As Rosh Hashanah draws near, Elul invites my Jewish friends to reflect on what it means to live openly in Jewish time—and to pray for Israel, for life, and for peace.
Shabbat Shalom.
There is something different about this Shabbat.
People have entered Elul, the final month of the Jewish year. Rosh Hashanah is approaching, and with it comes that familiar sense that time itself is asking something of us.
Elul is not simply a countdown to the High Holy Days. It is an invitation.
An invitation to remember.
An invitation to examine oneself.
An invitation to return.
And perhaps, especially now, an invitation to consider what we are grateful for.
Living in Jewish Time
For generations, Jews observed Shabbat wherever history carried them.
They welcomed Shabbat in Jerusalem and Baghdad, Warsaw and Casablanca, London and New York. They lit candles in safety and in danger. They whispered prayers when speaking them aloud was difficult. They passed traditions from parent to child even when the surrounding world told them that those traditions did not belong.
The Jewish calendar survived because Jewish people refused to forget it.
And today, something extraordinary exists.
A country exists where Friday afternoon changes the rhythm of an entire society.
There is a country where Rosh Hashanah is not merely a religious observance tucked quietly into someone else’s calendar, but part of the calendar of the nation itself.
There is a country where Hebrew—the language of ancient Jewish prayer, scripture and memory—is spoken in supermarkets, universities, hospitals, cafés and homes.
That country is Israel.
For all its imperfections, arguments, divisions and political struggles, the existence of a Jewish state means that Jewish time can once again be lived not only privately, but nationally.
There is nothing shameful about that.
Israel Has the Right to Exist
This should not be a radical statement:
Israel has the right to exist.
A nation in which Jewish holidays are observed is not committing a sin simply by existing.
A Jewish child should not have to apologize for growing up in a country where Rosh Hashanah is a national holiday. A Jewish family should not have to justify why Shabbat belongs naturally to the rhythm of its society. And Jewish people should not be asked to regard their own national existence as an offense that requires perpetual explanation.
None of this means that Israel is beyond criticism.
No country is.
Supporting Israel’s right to exist does not require believing that every Israeli government decision is correct. Nor does affirming Jewish self-determination require indifference to the dignity or suffering of other peoples.
We should be able to hold moral convictions without surrendering our humanity.
Indeed, Elul demands something more difficult than choosing between conviction and compassion.
It asks us to carry both.
