Rosh Hashana: What if the world also examined its conscience
Tomorrow evening, a new Jewish year will begin.
On this occasion, I would simply like to wish Shana Tova to my Jewish friends, but also to my non-Jewish friends.
Because although Rosh Hashana is an important moment in the Jewish calendar, the message it carries, in my eyes, goes far beyond the Jewish community alone.
Between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur comes a particular period: a period of introspection, questioning and taking stock. Everyone is invited to look back at the year that has passed, to reflect on their actions, their mistakes, their choices, and on what they could have done differently. In a way, it is about looking at ourselves before looking at others.
Sometimes I wonder whether our world should also examine its conscience, because when we look at the state of our planet, one question becomes difficult to avoid:
How did we get here?
What do we see today?
We see countries where extremists are at the gates of power, and sometimes already in power.
We see hatred of others growing.
We see racism and antisemitism increasing.
We see societies becoming increasingly divided, with everyone retreating into their own identity, their group, their people, their religion or their own interests.
But what perhaps concerns me most is not only the violence.
It is the silence.
The silence in the face of massacres.
The silence in the face of the deportation of populations.
The silence in the face of children being displaced, separated from their families or deprived of their identity.
The silence in the face of suffering that does not directly affect our own community.
And perhaps this is where one of the deepest problems of our time lies. We have gradually accepted the idea that the suffering of others concerns us less than the suffering of our own.
When it affects our people, we mobilize.
When it affects our community, we speak out.
When it affects those close to us, we are devastated.
But when it happens elsewhere, to people who do not look like us, who do not speak our language, who do not belong to our religion or our community, we sometimes find a thousand reasons to look away, as if the value of a life depended on the identity of the person who carries it.
I believe this is a fundamental mistake. A human life should not have to be “on our side” to deserve our attention.
A child remains a child, wherever in the world they may come from.
A deported person remains a deported person, regardless of their origin.
A massacre remains a massacre, even when it is committed far from our borders.
Hatred remains hatred, even when it is directed at someone we do not know.
Perhaps this is what we have lost: the ability to look beyond ourselves.
We want crimes committed against our people to be condemned, but we are sometimes silent when crimes are committed against another people.
And yet, true humanity begins precisely there. It begins when I am capable of defending someone whose identity, religion or opinions I do not share. It begins when I can say:
“What is happening to them is unjust, even if it is not happening to me.”
That is why I believe that the world itself needs a period of introspection. A moment when everyone — individuals, governments, organizations, communities — could ask themselves a few simple questions.
What have we done this year?
What have we accepted?
What have we allowed to happen?
In the face of which injustices have we remained silent?
Have we defended principles or only our own interests?
Have we condemned violence when it came from our own side with the same force as when it came from the other side?
And above all: Have we looked far enough beyond ourselves?
I do not believe that all the problems in the world would simply disappear if everyone carried out this examination of conscience, but I am convinced that some of our problems would begin to change.
Many conflicts are fueled by the idea that our pain is worth more than the pain of others.
Many forms of hatred are born from the refusal to recognize the humanity of the person standing before us.
Much violence becomes possible because those who could speak out against it prefer to remain silent.
So, for this new year, my wish is ultimately very simple: I would like us to become a little less selfish.
I would like us to look a little less exclusively at what concerns us.
I would like us to cross, a little more often, the boundaries of our people, our community, our religion, our ideology or our interests.
I would like us to learn to see the human being before seeing their identity.
Perhaps then, some of the ills affecting our planet would begin to disappear on their own, because changing the world does not always begin in presidential palaces, parliaments or major international organizations. It can also begin much more simply: within each of us.
So, to my Jewish and non-Jewish friends:
Shana Tova.
May this new year be a year of reflection, peace, responsibility and, above all, humanity. And perhaps our true wish for this new year should be this:
Let us not only ask what is happening to our people, but let us ask what is happening to humanity.
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