The Unbreakable Mission and Hope of the Jewish People

Last Shabbat at our weekly community kiddush, the mood was unexpectedly heavy. The esteemed retired judge, a man whose words usually uplift and provoke reflection, spoke with deep sorrow in his voice. He said he was despondent. Not just over the war, not just over the politics, but over something far more existential.

He was despondent because the nations of the world continue to deny our very right to this land.

He spoke of countries like Britain, Canada, and France—nations that supposedly uphold justice and international law—yet time and again they pressure Israel to “end the war,” to “exercise restraint,” while ignoring the terrorism, the hostage-taking, and the relentless denial of Israel’s legitimacy. They erase our history. They pretend we are occupiers in our ancestral homeland.

And that hurts.

He felt that even the powerful image of our youth walking to the Kotel on Yom Yerushalayim didn’t move him as it once did. There was an ache in his voice—a fear that the next generation may grow up in a world that questions not just our actions, but our very existence.

He concluded with a quote from Ze’ev Jabotinsky. The message was clear: we owe no one an apology for our presence here. This is our home. We will defend it unapologetically.

But even with that defiant tone, his words left me uneasy. Not because they weren’t true, but because something essential was missing: hope.

Later, he approached me and said, “I got my inspiration from you.” And it stopped me cold. Had I been too negative in my posts? Too despairing? I had to ask myself—have I allowed the news cycle to cloud my own vision?

How can one not be despondent when looking at the headlines and the decline of any moral clarity, and the rise of global anti-Zionism (aka anti-Semitism) echoed by the words “Free Palestine” that justify murder.

I thought about some of the headlines. France is calling for a conference to recognise a Palestinian state, while Hamas still holds hostages, still denies our right to exist, and still refuses peace. Instead of demanding accountability from the perpetrators of terror, the world rewards them. What kind of moral inversion is this? What kind of state will this be?

Consider this quote from António Guterres, United Nations (UN) Secretary-General, who is thoroughly detached from the Israel-Palestinian conflict’s realities.

“The only way to address the legitimate aspirations of both Israelis and Palestinians is through the two-State formula,” 

Really? – This was tried many times (Partition Plan, Oslo, Camp David et al), and all attempts failed and brought war, intifada, terrorism, rockets, bus bombings, shootings, and the final nail in the coffin was October 7.  It is time to move on from this fantasy.  We have to pronounce it dead. It failed because the Palestinian Arabs chose war over peace every time, because they have no desire for a state; they do not want there to be a Jewish one.

There are other options – this essay by Nachum Kaplan makes a few of them https://moralclaritynewsletter.substack.com/p/seven-options-other-than-the-dead, and let’s not forget the most obvious one – Jordan is Palestine. Palestine is Jordan.

And then there is the media war on Israel – a re-enactment of medieval blood libels, Nazi era propaganda the false revision of history, facts of the so-called Palestinian people.

The latest blood libel was that  “Israel killed 31 Palestinians while delivering food.” In this case, some of the media admitted that the claim was false, after the damage had been done. But not the BBC. They ran with the headline until Tuesday evening last, long after the story was debunked – I saved a screenshot of this as evidence, and then the BBC quietly removed it the next morning. No retraction. No apology.

For further reading, I am sharing a link to an essay  by Michael Oren wrote on Substack, titled “J’Accuse”  https://claritywithmichaeloren.substack.com/p/jaccuse

I searched for clarity. I picked up a book I had started to read: Future Tense by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, written in 2009. And with it, something in me began to lift.

In the introduction, Rabbi Sacks describes a world in 2009 that could have been written in 2025. The situation he outlined in 2009—when Hamas was firing rockets, Israel was condemned at the UN, and liberal democracies were questioning Israel’s right to defend itself—could be pulled straight from today’s headlines .He paints a picture of rising antisemitism masked as anti-Zionism, international institutions losing moral clarity, and the global scapegoating of Israel, not for what it does, but for what it is. He notes a Jewish people thriving externally, but internally wrestling with fear, confusion, and identity in a rapidly changing world.

It was startling—and comforting—to see that the challenges we face today are not new. The discomfort of standing alone, the burden of moral leadership, the struggle to defend truth in an age of lies—Rabbi Sacks saw it all then. And he offered the same message I needed now:

Do not fear being different.
The Jewish mission is not to mirror the world, but to inspire it.
Not to retreat in silence, but to speak with moral clarity.

He reminded us that Judaism’s unique contribution to the world is its unwavering belief that the future is not something that happens to us—it’s something we build. With God. With courage. With hope.

Hope, he explains, is not the same as optimism. Optimism is passive—hope is active. Hope is the belief that we can shape a better future, partnered with God, through our actions. Hope is not weakness—it is spiritual defiance.

