Aleinu

Most weeks when I sit down to write this column, I do so with nothing in my head except an echo of a pressing pre-Shabbos deadline. This week, though, as I thumbed through the files my brain so neatly keeps on the Jewish world and how I belong to it, there was one word that I just kept coming back to. 

For over a year now, my Sunday mornings have been spent teaching at a local Jewish school in downtown Tampa. I match names to little faces and hear their voices’ melodies float through the stained-glass windows of our sanctuary. I watch as small shoes swing impatiently back and forth from dark wooden benches, still inches off of the ground. Before a post-graduation job took him away to Texas, and while working at a Jewish summer camp, one of our closest friends wrote a song for the children to sing in their services. I remember us all carpooling home from work at the shul one day, and he played it for our group on the journey. The next week, the cantor introduced the song, what it was about and what it meant.

 “In simple terms,” she had said, ‘It’s about togetherness. About shared responsibility. The fact that we should work together to make the world a better place than when we found it.”

Aleinu quite literally translates to “it’s on us”. I won’t get too into detail, but the main message of the song is that it is up to us to “light the way” and make each day better than the last. The events of this past year have been critical to the evolution, sustainability and both internal and external perception of American Jewry itself. Divisions have dug deep within our community, justified with questions, politics and downright frustration. Though comical, the saying “two Jews, three opinions” rings true for the vast majority of us. For those who disagree with this idea are also, funnily enough, the ones who are most convincingly proving its legitimacy. 

Across the country, and especially on campuses, we have seen a growing rift between the different sectors of Jewish life – Hillels, Chabads, SSIs, and Israel Advocacy Clubs among them. I am lucky enough to live, work and exist on a campus where in the wake of the October 7th tragedy, our Hillel and Chabad have been working together: communicating effectively, planning shared events, and supporting one another through this difficult time. But, as our Hillel director pointed out to me once during a board meeting, we are lucky. We are not the majority. Most Hillels and Chabads refuse to talk, never mind actually collaborate. Judaism is, as all cultures are, about the passing on of traditions and beliefs, often without explicit instruction. And, as we are all part of this culture, shouldn’t we focus on what connects us rather than our differences? The very idea of Aleinu seems to be what we need most right now. 

Let me ask you this: how many times have you stopped for a car on the side of the road? Or perhaps ushered a snail onto a leaf and out of harm’s way? If the answer to that is once, or maybe not at all, you may be a key example of the bystander effect – the belief that someone else will always be willing and able to fix a situation, or that you could pass it by and help would still soon be on the way. 

No matter your politics or beliefs about this world and the billions of people in it, as Jews, we need to hold Aleinu close to our hearts. The climate countdown clock in New York, the hatred we see fueled by rockets and trolls on the internet, the nervous anticipation that any and every discussion will lead to a fight. All of these things evoke fear within us. Having this fear is normal. What is not normal, however, is feeling all of these big feelings and deciding it is easier to step away. What’s right is not always easy, dear reader, and what is easy is not always right. When we think about the legacy we want to leave, we are not only speaking about ourselves as individuals, but we are speaking about our collective wishes and contributions as Jews, and how we want the Jewish generations after us to perceive their history. I am the first person to tell you that PR is important, but ensuring that we are internally strong, and simply hopeful, is crucial. We are a people powered by hope, and if you don’t believe me, just listen to a translated version of the Hatikvah. 

Wanting to make the world a better place often feels like a distant idea. But it doesn’t have to be. It starts with small actions – mitzvot – yet the ripple effects that stem from them are often so far out of our wildest imaginations. Growing up, you may have heard the Aleinu prayer as something you nod your head along to, passively. But now, more than ever, it is a call to action. To join together and take responsibility for “making tomorrow more than today”.

When Fishy played us his song that day on the way back to campus, I heard that call. This column is me asking you to hear it, too. 

Listen to the wonderful song by Jacob Fishman and Jacob Spike Kraus here: https://open.spotify.com/track/78t2fZ42nFQi9o4eCWWPpt?si=4708441d42e64a4c