The Blogs: The War for Holiness: From Kedoshim to Gaza

There is a poignant juxtaposition in the name of this double Torah portion—Acharei Mot–Kedoshim—“After Death… Holiness.” It captures a fundamental truth: we often only understand the full depth of a person’s life after they are gone. We mourn not only what was lost, but what we failed to recognize in their presence. This rings especially true for our holy soldiers—those who fall defending Israel. In death, their lives become illuminated, their sacrifice honoured, their courage sanctified.

But this theme is not only about grief. It is about clarity.

This week, inspired by Parshat Kedoshim and the insights of the late Oxford professor John Howard in The Lessons of History, I want to reflect more deeply—not just on individual loss, but on the broader legacy of leadership, war, memory, and the spiritual calling of the Jewish people in our turbulent world.

Two Provocative Questions from History

Howard raised two unsettling yet vital questions:

How do we relate to truly great leaders when we reflect back on their lives and impact?
Why has Europe, particularly Western Europe, become so pacifist after surviving the brutal wars of the 20th century?

These questions highlight a troubling truth: modern society often assumes a universal moral code, a shared language of peace and diplomacy. But that’s an illusion. While English may dominate global discourse, it does not mean others share our worldview. And many do not.

Radical ideologies—like political Islamism, Hamas, the Houthis, and similar groups—understand our language but do not share our values. The same with Countries like Iran, and Turkey they wield their own “moral” vocabulary against us, weaponizing human rights language while pursuing religious wars with conviction and zeal.

Their wars are not reluctant—they are ideological. Ours, by contrast, are often defensive, restrained, and burdened by the desire to maintain international legitimacy.

Memory and Moral Leadership: After Death, We Remember

In Western society, we often honour leaders posthumously. Take Winston Churchill—had he died in the 1930s, he might have been remembered as a failed politician like his father. But WWII transformed him into the lion of British resistance.

Consider Abraham Lincoln—vilified in life, sanctified in death. His vision preserved the Union and redefined moral leadership.

But in Judaism, memory is not shaped by battlefield victories. We remember Avraham, Moshe, King David, Maimonides, and Rashi—not because they conquered, but because they sanctified life. Sanctified a higher understanding of Life. A higher moral code. They infused holiness into law, family, community, and covenant. Their legacy lives in the values they taught, not only the events they survived.

So too with our modern leaders. Benjamin Netanyahu (“Bibi”) remains a deeply polarising figure, but his place in Jewish history may ultimately be defined not by popularity but by whether he stood firm in existential moments, as Churchill once did.

“You Shall Be Holy…”: The Core of Kedoshim

The heart of Parshat Kedoshim is a divine imperative:

“You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy.”
(Vayikra 19:2)

Holiness here is not mysticism. It’s not about rituals alone or priestly garments. It is lived ethics.

Pay your worker on time.
Honour the elderly.
Love your neighbour as yourself.
Do not hate in your heart.
Be honest in business.

Holiness is not a retreat from the world—it is a transformation of the world. It is justice, kindness, and moral courage embedded in the daily grind of life.

Distinction, Not Superiority: The Role of the Jewish People

As Parshat Kedoshim ends, God says:

“And you shall be holy to Me, for I the Lord am holy, and I have separated you from the nations to be Mine.”
(Vayikra 20:26)

To modern ears, this can sound arrogant or exclusionary. But the Torah is not making a claim of superiority. It is placing upon Israel a burden of responsibility.

To be chosen is not to be favoured.
To be chosen is to be tasked.

It is to be a people who distinguish between good and evil, clean and unclean, holy and profane. It is to live with a moral compass in an age that celebrates relativism. It is to say—there is truth. There is right. And there is wrong.

And it is to carry that truth even when it’s inconvenient, even when the world resents you for it.

The Current War: Not Just Geopolitical—Spiritual and Civilizational

This brings us to Israel’s current war, often mislabeled a mere “Israel-Palestinian conflict.”

It is far more than that.

This war is religious, civilizational, and spiritual.

It is about whether a Jewish state has the right to exist at all.
It is about a people returning to their ancestral land—and refusing to disappear.
It is about standing for life in a region where too many glorify martyrdom.

Groups like Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and even state actors like Iran, do not seek compromise. They seek destruction. Their battle cry is not peace—it is annihilation. They are not misunderstood nationalists. They are ideologically driven warriors in a religious war against Jewish presence and purpose.

That’s why this war draws in so many external actors.
That’s why Israel is hated disproportionately.
Because this conflict is not about borders.
It’s about boundaries between holiness and barbarism, between light and darkness.

Why the World Targets Israel: Matti Friedman’s Revelation

And in this War, we must ask – Why does the media so often distort the story?

As former AP journalist Matti Friedman insightfully explains in this video, Israel has become a mirror for the West’s own struggles with identity and morality.

“The Israel story isn’t really about Israel. It’s about what it means to be a Western liberal… it’s the story through which people in the West now tell themselves who they are.”
— Matti Friedman

Israel becomes a projection screen. The Jewish state is not evaluated on its own terms—it is used to perform the West’s guilt and confusion. And thus, Israel is judged not by facts, but by narrative needs.

When Jews defend themselves, the world sees aggression.
When enemies target civilians, the world sees resistance.
This is not journalism. It is moral confusion.

The Deeper Psychology Behind the Bias: Holocaust Guilt and Colonial Shadows

Beyond media spin and ideological alliances lies something even deeper—a moral psychology shaped by Europe’s unhealed wounds.

The scars of World War II and the Holocaust, especially in countries like France and Spain, run deep. Europe’s soil remains soaked with the memories of complicity, silence, and failure. Six million Jews were exterminated in their midst, and even after 80 years, there has been no full reckoning—no true healing or atonement for this moral collapse.

Layered on top of this is the skeleton of colonial sins. Nations like France, Spain, and others built empires through occupation, exploitation, and cultural domination. Today, these countries attempt to purge their guilt—not through self-reflection, but by projecting it outward.

And what more convenient target than Israel, the one nation whose legitimacy as a state is questioned more than any other? (and, ironically, has the most documented history of any nation to its land)

Thus, when Gaza becomes a battlefield, many in Europe see not Hamas’ jihadist doctrine or Iran’s regional manipulation—they see a mirror of their own past sins. They rush to impose their ideals, to enforce “solutions”—not out of clarity, but out of displacement.

They speak of human rights—but forget the human bombs planted in Israeli buses, or the thousands of rockets fired at civilians.
They advocate for peace, but side with those who chant for genocide.
They denounce colonialism—but falsely cast Israel as a colonial power, while ignoring that Jews are indigenous to their land.

This moral confusion leads to hypocrisy cloaked as virtue, and to international interference driven less by justice than by unprocessed shame.

Kedoshim’s Response: The Courage to Be Morally Distinct

This is why Parshat Kedoshim speaks so loudly right now. In a world obsessed with moral flattening, with false equivalence and blurred lines, God says:

“I have separated you from the nations to be Mine.”

Not because we are innocent of all flaws. But because we are called to moral distinction.

To name evil even when others excuse it.
We must fight for life even when the world demands our submission.
To tell the truth, even when it makes us unpopular.

This final verse is not about superiority. It is a responsibility. In an age that forgets, it commands memory. In an age that blends good and evil, it demands clarity.

In a world scarred by denial, distortion, and displacement, Kedoshim calls us to stand firm.
To live with values. To remember with responsibility.
To fight for life—not just physically, but morally.
And to be holy—not because it is easy, but because it is ours to do.

Let us rise to that calling.
Let us distinguish between light and darkness.
Let us carry the torch of memory and holiness in life, not only after death.