We’re More Than Antisemitism: What it means to Be Jewish Today
By Steve Freedman
As Pesach approaches, I am thinking a lot about where we are right now as a people. Since October 7 and over the past two years, much has changed. Antisemitism is much more prevalent, it is loud, and in some places it is becoming normalized in ways we simply cannot ignore.
Because of that, there is a lot of focus right now on fighting antisemitism. When you see what is happening on college campuses, in parts of the media, across social platforms, and in many of our communities in the States and globally, it not only makes sense, it seems essential that this should be the central priority.
At the same time, I actually think there is another question that ultimately matters more and that is what actually defines Jewish life? Is it mostly about responding to those who hate us, or is it about something deeper?
This is not a new question. For a long time, Holocaust remembrance has been a central pillar of Jewish identity for many American Jews. A 2013 Pew study continues to resonate with me after all of these years. It found that 73% of American Jews said that remembering the Holocaust is essential to being Jewish. I get why that matters, but if that becomes the center of Jewish identity, then we have to ask what fills the rest of the space. If being Jewish is largely about remembering what was done to us, then what are we actually passing on?
Rabbi David Weiss Halivni, who survived the Holocaust and went on to become a great Talmud scholar, described Jewish history as being shaped by two experiences, Sinai and Auschwitz. I find that both powerful and actually unsettling. We see Auschwitz as representing destruction, darkness, and what happens when the world turns on us and when God seems absent. Sinai represents something very different. It is about presence, life, covenant, and purpose.
We Jews hold both of these realities. We cannot forget Auschwitz, and we also can’t argue that antisemitism is behind us. For me, then, the essential question of our time is which one should have priority: Auschwitz or Sinai?
If we swap Auschwitz for Egypt, I believe Pesach makes the answer obvious. We begin the seder with slavery and talk about suffering. We eat maror and make sure the story is not watered down or forgotten. But we do not stay in Egypt because leaving Egypt was never the end goal. It was actually just the beginning, and the destination was always Sinai. The journey to Sinai gave birth to Jewish peoplehood and our unique and sacred purpose.
Sinai represents the substance of Jewish life, Torah, learning, moral responsibility, community, language, memory, and a deep sense of purpose. Sinai represents the idea that the Jewish people were not simply a people who survived oppression, but a people entrusted with a covenant and a vision of how human beings should live in the world.
Pesach reminds us of this every year. At the seder table we do not simply recount the story of suffering. We tell a story that leads somewhere better. We eat matzah and bitter herbs, and we also speak about freedom, responsibility, and the journey that began when our ancestors left Egypt.
This understanding of Pesach and its meaning matters more now than ever because if Jewish identity becomes centered mainly on antisemitism, then over time we’ll lose our purpose, our why. It becomes something you react to, not something you live. And when that happens, it becomes much easier, especially for younger Jews, to walk away from it. If identity is built mostly around danger, it is hard to sustain.
We are already seeing some of that. There are young Jews who do not have a strong sense of what Judaism is beyond history. There are those who struggle to explain why Israel matters in the Jewish story. And there are those who, in certain environments, feel that the easiest path is to simply distance themselves from being Jewish altogether.
That is not only about the external pressures. It is also about what we have or have not given our young people. This is where Jewish education matters in a very real way. Our students do need to understand antisemitism, and they need to be able to recognize it and respond to it.
But that cannot be the core of what we give them. They need even more to know who they are. They need to learn Torah and our Jewish story in a serious way and they need to experience Jewish life as something deep, thoughtful, joyful, and meaningful. They need to understand that they are part of a people with a long story, collective memory, and also with a living purpose. They need to see Israel not just through the lens of conflict, but as an integral part of an ongoing Jewish story.
That is what Jewish day schools are doing at their best. They are trying to intentionally build knowledgeable, positive, and connected Jewish identities. Pesach reminds us that the goal of the Exodus was not just to get out. It was to become something.
That process did not end at Sinai. It has continued ever since. The question is not whether we will confront antisemitism, because we have to and we will. The question is whether that becomes the center, or whether we continue to build Jewish life in a way that makes it worth carrying forward from generation to generation.
Pesach, I believe, points us in a very clear direction.
The Solomon Schechter Day School of Bergen County admits students of any race, color, national and ethnic origin to all the rights, privileges, programs, and activities generally accorded or made available to students at the school. Solomon Schechter does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, national and ethnic origin in administration of our educational policies, admissions policies, scholarship and loan programs, and athletic and other school-administered programs.