Tonight is Seder night, the start of Passover, the Jewish Festival of Freedom, when we recall the Exodus from Egypt, our people’s journey from slavery to liberation. It’s a story which embraces all our stories. My mother, aged a hundred, tells how she escaped Nazi Europe. A woman whose husband is imprisoned in the Congo says, ‘May God who freed your people, free him.’ A Muslim guest who fled for his life stands up and exclaims: ‘Your story is my story too.’

For, far from free, so much of the world suffers beneath oppression and war.

Maybe that’s why the Seder ends with a song, Chad Gadya, which means ‘one little goat’ in Aramaic. It’s a ditty in the style of The House That Jack Built: a cat eats the goat, dog bites cat, stick hits dog, fire burns stick, water quenches fire, cow drinks water, butcher kills cow, the angel of death despatches the butcher. But then comes God and slays the angel of death.

I have a vivid memory of my grandfather, aged and weak, catching my eye and whispering at what he knew would be his final Seder, ‘after death comes God.’ That was his faith, his hope.

But does God have the last word in our violent world? It hardly feels that way today. I phone family in Jerusalem: we’re in and out of bomb shelters. My heart goes out to them. I call an Iranian friend: ‘No word from my sisters in Tehran.’ ‘My hometown’s just been bombed,’ a Ukrainian acquaintance texts me.

So that Chad Gadya song feels like a metaphor for history, only it’s not goats and cats, but humanity who’s the victim. In their heart-rending shared memorial service, bereaved Israeli and Palestinian families sing that song in Hebrew and Arabic together.

Yet, I still see my grandfather’s face and hear his whisper: after the angel of death comes God; life is greater than death.

But I hear those words as a question: What world is this? What do we want it to be? Of death, or life; oppression or freedom; cruelty or compassion?

I pray this Passover will truly mark our journey towards freedom, so that we can celebrate God’s world together, knowing that the same sacred spirit flows through us all, whatever our faith or nationality, giving life to all that breathes.

We’ve had too much of cat eating goat, human devouring human. May this Festival of Freedom mark our liberation from hatred, violence and fear, for my people, and every people.