Less than an hour before the start of the Passover holiday on Wednesday evening, the United States launched a single rocket to the Moon. At roughly the same time, Iran launched a barrage of rockets at Israeli civilian targets.

After living for a month under a hail of missiles, it was oddly refreshing to see the Artemis II rocket ship fire into space. Many Israelis have become used to the sight of missiles and cloud trails, and fear the devastation of an impact on a building full of people, young and old, huddled together and hoping that today’s not their day. Or perhaps, for the more positive-minded, the first thoughts of rockets may summon up the exhilaration of a last-minute save by the Iron Dome, or an American F-15 taking down targets in Tehran. But for the majority of the country, rockets are steeped in thoughts of warfare.

And yet in this time of conflict, as the Artemis II spacecraft left our world behind, it was a strangely welcome and heartwarming sight to see a rocket set to a different purpose, and to be reminded that their power can be turned toward exploration rather than annihilation. On the eve of Passover this year, we lived a mirrored moment of rocket fire. Since then, I have been inspired to think thoughts on the duality of human nature, its inclination, and its inventions. To explore or exterminate. To defend or destroy. To reach the heavens or shake the earth.

It was reinvigorating to see the now-familiar sight of a massive projectile blasting out plumes of fire and a stream of smoke, and to think not of murderous threats from abroad, but rather our aspirations for traversing beyond the horizon. Perhaps NASA makes us all “Ivrim,” the ancient word for Abraham and his Jewish progeny that literally means “to break boundaries.”

The Artemis space program aims to return humanity to the Moon, with the mission that launched on Wednesday evening being the first time since 1972 that human beings have travelled beyond Earth’s orbit. Artemis is not an echo of the past; it is a renewed vision inspired by our history and our sense of cosmic awe in the face of the infinity of space.

In looking to the Moon, it is fitting that this extraterrestrial expedition takes place during Passover. This is because, according to our Sages, after our exodus from Egypt, the first commandment that the Israelites collectively received from God as a nation newly made free was to bless God for the lunar cycle and to sanctify each new moon.

In our tradition, each month represents renewal, or more accurately a chance to remake ourselves anew. To refresh, refurbish, and refashion ourselves. This is why the Hebrew word for month, “chodesh”, is from the same root as the word for new, “chadash.” But for Jews, it is more than an opportunity; it is a divine decree. A heavenly mandate obligating us to generate progress. To become better versions of ourselves.

Passover is bound up in the concept of liberty from tyranny; the story itself is at least superficially a straightforward tale of freedom from bondage. In the face of Iranian terrorism, it is a message that still rings true today. But the commandment to sanctify the moon each month tells us something more.

After centuries of slavery and a momentous exodus, the Jewish People’s first commandment from God goes beyond freedom from fear, and instead guides us toward a freedom to choose. To choose whether to send our rockets into war or into space. To choose how we spend our time. To dream old dreams once again. To build new starships and rebuild old cities. To be as we were always meant to be: free men and women in space and time.

Slavery is a static condition, while freedom is the ability to change. For slaves, today is the same as yesterday. But as free people, we write our own futures.

Ad astra, b’Yerushalayim habenuyah.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)