And that defiance is etched into our tradition. This week’s Torah portion ends with the Priestly Blessing, Birkat Kohanim:

“May the Lord bless you and guard you. May He shine His face upon you and be gracious to you. May He lift His face to you and grant you peace.”

These ancient words—still recited daily, still whispered by parents over their children—are more than a blessing. They are our anchor. Through exile, through pogroms, through statehood, through war—we hold onto peace, because we still believe in its possibility.

And it’s not just spiritual. This week, June 5th, marks two powerful events:

1. The Six-Day War – when Jerusalem was reunified. In just six days, we returned to our hearts. The Western Wall, for the first time in 2,000 years, stood open to all. It wasn’t just a military victory—it was a triumph of hope over despair. For the first time in 2,000 years, Jews from all walks of life could pray freely at the Western Wall. And not just Jews, Christians, Muslims, but all faiths. That’s hope realised.
2. UN World Environment Day – ironically, while the UN condemns us, even in war, even under fire, we shine., Israel continues to build, innovate, and repair the world. This year’s theme is plastic pollution. And even amid war and terror, Israel leads the way in plastic innovation, sustainability, water technology, and environmental innovation. I will be expanding on this on my Substack channel https://upgradingesg.substack.com/. Please follow me for more insights.

This is not just resilience. That’s hope in action.

At the Shabbat meal, I asked my married daughter—with three kids and a whole, beautiful life—what she thought about the flood of negative opinions coming at us from the outside world. Her response was striking in its clarity. She said, “If someone tells you you’re wearing a blue T-shirt, when in fact you’re clearly wearing yellow, why would you even engage? It’s not just wrong—it’s irrelevant.”

That’s what we need to remember. The world can spin stories, hold conferences, and chant slogans. But we must remain clear. We are not who they say we are. We are who we’ve always been—a people of faith, of story, of Torah, and of hope.

And this brings me to a remarkable insight I read in The Dance of the Omer by Rav Benji Elson. He reflects on Shavuot and the giving of the Ten Commandments. On the surface, there wasn’t anything entirely new in the Ten Commandments—other ancient codes—like Hammurabi’s—prohibited murder, theft, and codified law.

So, what was the radical breakthrough at Sinai?

It wasn’t just the commandments. It was the transformation of a people. Sinai was the moment we became messengers of the Divine. Not just followers of the law, but bearers of a mission. We were tasked not just with surviving, but with infusing the world with godliness, justice, and holiness.

And after October 7th, when the darkness descended, the real test came on October 8th, when the world turned on us. That’s when our mission reignited. To stand not just as victims, but as beacons. To remind the world that there is a better way to live.

Being a “light unto the nations” doesn’t mean being superior. It means reminding others that they, too, are chosen. Our chosenness isn’t about arrogance—it’s about responsibility. We are here to awaken the holiness in every soul. To tell humanity: you are sacred too.

That’s what makes the Jewish story so unique and so urgent.

We have a responsibility to be proof that another way of living is possible. That amid chaos, we can still sing. That amid violence, we can still bless. That amid darkness, we still carry the flame.

So yes, the judge was right to feel sorrow. The world is fractured. The lies are loud. The betrayal is real.

But let us never forget we are the people of hope.

Not naive hope. Not blind hope. But covenantal hope. The kind that builds, the kind that uplifts, the kind that remembers Sinai and Jerusalem and tomorrow all at once.

Let us rise again not just with strength, but with soul.

Because hope is not just our defence.
Hope is our mission.

Footnote – The Return of Israel and the Hope of the World

Over Shavuot, I had the opportunity to briefly skim through Abraham Livni’s powerful work Le Retour d’Israël et l’Espérance du Monde (The Return of Israel and the Hope of the World) written in 1984.

Even in that short encounter, his central message struck a deep chord. Livni, a French-born philosopher who converted to Judaism and made his home in Jerusalem, viewed the return of the Jewish people to their ancestral land not merely as a political or historical event, but as a spiritual revolution with global implications.

He argued that the Jewish people’s reawakening in Israel represents a moral and prophetic resurgence—one that challenges the secular, often rootless trajectory of Western civilization. At the heart of his thought is the idea that the restoration of Israel is inseparable from the ethical and spiritual renewal of humanity.

In Livni’s eyes, Zionism is not just about sovereignty—it is about re-centring the divine in a world that has lost its compass. His voice, though often overlooked, is a profound call to rediscover meaning, nationhood, and the transcendent purpose of Jewish identity.

Video Link to the Launch of this book in English, highlighting how Livni’s thesis connects the redemption of the Jewish people with the moral healing of the world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lf7KCBImD7U&t=27s

There is no other explanation why the world is so obsessed with Israel!!