DVIR ABRAMOVICH: Passover is a declaration of Jewish survival in a world that keeps trying to erase us

This Saturday, Jewish families across Australia will sit down at the Seder table to celebrate Passover — the Festival of Freedom.

They will gather with loved ones, retelling the ancient story of how a persecuted people rose up, broke their chains, and crossed through parted waters toward a life of dignity and hope.

They will recite a line older than memory: “In every generation, they rise up to destroy us.”

This year, those words won’t sound like ancient myth. They will feel like they were written last week.

This year, we are not remembering Pharaoh.We are living through his return.

We are not just retelling the story of our ancestors escaping fire.We are enduring it — right now, in this country, on these streets.

October 7, 2023.

A date that split the world in two and seared into Jewish hearts like a brand.

On that day, Hamas terrorists unleashed a massacre so brutal it defies language.

Infants executed. Families burned alive. Women raped, filmed, and paraded. Holocaust survivors dragged into captivity.

Today, 59 hostages remain in Gaza’s underground hellholes — abused, abandoned, alone. Forgotten by the world. Remembered only by their mothers and fathers who still set a place for them at the table.

Their nightmare has no end.And here in Australia, our own nightmare continues.

Let’s stop pretending this is a ripple.This is a tsunami.

Let’s not hide behind euphemisms and polite conversation.

Anti-Semitism in this country is not rising.

It has exploded, like a gas leak ignored for too long. And now the match has been lit.

We are not witnessing the return of antisemitism.We are neck-deep in it.

And the alarms? They’re blaring.

Passover is not a performance.It is a warning.

It is the oldest protest march in human history — a night of defiance, of survival, of saying “we are still here” in a world that keeps trying to erase us.

But this year, every symbol of the Seder is laced with dread.

This year, as we dip parsley into saltwater to remember our ancestors’ tears, we are crying fresh ones.

Not just for what was. But for what is.

Because the plagues are not stories from long ago.They are here. In our cities. On our campuses. On social media. In silence.

We open the door for the prophet Elijah.But this year, we wonder — what if opening that door invites danger?

Imagine explaining to your child that the world doesn’t care about Jewish lives.Imagine watching the people you thought were your allies say nothing — nothing — as the mobs call for your destruction.

This isn’t hysteria.This isn’t paranoia.This is happening.And it’s happening now.

But we are not afraid.We are not hiding.We are not silenced.We are not backing down.

We are standing taller than ever.

I have lived in this nation for nearly 40 years. I love this country.But I have never seen what I see now.

An explosion of anti-Semitism that threatens to choke the very values we all claim to uphold.

A sickness that does not whisper. It shouts. Loudly. Proudly.

And too many look away.

But not us.

We have survived every Pharaoh.We have stood at the gates of every empire that tried to erase us.And every time — every time — we came through stronger.

That is the message of Passover.That no power, no ruler, no mob can crush a people whose soul is unbreakable.

Passover is not just a Jewish story.It is a universal story.

A mother placing her child in a basket and praying the river saves him.A people crossing the sea with nothing but faith.A cry that says: No one owns us. No one breaks us.

It is the story of every human being who has stared down oppression and said, “Not anymore.”

So as we gather this Saturday — Jews across Melbourne, Sydney, Perth, Brisbane — we do what we’ve always done.

We raise our glasses.We break the matzah.We dip bitter herbs into saltwater and taste our history.

But this year, the bitter taste is not just memory.It is reality.

It’s the Jewish student hounded on a university campus for daring to speak.It’s the Israeli flag torn down at protests.It’s the silence from leaders who find their voices for every injustice — except ours.

Still, we do not close the door.We open it.

We leave a cup for Elijah — the prophet of redemption — because Jews never give up on the idea that light will break through.

We say, “Let all who are hungry come and eat.”Because even in sorrow, we welcome.

And we ask four questions — not just about the night.But about the world.

Why is this year different?Because the mask has come off.Because Jewish blood has become cheap again.Because evil has grown bold — and polite society barely flinches.

Why do we recline?Because we are a free people — and we will not bow our heads for anyone.Not Hamas.Not bigots.Not bullies.Not anyone who thinks Jewish safety is negotiable.

Why do we tell this story?Because our story is the world’s alarm bell.Because the same hatred that begins with Jews never ends with Jews.

To every decent Australian:

This moment is not about left or right.It is not about religion.It is about who you are willing to stand up for when the mob comes knocking.

We’re not asking for special treatment.We’re asking you to see what is happening.We’re asking you to understand that when Jewish children must hide who they are to feel safe, this country is no longer whole.

Passover teaches us that freedom is not given — it is fought for.It is achieved by crossing into the unknown, while the world stands by.It is held onto with stubbornness, with love, and sometimes, with rage.

So no, we are not cowering.We are opening our doors.We are singing louder.We are teaching our children to be proud, not quiet.

And we will fight — peacefully, lawfully, relentlessly — to ensure that this nation remains a place where Jews do not have to ask to belong.

We do belong.

This is our home.And we are not going anywhere.

Dr Dvir Abramovich is Chairman of the Anti-Defamation Commission and the author of eight books.