Shabbat shalom! And Chag Passover sameach!
There is much discussion and lots written this week about the paradox of Passover. How can we have a “happy” Passover, celebrating our freedom, when there are still 59 souls trapped in the torture tunnels of Gaza?
This Passover, “Let my people go” isn’t just a 3,000-year-old plea from a Haggadah. It is the present reality for Israelis and diaspora Jews from all over the world, who wait for a miracle as we cry out to our present-day captors, “let our people go!” Hence, this year, we are asked to wish others not a “happy Passover” (chag sameach) but instead, a “meaningful Passover”(Passover melea Te’amir).
Freedom is among the most enduring and powerful themes in human storytelling. Across cultures and centuries, people have told stories—real and imagined—about breaking chains, defying oppression, and reclaiming dignity. These narratives don’t just entertain us; they remind us who we are and what we value most.
In literature, few works speak more forcefully about freedom than the Passover story in the Book of Exodus, or in Les Misérables, where Jean Valjean struggles to escape his past and live a life of moral integrity in a rigid society. Similarly, Uncle Tom’s Cabinstirred the conscience of 19th-century America by putting a human face on the horrors of slavery. And in 1984, George Orwell warned of a world where the erosion of freedom begins not with violence, but with language and surveillance.
History, too, gives us real-life epics of the struggles for freedom. Harriet Tubman’s daring rescues through the Underground Railroad made her a legend of courage and compassion. Nelson Mandela’s decades-long imprisonment, followed by his leadership in a free South Africa, became a global symbol of perseverance. The fall of the Berlin Wall remains an unforgettable moment of collective liberation, captured in images of families embracing across once-divided streets.
These stories endure because freedom is not guaranteed; it must be claimed, reclaimed, and defended. Whether in fiction or fact, they echo the same truth: freedom is not just a political condition—it is a deeply human need.
This year we are leaving an empty chair at the Seder table as a reminder of those who are with us in spirit only, and of those 59 souls still held hostage in the torture tunnels of Gaza. They deserve more. They deserve their freedom. And as Martin Luther King famously said in his I have a Dream speech, “And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.”
And from every tunnel in Gaza, let freedom ring.
Passover melea Te’amir.
Be safe everyone.
Brad out.
Jew News Review 