Shabbat Pesach Chol Hamoed 5786
Rabbi Menachem Mirski
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Shalom. During the first two days of Pesach, Jewish communities around the world gather at the Seder table to retell the story of the liberation from Egypt. This is the founding narrative of the Jewish people – the moment when a nation of slaves became a people bound by covenant and responsibility.
Yet the Torah points to something deeper. The Exodus is not merely about political liberation. It is also about inner liberation – the liberation of the human mind and spirit. In many ways, this second form of liberation is even more difficult. It demands letting go of old patterns of thinking and living, and gradually adopting new ones. This is one of the reasons the Israelites wandered for forty years in the wilderness.
There is a clear pattern: the longer and more painful the experience of enslavement, the longer and more challenging the process of true liberation becomes. One can physically leave Egypt, but Egypt can remain deeply embedded in one’s thinking. As the saying goes: you can take a person out of Egypt, but not always Egypt out of the person.
One of the most striking examples of this struggle appears in the crisis of the Golden Calf. The Torah portion read at this time focuses not only on the failure itself, but on the subsequent process of repairing the relationship between God and Israel. In that pivotal moment, Moses does something remarkable. Instead of asking solely for forgiveness, he makes a deeper request:
“Show me Your ways” (Exodus 33:13).
In other words: help me understand. This is a profoundly intellectual moment. Moses seeks not only faith, but insight. It reminds us that in the Jewish tradition, liberation is intimately connected to learning – and genuine learning cannot occur without the freedom to ask real questions.
The Seder night itself begins with a question: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” In that same spirit, let us pose a contemporary question: How do we step outside our intellectual bubbles without abandoning our deepest beliefs?
We live in the most interconnected era in human history, with unprecedented access to knowledge and information. Paradoxically, however, meaningful conversation across differences has rarely been more difficult. The Exodus story teaches us that true liberation also requires freeing ourselves from patterns of thinking that prevent honest encounter with one another.
Here are three principles that can help guide us:
First: Be genuinely curious.
When we encounter a worldview different from our own, we should lead with curiosity rather than correction. Most of us instinctively move to rebut opinions we disagree with. Curiosity, however, asks different questions: “What led you to that view?” or “What experience convinced you this is true?” Instead of immediately challenging, we should listen for the full answer.
What often prevents us from doing this is not only emotion, but also a subtle form of stereotypical thinking. Today it often sounds like: “If someone believes this, they must belong to that camp,” or “If they think this, they must also believe these other things.” We hear one or two ideas and quickly place the person in an ideological box. The moment we do so, we stop truly listening, because we assume we already understand.
The Torah counters this by reminding us that every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim – in the image of God. Every person is far more complex than any label we assign. Real connection happens at the level of the individual. Often, the moment we notice something in another person that does not fit our expectations – something unique or even contradictory – the conversation becomes truly human. Curiosity, it turns out, is one of the most powerful tools of intellectual liberation.
Second: Separate the person from the belief.
We should learn to distinguish people both from the groups we assign them to and from their beliefs – including our own. Some individuals internalize their beliefs so deeply that any challenge feels like a personal attack, making dialogue nearly impossible.
To be fair, there are areas where beliefs are closely tied to identity, such as religion. As a rabbi, my Jewish identity is deeply intertwined with my beliefs. Yet in interfaith encounters, we do not begin by declaring “This is what I believe and you are wrong.” Such dialogue starts with humility.
The problem arises when other domains – particularly politics – begin to function like religion. When ideology becomes identity, disagreement starts to feel like heresy. One of the most important forms of intellectual freedom is the ability to say: “This is my belief – but it is not the entirety of who I am.” This distinction allows conversation to remain a shared search for truth rather than a clash of identities.
Third: Sometimes preserving the relationship is the real victory.
In our culture, we often treat every disagreement as a debate that must produce a winner. Yet many meaningful conversations are not quick contests but long processes. When emotions run too high and genuine listening disappears, continuing the discussion can do more harm than good. Sometimes the wisest response is: “This matters too much for us to rush. Let’s continue another time.” That is not surrender; it is wisdom.
This idea appears in the Torah portion as well. When Moses asks to see God’s glory, God replies: “You cannot see My face… but you will see My back.” We rarely understand things fully in the moment. Understanding often comes later – in retrospect, as if looking at someone’s back after they have passed by. Sometimes the most faithful act in a disagreement is to leave space – for time, for reflection, and for the relationship itself.
Pesach celebrates the departure from Egypt, but the Torah repeatedly emphasizes that leaving was only the beginning. The Israelites often longed to return, revealing a deeply human truth: leaving is easier than changing. True liberation – especially intellectual liberation – requires cultivating curiosity, humility, and the ability to maintain relationships even amid disagreement.
Soon we will sit at the Seder table and retell the Exodus story once again. The Haggadah teaches: “In every generation, a person must see themselves as if they personally came out of Egypt.” The question is therefore never only about the past. It is about the present: What patterns of thinking are we still trapped in? Where have we stopped being able to truly hear one another? And what would it mean, today, to become a little more free?
It may look like something simple, yet not easy: being curious before being certain, separating people from the labels we assign them, and protecting relationships even when we disagree. In a world where disagreement so quickly turns into division, the ability to remain in genuine conversation may be one of the most meaningful forms of freedom we still possess.
Chag Pesach Sameach,
Shabbat shalom
Rabbi Mirski
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