Shabbat Greetings
As we begin a new school year, many of us feel the usual mix of excitement and nerves. But this year, those feelings are layered with something heavier. With the war in Israel still ongoing, rising global tensions, and a surge of antisemitism even on college campuses and in academic discourse, many Jewish students, parents, and educators are asking a hard question: How do we walk confidently with our Jewish identity in these times?
This week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei (Deuteronomy 21:10–25:19), may offer surprising insight—not by ignoring the complexity of our moment, but by speaking directly into it.
The portion begins with the phrase: “When you go out to war against your enemies…” (21:10) At first glance, this is about physical warfare. But generations of Jewish thinkers have read it metaphorically as well. Life presents many battles. Some are external—facing hostility, bias, or ideological conflict. But many are internal—battles with fear, insecurity, or the temptation to blend in and disappear.
For Jewish students returning to campus in 2025, the “war” isn’t abstract. It’s real. It’s the awkward silence when Israel is mentioned. It’s the group project partner who suddenly sees you differently. It’s the fear of being “outed” as Jewish or Zionist in a classroom where that label comes with assumptions. It’s the pressure to shrink. But Ki Teitzeidoesn’t say “If you go out to war…” It says “When.” The assumption is that these confrontations are inevitable. But so is the expectation that we will face them with clarity and integrity.
Ki Teitzei contains 74 mitzvot (commandments); the most of any Torah portion. Many are small or seemingly mundane: returning lost objects, fair labor practices, ethical warfare, kindness to animals. At first, they feel disconnected. But they point to a deeper truth: Jewish identity is not just something we feel—it’s something we do.
In a moment when being visibly Jewish can feel risky, this portion reminds us: Every detail matters. Jewish life is not about grand declarations. It’s lived in our daily choices — what we eat, how we speak, how we carry ourselves, how we treat others, especially the vulnerable. Every mitzvah is a quiet act of resistance. Every mezuzah on a dorm room door, every Hebrew phrase dropped in conversation, every kippah, every moment we stand up for truth respectfully but clearly; these are spiritual declarations: I know who I am.
Here’s the radical part: even in the context of war, the Torah demands compassion, restraint, and justice. Captives must be treated humanely. Workers must be paid on time. Even animals must be given dignity. In the heat of conflict, the Torah calls for ethics. That’s our blueprint.
Being Jewish doesn’t just mean being proud—it means being principled. Yes, we stand with Israel. Yes, we defend our people. But how we do that matters. We are called to argue with dignity, to stand with courage and humility, and to never lose our humanity in the process. It’s not about “winning.” It’s about witnessing to a higher way of being.
For many of us, the war in Israel is not just political, it’s personal. We have friends, cousins, siblings in the IDF. We wake up to headlines that shake us. And yet, on campus, we often feel alone. The pain we carry is invisible. Worse, it’s sometimes vilified. So what do we do? The Torah’s answer isn’t tactical. It’s existential: “When you go out to war . . .know who you are.“
Start from the inside. Don’t let the outside world define your Jewishness. You don’t need to shout, but you also don’t need to hide. Wear your Magen David. Speak up when it matters. Join that Israel club, or start one. Learn deeply. Love visibly. Don’t just react, build relationships of support and understanding. Jewish identity isn’t a liability. It’s a legacy. And in times like these, living it fully is a form of spiritual resistance.
As we walk into this new academic year, let’s carry Ki Teitzei with us—not as a relic of ancient battles, but as a roadmap for how to live meaningfully in a fractured world. Let’s have the courage to be visibly, unapologetically Jewish. The wisdom to act with nuance and strength. The compassion to treat others with dignity, even when they don’t return it.
The connection to stand in solidarity with our people locally, globally, and spiritually. We are not going out to war with weapons. We are going out with identity, values, a a sense of purpose that has sustained our people for thousands of years. Am Yisrael Chai!
SHABBAT SHALOM