What a time to be a Jew

The Midrash tells us that after hearing Moses list the 98 ominous predictions concerning Jewish history in Parshah Ki Tavo, all the Jews turned green, i.e., their faces paled in horror. They turned in disbelief to Moses and said, “How could anyone ever survive that?”

And indeed, any casual observer glancing down the long road of Jewish history would be compelled to express the same astonishment. “How did anyone survive that?!”

When we look back at the year behind us, we might ask the exact same question. How did we survive that? Physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally — how did it not crush us?

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And when we look a little further back, the astonishment grows. The Holocaust was thousands of Oct. 7s. How did we come back from that? And the pogroms? And the crusades? And the expulsions? And the inquisitions? And the destruction and dispersions? How did they not finish us off?

All these questions were rolled into one when the Jews pleaded with Moses: “How will we survive?”

Moses answered with the first words of the next Parshah: Atem Nitzavim! You all stand together today, tall and proud, before G-d your G-d! G-d has preserved to this day, and He will carry you onward. You have suffered (Egypt was no walk in the park!) but have not been vanquished. And you never will be.

With miracles and wonders, we’ve made it through our history. And somehow, the worst of times brought out the best of us. The more the haters bear down on us, the taller and the prouder we stand. Atem Nitzavim!

Looking back on the past year, we are filled with prayers for a better year ahead. But you know what else we are filled with? Pride and a feeling of honor. What a time to be a Jew! What a year in Jewish history to be alive! When have we ever seen such poise, such dignity, such honor and integrity! Oct. 7 broke our hearts and released a flood of Jewish spirit. The souls of our martyred brothers and sisters filled our own with a strength and resolve we’d never known. Atem Nitzavim!

Judaica stores whose shelves remained comfortably stocked through the easier years prior to Oct. 7 sold out in the weeks following that unspeakable massacre. Tefillin? Sold out. Tzitzit? Sold out. Tehillims? Sold out. Out of our worst agony came our greatest moment. Societies revealed a hatred for Jews, and in a flash, Jews discovered a love for Judaism. Judaica sold out, but the Jewish People never did. We floated down a river of tears into an ocean of love. Love for each other, love for who we are, love for the Holy Land, love for the mitzvot, and love for G-d Who endures with us and carries us onward. Atem Nitzavim!

Please G-d, next year will bring relief and salvation. Please G-d, next year it will not only be a great honor to be a Jew, but a great pleasure as well. But may we never forget how we felt this year. May we carry the defiance and passion of wartime Judaism into peacetime. May we never forget our deeply felt love for one another. May we never forget how profoundly proud we are to be the Chosen People. May we never forget our desperation to connect with holiness, with G-dliness, with Jewish ritual and practice.

May G-d fulfill the deepest wishes of our collective hearts. May the hostages return home to the joyous tears of their loved ones. May the soldiers be sent home because evil had buried its face in shame. May Israel once again be the hustling, bustling hub of the world, happy and holy, safe and secure, the light of the universe.

May Moshiach arrive and glow with pride at our unimaginable triumph over pain and evil. May G-d tear down the veils around the vale of tears and show us the fruits of our labor. May those who planted in tears reap in gladness.

May Moses return and declare history’s happiest and greatest “I told you so!” He was right. We’d be all right. We’d pass all our tests with flying colors. Our green faces would shine with a special light. We would never be vanquished and never be destroyed. We would stand tall and proud in the face of discrimination and brutality. We would come out stronger and wiser. Moses was so right. G-d and we made it through OK.
Atem Nitzavim! Anu Nitzavim!

L’shana tova umetukah, may you all be written, signed and sealed for a sweet new year! PJC

Rabbi Moishe Mayir Vogel is executive director of The Aleph Institute – North East Region. This column is a service of the Vaad Harabonim of Greater Pittsburgh.