I hope everyone had a meaningful and uplifting Pesach.
There is something almost indescribable about the end of Pesach. The Seder is over. The songs fade. The table is cleared. The house slowly returns to normal. And in that quiet moment, a question lingers.
Now what?
For an entire week, we told our story. We sat with our children, our parents, our friends, and we relived the journey from slavery to freedom. We spoke about pain. We spoke about redemption. We reminded ourselves who we are.
Then Pesach ends, and life resumes.
This year felt different.
Over Pesach, I had the privilege of speaking with so many people, and I kept hearing the same thing. The story no longer feels distant. It no longer feels like something that happened thousands of years ago. It feels immediate. It feels personal.
We are living through a time when the Jewish people are once again being tested. The rise of antisemitism around the world, the moral confusion that leads people to justify terror, and the isolation that Israel often faces have forced many of us to confront a difficult truth.
Our story is not just something we tell. It is something we are living.
At Aish, Pesach was both inspiring and humbling. Hundreds of thousands of people came to us to enhance their Seders. Millions engaged with our content, searching for meaning, for connection, for clarity.
At the same time, the reality on the ground in Israel demanded action. The Kotel had been closed for the past month during the conflict. Our Dan Family Aish World Center, with its protected spaces, has been a home for many who have wished to pray as close to the Kotel and Har Habayit as possible. We have made every effort to support the broader Jewish community.
Now, with the ceasefire in effect, we are rejoicing that we may once again pray from our holiest site in the world and welcome guests back to our center.
In the middle of all of this, I kept thinking about a powerful insight from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, zt’l.
He taught that Judaism is not a religion of history alone. It is a religion of memory. History is something that happened to someone else. Memory is something we carry within us, something that shapes who we are and how we live.
On Pesach, we do not simply tell the story. We are commanded to see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt.
That is not a metaphor. It is a responsibility.
This is because, if we truly left Egypt, then we must live like free people. We must live with courage. We must live with purpose. We must live with faith.
That is the challenge of the day after Pesach.
It is easy to feel inspired at the Seder. It is harder to carry that inspiration into a world that can feel hostile and uncertain. It is harder to stand tall when others try to push us down. It is harder to choose unity when division is all around us.
This is exactly what our story demands of us.
The Jewish people have never been defined by the challenges we face. We have always been defined by the way we respond. Again and again, throughout history, we have chosen strength over fear, clarity over confusion, and hope over despair.
Freedom was never meant to be a moment. It was meant to be a way of life.
This is where Aish plays its role. Our mission is not only to help Jews experience moments of inspiration. Our mission is to help them build lives of meaning, grounded in Torah, guided by values, and filled with a deep sense of responsibility for one another and for the world.
Education is how we turn memory into identity. It is how we ensure that our story continues, not just in words, but in the lives we lead.
People often ask me if Jews today are afraid.
My answer is simple.
We are living through serious times. We are facing real challenges. Yet fear is not what defines us. Strength defines us. Faith defines us. The unbreakable bond between our people defines us.
We have endured far greater challenges than those we face today. We have emerged stronger every time. There is every reason to believe that the future of the Jewish people will be even brighter.
God has always been with us. That has never changed.
As we move forward from Pesach, let us hold onto what we felt around the Seder table. Let us carry it into our homes, our workplaces, and our communities. Let us remember that our story did not end with the Exodus.
It continues with us.
Now we have to be the story.
