, we are offered a natural segue into one of the most telling editorial choices in the Haggadah itself—the complete absence of Moshe Rabbeinu. As noted by Rav Sacks, zt”l, in his Haggadah, this omission is deliberate and deeply instructive. It teaches that Jewish leadership is not about personal glorification, charisma, or cultivating a cult of personality, but about devotion to a mission greater than oneself.

Moshe Rabbeinu, the quintessential Jewish leader, did not seek leadership; he resisted it, recognizing the weight of responsibility it entailed. In an age when leaders often seek prominence for its own sake, placing ego above ethics, the Haggadah’s silence regarding Moshe serves as a powerful corrective. It calls us to remember that leadership in the Jewish tradition is meant to be self-effacing, mission-driven, and rooted in service to God and the people.

Pharaoh vs. Moshe: Contrasting Leadership Models

This distinction between humility and ego, between leadership in service and leadership as self-aggrandizement, is further sharpened by contrasting Moshe Rabbeinu with Pharaoh. Whereas Moshe epitomizes self-effacing leadership driven by mission and humility, Pharaoh represents leadership rooted in ego, control, and an aversion to truth. Pharaoh, when confronted with truth, doubles down in denial and falsehood, abusing his power even in the face of suffering.

To deepen this contrast between Pharaoh’s distortion of truth and Moshe’s commitment to moral clarity, Rav Soloveitchik, zt”l, in a pre-Pesach shiur given on 8 Nissan 5785 (April 15, 1970) in New York, offered a powerful insight into how leadership is shaped, or crippled, by one’s relationship to truth.

He explained that the slave is incapable of experiencing what he called the “truth-norm,” a commitment to objective reality that undergirds moral life. The eved (the slave) lives in fear, lacks initiative, and cannot choose between alternatives. He cannot engage honestly with reality because he substitutes fantasy for fact. In such a condition, Rav Soloveitchik said, truth becomes inaccessible.

The tyrant, while appearing powerful, paradoxically embodies the same limitations as the slave but in reverse:

• Where the slave is denied the ability to choose, the tyrant denies that ability to others
• Where the slave passively submits to a distorted reality, the tyrant imposes his own distorted version of reality on everyone around him

Both are cut off from the truth: the slave because he is silenced, the tyrant because he silences. This shared estrangement from truth, born of fear and control, makes both models fundamentally unfit for moral leadership. In contrast, true leadership, shaped by Torah values, embraces critique, encourages choice, and seeks truth even when it is inconvenient. Such a leader recognizes that freedom begins with the capacity to acknowledge reality and act morally upon it.

The Purpose of Freedom: Moral Responsibility

Freedom For, Not Just Freedom From

The Haggadah insists that freedom is not an end but a beginning. Just as Rav Soloveitchik exposes how both the tyrant and the slave are estranged from truth, we are compelled to ask: once freed from such distortion, what are we freed for? This shift invites us to explore the constructive, forward-looking vision of liberty that the Haggadah champions.

In the Jewish tradition, liberty is not a matter of personal license or unbounded autonomy. Rather, it is the opportunity to live a life shaped by higher values and ethical purpose. The Jewish conception of liberty is not the freedom to do as one pleases but the freedom to become who one is meant to be. It compels us to examine not just what we are free from but what we are free for. We are freed from Egypt not for personal gain but to receive the Torah and enter into a covenantal relationship with God and one another.

Rabbi Sacks draws a crucial distinction between “chofesh” (freedom from) and “cheirus” (freedom to), underscoring that true liberty is not about the absence of restraint but about the presence of moral purpose.

Radical Hospitality: Freedom Enacted

Now that we have examined how true freedom involves not just liberty from oppression but a commitment to higher moral purpose, we are drawn to explore how that vision becomes real and tangible, through the rituals and structure of the Seder night. This vision of freedom as a moral purpose naturally leads us to reflect on how that purpose is enacted through our sacred traditions.

If freedom is not an end in itself but a means to moral and communal responsibility, then the Seder becomes the educational and spiritual stage upon which that responsibility is dramatized. One of the most poignant expressions of this ideal appears right at the beginning of the Seder. The declaration, “כָּל דִּכְפִין יֵיתֵי וְיֵיכוֹל” (All who are hungry, come and eat), embodies an ethic of radical hospitality. This is not a perfunctory invitation—it is a public moral commitment.

