This week, the whole world came to my city and used the opportunity to put my people—my brothers and sisters and friends and coworkers—on trial.
The streets were shut down, traffic was terrible, motorcades rolled past, and protesters filled the streets. And inside the UN headquarters, one world leader after another stepped up to the podium and pointed a finger at the same small country, my country, Israel.
Israel was brutally attacked and condemned by the entire world. The oldest, tiniest nation on earth, standing in a room full of the world’s most powerful individuals, being told once again that she is the problem. It makes my chest tighten. It’s like they’re living an entirely different reality.
This isn't the first time the nations of the world have gathered to condemn us.
In fact, the very first United Nations is in the Torah.
There was a king named Balak who saw the power and holiness of the Jewish people and quaked in fear. So he hired the prophet Bilaam, paying him handsomely to do one thing: curse the Jews out of existence.
That too was an international summit, convened for a single purpose: to verbally eviscerate Israel.
But when Bilaam stood on the mountain and opened his mouth to curse, a blessing emerged instead. "Behold, a people that dwells alone, and is not counted among the nations."
Yes, we dwell alone. Not because we’ve been rejected, but because we were never meant to measure our worth by a show of hands in a room full of strangers. A UN vote can’t touch three thousand years of history or cancel our everlasting covenant with G-d. We know our strength and our purpose as a nation, and a group of world leaders cannot possibly deter us.
We are entering the holiday of Sukkot right now. And in the Beit Hamikdash, on Sukkot, our ancestors did something extraordinary! They brought seventy bull offerings on the altar — one for each of the seventy nations of the world — to pray for their welfare and protection.
Yes, the very same week the UN gathers to condemn us, we recall the bull offerings in our prayers and pray for the safety and wellbeing of all the nations of the world!
And then there's the sukkah. We leave our safe, solid homes and spend most of our days in a hut any strong wind could knock over. But we feel safe and happy. Because we know our safety doesn’t depend on walls and windows and bars and locks. Our security comes from one place: G-d.
So at the exact moment the world is working overtime to make us feel small and alone and afraid, we’re going out and making ourselves visible in sukkahs all over the city. The only answer to our enemies is to be louder and prouder and more Jewish.
They gather to condemn, but we gather to bless.
And one day we'll all gather again, not in New York, but in Jerusalem, to celebrate the coming of Moshiach and the Final Redemption—may it happen very, very soon!