There is a moment at the end of Shabbat every week when the last rays of the sun have died and the silence of darkness envelops everything around me. It is the moment of Havdalah, the moment of the separation between the sweetness of Shabbat and the bustle of the week. During that moment, I seem to hear more acutely, see more finely, and think more clearly than at any other time. Everything takes on significance as the Havdalah candle spits and sputters with life, the orange-blossom water sits uncapped before me, and the wine, held only by surface tension, teases the lip of the cup. It seems so simple, really, to end the week this way, but this small ceremony holds the key to Jewish identity.



When I say the blessing, I think of this week, every week, that Israel finds itself in conflict with those around her, and I understand: "Blessed are You, HaShem, our G-d, King of the universe, who separates between the holy and the profane, between light and darkness, between Israel and the nations, and between the seventh day and the six workdays. Blessed are you, HaShem, who separates between the holy and the profane."



There is something lost, as always, in the translation from the Hebrew. The world kodesh is significant in the blessing, and its dual meaning in Hebrew is at once poignant and provocative. Kodesh is often translated only as "holy", but it also, simultaneously, means "separate". This word is the key to what it means to be Jewish in the world. We can't have it both ways - in order to be holy, we must make a separation between Shabbat and the work week, between men and women, between kosher and non-kosher, between good and evil. To live as a Jew means that the separation also includes ourselves: we must make a distinction between Jewish and non-Jewish people, we must make a distinction between Jewish and non-Jewish groups, and we must make a distinction between Israel and all the other nations in the world.



It is no wonder that, when Israel goes to war, she goes alone.



Whether we like it or not, we are G-d's people, G-d's nation. We don't have a choice in the matter. Some people of other nations become offended by this idea. They assume that, because we are G-d's chosen people, that we have some kind of superiority complex, that we think we are better, or more privileged, or more deserving of reward. The opposite is true. When you are a member of G-d's nation, more is expected of you. You are endowed with an extra serving of responsibility and obligation that is not put upon other people and other nations. We are expected to live with kodesh - holiness and separateness - according to Torah, and we are expected to be strong and forthright in our commitment to living that way. Sure, we have freedom of choice, just like any other person or nation, but if we chose to act like other nations, then G-d will not allow us to prosper.



The most obvious example of this concept is in Samuel (8:7) when the nation of Israel demands that the prophet Samuel appoint them a king like other nations. Samuel is upset by the request and asks G-d for guidance. G-d replies, "...it is not you whom they have rejected, but it is Me whom they have rejected from reigning over them." In other words, the only time the nation of Israel chooses to act like other nations is when Israel has rejected G-d.



My older sister used to say to me, "You must make the right decisions, or someone else will make them for you." Her warning, like the warning G-d gives the nation of Israel, infers that if the correct decisions are not made to accept responsibility in the world, the responsibility to choose will be curtailed. This is a continuation of the idea of kodesh. When Israel chooses to act like a nation obligated to moral responsibility and duty, we are blessed. When Israel acts like other nations, G-d withdraws blessings from us and limits our ability to function as a nation. We can choose to be kodesh, or G-d will chose to make us so.



This is why, when Israel acts to please the other nations and the other peoples of the world, we are cursed by the same people we tried to impress; but when we act in a correct manner, denying the importance of those people and nations around us and turning, instead, to G-d, we are successful and blessed. This is the irony of a Jew's identity in the world. We must be a nation that is not governed by world public opinion, but a nation that is governed by G-d and Torah, responsibility and obligation. The protection of our land, our people, and our way of life is a sacred responsibility - both in peace and war.



It is my hope that our leaders will not soften their stance in answer to the voices of other nations, that they will not heed the false claims of our enemies, and that they will not turn from supporting our right to exist as a nation under G-d. Further, I pray that the leaders of Israel will not forget what it is to obligate themselves to the protection of this nation when peace comes and they are asked, once again, to give away land that is not theirs to give. We must remember who we are, why we are here and to Whom we owe allegiance. "Blessed are you, HaShem, who separates between the holy and the profane," should be a moment of clarity for every Jew.