It signals that the path to national redemption must begin with an open heart and an outstretched hand, with sensitivity to human need and openness to the outsider. A moral society does not turn away from those in need. The Haggadah demands that we remember the vulnerable, not only in history but in our own time as well. In doing so, it teaches that the first step in becoming free is choosing to see and respond to the humanity of others.

The Plagues as Moral Education

With our vision of freedom now grounded in hospitality and moral responsibility, we are prepared to approach the central drama of the Exodus story with deeper insight. Just as the Seder begins by inviting the hungry to share in our table, the next part of the narrative invites us to reflect on how freedom demands an ongoing moral awakening.

This theme of inclusion and responsibility does not merely precede the story of the plagues—it frames it. The plagues, for example, were not spectacles of cruelty but divine rebukes meant to awaken consciences. They were educational, not punitive. As Rav Soloveitchik explains in a shiur on the Haggadah given in 1962, the purpose of the plagues was to challenge the Egyptian worldview and shake its moral complacency, not to inflict gratuitous punishment. He notes that the Torah repeatedly emphasizes the phrase “לְמַעַן תֵּדַע כִּי אֲנִי ה׳” (“So that you will know that I am the Lord”) as the underlying goal of these afflictions.

According to The Rav, zt”l, the Haggadah says that G-d brought the plagues in order to teach the Egyptians that their actions had consequences and that there was a higher moral power governing the world. This interpretation builds on the understanding that the purpose of divine intervention was not punitive spectacle, but moral instruction.

Pharaoh was not punished immediately. He was warned and given opportunity after opportunity. Each makah (plague) was meant to help Pharaoh and the Egyptians become aware of the falsity of their worldview and come to teshuvah (repentance). The intention was to awaken an awareness of divine justice and truth in the hearts of those who had embraced or enabled tyranny. In this light, the plagues function as a moral education, a series of escalating messages designed to restore the possibility of truth, repentance, and transformation, even within the heart of an oppressive regime.

This view of the plagues as moral instruction, rather than raw punishment, reflects a broader truth about the kind of society the Torah envisions. Rabbi Sacks writes that a free society is always a moral achievement, and it rests on self-restraint and regard for others. In this view, freedom is sustained not by dominance or fear but by moral responsibility. The Torah model resists the exploitation of fear and instead upholds compassion, even when justice must be served. It seeks not only the liberation of bodies but the elevation of conscience, a theme that runs through the Haggadah and the values it champions.

The Power of Voice: Language and Inclusion

The Restoration of Speech

Building on Rabbi Sacks’ insight that a free society is built on self-restraint and moral responsibility, we now turn to one of the most potent instruments for cultivating and preserving that freedom: language. The journey from slavery to freedom, the Haggadah teaches us, is marked not only by the breaking of physical chains but by the restoration of voice, the capacity to ask, to challenge, and to tell one’s story.

In the Haggadah, this principle is woven into its very structure: it is built around questions, storytelling, and dialogue. It elevates thoughtful, honest speech that fosters understanding and growth. In contrast, history has shown us the destructive force of rhetoric that incites, demeans, or inflames. Jewish leadership demands speech that builds, not speech that burns, language rooted in truth, humility, and the dignity of others.

The Four Sons: Inclusive Dialogue

This emphasis on language and inclusive dialogue reaches one of its most powerful expressions in the section of the Haggadah devoted to the Four Sons. Following the restoration of voice through story and speech, the Haggadah turns our attention to the different voices that comprise a community. The Four Sons represent a range of ideologies and personalities, yet all have a place at the table.

As Rabbi Sacks explains, the progression from the child who does not know how to ask to the wise child reflects the educational and inclusive values of Judaism. Good leadership includes everyone, even those who disagree or challenge. The Seder teaches that unity does not mean uniformity and that leadership must make space for complexity.

This message, that true leadership is rooted in ethical clarity and not in conquest, naturally deepens our understanding of the leadership lessons that emerge from the Four Sons. Just as the Haggadah teaches that every kind of child must be addressed with care and respect, so too it teaches that redemption begins not with domination but with recognition of each person’s moral capacity.

