Unity and Identity: Erev Rosh Hashanah, 5786. Kol Shalom, 2025

Rosh Hashanah is the moment when we stop time, take a step back, and analyze our lives  from a broader perspective. Time, in the segment we call life, never stops, but  nevertheless, this spiritual work that our ancestors felt was necessary, invites us to reflect,  evaluate, and try to correct our course. 

I confess that I thought a lot about the message I want to share with you during these ten  days of reflection, balance, and Teshuvah. And after much thought, I became convinced  that this time it would not be a philosophical analysis or a return to the harsh reality of a  two-year war and antisemitism like we have not seen in a long time. Obviously, both  dimensions will be present—the real and the ideal, what is and what should be. After all,  those two sides make up who I am. I try to keep my balance between the two sides-real  and ideal. 

That is why, during these Yamim Nora’im, it seemed to me of utmost importance to again  question what it means—for me, after forty-two years in the rabbinate—to be Jewish.  And the first idea that emerged from this exploration was the idea of Unity, “Achdut” in  Hebrew. 

Our supreme declaration of faith, the Shema, concludes with the proclamation that God is  “Echad”—one, unique, indivisible.  

That same declaration begins almost like a cry, pleading: “Hear, O Israel!” The idea  of Echad as an ideal reality, contrasts with the idea of Achdut, unity, but lives in the  concrete reality of our everyday lives. And it is precisely that concrete reality that I feel we  must change so that it comes a little closer to the ideal. 

In this first message, I would like to focus on the unity of the Jewish People. For about  two years now, I have felt that we are losing sight of what it means to be Jewish, at least  from the perspective of unity. 

Many believe that being Jewish is just a matter of faith. Some add worship and customs,  festivals and rites of passage. But that idea stems from a non-Jewish conception. Perhaps  because of the error of the Enlightenment in the 18th century and the desire to be  accepted in Western and Christian society and culture, we fell into this kind of  reductionism. 

It is true that one of the pillars upholding the building of Judaism is what Israeli educator  Avraham Infeld calls “Sinai.” But this is only one of the five supports holding up this  structure.

Some also recognize another of these pillars: History. We have a common history, and we  also believe we have a common destiny. This of course unites us and strengthens our  identity. The Torah is not only law. Indeed, almost the entire first book, Genesis, consists  only of stories about our ancestors and our origins. Jewish history unites us, from  Avraham Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu to the Shoah and the present day. Other elements also shape our identity and our sense of belonging to a unity. One of them  is Culture. Even those who feel no religious or historical connection still find identity in  Jewish music, food, art, folklore, and cultural expressions. 

And then there are those who attach themselves to another fundamental pillar: that of  Values. From the Exodus, through the Prophets, the Rabbis of the Talmud, and the  commentators and thinkers of every age and land, Jewish voices have persistently called  for ethics and revolutionary ideas in their time—freedom, justice, and peace.  This is reflected in so many Jews who are not at all religious or observant, yet who see in  Passover, in Hanukkah, and in the High Holy Days the crystallization of fundamental  human values. 

I do not criticize anyone who bases their Jewish identity on religion, history, culture, or  values. In fact, my own Jewish identity rests on these pillars. But there is a fundamental  pillar missing. One that is so lacking that I feel my heart breaking into pieces and weeping  as I see how its absence is so painfully present today in many spheres.  I mean the pillar of Am Yisrael—belonging to the people of Israel. 

This pillar could itself be divided into two. The first is the idea of “peoplehood,” which  many call family, or tribe. I belong to this family, and I feel the joy and the pain of my  relatives anywhere in the world and in any circumstance. What many cannot understand  is that Am Yisrael, the Jewish people, is a family.  

It doesn’t matter if you were born into it or if you joined it by choice. What matters is that  without this essential element, Jewish identity blurs and dissipates like foam on the sea. 

I can be a defender of human rights, of civil liberties, of social justice—as many of us are— but that alone does not make me Jewish, just as I believe that celebrating Shabbat and  keeping kosher alone does not either. 

Tomorrow we will speak about the conflicts and dynamics of every family, but for now I  need to share with you this essential idea I believe in: 

To be Jewish is to belong to and recognize oneself as a member of the Jewish people. 

The second element flowing from the idea of peoplehood is the national element.  

The Jewish People was born, like every people, tied to a land and a language. Beyond any  legitimate criticism of a government or temporary administration, and beyond each  person’s political stance, I cannot conceive of being Jewish as completely separate from 

the national elements that compose it. These ingredients, creatively preserved across  communities and diasporas even to our own day, came together in 1948, after nearly  2,000 years of exile, in the creation of the State of Israel. 

Can one attempt to be Jewish without relying on some of these pillars? Of course. 

But the question is: how solid will our identity be when one or more of the supporting  pillars are missing, especially when what is missing is the sense of belonging? 

From the Book of Exodus onward, the entire Torah is the story of tribes seeking to  recreate themselves as a people in relation to a land. More than half of the Mitzvot are  related to the land. Allow me to go even further: if we do not recognize this national  element, then we either fail to understand the essence of Judaism, or we fail to  understand the essence of the State of Israel. 

I believe that Jewish education must return to these pillars and seek to rebuild this unity.  And when I speak of Jewish education, I do not mean only the education of children, but  especially that of a generation whose identity falters for lack of supports—the beams and  columns of a structure that for our parents and grandparents was so solid, but today is  weakened. 

Rosh Hashanah is an opportunity for reflection and balance. In the coming days we will  add new dimensions to this process. Today, I invite you to think about our Jewish identity,  our unity as a people, and what I believe is the urgent need to transform our reality so  that it comes closer to what we believe is best. 

May these words not be received as criticism, but as an invitation to think, evaluate, and  perhaps, make decisions. For we want to be inscribed in the Book of Life, blessing, and  Peace—but that does not depend only on God. It also depends on us. 

May we have a year of health, of love, of prosperity, and above all, of Peace—Shalom.