Our enemies thought they could break us

When I first saw the photograph of Maj. (res.) Shmuel Baumel, a kippah-clad IDF officer, receiving a blessing from the Vizhnitz Rebbe, something deep stirred inside me. Here was a moment of profound unity, an image of two seemingly disparate worlds, sometimes at odds in bitter arguments about the most important topics, coming together. Drillman, embodying the strength and valor of the Israeli army in his military fatigues, stood before the revered Hasidic leader, who offered spiritual support for the battles ahead. It was a snapshot that transcended politics, ideologies, and religious divisions. The religious Zionist world and the Hasidic world have often stood apart, viewing the relative importance of military might and spiritual blessings quite differently, but that image was a testament to the renewed sense of Jewish unity we are witnessing today. It is both heartwarming and vital.

We have not always had the blessing of such unity, at least not in such strength or depth. It is new, or perhaps better described as newly revived and improved. In the wake of October 7, when the unthinkable happened and Israel was brutally attacked, many Jews felt an overwhelming sense of abandonment from outside the Jewish world. We had long allied with and supported various groups, governments, and individuals who had spoken of friendship, support, and shared values. Yet when Jewish blood was spilled, the reactions of many were muted, ambiguous, or even hostile. Of course, many of our non-Jewish allies have risen to the occasion, and they deserve nothing but praise. But it is undeniable that our creeping feeling of being left alone in our darkest hour hurt deeply.

But in the year that has followed, something extraordinary happened. Jews of all stripes – religious and secular, right-wing and left-wing, young and old – began to come together in ways we hadn’t seen in years. This was not a unity based on agreement; it was not political or ideological. It was a unity based on mutual responsibility, survival, and unconditional love for one another. Suddenly, the divisions that often define Jewish discourse and politics seemed to fade, revealing something much more profound: a shared sense of peoplehood with an unwavering commitment to communal self-sufficiency.

Yes, we still disagree about important things. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict, religious-secular dynamics, and US political allegiances remain deeply debated. And yet, we know something more important: we know who we are and what we want to stand for. We are an eternal people who stand for our shared safety and prosperity, and who wish to model communal flourishing for the world. We may not always agree on the means, but we understand that those are our basic ends. Our enemies want the opposite for us and have attempted to weaken us, to divide us, to sow fear and hatred not just between us and the world but among ourselves. But in their efforts to harm us, they have inadvertently made us stronger and more determined.

That much has been apparent whenever we recall October 7.

I was recently at an October 7 commemoration event in New Jersey, where Rabbi Binyamin Krohn, the head of the Rabbinical Council of Bergen County shared the stage with Rabbi Jennifer Schlosberg, who is president of the North Jersey Board of Rabbis. They spoke admiringly of one another, using their honorifics and other signs of respect. That is not something that used to happen often. And yet, there they stood, side by side, speaking of the need for strength, for solidarity, for prayer, and for action. It wasn’t about differences in theology or practice; it was about the unshakable bond that links us as Jews. It was about family.

We have always had a sense that fellow Jews, no matter how distant their beliefs or practices, deserve some form of embrace. But now we are hugging each other tighter than ever. It’s not just symbolic – it’s an act of survival. We know that those who hate us, those who wish to see the Jewish people eradicated, will exploit any cracks in our coalition. If they can divide us, they believe they can destroy us. But this unity, forged in pain and resilience, has shown them otherwise. We will not allow our disagreements to weaken our resolve or our commitment to each other.

Those who seek our destruction do not care whether we are Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, or secular. They do not care if we vote left or right, or if we support one political policy or another. To them, we are all Jews. And because of this, we must recognize that our strength lies in our togetherness. We are stronger as one people than as fragmented groups.

As Jews, we have always been a people who thrive in adversity, who turn hardship into opportunity, and who, time and time again, rise from the ashes of destruction. October 7 was a day of unimaginable pain, but hopefully will be the beginning of a new chapter of Jewish unity. Our enemies thought they could do more than kill us – they thought they could break us. But they do not understand what it means to be Jewish. They only served to bring us closer together.

The fact that our enemies at home and abroad feel emboldened to speak their intentions of dividing and destroying us only strengthens our determination to stand as one Jewish people. Together, we will endure. Only together. Am Yisrael chai.