RH 5786

On my walls hang invitations. The one for my wedding sits on the mantle in the living room, but another one, just as important, hangs in my office. The one for my Bar Mitzvah. The year is 2000. I am thirteen years old. Our biggest fear as a society was that when the clocks struck midnight on January 1, 2000, computer systems would be unsure of the year, and thus fail to operate, causing massive power outages, transportation systems to shut down, and banks to close. Widespread chaos would ensue. But it didn't happen. 

So I went back to my life as usual. It's Abercrombie and Fitch polos, cargo shorts, and puka shell necklaces. I carry my Walkman everywhere I go. Along with the binder of CDs that I shouldn't be listening to. I have bleached tips because my hairdresser said that it would be cool. It wasn't. I got made fun of. A lot.

But nevertheless, this was my life. Each morning, I gather with a group of neighborhood kids to wait for the bus, and we talk about the newest PlayStation game. Each afternoon, we would scurry back to our houses to turn on "cable television," which we had JUST had installed, and log in to my AOL Instant Messenger account with the handle “MrMatzahMan.” But let me be real for a second. I was terrified of having a Bar Mitzvah. My friends at school have no idea what it is. I'm one of four Jewish students in my Middle School, and frankly, I didn't see the point. But with the help of a tutor and a kick in the tush from my father. I made it through. It felt laborious and exhausting. 

Produced precisely the same year as my Bar Mitzvah, 2000, is a movie called Keeping the Faith. My experience reminds me of this scene where Ben Stiller, as the youthful, handsome rabbi hopelessly in love with Jenna Elfman, a catholic blonde, is tutoring a struggling Bar Mitzvah student.

Exhausted, the student blurts out,  "I suck. They're gonna take away my yamaka." To which Stiller replies: 

"No, no, no, you-- you don't suck. Okay. Yes, you do. You suck. You're supposed to suck. This isn't a talent contest; this is a rite of passage. I mean, this happens in all cultures. It's about you being thirteen years old. God knew that your voice was gonna change when you were thirteen. There's a reason why you gotta do your haftorah at this age. It's a challenge. God is challenging you." 

And a challenge it certainly was. But the funny thing about this scene, looking back on it now, is that I am actually both characters. The struggling thirteen-year-old who sucks, and the young, optimistic, but supportive rabbi (except I end up falling in love with a nice Jewish girl at the end). But honestly, what fictional Rabbi Jake Schram says isn't so far from how I would word it. God is challenging us at that age. It's insane to learn a foreign language and then proceed to confront what most adults would tremble, sweat, and panic over - public speaking. In front of your own peers, for that matter. 

But the world of the year 2000 is long gone. Yes, the bar mitzvah is a rite of passage. And yes, there's a reason thirteen holds significance as the brain develops and grows, and as you discover your identity and mold into a semi-adult. But in the year 2025, 5786, God's challenge does not merely come in the form of resuscitating your Haftara and glossophobia, the fear of public speaking. It's much more intense and complicated. What I believe is the biggest challenge for Generation Alpha, and indeed Gen Z for that matter, is identifying as a Jew and participating in Jewish life. My biggest fear for my own daughter - just to make this personal and not just some speech written for the sake of saying something on the holidays - is that she will at some point feel ashamed of her Jewish identity. Honest to God. I'm scared that the world will make her feel like she needs to hide or assimilate.

If we're being optimistic, the current data says the following: 

For some young Jews, confronting online hate strengthens their Jewish identity, leading them to be more assertive and engaged. As an act of resistance, Many turn to advocacy and education, compelled to publicly embrace their heritage despite experiencing backlash. 

Conversely, the constant exposure to hate can be overwhelming and traumatic, causing some young Jews to feel isolated and suppress their identity. Some young Jews choose to hide their Jewish identity online or in public to protect themselves from harassment. This includes changing last names, avoiding Jewish symbols, and not posting about Jewish issues. 

The relentless flow of antisemitic content can cause anxiety, despair, and a sense of "loss of control". Jewish teens have reported feeling unsafe and isolated, noting the heavy mental health toll of seeing constant hatred directed at their heritage. Some may avoid online discourse and political engagement to protect their mental well-being. 

