There are words that everyone remembers. Ahadut. Over the past year, Israeli society has been plagued by corrosive social rifts and bitter political disagreements. October 7 changed everything, and the war that followed left us with little choice but to come together to save lives. Unity has been unconsciously forced upon us.
An atmosphere of unity in Israel pervades the entire Jewish world. The entire Jewish nation, on many continents and across all sectors, has united in defense of its people and homeland. The word ahdut, which means “unity,” is derived from the motto “Yahad Nenazeach” (“Together we will win”).
We’re all wondering, “What will the ‘next day’ look like in Gaza?” You’ve probably thought about the pressing question of “. What kind of political arrangement in Gaza can bring about Palestinian stability without threatening Israel?
Another version of this question is, “What will the “day after” look like for our society?” Will we revert to division and discord, or will we maintain our current state of unity? We are all looking for a magic solution to maintain a resurgent national unity.
Typically, we articulate unity in broad ideological terms. We envision ways to bridge the differences between ourselves and those with different religious or political views. We coexist with people whose lifestyles differ from ours by honoring the common ideas and values that unite us rather than emphasizing what divides us. We bridge ideological divides by emphasizing shared values and common stories.
Unlike ideological akhdut, which is achieved through common ideas, a stronger version of unity can be called “social akhdut,” which is achieved through common experiences. We are deeply interconnected when we engage in common work that transcends social status and professional titles. Actions are always more persuasive than thoughts. Acting together creates a deeper sense of solidarity than simply thinking about shared values.
Moses the pallbearer
After two centuries of humiliation and dehumanization, we emerged victorious from Egypt on our way to the Promised Land. Setting off at breakneck speed, we raced around furiously, organizing our families and livestock for the journey. It was a chaotic scene, and I barely had time to remember my old promise with my grandfather, long forgotten. Everyone was too busy to remove Joseph’s remains from the Egyptian crypt. In this chaotic day, no one had the time or resources to tackle this task. None other than Moses, perhaps the busiest man on earth.
Although Moses was preoccupied with the nation as a whole, he still found time to personally dig Joseph’s coffin out of Egypt, a chore that many would consider beneath their status. What is even more impressive is that during his 40-year desert journey, Moses always kept the coffin close to him and never left this difficult task to anyone else. He did not consider this task to be a violation of his dignity or unworthy of his exalted position. The man who humbled tyrants, split the seas, and climbed the heavens did not consider it immoral to drag a coffin of bones.
Moses refused to erect social barriers between himself and the common people. By performing common and mundane duties, he experienced social cohesion and did not allow himself to be tied to a particular profile based on his professional position. Unlike Joseph’s bones, Moses refused to be placed in a box.
war is a leveler
Over the past few months, the war in Israel has helped us step outside of ourselves and achieve social cohesion through common experiences. Our soldiers fight together, regardless of their socio-economic status or occupation. War is a great leveling tool because everyone, regardless of social status or class, performs exactly the same tasks and tasks. Previous status in civilian life has no effect on wartime duty. Students fight alongside lawyers, and high-tech entrepreneurs sit in aquariums next to farmers and fishermen. Next to the factory manager is an IT specialist. Next to grandpa is a new father. Next to the grizzled veteran is a newlywed husband. Everyone is equal on the battlefield. My colleague, a middle-aged rabbi (name withheld for privacy reasons), is an accomplished Talmud scholar and a respected community rabbi in Israel. He was drafted into the Reserve Tank Corps and spent the past 100 days in active combat. During this period, he used his spare time to publish Advanced Torah Essays memorializing students who had died in battle. During his 100 days, he was an ordinary soldier, no different from the younger or less educated members of his unit.
This week, his entire platoon was released and received the Ott Hitzsteinat Pergatit Award, which honors him as the most diligent and hard-working soldier in the entire 50-man platoon. I was impressed that a man of his caliber didn’t let his professional profile get in the way of working hard with so many young soldiers. . This is just one of many examples of how war erases the social and professional frameworks that define and limit us.
taxi driver
The home front also forced us into the tie. We are busy with emergency services, stepping outside our normal comfort zones to perform tasks and errands that were not part of our normal routine. For the past few months, in addition to being a rabbi and yeshiva teacher, I’ve also been a taxi driver, meal delivery person, babysitter, and substitute parent to my grandchildren whose parents were drafted into the military. We have tried not to let our titles or social status prevent us from providing wartime aid. No task is too high or too low.
One vivid story perfectly captures this unity on the home front. During the war, the yeshiva’s Arab kitchen staff were prohibited due to safety concerns. Faced with this shortage, students volunteered to do detail work in the kitchen. A month ago, on a day when there were no students, our executive director volunteered to work in the kitchen. To everyone’s surprise, our Rosh Yeshiva, 73-year-old Rav Meydan, soon joined us. He himself was preoccupied with yeshiva duties and caring for his son’s serious battlefield injuries. For Rav Meydan, washing dirty dishes was never seen as degrading his dignity or unworthy of his title.
True leadership doesn’t mean making loud announcements or influencing others through popular social media posts. True leaders model core values in life and set a quiet example of self-sacrifice. Seeing Rosh Yeshiva wearing an apron immediately reminded me of Moses bringing the coffin out of Egypt. Nobility has little to do with wallets or clothing. True nobility lies within our spirit and can surface in the performance of any task, whether high or low.
Life on the battlefield and on the home front helped us break out of our narrow profile and allowed us to share a common mission and common experiences. You feel more connected to your subordinates when everyone performs the exact same tasks and chores, regardless of their professional profile or social status. The fact that it is ordinary and ordinary is refreshing. I find this sense of unity more intuitive and authentic than an ideological sense of unity based on shared values and ideals. Experience is always more powerful than ideas. The unity of experience is always more powerful than the unity of ideas.
Having experienced social cohesion, I not only respect other people’s opinions, but also act according to their actions. They act as I act. In this we are one.
The author is Rabbi Heder Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gash. He earned his smicha and his bachelor’s degree in computer science from Yeshiva University and his master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York.