Seder night focuses on yetziat Mitzrayim – but antisemitism runs through the entire Haggadah, from episodes that preceded Egypt to those that followed it. It is not incidental. The very first Jew already faced it: the people of Aram attacked Avraham for his beliefs; Chevron’s landowners refused to sell him burial ground. What explains this ancient, relentless hatred?
Yitzchak was also hated – because of his success. After their jealousy caused the Plishtim to stuff Yitzchak’s wells, their king, Avimelech, expelled Yitzchak from Gerar: “Leave us, because you are stronger than us” (Bereishit 26:16).
Pharaoh used this same “strength” to convince the Egyptians to enslave and persecute the Jews: “The Children of Israel are greater and stronger than we are. Let’s act wisely with them, lest they become many and join our enemies in the event of a war” (Shemot 1:9–10).
Our continued success generated hate many times since then. Professor Thomas Sowell was once asked what Jews could do to minimize the hatred and hostility towards them. The answer, said Sowell, is one word: “Fail.”
Jews are the most successful minority in history. Because of our remarkable success, we have been the most hated. Given equal opportunities, we have been proactive and resourceful in succeeding more than others. What do others do when this happens? “They can either hate themselves for underperforming, or hate others for overperforming – it is easier to do the latter.”
Ya’akov was hated by both his brother and his father-in-law. The Haggadah, though, focuses not on Eisav but on Lavan – because Lavan had no excuse. Eisav at least had a grievance; Lavan was Ya’akov’s father-in-law, the grandfather of his children, and still sought to destroy him. The Maharal sees this as the defining precedent: we have been hated throughout history even by those with no reason to hate us at all (Gevurot Hashem 54).
Amazingly, Jews have been hated for every imaginable reason – and its opposite. Professor Michael Curtis points out that the uniqueness of antisemitism lies in the fact that no other people in the world have ever been charged simultaneously “with alienation from society and with cosmopolitanism, with being capitalistic exploiters and also revolutionary communist advocators… with being a chosen people and also having an inferior human nature, with both arrogance and timidity, with both extreme individualism and community adherence, with being guilty of the crucifixion of Jesus and at the same time held to account for the invention of Christianity… Everything and its opposite becomes a reason for antisemitism” (Antisemitism in the Contemporary World, 1).
The fact that there are so many reasons, even those that contradict one another, indicates that none of these reasons is the real one. Yechezkel HaNavi explains that Hashem uses antisemitism to stem our assimilation (20:32–34). When Jews see themselves as part of a broader society, Hashem causes that society to remind us that we do not belong. We are the nation that dwells alone because we have a special relationship with Hashem and a unique mission in His world.
The Abarbanel saw this prophecy playing out before his own eyes. For centuries, Jews had flourished on the Iberian Peninsula, feeling genuinely at home in Spanish and Portuguese society, sharing in its Golden Age. Then came persecution – and expulsion. The Abarbanel understood why: Hashem had reminded His people that Spain was not their home.
Anne Frank responded similarly to Nazi oppression. “The persecution reminds us that we are not like the rest of the nations of the world – we have a higher purpose… We can never become just Netherlanders, or just English or representatives of any country for that matter. We will always remain Jews” (Diary of a Young Girl, entry dated April 11, 1944).
We summarize this historical process at a critical turning point on Seder night. After the initial description of the servitude in and exodus from Egypt (what the Mishnah calls “Mat’chil b’genut u’mesayeim b’shevach”), we take a step back and speak about the hatred of Lavan that predated our arrival in Egypt. Before doing so, we transition by singing Vehi she’amda – a piece that highlights the attempts by the nations of the world to destroy us in every generation.
Before and after describing these attempts, Vehi she’amda credits Hashem with saving us from these consistent threats. As we have seen, Hashem causes our enemies to threaten us in order to distance ourselves from them, and He saves us to bring us closer to Him.
After the past two-and-a-half years since October 7th, this year’s Seder and the recitation of Vehi she’amda should feel especially relevant. Like many generations of Jews, we, too, have been viciously targeted by a vile terrorist group and hated and demonized by its supporters around the world.
Let’s remember what the true cause of our suffering has always been and continues to be. May this realization merit us Hashem’s salvation – bayamim haheim bazman hazeh.
Rabbi Reuven Taragin is the Dean of Overseas Students at Yeshivat Hakotel and the Educational Director of World Mizrachi. His new book, Essentials of Judaism, can be purchased at rabbireuventaragin.com