A few days ago, I read an article seeking a contemporary message in the Haggadah. When we read this book every year at the Passover seder table, with 4 questions officially included and random other questions intermittently part of the tradition, the simple story resonates: We were slaves in Egypt. We ate matza because the bread didn’t rise in time. We journeyed through the desert. Happy ending: we’re free.

But many grope, pull at loose threads, seek meaning beneath the superficial tale. For this holiday of asking questions, this is symbolic of something that should be shared by Jews – that “together” from the government chorus line.

But “together,” shared? Only the polygon. Polygon? The latest jargon for outlines of an area under missile attack.

The article about the Haggadah, though, focused on matzah as the poor person’s bread and how the Hebrews fleeing Egypt, eating it, clung to hope. It reminded me of a cynical remark I made earlier in the week to our granddaughters’ uncle from the other side. Last year, he led a large family seder for all of us. He is a high-ranking officer with a professional military career. We met him briefly off the highway to pick up a granddaughter that had been staying with her cousin at his home. I reminded him that at last year’s seder he said the traditional words, “Next year in the rebuilt Jerusalem.” So, I asked, winking, why he didn’t make it happen, why war again?

Rebuilt – that word is the privilege of Israelis. Jews elsewhere only pray for “Next year in Jerusalem.” That privilege compels reflection. How should we rebuild that Jerusalem.

In a superficial synthesis in my mind – the common message of the Haggadah, telling children a story and leaving room for questions from one year to the next, the article about the poor person’s bread and a lesser resonating narrative of going through the desert for years amidst uncertainty.

Hope – sustained throughout the journey. Because who knew? Only uncertainty was a given in the journey to freedom. The story this year, at least this year, is more about uncertainty than freedom, if we aren’t deluding ourselves. I understand why this year too, for many the better story is proclaiming freedom, strength, certainty that we transcend forces operating against us.

But with one air raid siren following another in an unprecedented series of ballistic missiles launched from Iran at central Israel, we were stuck (luckily) in our home safe room around 6:00 PM when we were planning to pack up the food we prepared and leave for our seder – just a short drive to Haim’s daughter’s place. In the safe room, as each siren precluded the message awaited that it was safe to leave the safe room, Haim predicted his son would cancel. He was right. Several minutes later, apologetically, but understandably, Haim’s son said they would stay home. The seder was smaller than planned. Returning home, we stopped to deliver some leftovers to Haim’s son. He met us in the parking lot and said how disappointed his daughters were about staying home. We didn’t have another siren until 1:40 AM.

Today, where we live, we only had one siren. Northern Israel suffered incessant attacks from the Hezbollah in Lebanon. Houthis are back into the game too, making attacks on southern Israel more frequent than in the first few weeks.

Uncertainty – the only thing all Israelis experience. Ballistic missiles, cruise missiles, cluster bombs, drones, interceptors, shrapnel, debris, from Lebanon, Iran, or Yemen, destructive capacity a function of missile weight, safety of shelters, fatality of direct hits. Togetherness is that experience.

But government ministers and Members of Knesset from the coalition parties, and some of the lame Opposition chant in the name of togetherness, unity.

Chairman of the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee, MK Bismuth (Likud) condemned IDF Chief of Staff Zamir this past week for suspending the reserve regiment that attacked the CNN reporter in the West Bank. Bismuth argued that the highest level of IDF command is expected to back and reinforce combat soldiers unconditionally lest their faith in the system be shaken.

Right-wing entities posted billboards this week demanding media anchorpeople apologize for having criticized another reserve regiment for incidents of abuse of Nukhba prisoners.

I mistakenly believed, like the child-appropriate interpretation of the Haggadah, that there were shared, concrete values shared by Jews. But it seems that there are elements among us seeking to crumble those values like a ballistic missile directly attacking a neighborhood block.

For this year, I have more than 4 questions I should have posed as we read the Haggadah.

Harriet Gimpel, April 2, 2026

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