Rabbi Russell Jayne: Why is this night different?

By Rabbi Russell Jayne

(AJNews) – The Passover story is not just about our past, it is about our present as well as our future. The cry of Moses before Pharoah, “Let my people go!” is the same cry we hear today for the remaining hostages languishing in Gaza. In ancient times, Pharaoh’s heart was hardened against our ancestors’ suffering. Today, that heart of stone belongs to many in this world, who would continue to be deaf to the cries of innocent captives.

The images and testimonies from October 7th, 2023 have remained seared in our collective consciousness. More than 200 people, Israelis, non-Israelis, men, women, children, and elderly were abducted on that day of terror, and while over 150 have been released, more than 50 remain trapped in darkness, cut off from their families, their futures uncertain. Their plight is a moral crisis that transcends politics. It is, and always has been, a humanitarian emergency that demands not just the actions of the worldwide Jewish community, but global action as well.

One of the most powerful refrains on Seder night is Dayenu, “It would have been enough for us.” We recite it to express gratitude for each step of our redemption, but this year, we must recognize that our redemption is still not complete, not while a single one of our brothers and sisters remain in captivity. Jewish tradition teaches that “whoever saves one life, it is as if they have saved the entire world” (Sanhedrin 37a). The mitzvah of Pidyon Shvuyim, redeeming captives, is one of the most sacred obligations in Judaism. In times past, Jewish communities raised funds and negotiated tirelessly to free those taken by hostile forces. Today, we must continue to harness that same energy as we amplify our calls for the remaining hostages’ return.

Across the Jewish world, families have found ways to integrate the crisis of the hostages into their Seders. Some leave an empty seat at the table in their honor. Others place yellow ribbons beside the matzah as a symbol of solidarity and hope. In many communities, the recitation of the Four Questions will include an additional answer to, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” That painful answer being, “Because on this night, there are still mothers, fathers, children, and grandparents held in darkness, waiting for freedom.”

The message could not be clearer. The world must not forget those who remain captive in Gaza. Their freedom must be a priority in every diplomatic effort, every media campaign, and every policy discussion.

Passover has always been, at its core, a festival of contradictions. On Seder night we hover precariously between joy and pain, hope and despair. We eat matzah, the bread of affliction, to remember the hardships of slavery. We taste maror, the bitter herbs, to remind ourselves of the suffering of our ancestors. Yet we also recline in comfort, drink wine, and celebrate the promise of a better future.

This year, the matzah and maror continue to taste differently. They remind us not only of Egypt but of the suffering of the hostages and their families. Every moment that they remain in captivity is an unbearable bitterness that stains our joy, but the Exodus story teaches us that even in our darkest moments, redemption is possible. Just as the ancient Israelites were ultimately led to freedom, so we must hold onto the belief that, ultimately, each and every hostage will return home.

At the conclusion of the Seder we traditionally proclaim, “L’shana haba’ah birushalayim!” “Next year in Jerusalem!” It is a declaration of hope for us. A reminder that our journey toward redemption will always be ongoing. This year, as we say those words, let us add a silent prayer that next year, all of the remaining captives will be home. That next year, their families will be reunited. That next year, we will celebrate not only the ancient story of our freedom but also a modern-day redemption that reaffirms all people’s commitment to life, justice, and freedom for all who dwell on this earth.

May this Passover be a time of awakening, of action, and of hope. May we remember that the story of the Exodus did not end in Egypt. It continues with us, and may we never stop fighting for the return of our brothers and sisters, until every last hostage is free.

Rabbi Russell Jayne is the Senior Rabbi, Cantor and Kol Bo at Beth Tzedec Congregation in Calgary.