The Passover narrative: the seder, the retelling of the Exodus – the story of liberation and freedom. Liberation can be understood in a myriad of ways: in its broadest sense, liberation recognizes that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights, that they are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of unity. In a more narrow sense, liberation can be understood to refer to one’s ability to fulfill his or her potential and affective needs. At Passover, we are all required to feel as if we have personally left Egypt: the Exodus story is not only about the freedom of the Jewish people, it is also the archetype through which we can examine what binds and enslaves us in our own lives and consider what liberation might look like and require. We do not ‘commemorate’ the Exodus at Passover; instead, we consider the possibilities that arise from its remembrance. 

I have never been enslaved by another or felt the chains of bondage. My subjugation has come from within. Philosophically, Judaism tells us that we need yetzer ha’ra (destructive forces within), because our struggle to overcome it characterizes the belief that people are endowed with free will. But there is something more fundamental about our need for yetzer ha’ra. “If not for the evil impulse,” says the midrash, “no one would build a house, marry, have children, nor engage in trade.” Yetzer ha’ra represents not only destructive forces, but creativity, ambition and will. Yetzer ha’ra is the selfish inclination within us, and yetzer ha’tov the selfless piece of us. Yetzer ha’ra is our sneaking suspicion, or out-and-out conviction, that this life is all there is. It pulls us from the holy to the corporeal. Yetzer ha’tov, by contrast, is our drive to connect with the eternal, something larger than ourselves. They are like warring influences within us.

I have certainly been engaged in the battle these two sides of my psyche represent. I have lived through the existential angst of feeling there may not be a purpose to life, thinking that we may have merely tried to create meaning out of nothing using ritual and religion, that we have no control over who we are and who we will become, that we are ultimately alone in the world, that there is no real higher calling. And the destructiveness of diving into that deep well and submerging myself in it only led to more destruction. It bound me to a dark and, ultimately, selfish place where I was unable to connect anything beyond myself and effect any real meaning in my life or the lives of others. In this place filled with yetzer ha’ra, I felt the personal enslavement such forces can bring.

In connecting to my Judaism, I have allowed yetzer ha’tov to come into my life. The rhythm and ritual of Jewish life has allowed me to become more balanced, to come out of the well. I have learned to trust that what I need will come to me if I allow it, and step out of myself long enough for it to be revealed. I have realised that I can create meaning in caring for others. In living a principled life, even when it’s hard. In practicing the obligations of Judaism even when I do not understand their meaning. In connecting to community and taking responsibility for the world around me. I have accepted that there is, in fact, no meaning in a life focused solely on that dark well: that there is something incredibly selfish and indulgent about staying in that destructive place. That it is by reaching outwards, and trusting that my needs will be taken care of and my place in the world will be secure in the process, that I will be free from oppression and become liberated.

As I celebrate Passover this year, I do so with gratitude and a sense of purpose. Another opportunity to consider what freedom ought to look like and examine what I have to do, or not do, to end my subjugation. This year we are here, next year we will be in the Land of Israel. This year we are slaves, next year we will be free. Next year in Jerusalem.