The Inner Posture of Leadership

The Yearning to Serve: Rav Klatzkin’s Teaching

This insight paves the way for understanding how the broader redemptive process in the Haggadah unfolds. Immediately following the dialogue of the Four Sons, which celebrates the diversity of voices at the Seder table, the Haggadah shifts our focus to the redemptive process itself. Here, too, we are taught that redemption is not the result of military might or political calculation but of moral intention and spiritual readiness.

Flowing directly from the Haggadah’s embrace of diverse perspectives and moral complexity, we see that redemption itself is framed not through displays of power but through divine justice. The narrative does not glorify military triumph or dominance; rather, it highlights how the inner disposition of the individual, particularly a yearning to serve with devotion and humility, forms the basis of deliverance.

This principle is powerfully illustrated by Rav Eliyahu Klatzkin, zt”l, (1852-1932; known as the Shklover Illui in his youth, he became the rav of Lublin before moving to Eretz Yisroel in 1928, where he eventually became the rav of the Eidah Chareidis in Yerushalayim) in Chibas HaKodesh (Cheilek HaDerush #1).

Rav Klatzkin offers a deeply original interpretation of the Arba Kosos (the Four Cups). Drawing on the connection between the four expressions of redemption in Shemos 6:6-7 and the four mentions of Pharaoh’s cup in the dream of the Sar HaMashkim (Bereishis 40:11-13), he suggests that the symbolism of the cups teaches us something essential about the inner posture of one who is worthy of redemption.

The Sar HaMashkim (the cupbearer) recalls in his dream that he personally placed the cup in Pharaoh’s hand. His focus is entirely on the honor and privilege of returning to his position of service. By contrast, the Sar HaOfim (the baker) recounts bread on his head, passive and disconnected, seemingly unconcerned with Pharaoh’s experience. He shows no yearning to serve, only a description of food being taken by birds.

Rav Klatzkin argues that the decisive factor is not the act itself but the inner desire, the ratzon (will), of the cupbearer to fulfill his role loyally. That longing, that expression of devotion to another, becomes the very reason he is restored. The baker, by contrast, lacks this drive. Redemption, therefore, is not a reward for success but for a sincere desire to serve. As Rav Klatzkin writes, the purpose of geulah is not to liberate for self-indulgence but to return us to the service of our Master. This teaching echoes the deeper message of the Haggadah: Freedom is a call to sacred responsibility. Leadership grounded in loyalty, humility, and an inner yearning to serve stands in sharp contrast to leadership driven by status, ego, or apathy.

Moshe: The Reluctant Leader

This ideal of leadership grounded in service and humility is brought into even sharper focus in the figure of Moshe Rabbeinu. Following the contrast between leadership rooted in apathy or ego and that which emerges from inner yearning to serve, Moshe offers the clearest embodiment of the latter. He only accepted leadership when pressed by HaKadosh Baruch Hu (the Holy One, Blessed be He). He does not seek it out or campaign for prominence. Instead, he exhibits profound humility and hesitation, emphasizing that leadership is a calling, not a conquest.

According to Rav Soloveitchik in Festival of Freedom: Essays on Pesach and the Haggadah, authentic leadership requires a deep sense of mission and the willingness to serve others, not personal ambition or pursuit of status. This model reminds us that the greatest leaders are often those who lead reluctantly, propelled by responsibility rather than by ego.

Leadership’s Moral Imperative

Standing with the Vulnerable

This paradigm of reluctant leadership anchored in responsibility naturally prompts us to ask: Whom does this leadership serve? The answer emerges clearly from the Exodus story itself. From the babies cast into the Nile to the families broken by unjust policies, the narrative consistently draws our attention to those most vulnerable to systemic cruelty and societal neglect.

The Seder reminds us that moral leadership is not theoretical—it is defined by its willingness to stand up for the voiceless and protect the defenseless. Rabbi Soloveitchik highlights the multiple levels of affliction endured by the Israelites, including family separation and dehumanization, emphasizing the moral horror of indifference to such suffering (Pesach To Go — 5773, p. 15; recording of shiur can be found here). True leaders do not remain passive in the face of injustice—they bear responsibility for the vulnerable and refuse to look away.

