This past week, I found myself traveling across the country once again. I began in New York at the American Zionist Movement (AZM) Conference, which oversees the elections of U.S. candidates for the World Zionist Congress. It was uplifting to walk into a room filled with so many people devoted to the future of the Jewish nation. It was moving to see Aish acknowledged so prominently, especially with several of our candidates present and engaged. I felt an enormous sense of pride standing beside Rabbi Elliot Mathias, who ran our election campaign and continues to lead so many of our efforts with determination and wisdom.
I am also celebrating the incredible milestone that Rabbi Mathias has made Aliyah, and has taken on the responsibility of overseeing all of our in-person programming around the world. He is now the point of contact for so many organizations across North America, Latin America, and beyond. His ability to connect people, to tie ideas together, to breathe life into efforts that strengthen Jewish identity has been extraordinary. Spending time with him reminded me again how blessed we are to have leaders of such caliber in our movement.
There was something striking at this conference that deserves attention. For years, the central discussion at gatherings like these focused almost exclusively on Israel. The emphasis was always on how the Diaspora could help Israel, advocate for Israel, and stand with Israel. This time, the conversations shifted with unmistakable urgency. The rooms were filled with concern for American Jewry, for the rise of antisemitism, for the growing number of politicians who signal their hatred through attacks on Israel that spill over into hatred of Jews themselves.
We are watching this unfold on campuses at a shocking rate. Only now, two and a half years after the initial wave of intimidation and harassment, are we beginning to see official reports like the one released from Columbia University that expose the deep problems within the faculty. Not the students, the faculty. Institutions that have received enormous support from Jewish philanthropy and tuition have been employing individuals who openly teach animosity toward our people. These revelations are painful, and they are also clarifying.
The concern for the future of American Jewry is no longer theoretical. It is a pressing reality that demands our involvement and our seriousness. I was grateful to see the AZM giving this issue the proper weight, and I am certain it will remain on the agenda.
Meanwhile, it was wonderful to reconnect with Israel’s Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar at the AZM conference. He and his party continue to be full partners with Aish Ha’am, and together, we have received a division within the World Zionist Organization from which we can make meaningful policy decisions. Minister Sa’ar remains a strong and active partner in everything we do.
The rest of the week brought me to Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and Florida. Every stop reminded me once again that the greatest privilege of my job is meeting so many remarkable partners across the Jewish world. Many are supporters of Aish. All are deeply devoted Jews who care passionately about their communities. Our conversations span every imaginable project. Formal education in Israel. Informal Jewish education around the globe. Campus initiatives. Grassroots programs. Bold experiments in engagement. The sheer diversity of commitment fills me with pride. It reminds me how greatly the Jewish people continue to be a light unto the nations. We pour ourselves into philanthropy and goodwill in every corner of the world. We do this even as hate rises around us. We do it because it is who we are.
As Hanukkah approaches this Sunday night, I find myself entering another round of conversations with the media, both Jewish and non-Jewish. Journalists, podcasters, influencers, traditional outlets, digital creators. They all want to understand Hanukkah. They ask what it means, how it resonates, and why it still matters. These conversations always bring me back to the depth of this holiday.
We commemorate the miracle of the menorah, yet we often forget the true meaning behind it. The menorah itself predates the miracle. It appears in the Torah. It stood in the Temple. It was one of the central symbols of our people. I remember walking through Rome and seeing the menorah carved into the Arch of Titus, carried away after the destruction of the Temple. That moment crystallized something for me. The menorah was always a declaration of Jewish endurance.
In addition to the miracle of the oil being about eight days, it also showed us clearly and unequivocally that the Almighty has not abandoned us, and will never abandon us. When the Maccabees fought their way back into the Temple, they searched desperately for pure oil and found only enough for one day. The flame endured for eight. It was a heavenly message that their courage mattered. Their efforts mattered. Their willingness to fight for the soul of the Jewish people mattered. You give everything you have, and then the Almighty takes you the rest of the way.
There is also the miracle of the military victory. The Maccabees stood up against overwhelming oppression. They refused to accept the erasure of Jewish life. Their rebellion was a turning point not only in Jewish history but in Jewish psychology. We have suffered oppression in almost every land we have lived in. We have been the scapegoats of every era. I once read a striking article describing how Japan sent a diplomatic delegation to Nazi Germany in the 1930s to study Hitler’s rise. They observed that his movement depended on a scapegoat. They concluded that they could not replicate it in Japan because they lacked a Jewish population. The observation was chilling. It captured how rooted scapegoating the Jews has been throughout history.
Modern antisemitism is a continuation of that pattern. We see it clearly at the United Nations, where Israel receives endless condemnations while true human rights violators escape scrutiny. We see it on campuses, in politics, in the media, and in cultural institutions. It is the same recycled hatred dressed up in new slogans. The struggle of the Maccabees serves as a reminder that there are moments when the Jewish people must push back and reclaim our dignity. There are moments when we must stand fearlessly for our future and know that G-d stands with us.
My thoughts go to the heroes of Israel in this post-October 7th world. The young soldiers who answered the call when our brothers and sisters were murdered, assaulted, and kidnapped. These young men and women refused to accept a world where Jewish lives could be taken without consequence. Their bravery echoes the spirit of the Maccabees. Their determination reflects the deepest values of our tradition. This spirit is woven into our history. Even Abraham, the man of peace whose tent was open to the four winds for guests to enter, picked up a sword to rescue his nephew Lot when he was kidnapped. Family never abandons family. The Jewish people are a family. That truth has never been clearer than it is today.
Hanukkah also reminds us of the importance of Jewish wisdom. In the time of the Maccabees, many Jews were abandoning their heritage for the allure of Hellenistic culture. The revolt was not only military. It was spiritual and intellectual. It was a rejection of assimilation and a reaffirmation of the enduring power of Jewish knowledge. This is the heartbeat of Aish. When I look at our Yeshiva and Seminary students, our online learners, our partners around the globe, I see the modern-day Maccabees. I see individuals who understand that Jewish wisdom is our lifeline. It is what connects us to the Almighty. It is what empowers us to rebuild, to protect each other, to inspire each other, to bring our brothers and sisters back into the fold with love.
Hanukkah is a holiday of love and joy. It is gifts and family and warmth and light. It is also about responsibility. Jewish history moves forward only when Jews take responsibility for each other and for our collective future. Wisdom, love, responsibility. These were the values of the Maccabees. These are the values of Aish. These are the values that guide us as we walk through unprecedented times.
I want to wish each of you a meaningful and uplifting Hanukkah. Take a moment to think about your personal role in Jewish history. The Maccabees were ordinary people who rose to an extraordinary moment. The Aish family is doing the same. We are building a future together. We are strengthening the Jewish world together. We are lighting the menorah of Jewish destiny together.
Thank you for everything you do. Shabbat Shalom. Hanukkah Sameach.
