I've framed very few invitations over the years. The one for my wedding sits on the mantle in the living room, but another one, just as important, has hung for the last 10 years in every one of my offices. The one for my Bar Mitzvah. It’s Y2K. It's Abercrombie and Fitch polos, cargo shorts, and puka shell necklaces. It was a much simpler time. At thirteen, I couldn’t tell you what a “Netflix” or Data Center was. Because there wasn’t. If you wanted driving directions, you had to print them out on MapQuest. Not like the youngin these days. With their fancy phones. No sir. In my day, you had to listen to this concoction of beeps and odd noises called “dial-up” – like pulling the starter cord on a lawnmower – to even get a little internet and watch cats do funny things.
In Y2K, our biggest fear as a society was that when the clocks struck midnight on January 1st, computer systems would be unsure of the year and 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. Nothing happened.
We all went back to our lives as usual. For me, that was school and, on the weekends, the mall. Yes, you heard right, a mall. A place where many stores are located near one another, and teenagers would run around to terrify the adult passersby. What a time that was. And at this ripe age of one-three, I had the coolest hairstyle. According to my hairdresser. Bleached blond tips. Well, it wasn’t cool, and my classmates made fun of me. Like a lot.
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 video game. Each afternoon, we would scurry back to our houses to turn on "cable television," which we had JUST had installed. And if you wanted to watch something other than when it aired, you had to use this thing called a tape. Don’t ask me how they worked. I still don’t have a clue.
But at thirteen, there was more than just the fear of banks showering us with credit card bills. I was petrified to my core of one thing. And that was standing here like I am today in a Bima in Richmond, Virginia, and being Bar Mitzvah. Why, you ask? Because my schoolmates had no idea what that even was other than a hard word to pronounce. Because I'm one of just four Jewish students in my Middle School. But mainly, little Aaron did not see the point in this humiliation ritual of wearing an oversized suit and mispronouncing words that sound like the noise you make after eating a dry piece of bread. 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.
Around this time, there was a film I hadn't seen until a few years ago. It actually came out that exact year. It was called “Keeping the Faith.” And it was the real-life story of my exact experience.
So, Ben Stiller is this youthful, good-looking rabbi who is hopelessly in love with Jenna Elfman, a Catholic blonde. And of course it’s a whole thing. But there’s a part where Stiller is tutoring a struggling student in his office. Exhausted, the student blurts out, "I suck. They're gonna take away my yarmulke." 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. 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. Now, while I am no “mucho guapo” Ben Stiller, I can empathize with where he’s coming from. Because 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 wild 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, 57867, 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.
Now, 20-something years later, I don’t fear being ridiculed by teenagers for how I look and do my hair. Well, maybe just a little. Rather, my biggest fear isn’t about me at all. It’s about my daughter. I don’t fear that she’ll become both a practicing brain surgeon and rocket scientist. That’s a given. I am fearful that, like me, she will at some point feel ashamed not just about her Bat Mitzvah. But of her Jewish identity. Something I never experienced. Honest to God. I'm scared the world will make her feel like she needs to suppress her identity or hide it for fear of being noticed. But for all the wrong reasons.
Now for data. In a nutshell, the studies have found the following. The Good News is this:
“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.”
Now, the Bad News. Conversely, the “constant exposure to hate” can be overwhelming and traumatic, causing some young Jews to feel isolated and suppress their identity. According to these studies, some young Jews will even go as far as choosing 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 any Jewish issues.”
The relentless flow of antisemitic content can cause anxiety, despair, and a sense of "loss of control." Jewish youth have reported feeling unsafe and isolated, noting, “the heavy mental health toll of seeing constant hatred directed at their heritage.” Which lead many to simply avoid online discourse and political engagement to protect their mental well-being.
Okay, I’m done. But wow. And while you may be thinking, well, this is about the kids these days; it has nothing to do with me, well, it does. Because this is the world we’ve created for them. We did this. Either by what we did or didn’t do. But it’s not their fault, that’s for sure.
A 2022 AJC survey of millennials, that’s my generation, 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 either become more vocal and active in defending their heritage, or feel more isolated, scared, and disengaged.
Which makes me think about this Talmudic text I always use with conversion students. For some reason, it makes me feel like this has always been the case. 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 him: 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 he says: 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 him immediately to begin the conversion process (Yevamot 47a:13).”
