Warriors of Heart (Ki Teitzei)
This is not a simple time for the Jewish people. It hasn’t been for a long while — certainly not for the last 339 days since October 7th. I find myself returning to other milestone moments: 1967, 1948, 70 CE, 586 BCE. Time, for us as Jews, is anything but simple. Each date carries more than just history — it carries heartache, resilience, and transformation.
And yet, what we have accomplished together as a community, as a family, as a People, is nothing short of remarkable. We have risen above these moments, not just surviving but thriving. These moments are not simply checkpoints in history; they are sacred pauses — demanding, real, but ultimately formative.
As we near the one-year mark since October 7th, with its 339 consecutive days of both war and longing, of pain but also growth, I see the strength of our People. I see families moving to the south of Israel, committed to (re)building a future. I see American Jewish leaders showing up again and again to lead, teach, and heal. The connection between Israel and American Jewry has never been stronger. Even as our young people face difficult moments on campuses and beyond, they are rediscovering a deeper connection to their Jewish identity. This resurgence is our people’s traditional response to threat: in the face of adversity, our Jewishness blooms.
But let’s not overlook the beauty in this rebirth. Our Jewish souls are strong, not just in reaction to hardship, but because we are eternally rooted in this world. Just as the mystical Zohar emerged in response to Spain’s expulsion, and political Zionism was born from the horrors of European pogroms and global persecution, Jews rise. We are not just a People of survival — we are a People of life, always moving forward, always creating.
So as we face the coming year, let us decide to face it together, as a strong and unified community. New Torah is being written, babies are being born, and eternal hope pulses within the Jewish heart, no matter what. Even in the depths of mourning, as Rachel and Jonathan rise from shiva, we rise with them. And for the families still fighting for their loved ones held in Gaza, we fight with them, holding each other with strength, security, and love.
We are bigger than the pain we face. We always have been, and we always will be.
In this week’s parashah, we hear words that resonate deeply in today’s reality: “When you go out to war against your enemy…” (Deuteronomy 21:10). The Torah acknowledges the inevitability of war but also calls us to hold ourselves to a high ethical standard, even in the harshest moments. What sets us apart from our enemies is our unwavering commitment to moral accountability. When we fail, when we act beyond our rights, we hold ourselves accountable.
Power, as the Torah suggests, is complicated. It would be theological malpractice to deny the power we wish we never needed. But we do need it, friends. We’ve been a powerless people in the past, and we know too well what that looks like. The real question is not whether we should have power, but how we wield it.
We are the inheritors of millennia of wisdom. What will we do with it? There are times when we must fight, but let us remember who we are while we do. We are called by our ancestors and descendants alike to be warriors — not just any warriors, but warriors of heart, warriors of ethics, warriors who carry the dignity of our people the whole way through.
May we continue moving forward through time, proud of who we are, who we have always been, knowing that we are bigger than any of the challenges we face. We always have been, and we always will be.
Am Yisrael Chai!