
Tonight, community members and families will gather to begin celebrating Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. While the holiday is a joyous one, it also marks the beginning of the Days of Awe. This ten-day period is marked by teshuvah (repentance), tefillah (prayer), and tzedakah (charity) leading up to Yom Kippur—the Day of Atonement, on which our fate for the year ahead is sealed.
In other words, to be Jewish is to find joy and hope in the face of an uncertain future. This feels poignant given the current moment for the Jewish people. At the time of writing, the threat from the Iranian regime and its terror proxies has escalated to alarming levels. The risk of an even greater confrontation looms overhead as we begin a new year and approach the solemn anniversary of October 7th.
The new year is almost certain to bring continued strain and danger for Israelis, with cascading effects throughout the Diaspora. Even if the coming months bring the peace and security we all seek for Israel, the consequences will be felt for years to come.
I was reflecting on the past year’s impact on the collective mental health and resilience of the Jewish people. It brought to mind an insightful concept—the Stockdale Paradox—named after Admiral James Stockdale, an American pilot who was shot down during the Vietnam War and spent seven years in a prisoner-of-war camp.
Stockdale noted that the prisoners who were the least resilient fell into two categories. There were those who lost all hope, “consumed with every news story and conspiracy theory that they came across. They feel like the sky is falling…”
And then there were those who sought refuge in false hope. These were the prisoners who optimistically declared that they would be home by Thanksgiving. But when Thanksgiving came and went, their expectations shifted to Christmas. And then the spring. The result was that “every time one of those dates comes to pass and things have not returned to normal, they pick a new date, each time seeming to lose a piece of themselves.”
Hopelessness and false hope each failed to offer resilience. But the prisoners who proved the most durable were those who paradoxically accepted their new reality but had confidence in the hope that they would ultimately be freed.
Our situation is, of course, very different. Most of us can only imagine the horrors that Stockdale and his fellow prisoners suffered. But as I look back at what the Jewish people have endured over the past year, it’s clear that being hopeful isn’t always rational—but it is redeeming.
Hope is not a natural consequence of things going our way. It’s a choice we face when things are going wrong. It’s what empowers us to reframe our current circumstances in ways that strengthen our determination, rather than feed despair.
As we celebrate Rosh Hashanah, may we each embrace a healthy sense of hope—and with it the resilience to bring our hopes to life in the year ahead.
Shanah Tova,
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Adam Minsky |
PS: We invite you to join us, together with our community partners, as we gather thousands of Jews and allies to mark the one-year anniversary of October 7th. If you haven’t done so yet, I encourage you to register here.
We pray that the new year will bring the unconditional return of our hostages, peace and security for Israel and the Jewish people, and a better future for all who share our hopes for humanity.