This year's Yom Kippur speech was going to be different for me. Instead of simply preparing my speech, I decided to also write it down, edit it, format it and make sure all the points that I wanted to convey were included. But when I got up to deliver the speech, I looked at my notes for a minute and said, there's no way I'm going to be reading from a teleprompter, so I gave my less polished, but more in-the-moment version of the speech instead.

It was received fine, but when I finished the speech, I thought to myself, “hmm, I worked so hard on the writing of this speech, what can I do with it?” So, dear listener, here is the speech. I'll be reading it from my text, and I hope you find it interesting and meaningful.

Eras in history for the Jewish people can be divided into two broad categories. The times when we get to define ourselves, and the times when outside pressures are inclined to do the defining for us.

In other words, there are instances when we are free to proactively come up with a narrative on the subject and in the style of our choosing for the questions we find interesting and important. And then, there are moments when we are forced to react to someone or something else's actions or ideas. Each type of moment presents its own challenges.

Being shoved into defensive and reactive narrative writing is cruel. It makes it especially difficult to select a desired topic and the writing is rushed because the metaphorical shoving often includes literal guns.

But there's a streak of silver. These moments at least push us to think deeply about what it means to be a Jew. We are provoked. And the thinking needs to provide real, meaningful answers.

During more peaceful times, however, it's easy to fall into a passive, non-thinking lull. How often does the full freedom to write our own Jewish story produce few meaningful reflections because we lack the motivation to get off the couch and write them?

And even when we manage to peel ourselves from the total void of meaning during the peaceful times, often the driest definitions of Jewishness are selected. Like pastrami on rye. I like pastrami, but it's hardly character building or profound.

In short, bad times are bad, but they encourage meaning-making. And while good times are good, they don't make for great poetry.

We didn't know it, but one year ago today, we were in our last few days of living in that free, more innocent category.

Israel was at relative peace, and the hate mongers weren't on the streets and college campuses and in our phones. The global Jewish conversation of that time now seems positively happy-go-lucky.

Then, on Simchat Torah, October 7th happened.

It's been a grueling year for all of us, and while we pray and work toward a speedy and total victory, it's unclear when that victory arrives, and arrive at will, how soon we will return to our previous state of comfort.

I fear the toxic waste has already been spilled into the societal river, and its extraction is not a simple process, or as straightforward as winning a war. Therefore, because of how prolonged the state of confrontation might last, we Jews must learn to navigate it.

It prods us with questions. Some of these questions are good questions. Questions about ourselves, and questions about the world.

The willingness to answer is an easy first step. The content of those answers is the more difficult second step. The following are two recommendations about where to invest our thoughts.

The first recommendation is about combating anti-Semitism. For the diminishing and eventual vanquishing of Jew-hate, we should not continue taking the two tired approaches which are most prevalent today. Approach one has been to broadcast, through as many mediums as possible, to as many strangers as possible, the following message:

“Please don't hate us.”

To those that already hate us, this is hardly convincing. And to those who are ignorant on the entire subject, this is a strange and potentially suspect first contact.

Think about it on the personal level. Imagine you meet somebody in the grocery store, and after saying your name, you say, by the way, don't hate me. That person would think there's probably more reasons to hate you than to like you.

Approach two has been to avoid at all costs any meaningful conversation and attempt to prove how not weird and totally normal we Jews are. The cringiest conversations of this approach go something like: wasn't Adam Sandler great in Happy Gilmore? Did you know he is Jewish?

These awkward and abrupt statements leave the listener, in most cases, with a piece of trivia or worse, a substance-free vacuum.

Side note, approach two, if done more organically, can have a positive effect. Having a Jewish friend that one considers normal, even in shallow contexts, can dispel lots of myths with a simple education. Not to mention, approach number two is usually free, as opposed to the costs of approach number one.

But in most cases, the hate doesn't stem from an educational lack, because that would mean the problem is intellectual. The problem is not intellectual, it comes from the lack of a robust moral code.

So the correct approach, therefore, is also the most difficult one. It is to have more substantive and influential conversations with the people in your network. Yes, about history, but even more so about ethics, or even, dare I say, about G-d.

Jews definitely do not seek converts, but that should not be interpreted to mean that we have nothing to contribute to the world in the realms of morality and spirituality.

This approach is the most effective because it gradually creates a world where the cancer of hate does not need to be remedied in the first place.

In short, recommendation one is not to be tempted to fight anti-Semites by being an anti-anti-Semite, instead become a vocal pro-Semite.

Recommendation number two is to spend less time thinking about recommendation one.

Healthy and substantive Jewishness is one that spends little time looking over its shoulder to play defense.

Now, obviously, imminent threats must be prevented and defended. I speak more of the headspace reserved for defensiveness.

A thought experiment. Say you've been challenged with developing a new society on a new tract of land from scratch. You're given a limited budget in five years. Even if you're a major safety enthusiast, it would be a hilarious mistake to invest all or most of your resources into defense. Imagine presenting your land and as you walk through two walls, barbed wire fencing and three security checks, you arrive at an empty piece of real estate.

You'd be asked in shock, “why are you protecting nothing?”

This is a funny thought experiment because everybody knows the need for protection and the value of protection is completely dependent on having something that is worth protecting.

The same is true with investing in our Jewish value system. We must, well, value it, understand it, and live by it if we are going to justify also defending it.

This is true communally, but I speak now on the individual level.

Over the last year, we may have been forced to learn to fight, but we mustn't forget that we are not fighters.

We are mainly ethical monotheists. We are mainly people of the book. We are mainly a light unto the nations.

In short, recommendation 2 is to limit the energies invested in the defense of Jews and increase the energies of Jewing.