A 2022 AJC survey of millennials noted that some suppress their Zionism or Jewishness to maintain social standing, which carries a long-term toll. Essentially, the rise of antisemitism has forced young Jews to contend with their Jewish identity. Period. This has led some to become more vocal and active in defending their heritage, while others feel more isolated, scared, and disengaged. One of the best examples of this comes from a text I use with my conversion students. It reads: 

The Sages taught in a baraita: With regard to a potential convert who comes to a court in order to convert, at the present time, when the Jews are in exile, the judges of the court say to them: What did you see that motivated you to come to convert? Don’t you know that the Jewish people at the present time are anguished, suppressed, despised, and harassed, and hardships are frequently visited upon them? If they say:  I know, and although I am unworthy of joining the Jewish people and sharing in their sorrow, I nevertheless desire to do so, then the court accepts them immediately to begin the conversion process.

Which is why, when I speak to my converts, I tell them exactly this. I can teach you, or at least show you a book on every subject in the Jewish dictionary. You can read every article and become a master of every topic. But that may not make you feel Jewish. Because identity isn't about what we know; it's about how we think. Indeed, learning is part of the process, but it won't help you cross the finish line. Only you can do that. So what will help you feel Jewish? What can we do to make you feel like this is where you belong?

But in the last 25 years, it's not that Judaism has changed so much, but identifying and being a Jew both outside the United States and within our borders has changed. The last 25. Antisemitism, unfortunately, has become the norm. I was scrolling the other day on social media, and it asked me if I wanted to purchase a "cool men's t-shirt" - it was a Jaws poster, only the shark was replaced by a large nose pointing up, and the person in the float was a 100-dollar bill. With the thick red lettering of "Jews" at the top." 

I was floored. Excuse me, what?! Why would I buy this? Is this what people think is appropriate to wear? Is antisemitism just funny? Maybe that's why identifying as a Jew has always been a challenge. It has always been easier to dismiss your Jewish heritage than to embrace it. It's hard to stand by us. To be a Jew. To recognize oneself as one. Something I think about often is the brilliant philosopher and author Moses Mendelssohn.

In his study Modern Judaism, Daniel B. Schwartz discusses the descendants of the renowned German-Jewish philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. He writes, "Of his six children, four converted [to Christianity], all following their father's death in 1786. Of his grandchildren, only one went to his grave as a Jew." That fact haunts me. 

So much has changed in 25 years. Synagogue Affiliation is down. From ~46% in 2000 to 2001 to ~35% in 2020 among non-Orthodox (1996–2001). The United States and Israel were home to the largest Jewish populations in the world. Together, they contained approximately 80% of the world's Jewish population. Now it's 85 percent and growing. But the point I'm making tonight is bigger than numbers, figures, and data. It's the following: According to AJC's State of Antisemitism in America 2024 Report, 81% of Jews say caring about Israel is an integral part of how they think about their Jewish identities. Therefore, calling all Zionists racists or saying Zionists deserve to die is dangerous not only to Israelis but also to the vast majority of American Jews.

The hard truth is this: Saying out loud "I'm Jewish" is wrongly understood by many as "I support Genocide." One can't simply be Jewish without being attached to Israel. This is the clearest, as evidenced by the fact that we've even been watching the Emmys this year. 

Hanna Einbinder, known for her role on the show Hacks, got on stage and said the following: "Go Birds bleep ICE, and free Palestine." Ah, yes. How could we forget? Eagles fans, regularly ranked the worst in the whole wide world of sports, are known for their unprovoked physical altercations, arrogance, recklessness, and immaturity. It makes perfect sense to group these personal passions of yours. Football and “Free Palestine.” Note the sarcasm. But it's what she said afterward that really upset me. 

She said in an interview, "I feel like it is my obligation as a Jewish person to distinguish Jews from the State of Israel, because our religion and our culture are such an important and long-standing institution that is really separate to this sort of ethno-nationalist state." 

A fellow comedian and journalist, Elon Gold, responded to Hannah: 

Hannah. I used to love having you and your then-boyfriend, Alex Edelman (whom I had mentored since he was 12), for Shabbat dinners. We laughed and discussed worthy causes and issues that we cared about. I saw your heart and your compassion. Like most progressives, you're desperate to be on the right side of humanity. But there is no nobility in the anti-Israel cause. There is no bravery in standing at a podium lamenting societal woes and the toll of war... What you are putting out into the world is making Jews so much less safe than anything the Israeli government is doing. YOU are promulgating the big lie of the Jewish state as the bad guy that indiscriminately kills innocents, when we all know that the real bad guy is the one who would kill you [and] me if they could." 

