On January 8, in conjunction with Hebrew Language Day, the Academy of the Hebrew Language announced the word chosen by the Israeli public to best capture the spirit of the past year. The word wasהַבַּיְתָה (habayta)—“homeward,” or “homecoming.”
For many Israelis, this choice resonates deeply. Over the past year, our collective attention was fixed on the hope for the return of hostages, displaced families, and soldiers who have spent hundreds of days away from their homes. Yet the power of the word habayta suggests something more than a physical return. It points to a longing for home in a far deeper sense.
In the aftermath of the trauma and devastation of October 7, countless Israelis have sought refuge in spaces that offer emotional safety—places of unconditional love and support, where grief and fear can be processed, and where a sense of joy, wholeness, and stability might slowly be restored. Home, in this sense, is not merely a location, but a sanctuary of the soul.
Parashat Bo that we read this week offers yet a broader perspective on the significance of the home.
Parashat Bo is often remembered for its dramatic public moments: plagues and miracles, Pharaoh and redemption on a national scale. Yet as the narrative shifts from Egypt toward Israel, the stage contracts. The Torah moves away from palaces, rivers, and royal decrees, and into the intimate space of the Jewish home. The very first commandment given to the Israelites as a people is not about marching, fighting, or fleeing—but about the Korban Pesach—the Passover offering–a ritual defined almost entirely by the home.
The offering is assigned by household, with neighbors joining only when necessary. It is eaten inside the home, not in the public square, and the blood placed on the doorposts marks the house itself as a protected domain. It is eaten at night, in haste, within the family home, as preparations for departure are made.
In short, the home determines who participates, where the mitzvah takes place, and the boundaries within which it is fulfilled. The household—not the Temple or any public space—becomes the central framework of the Korban Pesach.
What message is the Torah conveying through this ritual?
For centuries, the Israelites endured suffering and enslavement in Egypt, which the Torah describes as a beit avadim—a “house of bondage” (see Exodus 13:3, 14). Egypt was not merely a place where slavery occurred; it was a system in which human beings were forced to live in someone else’s space, on someone else’s schedule, for someone else’s purposes. The very notion of “home” was stripped away.
A home, by contrast, is a private domain. It is a space where a person governs their own time, nurtures family life, and lives without subjugation to another’s will. By commanding the Israelites to offer the Korban Pesach before the Exodus itself, God was teaching them a profound lesson: before they could be redeemed as a nation, they first needed to be restored to their homes.
Seen in this light, the Exodus is not only the liberation of a people, but the culmination of a process that begins with the redemption of individual homes and households. National freedom is built upon the recovery of personal dignity, intimacy, and belonging that are given expression in the home.
Home, then, is not merely significant on a personal level—it is essential to the redemption of the people as a whole.
It is noteworthy that while habayta was chosen as Israel’s word of the year, the third most popular word was תִּקְוָה—“hope” (with בִּינָה מְלָאכוּתִית, “artificial intelligence,” coming in second). Together, these words seem to express a shared longing: the hope that hostages, displaced families, and soldiers will soon return home.
But perhaps they also gesture toward a deeper hope—that Jews around the world will one day come home to Israel, the eternal homeland of the Jewish people.
Shabbat Shalom
