There are moments when the calendar places two commemorations side by side, inviting us to consider not only what happened in the past, but what those events demand of us today.
This week, we marked the 88th anniversary of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass. Beginning on November 9, 1938, Nazi authorities orchestrated a wave of violence against Jewish communities throughout Germany and Austria. Synagogues were set ablaze, Jewish businesses destroyed, homes ransacked, and many innocent people were assaulted, arrested, and murdered. The shattered glass that covered the streets became a chilling symbol of a society in which hatred had been legitimized, human dignity abandoned, and the persecution of Jews sanctioned by the state.
Kristallnacht did not mark the beginning of antisemitism, nor was it the beginning of Nazi persecution. But it marked a terrifying escalation, a moment when years of hateful rhetoric, discrimination, and dehumanization erupted into widespread, organized violence. It was a warning of the horrors that would follow in the Shoah, the Holocaust.
Just one day after our commemoration of Kristallnacht, our nation observed Veterans Day, honoring the men and women who have served in the United States Armed Forces. We remember their courage, their commitment, and their willingness to sacrifice in defense of our nation and the freedoms we cherish. We owe them not only our gratitude, but our determination to preserve the values and principles for which they served.
Two commemorations. Two very different chapters of human history. Yet together, they raise a question that is as urgent today as it was generations ago: What does it mean to defend human dignity in a world where hatred continues to threaten it?
More than three years have passed since October 7, 2023, when Hamas terrorists launched their brutal assault on Israel, massacring innocent civilians and abducting hundreds of hostages. The hostages have now been returned, some to the embrace of loved ones, others to their final resting places. Yet the wounds of that day, and of the devastating war that followed, remain profound. Families continue to grieve, communities struggle to rebuild, and Israelis and Palestinians alike face the enormous challenges of healing and finding a path toward a more peaceful future.
For Jewish communities throughout the world, the dramatic resurgence of antisemitism post October 7th has shattered any illusion that this ancient hatred belongs only to the pages of history. We have witnessed threats, intimidation, violence, and the normalization of antisemitic rhetoric in places where we once believed such hatred would never again find acceptance.
We must be careful not to equate different historical events or diminish the unique horrors of the Holocaust. Yet history teaches us that hatred does not emerge in a vacuum. It grows when prejudice goes unchallenged, when dehumanizing language becomes acceptable, when indifference replaces empathy, and when good people remain silent.
This is why remembrance alone is never enough.
Our Jewish tradition insists that memory must lead to moral responsibility. The Torah commands, “Justice, justice shall you pursue.” (Deuteronomy 16:20). It also teaches, “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor.” (Leviticus 19:16). These are not passive ideals. They are obligations that demand courage, integrity, and action.
To remember Kristallnacht is to recognize the danger of hatred left unchecked. To honor our veterans is to acknowledge the courage required to defend freedom and human dignity. To confront antisemitism today is to understand that the responsibility to safeguard those values belongs not only to soldiers, governments, or institutions, but to each of us.
We cannot control every act of hatred in the world. But we can choose how we respond. We can challenge prejudice rather than excuse it. We can speak out when others are threatened. We can educate ourselves and our children. We can defend the dignity of those with whom we disagree, without compromising our principles or abandoning our commitment to truth.
And we can refuse to surrender hope.
Hope is not the naive belief that goodness will inevitably triumph. Hope is the conviction that our choices matter, that courage can overcome indifference, and that even in a fractured world, we possess the capacity to bring healing, justice, and light.
This is precisely why our ongoing four-part series on antisemitism is so important. We invite you to join us for the remaining two sessions as we deepen our understanding of this ancient hatred, examine its contemporary manifestations, and consider how knowledge, vigilance, and moral courage can help us confront it. Details are available in our e-newsletters and on Mizpah’s website.
The enduring lesson of this week is not simply that evil exists, nor that courage deserves our admiration. It is that the freedoms we cherish, the dignity we affirm, and the future we envision require our active participation in their defense.
We remember the past not to remain imprisoned by it, but to ensure that its darkest chapters do not become the story of our future.
This is my prayer as we enter Shabbat:
May the Holy One comfort those who mourn, heal those who suffer, and grant us the wisdom to recognize hatred and the courage to confront it.
May we transform memory into responsibility, responsibility into action, and action into hope.
Together, may we affirm life, pursue justice, and sanctify peace.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Sharon L. Sobel