by Elisa Garfagna
Passover, the Jewish holiday, is much more than a date on the calendar. It’s a time when the heart of every Jew beats together with that of our ancestors, still feeling the joy of freedom regained after the long slavery in Egypt. This year, however, as we prepare to sit around the set table for the Seder, our thoughts go to our Israeli brothers and sisters, violently snatched from their lives and held captive by Hamas.
When we tell the story of the Exodus, we are not just recounting an ancient tale. We immerse ourselves in a universal human experience: the struggle to break free from what oppresses us, the deep desire to be able to live with dignity and security. The preparation for Passover begins well before the evening of the Seder, with a meticulous cleaning of our homes in search of every trace of chametz, or leavened food. This practice represents the desire to purify ourselves and our spaces from every “leaven” of oppression and negativity.
The true ritual essence of Passover is concentrated in the first two evenings (one only in Israel and for Reform Jews) with the celebration of the Seder. The table is carefully laid, and at the center stands the Keara, the Seder plate, where each food has a profound meaning linked to the story of the Exodus. We find the zeroa, a roasted bone that recalls the Passover sacrifice; the beitzah, a hard-boiled egg symbolizing mourning and the cycle of life; the maror, bitter herbs like horseradish, which make us relive the bitterness of slavery; the charoset, a sweet mixture of dried fruit and wine that recalls the mortar used by slaves to build; the karpas, a piece of celery or parsley that is dipped in salt water, a symbol of the tears shed by the slaves.
During the Seder, guided by the Haggadah, a text that recounts the story of the Exodus, we immerse ourselves in a liturgy rich in questions, answers, songs, and stories. The children, traditionally, ask the Four Questions (Mah Nishtanah), questioning why this night is different from all other nights, opening the way for the detailed account of the liberation. We drink four cups of wine, each of which symbolizes one of the four promises of redemption made by God to the Jewish people: “I will bring you out,” “I will free you,” “I will redeem you,” and “I will take you to Me as a people.” We sit and eat reclining on our left side, as free men did in ancient times, to celebrate our regained freedom.
A particularly awaited moment for children is that of the Afikoman, a piece of matzah hidden that is searched for and found, often in exchange for a small reward. This gesture symbolizes the desire for a future of freedom and hope in final redemption.
Throughout the week of Passover, in addition to the prohibition of consuming chametz, other dietary restrictions are observed. The synagogues are full of prayers and special readings that retrace the story of the Exodus and emphasize its importance for Jewish identity.
There is a phrase that we repeat with particular intensity during the Seder, a phrase that binds us indissolubly to every past and future generation: “In every generation, each person is obligated to regard himself as though he himself had come out of Egypt.” It is not just a memory, but an invitation to cherish the desire for freedom within, to feel the responsibility to fight for it, wherever and for whomever is oppressed.
This year, this phrase resonates with a painful and powerful echo. While we celebrate our liberation, our hearts are with the Israeli hostages. We imagine their empty tables, the void in their families, the pain of their loved ones. Their kidnapping is a deep wound in our humanity, an act that reminds us how fragile freedom is and how important it is to defend it.
Just as our ancestors dreamed of freedom while they were slaves in Egypt, so today the families of the hostages dream of the moment when they can embrace their loved ones again. Our prayer during the Seder becomes more intense, our desire for justice stronger.
The story of Passover teaches us that even in the darkest moments, hope never dies. It reminds us that the strength of the community, faith, and determination can overcome even the greatest adversities.
Passover reminds us that freedom is a precious gift, a fundamental right that we must always cherish and defend. In this difficult moment, the heart of Passover urges us not to forget those who suffer and to continue to strongly demand the release of the hostages, so that the light of freedom can return to their lives.