There's so much to unpack. The first is that one must distinguish between Judaism and Israel. As if the world is even listening to you make this powerful, mind-altering declaration that will change the course of events. Because what's been done is done. Every Jew is now a representative of Israel. You can save yourself by denouncing and quoting a false narrative, which might earn you another season of a show I couldn't get through in the first place. We may need to remind people of our history.

Being a jew in 2025 is by necessity an act of negotiation with the world around us. We have to arm the next generation of Jews with history so as not to be swayed by public opinion and ignorance. Just as we sit around and retell our exodus from Egypt each year over the passover holiday, so too do we need to retell the story of Israel. How bravely we fought. Against all odds. On all of her borders at once during the holiest of days, when each of her neighbors decided all at once to plan a united attack to once and for all take her out. But the Jews have striven for peace time and time again. 

• 1947: The Partition Plan: The UN offered two states: one Jewish, one Arab. Israel says yes. The Arab League says no, and five armies invade.

• 1949: Israel offered to turn ceasefires into peace treaties. Arab states refuse recognition, keeping the region in limbo.

• 1967: The "Three No's" of Khartoum: After losing the Six-Day War, Arab leaders could have negotiated. Instead, they declared: no peace, no recognition, no negotiations. In 1973,  Egypt and Syria launched the Yom Kippur War rather than pursue diplomacy. Thousands die before peace talks even begin.

• 1982: Lebanon's Missed Chance: Israel attempts to broker peace with Beirut after expelling the PLO. Arab pressure forces Lebanon to back out.

• 1993–1995: Oslo Undermined: Israel and the PLO sign historic accords. But Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and much of the Arab world reject them — answering peace with suicide bombings.

• 2000: Camp David Collapse: Ehud Barak offers Palestinians 90%+ of the West Bank, Gaza, and shared Jerusalem. Arafat says no — and the Second Intifada erupts.

• 2001: Negotiators get closer than ever. Israel offers even more. Arafat still won't sign. Another door slams shut.

• 2008: Ehud Olmert offers Abbas 94% of the West Bank, 1:1 land swaps, Jerusalem as a shared capital, international oversight of holy sites, and refugee compensation. Abbas walks away.

• 2014: U.S.-backed peace plan: Israel accepts. Palestinians refuse. Another chance wasted.

Bottom Line: Over and over, Israel says, "Yes, let's talk." Too often, the answer is "No." There are exceptions, but overwhelmingly, the age-old Joke remains true, as comedian Elon Gold used to say at his shows, "Israel isn't in the oppression business; there's no money in it." It gets a laugh," he says, "because it plays into the Jewish money stereotype, but it speaks to a truth about Israel that most cannot see." 

What I believe we stand for now is "feeling pride in being a Jew." Nothing else matters at this point. It's my personal goal. It's my one mission.

I often discuss this idea with parents and remind myself that my goal isn't to force students to memorize the most Torah lines at a bar/bat mitzvah or to cover the most material, or even to hold the longest services with the most prayers. I have a straightforward goal that I keep in my vision constantly: to help everyone who comes to me in any capacity feel proud as a Jew. Not ashamed. There are so many who want you to feel that way. Ashamed of your identity.

But I want to be really clear tonight about what exactly I mean and what Israel means to me. It is not just a homeland. It is a safe haven for Jews everywhere. When the world turns its ugly head and points the finger at Jews once more, as it has always done, Israel is there. As I often explain, we call it making Aliyah because if the world is the sanctuary, Israel is the bima, and Jerusalem is the ark that stands behind me. Tel Aviv would probably be the liquor cabinet.

I am honored to be one of your sources of rejuvenation this Rosh Hashanah. By being here today, amongst our friends and family, we continue to embrace and honor our Jewish heritage, remember those lost in the Holocaust and on October 7, and make a commitment to move forward, proud of our religion and our people. Let us welcome in 5786 with that pride, that intent, and that feeling of support. L’Shanah Tovah.