A 2020 Pew report found that a striking 62% of American Jews either host or attend a Passover seder — making it the most widely observed Jewish ritual. And likely that number has only increased in the intervening five years.

In the spirit of the holiday, a question: Why this ritual, above all others?

Perhaps it's because the seder — more than any of the holidays and observances in the Jewish faith — so embodies the Jewish story of oppression and redemption, with profound relevance across the ages.

We’ve carried this same story as part of our collective identity from the very first night of our exodus from Egypt, through the days of the judges and kings of Israel, into exile after exile that scattered us like seeds across the globe.

We’ve eaten the same matzah, tasted the same bitter herbs, and dipped the same greens into salt water through golden ages and ghettos — in Jerusalem, Toledo, Damascus, Baghdad, Paris, Warsaw, Kiev, Moscow, New York. There have been seders defiantly whispered in hiding and seders celebrated at the White House. Anywhere and everywhere Jews have lived, the seder has lived with us.

And, particularly in these very difficult days, as we incomprehensibly observe a second Passover with 59 hostages still being held captive in the tunnels of Gaza, the Passover story of oppression — and hoped-for freedom — resonates ever more powerfully.

As Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, z”l, beautifully wrote: “Every other nation known to mankind has been united because its members lived in the same place, spoke the same language, were part of the same culture. Jews alone, dispersed across continents, speaking different languages, and participating in different cultures, have been bound together by a narrative, the Pesach narrative, which they told in the same way on the same night.”

Making it easy on participants, the seder assumes no prior knowledge. Welcomed to the table is the child who “doesn’t know how to ask.” Built into the ritual is the act of teaching the story that is being told, which ensures the self-perpetuation of the ritual and the people who are part of it.

As seder participants, we don’t just tell the story — we inhabit it. In the asking and answering, dipping and tasting, the “one who doesn’t know how to ask” can become the “wise child,” who then becomes the parent teaching his or her own child. 

But as wondrous and uplifting as our seders are, we should see them more as a stepping stone to more deeply connecting with Jewish life.

Understandably, these last years, we’ve been consumed with fighting antisemitism. But that fight — essential as it is — cannot define who we are as Jews.

My friend and colleague at the Jim Joseph Foundation, Barry Finestone, recently wrote: “If we raise a generation of Jews primarily on fear and survival, we will miss out on the opportunity to give young Jews the tools they need to thrive and contribute to our community and our world.”

Barry continues: “I urge us to pour more and more resources into camps, day schools, trips to Israel, youth groups, and the many other experiences that all have significant data proving strong outcomes. We know that they work. These programs help their participants understand what it means to be a Jew and why it matters.”

I couldn't agree more.

At UJA, we've dramatically increased our investment in Jewish life and education since October 7, spending more than $88 million this year to strengthen Jewish institutions and make meaningful inroads in Jewish education and communal engagement.

Now, imagine if the same 62% of American Jews didn’t just come to a seder — but also found their way, week after week, to attend the highest-quality Jewish places and spaces where Judaism comes alive.

Imagine that these places and spaces were also financially accessible to all.

What a chapter we’d be writing — one about transforming a moment of pain and hate into a legacy of strength, connection, and joy.

What a future we would be creating for our children and grandchildren.

What a vibrant and enduring Jewish story we — and they — would tell.

On a personal note, my wife and I just arrived in Jerusalem for the holiday. And this Saturday night, we hope to celebrate the seder with our children and, for the first time, all three of our young grandchildren together. We eagerly anticipate beginning to engage them in the ageless story that has defined and helped sustain the Jewish people for thousands of years.

Wishing you and your loved ones a happy and healthy Passover. And next year may we be in Jerusalem together — with every hostage home, celebrating freedom.

Shabbat shalom and chag sameach