Inclusive Redemption: The ‘Erev Rav’

This responsibility toward the vulnerable is not limited to members of one’s own group. True leadership extends concern and compassion beyond its immediate constituency. The Exodus narrative emphasizes that liberation was not reserved solely for the children of Israel but also included the ‘erev rav’, a “mixed multitude” of non-Israelites who chose to join the journey.

This powerful inclusion highlights a broader, more universal ethic at the heart of the redemptive process. It reminds us that Jewish leadership does not erect barriers between insiders and outsiders; rather, it seeks to build bridges of shared destiny and common purpose. Rabbi Sacks affirms that the call to freedom includes those beyond our immediate community, insisting that our story of liberation is one that invites others in rather than shutting them out. The inclusive, hopeful arc of the Seder story reminds us that redemption is expansive, not exclusive, that we are strongest when we walk toward freedom together.

The Structure of Ethical Leadership

Order and Discipline

Flowing directly from the Haggadah’s vision of inclusive redemption and shared moral purpose, we come to appreciate that the structure of the Seder itself is not merely ritualistic but deeply symbolic of the kind of leadership it seeks to model. The Seder is a celebration of order (seder literally means order), patience, and measured progression.

Its careful choreography reflects the necessity of thoughtful process and restraint. Extremism, even when driven by ideology, disrupts that divine order. Leadership must be disciplined, not fanatical. This is emphasized through the structure and rhythm of the Haggadah itself, which demands intentionality and self-restraint, modeling the kind of principled leadership our tradition calls us to emulate.

Leadership with Heart: The Lesson of Heseibah

After reflecting on how the Seder’s structure instills the values of discipline and intentionality, we now arrive at a central principle that anchors all halachic and ethical leadership: compassion. Discipline in Torah is never devoid of heart. The Torah’s laws are always bound by compassion.

Rav Soloveitchik, in a shiur on heseibah (reclining), emphasizes that even halacha, in its rigor and structure, fundamentally values empathy. The mitzvah to recline at the Seder is not only a ritual formality; it is a symbol of human dignity and inner freedom. Jewish law is not cold or detached; it insists on the dignity of the individual. State power, no matter how lawful, must never trample human dignity. Leadership, according to Jewish tradition, must be infused with a conscience, guided not only by justice but by kindness.

Conclusion: Building a Redemptive Society

Taken together, these themes—compassion, humility, moral responsibility, and inclusivity—offer more than abstract ideals; they form the building blocks of a redemptive society. Each is essential not only for personal growth but for cultivating the kind of leadership that safeguards the integrity of a people.

The Haggadah is not simply a narrative of past liberation; it is a multigenerational blueprint for shaping the future, reminding each participant, especially parents and educators, that they play a vital role in transmitting these values to the next generation. As we reflect on the journey from Mitzrayim to freedom, we are invited to see ourselves as active participants in that journey today. The text compels us to evaluate our communities, our leadership, and ourselves by the timeless values that animated the Exodus. It challenges us to hold up our leaders and our own choices to a higher standard, to ask difficult questions, and to reflect honestly on whether our public life is shaped by justice, empathy, and a shared moral vision.

And what does this higher standard of leadership look like in practice? When truth is distorted, when power is abused, and when people are pitted against one another, the Haggadah offers a counter-vision: of leadership that listens with humility, includes with courage, uplifts with compassion, and serves with integrity. These are not merely theoretical virtues—they are urgent and necessary in every generation, especially in moments of moral confusion or societal breakdown. The Haggadah calls on us to internalize these values and to model them in our homes, our communities, and our public life.

As we lift our cups and recline in joy this Pesach, enacting through ritual the values of freedom, order, and intentional reflection that the Haggadah has instilled, let us commit ourselves not only to retelling the story of freedom but to building its legacy. Let us educate toward principled leadership, advocate for justice, and cultivate in our own lives the kind of responsibility that leads to redemption. And may we merit leaders, within our families, communities, and nation, who reflect the enduring vision of leadership rooted in the Haggadah: compassionate, courageous, humble, and just.