Most questions I get about my “exodus” mainly deal with why I left, what I ran away from. The “proper” answer naturally would be: to be free, to be able to practice Judaism, to pursue happiness, to have access to opportunity. But does one strive for something one does not know exists? Why would I hunger for Shabbat, having never witnessed its beauty? The less “proper” truth is that I did not leave the Soviet Union to be free to practice Judaism, or any such thing. When I got on that plane in Moscow, I simply wanted a better life, nicer clothes, better job, maybe less antisemitism…that was all I could dream of at the time.

The ultimate slavery is not knowing you are a slave… I did not realize I was one until I came to the U.S. and saw what I was now free to pursue. My exodus story is not about me changing geography, but about YOU freeing me. YOU knew about millennia of tradition that was kept away from me, YOU knew I was living in the Matrix behind the Iron Curtain. YOU knew I was a slave. YOU lobbied, marched, fundraised, visited Refuseniks, did all that, while I blankly stared, unaware of my bondage. YOU knew how badly I needed that Red Pill.

My freedom did not come from my desire to leave a slave state, but from YOUR determination to have me raise my children in the Land of the Free. What became of newcomers is not what you envisioned, most did not rush to drink from the well of tradition your efforts made accessible. Yet I implore you to rid yourself of disappointment, if any, and simply revel in the magnitude of your mitzvah.

Here are four grateful generations, unbound.


haggadah Section: -- Exodus Story