Parashat Bo
Rabbi Adi Cohen
A few minutes before Seder Pesach last year, a young child came to me, holding a crayon drawing. It was a picture of stick people walking between walls of water and one word red: “WHY?” I asked her what the drawing meant. She said: “I get the story, but why do we still tell it like it’s ours? Can’t we just have the Matzah ball soup?”
That question reminded me that Jewish identity is not about the past alone. It is about telling, reclaiming, and becoming.
This week, in Parashat Bo, we reach the final three plagues. Darkness, locusts, and death. The Israelites prepare for their liberation from Egypt. But long before they cross the sea, God commands them to tell the story: “And when your children say to you… you shall say: It is the Passover sacrifice to the Eternal…” (Exodus 12:26–27).
Before the Exodus happens, we are told to narrate it. We remember and we relive.
Talmud in Pesachim 116b teaches: “In every generation, one must see themselves as if they personally left Egypt.”. The Exodus is not just history. It’s a template for liberation, dignity, and identity.
But it is also messy. God hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Death touches every Egyptian home. Freedom comes at the cost of rupture. We are holding paradoxes: Joy and grief. Hope and horror. Divine justice and human pain.
Rabbi Judith Plaskow teaches that redemption is never simple. It is full of ethical complexity. We must name the suffering, even of our enemies. That is why we spill wine from our cups at the seder. Our freedom should never be drunk without moral awareness.
Parashat Bo also reminds us that liberation begins in the home. It begins in small rituals, in homes filled with questions, with imperfect people choosing to move forward.
At Temple Shalom, we see this truth week after week: Families who were once disconnected now lighting Shabbat candles.
Individuals learning to chant Torah for the first time for an adult Bat or Bar Mitzvah, someone proudly saying “Sh’hechiyanu” wrapping in their first Talit.
To belong to Am Israel is about participation in the sacred story. Our story is alive, evolving through each retelling, each seder table, each voice that dares to say: “Let my people go.”
Our story matters. Our people matter. Freedom matters.
And in a world that still challenges our legitimacy, we tell our story louder, to affirm who we are.
May we be brave enough to tell our story load and clear.
May we be kind enough to support the people of Iran as they write their story of freedom and liberation