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 like Elizabeth Taylor. Icon. But unlike Marilyn Monroe or the great Rabbi Akiva himself, that may not make you feel Jewish. Because identity isn't about what we know; it's about how we think. How we think about ourselves, more precisely. Indeed, learning is part of the process, but it won't help you cross the finish line. Only you can do that. No book, article, or ChatGPT answer - no matter how hard you try- will make you feel like you are a part of Am Yisrael. So I ask: what can we do together in this process to help you feel like this is where you belong? What can we do to bring your mind, body, and soul all along together on this journey?
But in the last two decades, approaching three, it's not that Judaism has changed so much, but that identifying as a Jew — both outside the United States and within our borders—has changed. Antisemitism, unfortunately, has become the norm. I was scrolling on my phone the other day, and a social media app asked me if I wanted to purchase a "cool men's t-shirt.” Well, of course I do. I like shirts. And thinking I’m cool. And then I saw what it actually was. A Jaws poster. Only the shark was replaced by a large nose pointing up, and the person in the float was a one-hundred-dollar bill. The thick red lettering above it read "Jews." Yes. Very cool.
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.
Which always brings me back to this unshakeable face I know about 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.
And nothing says, “God, I repent for my sins” like metrics and more sociological studies; I’ve got just the thing. While much has changed since 1786, or even 1986, the last twenty-some years haven't been great. Synagogue Affiliation, for one, is down. It fell from ~46% in 2000 to ~35% in 2020 among non-Orthodox (1996–2001). The United States and Israel were once home to the world's largest Jewish populations. Together, they accounted for about 80% of the world's Jewish population.
Now that number is 85% and growing. Keep in mind, this data is already outdated. But the point I'm making tonight is bigger than numbers, figures, and data. But we can’t forget the facts. The fact of the matter is that, according to the American Jewish Committee'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.”
So it’s not great that one of the most heated social debates of the last few weeks is about Ed Sheeran, whoever that is, canceling because of statements made about Israel. And it doesn’t help that Robert Kraft, the owner of, well, Kraft, is in the mix too. And while you may not have a clue who these people are, what matters is that it has completely conglomerated all online discourse. Not for you, but you know good ol’ Shelly from High School is going to keep posting about that amazing Egg Salad she had for lunch. But for the teens who spent most of their waking hours online. I know what they see because I see it too. I had to put my phone away; I couldn’t keep seeing all the vitriolic comments.
When everyone you know thinks that “having a protected state for all Jews” means “they’re killers who stole land and deserve to die,” it’s understandable how we’ve come this far. When I was thirteen, Israel wasn’t even a word most people knew, let alone argued about.
The data now shows us that, once upon a time, the existence of Israel was dangerous mostly for just those who lived within its borders. Now, its continued statehood is dangerous for the vast majority of American Jews too. We can distinguish between Zionism, Israel, Judaism, bipartisan AIPAC advocacy, federal overseas funding, and literal teenagers seeing their friends die on either a battlefield or a music festival field. The rest of the world sees just one equation. Jews equal evil. Sound familiar?
The hard truth we confront today is that for many kids across the country, saying out loud the words "I'm a proud Jew" is wrongly misinterpreted by many as "I support Genocide." Nuance has left the building. One can't simply be Jewish without being attached to Israel. Being a jew nowadays is, by necessity, an act of negotiation with the world around us. Meaning, we have to arm the next generation of Jews not with affirmation and love, but, like I’ve been hinting at this whole time. The actual numbers and figures. The facts. Yes, that’s why I’ve been making those little comments.
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 her borders at once, during the holiest of days, each of her neighbors planned a united attack to take her out once and for all. 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 died before peace talks even began.
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, cover the most material, or even 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 about this Day of Awe. What I am conveying here and what Israel means to me. It is not just a homeland. It is a 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.
I am honored to be one of your sources of rejuvenation this HHD season. By being together today during this time of sacred assembly, we continue to embrace and honor our Jewish heritage. We remember those lost in the Holocaust and on October 7th, and commit to move forward, proud of our religion and our people.
Let us welcome in this new year with that pride, that intent, and that feeling of support. Gamar Chatima Tova.