Every year at Passover, we sit around the Seder table and tell a story we know by heart — the journey from slavery to freedom. And every year, somehow, it feels different. This year, it feels heavier.
As we prepare for Passover, the world around us feels unsettled. In Israel and across the Middle East, conflict continues to shape daily life, with families celebrating the holidays in and out of bomb shelters. At the same time, antisemitism here in the United States and around the world has worsened since last Passover. Many Jews feel a growing sense of vulnerability, even in places that once felt secure.
There’s a sense that we are living through something that will shape the Jewish story for years to come.
Passover asks something very specific of us: not just to remember the Exodus, but to experience it. In every generation, we are meant to see ourselves as if we personally were slaves and came out of Egypt.
This year, that doesn’t take much imagination. The feelings of fear, uncertainty and vulnerability are already there.
But Passover doesn’t stop with reflection — it pushes us to think about how we respond.
One of the most important parts of the Seder is asking questions. It’s built into the structure of the night. We teach our children — and remind ourselves — that freedom includes the ability to ask, to challenge, and to think.
And right now, that matters. We’re living in a time when it’s easy to talk past each other, to retreat into our own corners. Even within the Jewish community, conversations about Israel and the world can feel strained. The Seder table offers something different — a chance to sit together, listen and stay connected even when we don’t fully agree.
Because without some level of unity, it’s very hard to move forward. The Exodus story makes that clear. When the Israelites lost trust in one another and in their leadership, things got worse before they got better.
Passover also reminds us not to look backward in the wrong way. Right after leaving Egypt, the Bible tells us the Israelites began talking about how things “weren’t so bad” back there.
It’s a very human instinct — to want something familiar, even if it wasn’t good. But the message of Passover is clear: We don’t go back. We move forward.
And that isn’t always easy. The path out of Egypt didn’t lead straight to the Promised Land. It led into the wilderness — a place of uncertainty, where people had to grow and figure things out. That may be the best way to describe where we are right now.
Still, the holiday must end the same way it always does — with hope. We open the door for Elijah, holding onto the belief that things can get better, even when it’s hard to see how — a hope for a peaceful Jerusalem, for a world redeemed.
Passover doesn’t promise that accomplishing this is simple. It reminds us that redemption is possible — but it takes time, effort and faith.
This year, as we gather around our tables, may we hold onto that vision. May we stay connected to one another, strengthened by our values, and hopeful about what lies ahead.
Rabbi Mark Blazer is the rabbi of Temple Beth Ami in Santa Clarita.
