Redefining freedom

Every year, as Passover approaches, Jews all over the world prepare to sit down at a Seder and tell a story we already know by heart. Slavery in Egypt. Ten plagues. Pharaoh. Freedom. We’ve heard it since childhood. So the obvious question is: why do we have to tell it again, out loud, at length, late into the night?

This question comes straight out of this week’s Torah portion, where the Torah commands: “Remember this day when you left Egypt.” It sounds simple enough. But the great Jewish thinker Maimonides adds an interesting twist. He says that remembering the Exodus is similar to remembering Shabbat.

At first, that comparison feels odd. What does Shabbat have to do with ancient slavery in Egypt?

The answer turns out to be extremely relevant to modern life.

In Judaism, remembering something doesn’t just mean thinking about it. It means letting it change how you live.

Think about Shabbat. It’s not only about stopping work. If that were the whole point, it would just be a day of restrictions. Instead, Shabbat is about rest, family, meals, and connection to something higher than ourselves. Not working is only half the story; the real point is the positive experience that replaces it.

The same idea applies to Passover night.

All year long, Jewish tradition encourages us to briefly mention the Exodus. But as the Torah teaches us this week, on the first night of Passover we’re asked to do something different: to slow down and tell the story. Not just that we left Egypt, but how we were transformed.

Leaving Egypt wasn’t only about ending slavery. It was about becoming free people. And here’s where it hits close to home.

Most of us today aren’t slaves in the literal sense. But many of us still live in our own versions of “Egypt.” Jobs that drain us. Financial stress. Phones that never stop buzzing. Pressure to keep up. Expectations that quietly run our lives. We may not be in chains, but we’re not always free either.

If freedom only meant “not being oppressed,” most of us would already be there. But we know intuitively that real freedom is something deeper.

Freedom is having space to choose, to slow down, and to live with intention.

That’s why, on Passover night, the focus isn’t only on how bad slavery was. The focus is on the miracles, the change, the moment when a people moved from survival mode into purpose. From being pushed by life to actively shaping it.

In that sense, Passover is less about history and more about a question the Torah places in front of us every year:

What does freedom look like for me right now? Is it reclaiming time? Is it being more present with the people you love? Is it stepping off autopilot and making space for what actually matters?

Just like Shabbat isn’t only about what we stop doing, freedom isn’t only about what we leave behind. It’s about what we build.

And that’s why the Seder is so hands-on, eating, asking, talking, singing, and lingering. Because freedom isn’t an idea. It’s an experience.

The Torah reminds us that remembering the Exodus means more than recalling the past. It means letting the story shape how we live now, and daring to move a little closer to real freedom.