Passover and Easter are the only Jewish and Christian holidays

The words of Marvin Olasky — “Passover and Easter are the only Jewish and Christian holidays that move in sync, like the ice skating pairs we saw during the winter Olympics” — glide across history with grace and depth, linking two faiths, two peoples, and two stories of deliverance. In this vivid image of synchronized motion, Olasky reminds us that beneath the surface of ritual and calendar lies a shared heartbeat — the yearning for freedom, redemption, and renewal. His words are both poetic and prophetic, a recognition that though paths may diverge, truth often moves in harmony, unseen yet profound.

In the style of the ancients, we might say: time itself dances between shadow and light, and the sacred festivals of man mirror this eternal rhythm. Passover, the feast of liberation, celebrates the moment when the Israelites were freed from bondage in Egypt — when death passed over their homes, and a people were reborn. Easter, the Christian celebration of resurrection, marks the victory of life over death, of spirit over sin. Though born of different covenants, both holy days move through the same season, guided by the moon and the memory of deliverance. They are twin lights in springtime’s dawn, reminders that freedom and resurrection are not just ancient tales, but living truths that renew with each generation.

When Olasky speaks of these holidays “moving in sync, like the ice skating pairs,” he paints a picture of divine choreography. Just as two skaters glide across the ice — separate yet one in motion — so do these two faiths move across the stage of history. Their stories intertwine without merging, echoing one another in beauty and sorrow. The Exodus from Egypt and the Resurrection from the tomb — both are acts of release, both are triumphs of hope over despair. The Jew and the Christian, each in their own way, remember that redemption does not come by chance, but by the hand of divine mercy and the endurance of faith.

Consider the story of Corrie ten Boom, a Christian woman who, during the Second World War, hid Jewish families in her home to protect them from the Nazis. When asked why she risked her life, she said she could not celebrate Easter while ignoring the suffering of those whose faith gave birth to her own. Her courage was a living bridge between Passover and Easter — between the freedom once gained in Egypt and the freedom promised in Christ. Through her, the spirit of both festivals moved in sync, proving that faith united by compassion is stronger than any wall that divides.

The origin of Olasky’s reflection lies in his own background as a Jewish-born Christian thinker — a man who has walked within both traditions and felt their spiritual resonance. His observation is not merely about dates on a calendar, but about the enduring dialogue between two faiths that have shaped civilization. The lunar calendar of the Jews and the solar calendar of the Christians rarely agree, yet in the spring, the heavens align them — a subtle reminder from eternity that unity need not mean uniformity. It is in their harmony of meaning, not their sameness of form, that their beauty is revealed.

There is profound symbolism in this alignment. As the moon of Passover rises over Seder tables, recounting the deliverance from Egypt, the sun of Easter morning rises over empty tombs, proclaiming the deliverance from death. One speaks of the birth of a nation; the other, of the rebirth of the soul. Together, they weave a tapestry of divine purpose — the ancient and the new, the law and the grace, the shadow and the light. To see them move together, as Olasky describes, is to witness the poetry of history itself — faiths born from the same root, still dancing across the centuries.

Let this teaching be passed to all who seek understanding: the wise do not look for separation, but for connection. The faithful do not boast of difference, but rejoice in shared truth. Just as the skaters glide side by side, held by invisible rhythm and trust, so too should the children of Abraham move together — not in rivalry, but in harmony. The freedom of Passover and the hope of Easter are not enemies, but companions, teaching that salvation — in all its forms — is a gift to be honored, not divided.

And so, the lesson endures: whether you celebrate the crossing of the Red Sea or the rising from the tomb, remember that both speak of the same eternal truth — that no night is too dark for the dawn, and no bondage too strong for liberation. Passover and Easter move in sync not by accident, but by divine design — a reminder that history, like the dance of faith, finds its beauty not in perfection, but in unity of purpose.