When Jerusalem fell to Rome in 70 CE, the entire Jewish civilization faced collapse. As the temple was level and looted from their holy treasures, fans set up a desperate and convicted defense and hopelessness seemed the only way forward. However, the great Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai, the parent of rabbinic Judaism, took another course. Of smuggling of the city, he did not ask for revenge or even survival. Instead, he asked the Roman General for permission to build a school in the small town of Yavneh.
From the ashes of the catastrophe, Yochanan planted seeds that would lead to a Jewish flowering.
This humble but visionary choice is still one of the most important in our history. It was also deeply contradictory: at a time when violence seemed the only logical response, Yocanan bet the Jewish future on intellectual rigor, creativity and community. He understood that ruin cannot be found with ruin, but by the audacity to build something new.
Today, the United States faces a similar challenge. In an era of hyperpolitization, many of us have become addicted to demolish instead of accumulating.
Conservatives identify themselves for what they oppose, progressive so they resist and even moderates feel disappointed by the endless cycle of indignation. Instead of seeing ourselves as purely good and on the other side as purely evil, we must embrace humanization and see that the objective does not master on the other side, but to create a new and shared society that can celebrate the difference instead of being defeated by him.
The irony is surprising. We see demonstrations everywhere, but we show little imagination to solve problems. The streets are filled with protests, but what encourages most of them is aversion, not aspiration. A rapid displacement through social networks can remind us how civic life has become a reactivity theater.
I understand the attractiveness of good problems intimately, after having spent many years in the community organizing the space that registers voters in neighborhoods overlooked, joining picket lines, blocking the traffic of the city of New York and speaking in spaces where orthodox rabbis, such as churches and mosques, are often not found. I still believe that courage means giving testimony of injustice. But after decades of “fighting power”, I learned that opposition without construction is simply sophisticated complaint.
Think of opposition but without a plan is perhaps below a minimum. It allows us to dodge the hardest work imagine what it could be and forge what it will last. Rosh Hashanah this week reminds the Jews that the creation of the world is not finished, and that our need to complete the task. The concept of Teshuvá – Often translated as repentance, although the real term is more as “return”, offers a model. It is not about returning to a golden age, but about reorienting our best being and a better world.
First, we must free ourselves from the news such as junk food, filling ourselves with outrage that leaves us intellectually malnourished. Deep thinking feels useless when cheap characters attacks receive all attention. Politics hasten to fill the void, turning each issue into the tribal war. Like Jerusalem fans who only knew the sword, we have convinced ourselves that each battle must be in total support or complete opposition with nothing in the middle.
Recent events underline this need. TO 2024 Gallup survey He discovered that 80% of American adults see deep divisions about central values and do not see the country as united and that lacks a shared sense of purpose. Instead of shouting the same stronger and stronger rancid political tropes, we could restore a social discourse over our internal lives with the eye towards the reconstruction of a more stabilized civic culture of shared values and dialogue.
Second, we must restore the link between character and thought. The Greeks called him distinctive character: The intellect flows from who we are. Today, politics becomes obsessed with positions while ignoring moral and psychological roots under them. Each side demonizes not only rival leaders but also their followers; A serious mistake. Yocanan saw that most people are not driven by malice but by the search for coherence and dignity. The bad reading of human motifs guarantees the dead point.
The most vital, we need to learn how to depend on each other. Our thoughts and character do not develop in a vacuum; They are formed through our interactions with each other. Government agencies, non -profit organizations and religious institutions should help reconstruct the connection for social cohesion and spiritual renewal. That is why the Soledad epidemic in the United States feels significantly at this time: it is not just about having friends, but about being recognized.
People yearn to feel important and be part of something bigger. In the absence of that, many seek extremist groups not due to their beliefs, but for a sense of community.
The shofar calls us to return to our best being, and demands both humility to question our assumptions and the generosity of imagining that our perceived opponents could have ideas that we lack. In addition, by reflecting on the politicians for whom I feel more repelled, I see that their vices are the ones we all have. My external criticism presents an internal opportunity.
America today is called in a similar way to go beyond the cycles of denial and participate in the work challenge of rebuilding shared spaces for dialogue on the common good that can be heated but never violent. The resistance has its place, and can keep us afloat in difficult waters. But only spiritual authenticity and inspired morality can collectively lead us to the coast. Yochanan not only survived the catastrophe; He transformed it into the opportunity.
This is what the United States needs now. The courage not only to fight, but to build.
Rabbi Shmuly Yanklowitz is the president and dean of the Beit Midrash Valley and the author of 30 books on Jewish ethics.
