Breaking the Labels: A Torah Call to End Jewish Division
הרב שי טחןכו תמוז, תשפה22/07/2025I would like to reflect on a theme that remains deeply relevant today: the way many Jews view one another through the lens of their differing origins and backgrounds
תגיות:אחדות ישראלחודש אבמחלוקות
As we enter the month of Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash—brought about, in part, by division and conflict among the Jewish people—I would like to reflect on a theme that remains deeply relevant today: the way many Jews view one another through the lens of their differing origins and backgrounds.
When we meet a fellow Jew, the first thought that often comes to mind is, “Where is he from?”—meaning, which country did his parents or grandparents come from. And based on that, we begin to shape our feelings toward him. If we are Ashkenazi and see a Sephardi, or vice versa, we may look down on them. Even among Sephardim or Ashkenazim, it depends which country one’s family came from—those from backgrounds further from our own are often seen as less valuable in our eyes. This attitude is precisely what led to the destruction of Yerushalayim, and it is the very definition of sinat chinam—baseless resentment without cause.
When Jews began moving to Israel, there was a debate among the rabbis about whether halachic practice should be unified or if each community should continue following the customs of its country of origin. Even for those who chose to maintain their original customs, it was generally agreed that in matters that are less essential and not firmly grounded in halacha, there is room for unification so that everyone would practice uniformly.
One of the first rabbis to address this issue directly was Rabbi Yehudah Alkalai. Rabbi Yehudah ben Shelomoh Alkalai (1798–1878) was born in Sarajevo and raised in Jerusalem, where he immersed himself in traditional Talmudic and Kabbalistic study. A student of Rabbi Eliezer Papo, author of Pele Yoetz, Rabbi Alkalai was profoundly influenced by Kabbalistic thought and strongly advocated for active human participation in the redemptive process—promoting aliyah, land acquisition, and the revival of the Hebrew language. In 1825, he accepted the position of rabbi in Semlin (present-day Zemun, Serbia).
His writings included detailed ideas on how to establish a Jewish homeland—many of which eventually came to fruition. However, the focus of our discussion today is his lofty and spiritual vision: the unification of all Jewish communities around the world.
Pay attention to the remarkable words written by Rabbi Alkalai: (Sefer Minchat Yehudah chapter 29): “The mitzvah in which most of the Torah is included is the love of brotherhood—that we should love every Jew as ourselves, and care for one another. Included in this mitzvah is the appointment of rabbis who will unite the community and bring us to a shared form—in writing, language, Torah, and custom—for love only exists among those who are similar. Our Torah and service of Hashem should not be divided into the customs of Sephardim, Ashkenazim, Poles, French, Italians, and the like. For our Torah is not the law of foreign nations, but the law of the holy land. We have made masters over ourselves and identify with them based on the lands of our exile: Sephardim, Ashkenazim, French, and so forth. But from now on, let our worship be referred to only by your name: Minhag Yisrael, and not Minhag Sepharad or Minhag Ashkenaz… ‘And I will remove the names of the Baalim from her mouth, and they shall no longer be mentioned’—referring to the labels Sephardi, Ashkenazi, etc.—for these names cause division and hatred among us.”
Rabbi Alkalai teaches here a simple yet profound idea—one that has become increasingly complex in today's world: the idea of Jewish unity. He presents several powerful points that deserve deep reflection and appreciation. One key idea is that Jews should not be defined by the lands of their exile—such as being called "Ashkenazi" for those from Germany or "Syrian" for those from Syria. These names originate from countries that, for generations, persecuted and shed Jewish blood. Such labels, Rabbi Alkalai argues, have no place when describing the holy Jewish soul. Instead, we should all be called by the name ofour true homeland: the Land of Israel.
To better understand Rabbi Alkalai’s message, imagine the following: a man is sent to the infamous Rikers Island prison in New York. After several years, he is released, but instead of moving on, he begins to identify himself by that experience. When asked where he's from, he proudly says, “I’m a Riker.” His children and grandchildren, when asked about their origins, also respond, “We’re from Riker.” He continues to wear the prison uniform as a matter of tradition, teaches his children to do the same, adopts the slang of the inmates as his regular way of speaking, and even uses that language in his prayers. He insists his children speak that way too. And more bizarrely—when he meets others who were in different prisons, he looks down on them for not being from Riker.
As absurd and even comical as this sound, Rabbi Alkalai argues that this is precisely what happened to us—only far worse. The lands of our exile, whether in Europe or the Middle East, were far more brutal than any prison. These were places where Jews were persecuted, tortured, and slaughtered for generations. And yet, we proudly adopt their names—"Ashkenazi" for Germany, "Sephardi" for Spain—and cling to their cultural marks, including food, dress and customs. Even worse, we let these divisions create barriers between us. We hesitate to marry one another, pray together, or learn in each other's yeshivot, as if we are still trapped in the mental walls of exile.
Rabbi Alkalai urges us to leave behind the labels of exile and unite under one identity: Am Yisrael, rooted in Eretz Yisrael.
Rabbi Alkalai adds that in order to fulfill the Torah’s commandment to love one another, we must become more alike—because human nature is such that people are naturally drawn to those who are similar to them. To achieve this, we must break down the barriers that divide us. But the truth is, this message is not merely Rabbi Alkalai’s—it is the message of Hashem Himself. The Torah commands, “Lo Titgodedu”—and although this verse has various interpretations, Chazal explain it to mean: do not divide into separate groups (agudot agudot). Yet this is exactly what we are doing today. We have Ashkenazi communities and Sephardi communities, and within each, countless subdivisions: Polish, German, Hungarian, and so on. The Chassidic world alone is divided into numerous groups with different styles of prayer and service of Hashem—and the same is true among Sephardim.
