Weekly Dvar Torah: Pass-Over Passover
In the windswept corners of Central Asia, far from the eyes of Hitler and under the shadow of Stalin, brave Jewish souls dared to live authentically. Huddled in modest homes with the shades drawn tight, children stood watch as their parents studied Torah under threat of arrest. In this underground world, where danger hovered outside every window, Jewish life continued with remarkable determination.
One day, as a mother overheard her young little son dreaming aloud with his siblings, he said with bright hope: “When Moshiach comes, we will pull up the shades and show the world that we are studying Torah and keeping Mitzvos. We are a free people now!”
That child’s vision captures the heart of what Passover is truly about—not just physical liberation, but spiritual freedom. It is not merely the escape from Egypt that we commemorate, but the eternal right of the Jewish soul to live fully and proudly, without fear or shame.
Freedom for a Jew is not simply the absence of enemies like Hitler, Stalin, or today’s Sinwar and Haniyeh. Real freedom means living like a Jew without compromise—proudly donning tefillin, lighting Shabbat candles, baking matzah, and teaching Torah. Freedom where Jewish children don’t need to whisper dreams but they sing them out loud, strong and proud.
This is the spirit we “pass-over” into every generation: transcending boundaries, leaping over limitations, and declaring that nothing can stand in the way of our Jewish identity. Matza, the centerpiece of the Passover table, is called “food of faith” and “food of healing” by the Zohar. Its simple ingredients carry profound spiritual power, restoring our faith and pride. It gives us the strength to split the seas of our challenges and stride forward into our destiny.
Passover is not only the story of a people redeemed—it’s the story of a leader born. Moshe’s birth itself was an act of rebellion against despair. Pharaoh’s decree to kill Jewish male infants was rooted in a cosmic fear: the stargazers saw that a redeemer was soon to be born. But Moshe was born anyway, and his very existence shattered Pharaoh’s attempt to stop Jewish destiny.
In the Talmud, we read how a fetus in the womb enjoys a sublime existence: it eats what its mother eats, it is taught the entire Torah, and it sees with a light that shines from one end of the world to the other. When the baby is born, it forgets everything and cries in despair. Yet, this “loss” is what enables the baby to become a giver, a creator, a contributor to the world.
Moshe’s birth—against all odds—symbolized not just survival, but the beginning of transformation. He was not born to remain in the safety of spiritual wombs, but to lead a nation out of bondage and into their mission. His journey is our journey—from dependency to empowerment, from limitation to liberation.
By Divine Providence, just four days before Passover, we celebrate the birthday of a modern-day Moshe—the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Born on the 11th of Nissan in 1902, the Rebbe escaped the horrors of both Stalin and Hitler. Though he lost family members and witnessed the decimation of world Jewry, he did not retreat inward. Instead, he rose to lead.
When the Rebbe assumed leadership in 1950, Chabad was a small group of broken survivors. Seventy-five years later, his influence has spread to every corner of the globe. From the peaks of the Himalayas to the streets of Siberia, from the jungles of Africa to the suburbs of America, his Shluchim (emissaries) bring Torah, Matza, Shabbos candles, and love to every Jew.
Like Moshe who sought after one lost sheep, the Rebbe cared for each individual soul. When asked why he was so beloved, the Rebbe answered: “Because I love them all. They only return this love.”
Even after his passing, his birthday is a global celebration of inspiration and rededication—proof that true leadership never dies.
This mission of love recently brought me to the office of a lawyer named Anthony. I offered him a box of Matza. “I’m not Jewish,” he said, “but my mother is.”
“Then you are Jewish!” I told him. Anthony’s eyes lit up.
Moments later, he had his first-ever Bar Mitzvah. He wrapped tefillin, recited the Shema, received a beautiful yarmulke, and gave Tzedakah. I gave him the address of a Chabad Seder near his home. Anthony, who only moments earlier thought he wasn’t Jewish, was now connected to Mitzvas, to his heritage, to Hashem.
In ten minutes, a Neshama woke up and exploded with light.
Multiply Anthony’s moment by thousands—thanks to over 123 “Mitzva Tanks” on the Rebbe’s birthday, spreading Matzah, Tefillin, Shabbos candles, and Yiddishkeit across the globe. This is the Rebbe’s legacy: igniting souls and setting them ablaze with Jewish pride and love.
Exodus is not just ancient history. The Hebrew word for Egypt—Mitzrayim—means “narrowness” and “limitations.” Each of us has our personal Egypts, real or imagined, that we must leave behind. The Jewish journey is one of constant transcendence—one Matza at a time, one Mitzva at a time.
From Pharaoh to Rome, from Babylon to the Inquisition, from the Nazis to the Soviets, and now the enemies of today—Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran—our people have endured and outlived every single one. Where are those empires now? In the dustbins of history. But the Jew? We’re still here, still lighting candles, still telling the story, still cracking Matza and sipping wine with joy and purpose.
This year, we partied on Wednesday, April 9th, for the Rebbe’s birthday—and we continue to celebrate on Saturday night, April 12th, at the Passover Seder. Two birthdays: one for a leader, and one for a nation. Both teach us that darkness does not define us. That from every exile, we emerge stronger.
And so we tell our children at the Seder: “Why is this night different?” Because on this night, we were born anew. And we declare with joy and confidence: “Next year in Jerusalem.”
So as we sit at our Seders this year, crack the matzah with meaning, drink the wine with joy, and know that each act is part of a greater journey. Find the fifth son—the one who doesn’t even know there’s a Seder—and bring him back home with love.
Celebrate Exodus. Freedom. Survival. Love. Unity. Redemption.
Celebrate the Jewish soul.
Have a Joyous and Liberating Passover!
Gut Shabbos, Gut Yom Tov
Rabbi Yosef Katzman
