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This week, Jews around the world are observing Passover—a recollection of our ancestors' time as slaves and a grateful recalling of their journey to freedom.

Passover is rife with symbols. Every seemingly old-fashioned ritual is a puzzle piece in a larger picture of liberation.

My ancestors yearned for literal, physical freedom. But today, for most of us, freedom from physical shackles is no longer the goal. We can go anywhere and do anything. We have agency and sovereignty in ways no generation before us could claim. In fact, we have so much freedom that we take it for granted, wasting it like the endless hot water pouring from our showerheads.

So why observe rituals that don't seem to reflect who we are today?

My favorite Passover ritual seems so obsolete to my modern self that I feel self-conscious practicing it, even when no one is watching. It's called Bedikat Chametz, and it looks like this: we walk around the house at night, in darkness, with a candle in one hand and a feather in the other, searching every nook and cranny for chametz—forbidden foods like bread.

If we accept that Passover exists to remind us of the value of freedom, then perhaps this strange practice is meaningful—not in a literal way where G-d cares about a crumb in the corner of my house, but in a profoundly symbolic way. We are tasked to look in the darkness for whatever is holding us back from genuine freedom.

Why do we perform this ritual in darkness, by the light of a single candle?

Perhaps because the habits, mindsets, and beliefs that enslave us live in the dark recesses of our minds—in the subconscious, where we'd rather not look.

Or perhaps because it's easy to ignore hard truths in the light of day, when we busy ourselves with the intentional hustle we call "my life." But at night, lying in bed, we're utterly vulnerable to what is. To what matters.

The chametz we are called to search for today may not be physical shackles, but it's just as real. Our seemingly self-selected goals and ambitions fool us into believing we own them—when often, they own us.

So what are the chametz of our time? Here are four I encounter regularly in my work.

Fame

Many of us dream of fame, and only after achieving it do we realize what a brutal taskmaster it is.

All day, every day, it demands that we look good, act perfectly, and make others happy. And if we don't, the punishment is swift and cruel—being hated by people who've never met us. Yet somehow, those strangers own us.

Fame is arguably the most expensive of all the ambitions that can steal our freedom. Tread carefully.

Pleasure

This one is tricky because many of us no longer know the difference between pleasure and joy.

Joy has a pleasant aftertaste. It's the feeling we get from doing the right thing, especially when it requires short-term sacrifice. Joy doesn't hand you a bill later. It's slower, smoother, long-lasting—like a nourishing meal or a deep conversation with a friend.

Pleasure is different. Pleasure demands to be satisfied now and doesn't care about the price your future self will pay. No sooner do we give it what it wants than it asks again: More!

What pleasure have you confused for joy? And what freedom is it costing you?

Money

Many people are terrified of money, even as they proclaim how much they want it. The belief that keeps them enslaved is some version of the myth that money is evil.

The truth is that money is neutral—an exchange of goods and services. It's also a multiplier. It magnifies who we already are. Money doesn't make someone generous; it allows a generous person to give on an exponential level. And money doesn't make someone greedy—it simply reveals the greed that was already there.

So many of us are carrying our parents’, even grandparents’, often erroneous beliefs around money. The fact that we are hardly aware of doing this doesn’t cancel the damage to our lives.

What are your money beliefs? And how might they be stealing your freedom?

Power

This master is the most deceitful of all.

We pursue fame, pleasure, and money with at least some measure of awareness. But almost no one admits—to themselves or others—that they want power. We've come to see power as a tool for domination, and no one wants to look like that person.

But power over others is intoxicating. If not treated as a tool to serve rather than to dominate, it will strip us of our morality, our connection to others, and, most significantly, our ability to step into our own authentic power—which is never power over others but the power to create positive change through our unique gifts.

Each of these four desires can become either our master or our servant. Like so much else in life, it's a matter of conscious choice.

In this season of liberation, look into every corner of your life. Find where you've become the servant to what you set out to master. Then do the work of releasing yourself from its grip.

Your promised land is closer than you think.