Rabbi Eli C. Freedman, Senior Rabbi Jill L. Maderer, and Cantor Bradley Hyman lead a service marking Erev Rosh Hashanah at Rodeph Shalom in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, US, Sept. 6, 2021. REUTERS/Rachel Wisniewski

As the Jewish High Holidays approached, my son surprised me with a simple request: “Dad, will you do the Birkat Kohanim — the Priestly Blessing — at Rosh Hashanah services?”

It had been more than 20 years since I last stood before a congregation as a Kohen. In my youth, back in Philadelphia, it was a defining part of my religious life. I can still recall the stained-glass light filtering into the sanctuary’s brown floors, the soft murmur of voices, and the weight of ancient words connecting me to generations who had come before. Back then, the experience filled me with awe and purpose.

But life moved on. The routines of adulthood — career, family, and the slow drift of questions about faith and ritual — pulled me away. The blessing became a memory rather than a practice — a thread of connection I had set aside without fully realizing what was lost.

I was truly shocked that my son knew about any of this, as I only mentioned the tradition in passing a few weeks earlier. However, when he asked if I would perform the ritual, I didn’t hesitate. I said yes. Then, on impulse, I asked him if he wanted to join me. He smiled.

Days later, we ascended the bimah — together — during the High Holy Days. As we stood beneath my tallit, with the holy ark filled with Torahs, his small hands stretched forward beside mine I felt the world sharpen into perfect clarity.

The congregation grew quiet, then their voices rose in song, carrying centuries of prayer and longing.

My son’s face glowed with pride and joy as we offered the blessing. In that moment, I understood that what I was giving was only part of the story. His request was a gift to me — a call to return, to remember that faith is not just a set of beliefs, but a series of choices and actions we must renew again and again.

Since October 7, 2023, my son has been different. The horrors of that day — the terror attacks in Israel and the surge of antisemitism that followed — reached even into his elementary school world here in New York. He has seen more than any child should: protests that turned ugly, hateful graffiti scrawled on subway walls, tense moments on street corners and train platforms. Though he couldn’t fully explain it, he sensed that something fundamental had shifted.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once wrote, “To be a Jew is to be an agent of hope.” My son seemed to grasp this instinctively. Hope, he realized, is not passive. It is something we must build, defend, and embody.

While other children focused on sports or video games, my son leaned into Jewish life. He blew the shofar with pride, waved the Israeli flag at the Israel Day Parade, helped prepare holiday meals, packed kosher food for those in need, and celebrated festivals with a reverence that was both youthful and deeply serious. Watching him, I marveled at how children seem to sense when they are part of a larger story. Even at his age, he understood that these rituals were more than symbolic. They were acts of defiance against those who would erase his identity and, concurrently, declarations of belonging.

And in living his Judaism so fully, he drew me in. When he asked me to join him on the bimah, I knew this moment was about more than a single blessing. It was about continuity: a young Jew calling his father to lead beside him.

The Birkat Kohanim comes from Numbers 6:24–26:

The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.

These words are radical in their simplicity. In a world consumed by anger and division, they proclaim blessing, mercy, and peace. To “lift up His countenance” — to imagine God turning His face toward us with love — feels especially powerful today, when so many human faces seem turned away in hatred or indifference.

For thousands of years, these words have been spoken by kohanim: in the ancient Temple in Jerusalem, in shtetls across Europe, and in synagogues around the globe. They have carried Jews through exile and return, persecution, and renewal. Speaking them now links us to that unbroken chain of hope and endurance.

The sages teach, “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” When a Kohen blesses the community, he is not merely reciting words. He is stepping forward to lead, creating a sacred moment for others to reconnect — to generosity, to faith, to one another. As I raised my hands this year, I felt their weight as never before. I wasn’t just fulfilling an obligation. I was a father embodying the faith my son had so passionately embraced. His shining face steadied me, reminding me that sometimes the blessing flows from the child to the parent.

We often speak of how parents shape their children, and of course that is true. But this past year has shown me the reverse can also be true: children can call parents back to what matters. My son’s devotion has deepened my own. His belief has challenged me not to speak of Judaism only in words, but to live it through action. In a world that feels chaotic and hostile, his enthusiasm has been my anchor.

