This passage comes from the Haggadah—the text that guides the Passover Seder, retelling the story of the Exodus. While rooted in Jewish tradition, its message is intentionally universal.
At the very beginning of the Seder, we do something unusual. We step away from Hebrew—the sacred language—and speak in the vernacular, historically Aramaic, the language people actually understood. It’s deliberate. This message is meant to be clear and accessible to all.
We remind ourselves that we once ate the bread of poverty—not by choice. And we acknowledge that there are those in our communities, even today, who know that reality all too well. Then we open our doors, open our hearts, and extend an invitation: let all who are hungry come and eat; let all who are in need come and celebrate.
Wealth, in this context, is not simply what we accumulate. It is what we are willing to share. It is measured not by what sits in our accounts, but by how we show up for others. Generosity is not an afterthought—it is a core component of a meaningful life.
But the passage doesn’t stop there.
We continue: This year we are here; next year in the Land of Israel. It is a statement of aspiration. A recognition that where we are today is not necessarily where we want to be tomorrow. It calls us to envision something better—and to take steps toward it. That is, at its core, planning. Setting intentional goals and working toward them with purpose and clarity.
And then: This year we are slaves; next year may we be free.
Freedom is not always about physical bondage. So often, we are “slaves” in quieter ways—to our schedules, our obligations, our financial stress, or the inertia of habits that no longer serve us. The work of freedom is ongoing. It requires awareness, discipline, and intention.
In our world, that may mean creating a financial life where your resources serve you—not the other way around. Where each decision reflects your values and supports your highest aspirations. Where you are building not just wealth, but Osher—a life of clarity, purpose, and meaning.
As you gather this season—whether for Passover, Easter, or simply time with loved ones—may these ideas resonate beyond the table. May we each take steps, however small, toward greater generosity, greater intention, and greater freedom.
Wishing you and your loved ones a Happy Passover and a meaningful Easter, however you celebrate.