Our Own Personal "Egypts"

“In every generation, it is the duty of each person to see themselves as if they themselves had come out of Egypt.”

So we recite tonight, on Pesach, the Jewish Passover. When we celebrate the exodus of the Jewish people from Pharaoh’s bondage.

And here we are today, 5,000 years later, still carrying our own Egypts. Our enslavements. Our chains. Our limitations—both imposed upon us and self-imposed. Still yearning for liberation…

I was always taught that Pesach is about liberation. That God, the central actor, delivered us, the passive ones, from Egyptian slavery.

He led us out, He took us, with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. We obeyed, and we followed.

But the more I reflect, the more I study Judaism and its relevance in today’s world, the more I realize that the true story of Pesach—the one passed down from generation to generation, the one that matters most today—is not about the liberation God granted us.

It is about the way we liberate ourselves.
We, ourselves.
Every. Single. Day.

It is about how we free ourselves from our personal Egypts. How we confront our fears, transcend them, and move forward. Not always successfully, not always without doubt, often with pain—but always forward. Always with courage.

The true lesson of Pesach is not about what God did or can do for us, but about what we can and must do for ourselves.

When Moses stood before the burning bush—the fire that spoke to him, calling him to liberate an entire people—I have no doubt he was terrified. But his first response was hineni.
Here I am.
Present. Ready. Willing. Prepared to act. To do. To rise to the moment. To lead my people out of Egypt.

And in parallel, the Jewish people stood before the terrifying idea of leaving behind the familiar—because no matter how wretched slavery was, it was known. And ahead of them stretched the desert, the unknown. An army in pursuit. No clear destination. A very real possibility that the wilderness would become their grave.

Yet, even so, they gathered their unleavened bread, took what little they had, and walked out of Egypt.

Each of them faced their fears, their doubts, their why nots, and chose to act. I have no doubt they trembled with every step, but still, they went.
They. Each one of them, in their own free will, took the first step.
Then the second.
Then the third…

Perhaps God was the architect, the catalyst. But it was their own action, their individual courage, their decision to face and overcome their fears, that wrote the story of freedom.

May this Pesach, all of us—Jewish or not—listen to our own burning bushes, find our personal mission of liberation, conquer our fears, and act.

Our path will not always be smooth, nor free of doubt. Many times, it will be painful and frightening.
But we must always move forward. Always with courage.

Because freedom is not what others, not even God, grant us.
Freedom is what each of us chooses to do for ourselves.

And may we always answer life’s challenges with hineni.
Here I am.
Fully present. Willing. Ready to act. To do. To rise to the moment. To leave behind my own Egypts.