Rabbi Hillel taught in Pirkei Avot: “The world stands on three things: Torah, worship, and acts of lovingkindness.” These are not abstract ideals. They endure only when lived out, often by the youngest among us, who still believe wholeheartedly.

Since October 7th, “faith” and “family” have become rallying cries. Too often, though, they are reduced to empty slogans. When lived fully, they are more than private virtues; they are the foundations of public life. Faith offers a moral vocabulary, a way to face darkness without succumbing to despair. Family binds us to one another, giving us strength to endure. Together, they create the trust and responsibility on which communities, and democracies, rest.

As Edmund Burke observed, the “little platoons” of family and faith are where citizens first learn to care for others. Without them, public life collapses into division and rage. A blessing, then, is not just a private ritual. It is a civic act, a declaration that we are bound together and that society is more than a marketplace of competing interests. In a cynical age, performing this ancient blessing is a quiet form of resistance. It proclaims that there is still something worth preserving, and still a future worth building together.

When my son asked me to bless the community, I said yes — to him, to my congregation, and to my own better self. As we descended the bimah, his eyes were still wide and shining. In that moment, I understood that the blessing had flowed both ways: from me to the congregation, and from him to me. The boy whose presence once sparked my Jewish devotion was now the one calling me to live it fully.

As this new year begins, I carry that image with me. The world is often dark, but when our children call us to stand tall, to speak words of peace, to perform rituals of hope; we must answer. May this year bring renewal. May we bless and be blessed. And may we never forget that sometimes it is our children who lead us home.

Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute. 

The blowing of the shofar, traditionally done on Rosh Hashanah. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.

As the Jewish New Year comes and goes, it offers us an opportunity for reflection. This is not merely the kind of reflection where we think about how to be more productive, more efficient, or more “on top of things.”

Too often, when we speak about “resolutions,” they revolve around being more industrious, more organized, and ultimately, more busy. But here is a paradox: perhaps what we truly need is to become less busy.

For the past two years, as Israel has fought for its very survival, and the Diaspora has been challenged with its own war to defend itself, there has been a pattern that repeats itself with stunning consistency. In far too many cases, Jewish people are asked to show up, to speak up, and to fight back– and the most common answer is: “I’m really busy.”

Busy with work. Busy with holidays. Busy with vacations. Busy with their children’s endless schedules. Busy before the holiday, then busy catching up afterward. Busy with social obligations, with dinners, with games, with errands, and social media. Always busy.

This culture of being perpetually busy is not harmless. It is costly. It has created a generation of adults who allow their personal schedules — and even their children’s endless schedules — to overshadow their responsibilities to their people and their communities.

Meanwhile, the world has changed in ways that demand vigilance. Antisemitism has exploded in the United States. Universities, once seen as safe havens for Jewish advancement, now host open hostility. Social media spreads lies and venom about Israel and Jews every single hour.

And through all of this, Jews are still telling each other they are “too busy” to fight back.

This is not simply a matter of personal choice. It is a matter of collective survival.

We cannot keep living as if our time belongs only to ourselves and our families. Every hour of every day is not just “my time.” It is not just “family time.” We have responsibilities beyond that — to our people, our history, and our future. To show up. To push back. To build institutions. To support Israel. To fight.

We are in the beginning stages of the 15 year war for the future of Jewish stability in the Diaspora. This war started two years ago and will continue on long after the last bullet is fired in Gaza.

What we do now on social media, on the streets, and in the court of public opinion will determine the outcome of this war. There is not one way to contribute — there are many. Choose a way, and commit your time to it.

So as this New Year begins, I suggest a resolution that runs against the cultural grain: let us all become less busy, and instead, let us become more purposeful. More deliberate. More willing to carve out time for what truly matters.

If we fail to do this, the cost will not only be personal. It will affect future generations. It will be Jewish history repeating itself in ways we do not want to see.

Our enemies have been fighting for 30 years, and now it is our turn to act.  It is our turn to tell our story, and our turn to get comfortable in our uncomfortability.

