Rabbi’s Message: March 31, 2026: Passover Seder
The Passover Seder is one of the most practiced rituals and holy days within Judaism. This is fascinating because one of the most remarkable things about the Passover Seder is that it begins not with answers, but with questions. Before the story of liberation is told, before the plagues or the crossing of the sea, the Haggadah pauses for the Mah Nishtanah — the Four Questions. A child, or anyone willing to take on the role of learner, asks: Why is this night different from all other nights?
In Jewish tradition, this is not a small detail. It is the doorway into the entire evening. We do not begin the Seder with certainty. We begin with curiosity.
Psychologists today are increasingly recognizing something that Jewish tradition has long practiced: curiosity – especially when combined with empathy – is one of the healthiest responses the human mind can have to uncertainty. When we look at the narrative of our ancestors that we repeat each year – the trauma and profound conflict that they endured in Egypt, the unmooring uncertainty that stepping into the wilderness caused – with empathy and then we frame it with curiosity, we train ourselves on how we can see the uncertainty in our world today.
When the brain encounters something it does not fully understand, it can respond in two ways. Sometimes uncertainty activates fear — the instinct to retreat, to defend, or to rush toward quick conclusions. But curiosity activates something different. It turns the unknown into an invitation to explore.
Research in psychology shows that people who cultivate curiosity tend to tolerate ambiguity more easily, experience less anxiety, and remain more open to learning and connection. Curiosity allows us to stay present with complexity rather than immediately resolving it.¹ In other words, when we create space for it, curiosity transforms uncertainty from something threatening into something that has the potential to be meaningful.
This insight feels especially relevant right now, in a world that often seems full of unanswered questions. Many of us carry concerns about the future — about ourselves, our relationships, our communities, our families, or the wider world. The instinct to seek certainty is natural. We want clarity. We want stability. We want to know what will happen next. But the Seder gently reminds us that growth rarely begins with certainty. Instead, it begins with the courage to ask questions.
Jewish learning honors this posture. The Talmud even teaches, “Much have I learned from my teachers, more from my colleagues, and most from my students.”² Learning deepens not when answers multiply, but when questions do. In the Mussar tradition — the Jewish spiritual practice of ethical self-refinement — curiosity can be closely connected to humility. Humility does not mean thinking less of ourselves; it means recognizing that our understanding is always partial. There is always more to learn, more to notice, more to hear.³
Curiosity becomes a spiritual discipline: the willingness to listen before assuming we already know.
Perhaps that is why the Seder places questions at its very beginning. Not just physical freedom but spiritual liberation, it suggests, begins with curiosity. The willingness to look at our lives and our world and ask what we have not yet noticed. As we approach Passover this year, two questions from the Seder spirit might be worth carrying with us: What questions have I stopped asking about my life because I assume I already know the answers? And perhaps even more gently: What feels different this year — in my life, in my relationships, or in the world around me? These are not questions that demand immediate answers. In fact, their power may lie in allowing us to sit with them for a while. This kind of curiosity invites patience and listening. It invites the possibility that the story is still unfolding, in every moment, for every generation.
And perhaps this is one of the quiet emotional purposes of Passover. Not simply to remember an ancient story of liberation, but to practice the posture that makes true liberation possible — a mind and heart that remain open, attentive, and willing to ask again:
Why is this night different from all other nights? Because sometimes the path toward freedom begins with nothing more — and nothing less — than the courage to stay curious.
Footnotes
Todd B. Kashdan and Paul J. Silvia, “Curiosity and Interest: The Benefits of Thriving on Novelty and Challenge,” Oxford Handbook of Positive Psychology, 2nd ed. (Oxford University Press, 2009); and George Loewenstein, “The Psychology of Curiosity,” Psychological Bulletin 116, no. 1 (1994): 75–98.
Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 7a.
Alan Morinis, Everyday Holiness: The Jewish Spiritual Path of Mussar (Boston: Trumpeter Books, 2007), 46–47.
