A Passover Primer

My oldest daughter in America asked me to write out in plain English the Passover story. She was leading our family Seder with many friends last night in Virginia. We had a wonderful time here in Israel, but was so proud of her. This is what I sent her.

The story of Passover is about how the people of Israel were freed from slavery in Egypt—but it’s not a quiet, simple story. It’s dramatic, intense, and at times almost absurd in how stubborn people can be.

The Israelites had been living in Egypt for generations. What started as a safe place during a famine turned into forced labor. A new Pharaoh came to power who didn’t remember Joseph (which is never a great sign), and he decided the Israelites were too numerous and needed to be controlled. So he enslaved them. Hard labor, harsh treatment—the whole package.

The people cried out to God, and God responded by choosing Moses to lead them out. Moses, however, is not exactly eager. When God speaks to him from a burning bush, Moses basically says, “I’m not the right guy.” He worries he’s not a good speaker, that people won’t listen, and tries more than once to get out of it. God insists. Moses goes.

Moses and his brother Aaron confront Pharaoh with a simple demand: “Let my people go.” Pharaoh refuses. Not negotiates—just refuses. And so begins a series of plagues that escalate step by step.

First, the Nile turns to blood. Then come frogs—an overwhelming number of frogs. After that, gnats and flies. Each time, Pharaoh is pressured, briefly softens, then hardens again. It becomes a pattern: things get worse, Pharaoh almost agrees, then changes his mind.

The plagues continue—disease on livestock, painful boils, destructive hail, locusts that devour everything, and then darkness covering the land. At this point, Egypt is essentially falling apart, but Pharaoh still resists. It’s almost stubbornness for its own sake.

Finally comes the last plague: the death of the firstborn. This is the turning point. But before it happens, God gives the Israelites specific instructions. Each family must sacrifice a lamb and put its blood on the doorposts of their house. That night, when judgment passes through Egypt, the houses marked with blood will be “passed over.”

They are also told to eat the meal in a hurry—lamb, bitter herbs, and unleavened bread (because there’s no time to wait for dough to rise). They’re to be ready to leave immediately, as if already halfway out the door.

That night, the plague strikes Egypt. Pharaoh finally breaks. He tells Moses and the Israelites to leave—immediately. After all the refusals, all the resistance, it ends suddenly. “Go.”

The Israelites leave quickly, taking what they can carry. The unleavened bread becomes a lasting symbol of that urgency. There was no time for things to rise—this was a fast exit.

Of course, Pharaoh changes his mind again (not because he is missing the Jews) and chases after them. That leads to the Red Sea crossing, where the Israelites escape, and the Egyptian army is stopped. Moses lifts up his staff, and the winds come and part the Red Sea, and the people crossed through on dry ground. But the heart of Passover is what happened the night before—the moment of protection and deliverance.

Every year, Passover is remembered with a meal that retells this story. The foods are symbolic: bitter herbs for the bitterness of slavery, unleavened bread for the haste of leaving, and the lamb representing the sacrifice that marked their homes.

There’s also a built-in sense of humor in how the story unfolds. The most powerful man in the region is repeatedly brought to his knees by frogs, insects, and livestock problems, yet still refuses to change until the very end. Meanwhile, the reluctant leader who tried to avoid the job becomes the one who leads a nation out.

In a straightforward way, Passover is about freedom—but it also highlights human stubbornness, divine persistence, and the strange way history can turn on a single night.