The secret of Jewish survival — stubbornness and hope

Tisha B’Av is past. Looking back on that saddest day of the Jewish calendar, I am struck by its internal contradictions. On one hand, it is a day of mourning for nearly every Jewish tragedy across history, up to and including the horrific events of October 7. On the other hand, the tradition calls it mo’ed, a yom tov. It falls on the same weekday as the first day of Passover, our national festival of liberation. And our sages teach that the Messiah was born on the day the Temple was destroyed, a radical claim that redemption can emerge from the ashes of devastation.

Many Jews and non-Jews have wondered what the secret of Jewish survival is. Given the relentless persecutions we have endured, we should have disappeared long ago. Yet after 3,000 years, we are still here. I believe the secret lies in two intertwined qualities: stubbornness and hope.

In the Torah, God calls the Israelites a “stiff necked people.” In the wilderness, this stubbornness was an indictment, a sign of how the slave mentality of the exodus generation led to endless complaining and rebellion. But over the centuries, Jewish stubbornness underwent a profound transformation. It became the refusal to abandon Jewish identity in the face of oppression, forced conversion, expulsion, and annihilation. Not every Jew held fast. But those who did are our spiritual ancestors. Their stubbornness preserved our people.

This stubbornness is not arrogance. It is spiritual tenacity. It is the refusal to let others define us or our destiny.

The second aspect of our survival is hope. Israel’s national anthem, Hatikvah — “The Hope” — captures this perfectly. Jewish hope is not naïve optimism. It is the audacity to believe that the world can be redeemed, even when reality argues otherwise. Hope does not guarantee survival. But hope makes survival possible.

This past Shabbat was Shabbat Nachamu — the Shabbat of Consolation — named for the opening word of Isaiah’s prophecy: Nachamu, nachamu ami, “Comfort ye, comfort ye, My people.” For seven weeks, we chant haftarot of consolation, culminating in Rosh Hashanah. These weeks remind us that consolation is not passive comfort, but a call to personal and national renewal.

The past few years have been grim. Israel has been at war since 2023, with all the trauma and turmoil that war brings. Antisemitism is rising globally, often accompanied by Jewish deaths. Yet the Hebrew root of shanah — “year” — means “change.” Jewish stubbornness and Jewish hope can be catalysts for that change.

My deepest hope for our people right now lies in the upcoming Israeli elections scheduled for October 27. Hundreds of thousands of Israelis will go to the polls to determine what kind of government they want and what kind of Jewish state they wish to live in. These elections, however, are not like previous ones. They are much more fateful. That is why thousands of Israeli citizens living abroad — some for many years — are arranging flights home simply to vote. An organization has even formed to help make this possible. We, along with several friends who have the right to vote, are making this trip.

These friends who are joining us on this journey are a stubborn lot. We refuse to cede our homeland to the destructive forces of religious fanaticism, unthinking populism, and blatant racism. We will vote for parties that resist judicial reforms that would neuter Israel’s Supreme Court, the guarantor of Israeli democracy. We will vote for parties committed to ending inequities in military service, inequities that allow some adult men and 18-year-olds to avoid serving their country while others risk their lives daily. We will vote for parties willing to rethink the two-state question, not as ideology, but as a strategic move that may provide greater security for Israel.

We will travel to Israel because we stubbornly believe in authentic Zionism, not the pseudo-Zionism of violent juvenile delinquents and adult murderers. Our hope is to renew the Zionism of Israel’s Declaration of Independence, which envisioned a state founded on freedom, justice, and peace as envisioned by the prophets of Israel.

We travel with hope in our hearts that Israel can awaken from the nightmare of the past three years and become a flourishing democracy grounded in the Jewish values of respect for all, generosity of spirit, and uncompromising ethical standards.

Rabbi Michael Chernick of Teaneck is professor emeritus at the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in New York. He received his doctorate from the Bernard Revel Graduate School and rabbinic ordination from the Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary.

Opinion