Each of us is responsible. Each of us must play our part. If we choose to remain “too busy,” the burden falls on someone else — until there is no one left to carry it. But if we reimagine our lives and reorder our priorities, we will not only strengthen Israel and the Jewish people, but we will strengthen ourselves.

Daniel Rosen is the Co-founder of a Non-profit Technology company called Emissary4all which is an app to organize people on social media by ideology not geography. He is the Co-host of the podcast “Recalibration.” You can reach him at drosen@emissary4all.org

Members of the United Nations Security Council vote against a resolution by Russia and China to delay by six months the reimposition of sanctions on Iran during the 80th UN General Assembly in New York City, US, Sept. 26, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Eduardo Munoz

During the United Nations General Assembly meeting in New York, the UK, France, Australia, Canada, and Portugal announced that they formally recognize Palestinian statehood under the rule of the Palestinian Authority (PA).

While the total number of countries recognizing Palestinian statehood is now more than 150, adding the UK, France, Australia, and Canada to the list is noteworthy because these countries are major US allies.

This renewed push for Palestinian statehood comes despite endless proof that the PA consistently supports and empowers terrorist attacks against Israelis, including via direct financial support to terrorists and their families (a policy known as “pay-for-slay”).

Furthermore, as documented by Palestinian Media Watch (PMW), official PA television routinely calls on Palestinians to kill Israelis wherever they can be found, as in this broadcast on June 13, 2025:

O Allah strike the thieving Jews, Allah count them one by one, kill them one by one, and do not leave even one.

These calls to murder Jews are often answered by Palestinian civilians — but also by PA policemen and security forces, such as the deadly attack in July by two PA policemen on Israeli Shalev Zevuloni.

Responding to the PA’s clear support for terrorism, the US State Department on July 31 announced sanctions against the Palestinian Authority and the PLO:

… [which] are not in compliance with their commitments under the PLO Commitments Compliance Act of 1989 (PLOCCA) and the Middle East Peace Commitments Act of 2002 (MEPCA), including by … continuing to support terrorism including incitement and glorification of violence (especially in textbooks), and providing payments and benefits in support of terrorism to Palestinian terrorists and their families.

In the face of this widespread official Palestinian support for terrorism, it’s especially ironic that the current effort to support Palestinian statehood is centered on the United Nations, because United Nations Security Council Resolution 1373, passed after the brutal 9/11 terror attacks, required, among other things, that “all states shall:”

Refrain from providing any form of support, active or passive, to entities or persons involved in terrorist acts …

The resolution was explicitly passed under Chapter 7 of the UN Charter, which means that it has the force of international law for UN members and is legally binding.

Therefore, until the Palestinians clearly and effectively renounce violence and stop attacking Israelis, supporting Palestinian statehood and all that comes with it is clearly providing “support, active or passive, to entities or persons involved in terrorist acts,” in blatant violation of international law under UNSC Res. 1373.

If violating this resolution were not enough, acquiescing to Palestinian demands for recognition of statehood, without a prior peace agreement with Israel, is also a stark violation of the Oslo peace process. For example, the Sharm el-Sheikh Memorandum (Sept. 4, 1999), declared:

Recognizing the necessity to create a positive environment for the negotiations, neither side shall initiate or take any step that will change the status of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in accordance with the Interim Agreement.

In addition, the Middle East Quartet (United Nations, European Union, Russian Federation, and the United States), in a statement issued on June 26, 2009, affirmed that:

… unilateral actions taken by either party cannot prejudge the outcome of negotiations and will not be recognized by the international community.

Thus, Palestinian appeals for statehood or a Palestinian unilateral declaration of statehood are a fundamental and grave violation of its signed agreements with Israel, and call into further question the worth of any future Palestinian commitments to Israel or the international community.

Similarly, support for or acquiescence to such a Palestinian move by the United Nations, the European Union, or its member states is a clear violation of agreements that the UN and these countries have signed and endorsed, and also call into serious question the value of any of their future commitments.

The unfortunate reality is that these cynical European-led efforts to unilaterally create a Palestinian state directly harm the prospects for peace, reward Palestinian terrorism, encourage Palestinian intransigence, and guarantee further violence and conflict.

Alex Safian, PhD, was until recently the Associate Director and Research Director of CAMERA, the Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis.