The world needs our moral fire

Our role in history is not to be the canary in a coal mine but a light unto the nations.

In 1959, the Lubavitcher Rebbe — of saintly memory — addressed a group of Holocaust survivors and philanthropists. They came seeking hope, reassurance, meaning. The Rebbe did something unexpected. He turned to the story of the Tower of Babel.

“What was the sin of that generation?” he asked. “On the surface, their intention seemed noble. They sought to build a tower visible for miles, a landmark that would unite humanity, a beacon of cohesion and continuity.”

In their own words: “Let us make for ourselves a name.” (Genesis, 11:4) A name that would ensure survival and preserve humanity.

So where did they go wrong? The Rebbe answered: “Their mistake was not in wanting to survive. It was in thinking that survival was enough.”

They had a plan for how humanity would endure, but no vision for why humanity should exist. They sought continuity without destiny. Existence without purpose. A name without meaning.

And where there is a spiritual vacuum, corrosion seeps in. A hollow tower becomes a monument to ego.
A society without purpose becomes a society without direction. And humanity fractures.

The Rebbe concluded: “Do not repeat their mistake. Rebuild we must – but survival cannot be our ultimate goal. We must fill our survival with purpose, our institutions with meaning, our renaissance with mission.”

These words were spoken in 1959. They feel like they could have been written for 2025.

In the aftermath of October 7, the world saw the courage of Am Yisrael in all its glory. With God’s help, the IDF restored safety and deterrence, the Jewish people rallied with unity not seen in decades, and Jews across the world stood taller, prouder, fiercer.
But now we face a new chapter — one that requires not only resolve, but reflection.

Now what?

Dan Senor – author, thinker, and podcast host – put it succinctly: “The diaspora needs its own commission of inquiry.”

Not only to study what went wrong, but to determine what must now be built. We look for silver bullets, for technological innovations, for political solutions.

But, as Senor says: “The greatest technology for Jewish survival has been the same for 3,000 years: raise Jewish children.”

Raise Jewish children who are proud. Raise Jewish children who feel connected. Raise Jewish children in Jewish environments where identity is not whispered but sung.

The data is overwhelming: alumni of Jewish day schools are twice as likely to be proudly Jewish and four times as likely to stand with Israel.

Senor concluded: “If there is one lesson of the past few years, it is that we need a renaissance in Jewish education.”

Which brings us to Chanukah. Chanukah celebrates not one miracle, but two: the military victory of the Maccabees and the spiritual victory of the menorah — the oil that burned eight days.

And yet, when our Sages chose which miracle to immortalize, they chose the oil, not the war.

Why?

Because Chanukah is not only about how we survived, but why we survived. It’s very name — Chanukah — is rooted in the Hebrew word, chinuch, meaning “education”.

The menorah reminds us that our task is not merely to endure, but to illuminate.

We are not just a nation that survives. We are a nation that stands for something: moral clarity, spiritual depth, prophetic courage.

But to raise a generation worthy of that calling, we must teach the next generation not only what we stand against, but what we stand for.

That requires an education of inspiration, not fear. A Judaism of purpose, not panic. A renaissance of learning, meaning, faith and identity.

Yes, we must fight antisemitism. Yes, we must secure our communities. Yes, we must defend Israel. But if we survive only to survive, we become Babel. If we survive to illuminate, we become Israel.

In this moment – when Jewish history demands courage, clarity, and calling – we must make Jewish education the centre of the Jewish future. Because Jewish children raised in Jewish worlds, become Jewish adults who change the world.

Let us say Am Yisrael Chai not as a diagnosis – but as a declaration. Not as a badge of endurance – but as a statement of mission. Not as a reaction to those who hate us – but as a promise to the One who created us.

We live not to exist, but to inspire. We survive not to breathe, but to bring light. We endure not for ourselves, but for a world desperately in need of the moral fire entrusted to us since Sinai.

Now is the time to build a Jewish renaissance powered by Jewish education so that the Jewish future burns bright, like the menorah of old, with a flame that darkness cannot extinguish.

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Mendel Kalmenson is rabbi of Chabad Belgravia

Image: Lighting the way: The word Chanukah is closely related to chinuch – education (photo: Getty Images)