Now, of course, all of these customs are holy and valid. But Rabbi Alkalai teaches that the time has come to unite. More than that—it is time to end the divisions and stop looking down on one another.
Rabbi Alkalai goes on to offer a practical solution. He explains that it is the responsibility of the leading rabbis to establish a plan and find common ground that can unite all Jewish people.
When we meet a fellow Jew, the first thought that often comes to mind is, “Where is he from?”—meaning, which country did his parents or grandparents come from. And based on that, we
When Jews began moving to Israel, there was a debate among the rabbis about whether halachic practice should be unified or if each community should continue following the customs of its country of origin. Even for those who chose to maintain their original customs, it was generally agreed that in matters that are less essential and not firmly grounded in halacha, there is room for unification so that everyone would practice uniformly.
One of the first rabbis to address this issue directly was Rabbi Yehudah Alkalai. Rabbi Yehudah ben Shelomoh Alkalai (1798–1878) was born in Sarajevo and raised in Jerusalem, where he immersed himself in traditional Talmudic and Kabbalistic study. A student of Rabbi Eliezer Papo, author of Pele Yoetz, Rabbi Alkalai was profoundly influenced by Kabbalistic thought and strongly advocated for active human participation in the redemptive process—promoting aliyah, land acquisition, and the revival of the Hebrew language. In 1825, he accepted the position of rabbi in Semlin (present-day Zemun, Serbia).
His writings included detailed ideas on how to establish a Jewish homeland—many of which eventually came to fruition. However, the focus of our discussion today is his lofty and spiritual vision: the unification of all Jewish communities around the world.
Pay attention to the remarkable words written by Rabbi Alkalai: (Sefer Minchat Yehudah chapter 29): “The mitzvah in which most of the Torah is included is the love of brotherhood—that we should love every Jew as ourselves, and care for one another. Included in this mitzvah is the appointment of rabbis who will unite the community and bring us to a shared form—in writing, language, Torah, and custom—for love only exists among those who are similar. Our Torah and service of Hashem should not be divided into the customs of Sephardim, Ashkenazim, Poles, French, Italians, and the like. For our Torah is not the law of foreign nations, but the law of the holy land. We have made masters over ourselves and identify with them based on the lands of our exile: Sephardim, Ashkenazim, French, and so forth. But from now on, let our worship be referred to only by your name: Minhag Yisrael, and not Minhag Sepharad or Minhag Ashkenaz… ‘And I will remove the names of the Baalim from her mouth, and they shall no longer be mentioned’—referring to the labels Sephardi, Ashkenazi, etc.—for these names cause division and hatred among us.”
Rabbi Alkalai teaches here a simple yet profound idea—one that has become increasingly complex in today's world: the idea of Jewish unity. He presents several powerful points that deserve deep reflection and appreciation. One key idea is that Jews should not be defined by the lands of their exile—such as being called "Ashkenazi" for those from Germany or "Syrian" for those from Syria. These names originate from countries that, for generations, persecuted and shed Jewish blood. Such labels, Rabbi Alkalai argues, have no place when describing the holy Jewish soul. Instead, we should all be called by the name ofour true homeland: the Land of Israel.
To better understand Rabbi Alkalai’s message, imagine the following: a man is sent to the infamous Rikers Island prison in New York. After several years, he is released, but instead of moving on, he begins to identify himself by that experience. When asked where he's from, he proudly says, “I’m a Riker.” His children and grandchildren, when asked about their origins, also respond, “We’re from Riker.” He continues to wear the prison uniform as a matter of tradition, teaches his children to do the same, adopts the slang of the inmates as his regular way of speaking, and even uses that language in his prayers. He insists his children speak that way too. And more bizarrely—when he meets others who were in different prisons, he looks down on them for not being from Riker.
As absurd and even comical as this sound, Rabbi Alkalai argues that this is precisely what happened to us—only far worse. The lands of our exile, whether in Europe or the Middle East, were far more brutal than any prison. These were places where Jews were persecuted, tortured, and slaughtered for generations. And yet, we proudly adopt their names—"Ashkenazi" for Germany, "Sephardi" for Spain—and cling to their cultural marks, including food, dress and customs. Even worse, we let these divisions create barriers between us. We hesitate to marry one another, pray together, or learn in each other's yeshivot, as if we are still trapped in the mental walls of exile.
Rabbi Alkalai urges us to leave behind the labels of exile and unite under one identity: Am Yisrael, rooted in Eretz Yisrael.
Rabbi Alkalai adds that in order to fulfill the Torah’s commandment to love one another, we must become more alike—because human nature is such that people are naturally drawn to those who are similar to them. To achieve this, we must break down the barriers that divide us. But the truth is, this message is not merely Rabbi Alkalai’s—it is the message of Hashem Himself. The Torah commands, “Lo Titgodedu”—and although this verse has various interpretations, Chazal explain it to mean: do not divide into separate groups (agudot agudot). Yet this is exactly what we are doing today. We have Ashkenazi communities and Sephardi communities, and within each, countless subdivisions: Polish, German, Hungarian, and so on. The Chassidic world alone is divided into numerous groups with different styles of prayer and service of Hashem—and the same is true among Sephardim.
Now, of course, all of these customs are holy and valid. But Rabbi Alkalai teaches that the time has come to unite. More than that—it is time to end the divisions and stop looking down on one another.
Rabbi Alkalai goes on to offer a practical solution. He explains that it is the responsibility of the leading rabbis to establish a plan and find common ground that can unite all Jewish people.
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