03/04/2026
Between festive days and the front lines of the present
When the Jewish Passover and the Christian Easter fall close together in spring, a quiet yet meaningful space of shared remembrance emerges. Both festivals speak – in different ways, yet with a similar depth – of liberation, of hope, and of human dignity. Passover commemorates the exodus from bo***ge, the courage to seek freedom, and the responsibility to extend that freedom to others. Easter, in turn, stands for overcoming adversity, for new life, and for the strength to find hope even where it seems lost.
In this shared tradition, the paths of Moses and Jesus Christ do not meet as opposites, but as chapters in a long history that continues to be written to this day. It is a legacy that imposes an obligation – not to engage in theological debates, but to live out humanity.
The ancient parable and its new relevance
In this season of reflection, a well-known parable also comes to the fore: the parable of poor Lazarus and the rich man. It is a simple, almost plain narrative – and precisely for that reason, one of startling clarity.
One man lives in abundance, sheltered, safe, in comfort. At his door, however, lies another – sick, hungry, forgotten. Between them stands not a wall of stone, but one of indifference. One does not look, the other is not seen.
Today, this image does not seem like a distant moral tale, but rather a description of the present. Societies grow, prosperity rises, technologies develop – and yet the question remains: Who lies at our doors today? Who is overlooked, even though they are visible?
The temptation of convenience
The modern world has become efficient at organising distance. Suffering is rarely invisible – but it is often far enough away not to disturb us. Numbers replace faces, reports replace encounters, and compassion becomes an optional attitude.
The parable, however, reminds us that responsibility is not abstract. It begins precisely where the gaze turns away. The rich man fails not through cruelty, but through indifference. And perhaps this is precisely where the uncomfortable relevance lies: the greatest failures arise not from malicious intent, but from a failure to pay attention.
Shared heritage, shared responsibility
The Judeo-Christian heritage, which is evident in Passover and Easter, is very familiar with this tension. It speaks of liberation – but also of the duty to remember one’s own history. ‘You shall remember,’ says the Jewish tradition, because memory is the foundation of responsibility.
The Christian message, too, remains incomprehensible without this root. Hope without responsibility quickly becomes an empty formula. Resurrection without compassion loses its meaning.
Both traditions therefore demand not only faith, but also a stance: an eye for the other, action on a small scale, the willingness not to look away.
An invitation not to look away
For an organisation like the Lazarus Union, this parable is more than an image – it is a mission. It reminds us that help does not begin only where large-scale programmes are launched, but where people stand up for one another in concrete ways.
In an age marked by uncertainty, conflict and rapid change, this attitude is becoming increasingly important. It is not about changing the world all at once, but about not overlooking one’s own doorstep.
Perhaps this is precisely where the connection between Passover and Easter lies: in the transition from remembrance to action. Liberation is only complete when it is shared. Hope only becomes credible when it is passed on.
A closing thought in the spirit of the festivals
Thus, these days stand not only for religious traditions, but for a shared ethical invitation. They remind us that dignity is indivisible, that responsibility cannot be delegated, and that humanity always begins in concrete terms.
The parable of the poor Lazarus and the rich man ends with a clear, almost uncomfortable message. It leaves no room for excuses, no back door for self-justification. And perhaps that is precisely its value: it compels us to look.
May this festive season help to sharpen our gaze – towards what lies on our own doorstep. And may it give us the strength not only to recognise, but also to act.
Viribus Unitis