We are always living through history, but some days feel more historical than others. The Jewish people are undoubtedly living through one of those times. Antisemitism is rising. Israel is fighting a multi-front war against the Iranian regime and its proxies. Israelis are enduring missiles, disruption and profound loss.
Many of us feel this close to home. This past year, three of our four children were living in Israel. They built lives there, and then, like so many others, found circuitous ways back to the United States as the situation intensified. (Imagine leaving Israel through Egypt on the eve of Passover!)
And here, too, there is a tightening of a grip. As Jews and as allies of the Jewish community, many are feeling anxious, exposed, uncertain. Some are no longer comfortable entering Jewish spaces. Others tuck in a Magen David, lower their visibility and become more vigilant. There is a temptation to keep our heads down, to wait it out, and to hope for better days.
It is precisely at moments like these that I return to a core articulation of our identity from the Torah:
“I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be their slaves no more, who broke the bars of your yoke and led you komemiyut with your heads held high.” (Leviticus 26:13)
The word komemiyut appears only once in the Torah, a hapax legomenon, and yet it carries extraordinary weight. It does not simply describe freedom; it defines its posture as not just the absence of oppression, but also the restoration of full human dignity, externally and internally.
The Midrash expands this image even further, explaining that Komemiyut reflects the restored, albeit, outsized human stature of the first human, Adam, who reached one hundred or even two hundred cubits! The Midrash then pivots to add another layer of meaning, a direction that we can all seek to embody: “That we walk upright, and not be afraid of any created being.” (Sifra, Bechukotai, Chapter 3)
At a time when fear is real, when many feel the need to shrink, to hide, to lower their visibility, this teaching lands with particular force. To be led with Komemiyut reminds us that while we cannot deny danger, we can insist that fear is not meant to define the posture of a free people.
We gain nothing, individually or collectively, by erasing or diminishing our identity not by hiding, not by turning away from Israel, not by withdrawing from one another. We are called in the opposite direction: to stand, to be visible, and to remain connected. The rabbis wove this language into our daily liturgy as well: “May the Merciful One bring us in peace from the four corners of the earth and lead us komemiyut to our land.”
This is not only a prayer for geographical change, it is a prayer for inner orientation. In every generation, we are, in some way, leaving Egypt again — moving through narrow places, through uncertainty and fear. But the Torah is clear about how that journey is meant to look. Not hunched, nor hidden. But upright.
My prayer in this moment is that we draw on the deep and enduring teachings of our past, to feel that with God’s help, we can walk a little taller, even when it is hard to do, lifting one another through the narrows. May we be blessed to live fully, as we were called to live, with dignity, pride, and with our heads held high.
The Rabbinically Speaking column is provided as a public service by the Jewish Press. Columns are assigned on a rotating basis by the Pinellas County Board of Rabbis. The views expressed in this column are those of the rabbi and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Jewish Press or the Board of Rabbis.
