Pesach and the American Russian-Speaking Jewish Community

April 9, 2025

The Seder table, filled with foods of symbolism, is telling a story thousands of years old: the long journey from slavery to freedom. For Jews who once lived in the Soviet Union, this story of freedom from oppression has a special personal resonance. Our exodus from a country where Jewishness was often suppressed, where religious and cultural expression was fraught with risk, follows the ancient Israelites' departure from Egypt. But this year, as we gather at our Seder tables across America, there is another shadow cast upon us – the subtle wave of antisemitism, adding to the lessons of Pesach and to the call for action together.

For generations in the Soviet Union, Jewish life existed in the hushed corners of homes, a whispered heritage against a backdrop of official denial and occasional persecution. The simple recognition of a holiday like Pesach may itself be an act of stealth rebellion. The need for religious and cultural freedom was a powerful undertow in the lives of Soviet Jews, a silent hope for a different reality. When the gates finally opened, the road to America was, for so many, a modern-day exodus – a flight from boundaries and a reaching towards the promise of a land in which Jewishness could be openly given and joyously celebrated.

The synagogues with their bright colors, the Hebrew schools, the kosher shops that opened their doors to us in America were a revelation, a stark contrast to the scarcity and secrecy of our past. We built new lives, grateful for the freedom to celebrate Judaism openly. The story of the Exodus became our story, a testament to the enduring human spirit that seeks freedom from oppression.

And yet, the new wave of antisemitism throughout America is a foul veneer on this hard-won freedom. From hate on social media to violence on college campuses, the old evil bursts through in frightening guise. For some of us who escaped a nation where state-sponsored antisemitism was rampant, or quietly indulged, the new wave has chilling undertones. It recalls memories of an era we tried to forget.

It is here that the parallel with the Exodus has a significant new dimension. It was not simply a question of flight from one's point of captivity; the Exodus was a question of creating a future in which this type of oppression would no longer hold sway. Similarly, our immigration to America was not simply for our personal freedom; it has attached to it a responsibility to assist in keeping this a home of safety for all, free from the curse of antisemitism.

Just as the Israelites had to mobilize and struggle for their freedom, so too must the Russian-speaking Jewish community in America – and the broader Jewish community – participate in advocacy and education. Our experience provides a specific insight into the evil nature of antisemitism and the benefits of early intervention. We are aware of the dangers of silence and the importance of resisting hate in all its forms.

Education in our own community and engagement with the larger American society are essential. We must share our stories, make clear the historic causes and contemporary manifestations of antisemitism, and build bridges of understanding to other communities. Just as the story of the Exodus was handed down through the ages to preserve the memory of oppression and the value of freedom, we must go out of our way to teach our children and our neighbors about the dangers of hate and the value of tolerance.

Our activism must be multilateral. It involves speaking up for institutions that combat antisemitism, political action which makes our political leaders realize how serious this is as a threat, and fellowship with other minority groups who are also struggling against similar challenges. We must also be vocal as we speak up against acts of antisemitism online or at home.

The Exodus from Egypt was a defining moment in Jewish history, but only the beginning. It marked the beginning of an endeavor of establishing an equal and just society. Similarly, our immigration to America was towards freedom, but the battle against antisemitism needs to be a constant watch and an active approach.

For the American Russian-speaking Jewish community, the meaning of Pesach is thus compounded. It is a reaffirmation of the freedom we have known, a vivid reminder of the repression we escaped, and a vigorous call to action against resurgent antisemitism. As the Exodus required mutual action and shared commitment to a brighter future, so too does our current existence. Advocacy and education are not afterthoughts to our experience; they are as important as the Exodus from Egypt, assuring that the promise of freedom we sought and found in America will remain a reality for generations yet to come.

Chag Pesach Sameach!