Dear Friends,
As we prepare to celebrate the holiday of Passover, we are reminded of the quintessential Jewish story of freedom. The Exodus from Egypt, with its dramatic plagues, parted seas, and miraculous manna, is an epic tale of liberation that has inspired countless generations. This year of course, the discussion of freedom feels decidedly heavier, as our own brothers and sisters are still being held hostage in Gaza. This drums up a potent mixture of feelings––grief, anger, disbelief, and even guilt. Why do I get to be free when so many are not? Do I deserve my freedom? Am I doing enough with it?
But before we can try to answer any of those questions for ourselves, we need to begin with a simpler question: What does true freedom really mean? And how can we ensure that our own pursuit of freedom doesn't devolve into chaos and moral confusion?
The Torah's answer to this question is both profound and counterintuitive. True freedom, we are taught, is not simply the absence of external constraints, but rather the presence of internal values and principles. In other words, freedom is not just about being free from something, but also about being free for something – namely, a life of purpose, kindness, and compassion.
This idea is beautifully encapsulated in the Hebrew word for freedom, "cherut." While often translated as "freedom," "cherut" is more accurately rendered as "freedom with a purpose" or "directed freedom." This nuance is crucial, for it suggests that true freedom is not an end in itself, but rather a means to an end – the end being a life of moral responsibility, spiritual growth, and service to others.
Without this sense of purpose and direction, freedom can quickly degenerate into anarchy and moral ambivalence. When we are free to do as we please, without any guiding principles or values, we risk succumbing to our basest impulses and desires. We become slaves to our own whims, rather than masters of our own destiny.
This is precisely what happened to the Israelites during their journey through the wilderness. Fresh from their miraculous deliverance from Egypt, they were initially ecstatic and grateful. But as time wore on, and the novelty of their freedom began to wear off, they started to give in to their selfish desires and impulses. They began to complain, to rebel, and to worship idols – demonstrating a profound lack of appreciation for the true meaning of their freedom.
In contrast, our sages taught that true freedom is not about doing as we please, but about doing as we ought. It is about living a life of purpose, principle, and kindness – a life that is guided by the values of the Torah and the wisdom of our traditions. Historically, the biggest battles the Jewish people have fought have been over our freedom to live Jewishly.
Passover this year brings with it not only reminders of ancient slavery, but images of modern slavery in real time. The Jewish people, and good people the world over, are in anguish over the hostages who have yet to be freed from their literal bondage. Truly, we cannot imagine the depths of suffering they are enduring every moment that ticks by. It seems that at our seders this year, the saltwater in which we dip our karpas may very well be our own tears.
Thus we revisit our earlier question. Why me and not them? Why do I get to be free, and what am I doing with said freedom? Often we already wonder if we are doing enough with our lives. If we are making a difference in the world; traversing the most purposeful path. While we enjoy external freedom, internally we are far from free. So what can we do?
Let us return to the true meaning of freedom. Let us recall that our liberation from Egypt was not just a physical event, but a spiritual one – a call to live a life of intention, generosity, and connection. And let us strive to make our own freedom meaningful, by using it to serve others, to grow spiritually, to pray for the immediate release of those in bondage, to give charity, to give of our very selves; doing everything in our power to make the world a better place. Not just for the few nor the many, but for all.
In this way, we will truly merit the blessing of freedom, and we will be able to say, with the great Rabbi Hillel, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I?"
Looking forward to welcoming you at Chabad Naples, where Shabbat is a celebration of freedom, connection, and true blessing. Wishing you a beautiful and meaningful Shabbat,
Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos