During our Passover Seders, we recount our ancestors’ Exodus from Egypt, celebrating our liberation from the shackles of Egyptian slavery into the promise of freedom. Yet, as we celebrate our freedom, we must also confront a painful truth: For too many in our community, the journey to freedom remains incomplete. Domestic violence — a modern form of bondage — persists, even within Jewish homes, undermining the peace and dignity we cherish.
Passover is, hands down, one of my all-time favorite Jewish holidays. A gripping story? Check. A delicious meal? Absolutely. A gathering of friends and family filled with song, laughter and a high-stakes game of afikomen hide-and-seek? Check, check and double check.
So, it’s Passover again. Another Seder night where we reunite with distant relatives we nearly forgot about to retell a story we are never allowed to forget. One might wonder: Is it really necessary, more than 3,000 years later, to still commemorate our ancestors’ freedom from slavery in Egypt? Can’t we move on to more pressing and contemporary issues?
One of my favorite quips about Passover is that it’s the holiday on which everything needs to be “just right.”
BBYO is an organization built on friendships, programming, traditions and teen leadership. Since Nordaunian AZA #22 was founded on April 18, 1926, it has worked hard to cultivate all of these things.
Do you remember where you were on April 13, 2014? I do. I was eight years old, sitting at home on my couch, watching YouTube videos when my best friend texted me that she was at the AMC Town Center 20.
The Torah describes how, at Mt. Sinai, our ancestors each participated in a census by contributing half a coin. This showed that none of us is complete without the other, emphasizing our responsibility to care for one another.
On the first night of Passover, the opening of our festival of liberation, the celebration of the birth of our peoplehood, Darby, my oldest son, will be 10 hours away at a Greco-Roman athletic competition.
We have a geography challenge in the Kansas City Jewish community.
Forgive me for bragging (or not), but I cannot help it.
