October 30, 2025|ח' חשון ה' אלפים תשפ"ו K’ish Echad B’Lev Echad — The Urgency of Unity for Its Own Sake By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

There’s something remarkable about the Jewish people: when it’s urgent, we know how to come together.

We’ve seen this with breathtaking clarity over the past year. Shortly after October 7, week after week, tens of thousands — perhaps hundreds of thousands — of Israelis filled the streets of cities across the country, standing shoulder to shoulder, demanding the return of our hostages. While individuals may have brought their own perspectives, the overwhelming purpose of these gatherings was clear: they were rallies of the heart. They were the collective voice of Am Yisrael saying, “We do not abandon our brothers and sisters.”

We’ve seen it across the ocean, too. When over one thousand rabbis — from Orthodox to Conservative to Reform — signed a joint letter opposing a potential New York mayoral candidate whose rhetoric crossed every moral line in hostility to Israel, it was another moment of unity. These rabbis rarely agree on halachic boundaries, yet they instinctively came together when the dignity and safety of the Jewish people were at stake.

And in Israel, when the government announced a crackdown on yeshiva students who do not enlist in the IDF, the ultra-Orthodox community demonstrated remarkable cohesion. Some 200,000 men from various sects and streams — communities that rarely interact — came together in a massive protest in Jerusalem. While I do not agree with their position or tactics, it’s striking to see how instinctively a community can close ranks when its values feel threatened.

We know how to come together when something feels urgent. When we have to fight against something, Am Yisrael knows how to mobilize.

But here’s the question: can we come together when we’re not fighting?

The first time the Torah describes true Jewish unity is not in the face of war, danger, or political crisis. It’s at Har Sinai.

“Vayichan sham Yisrael neged hahar” — “And Israel encamped there opposite the mountain” (Shemot 19:2).

Rashi famously notes that the verb vayichan — “encamped” — is singular, even though it refers to the entire people. Why? Because at that moment, they were k’ish echad b’lev echad — like one person, with one heart.

At Sinai, unity wasn’t reactive. It wasn’t born from fear or external pressure. It was born from shared purpose — the collective readiness to receive the Torah. Unity for something sacred, not unity against something threatening.

Over the past two weeks, our Oceanside community was inspired by two extraordinary speakers. Ari Kalker, team leader in the Reserve Special Forces Brigade, shared his firsthand experiences during over 350 days of deployments in Gaza, Syria, and Lebanon since October 7th. Oriya Mevorach, Israeli educator and author of the international bestseller One Day in October, which contains forty incredible stories of heroes from that day, shared several of those stories with our community. Their talks highlighted courage, resilience, and the enduring bonds that unite Am Yisrael. Both spoke about the same truth: beneath the loud and often bitter rhetoric, Israelis remain deeply connected to one another. Headlines tell one story, but the real story — the one they see up close — is that deep down, Israelis are there for each other.

And I think that’s true for Jews everywhere. Beneath our arguments, our denominations, our disagreements about religion and politics, there is still something that binds us together. Yet we tend to express that unity only when it feels urgent — only when it’s against something.

Maybe it’s time for a new kind of urgency — an urgency for something positive.

Maybe we need a unity rally for unity itself. Not to protest, not to pressure, but to proclaim — that we care for each other despite profound differences. That we can stand together not just when we’re threatened, but when we’re inspired. That our sense of family shouldn’t depend on crisis to awaken it.

That’s what k’ish echad b’lev echad really means. It’s not a temporary ceasefire between factions. It’s not forced togetherness in the face of fear. It’s the deep awareness that, before anything else, we are one people with one heart.

The Torah doesn’t say “vayichanu” — they encamped. It says “vayichan” — he encamped. Because Am Yisrael, at its best, isn’t a collection of individuals standing near each other; it’s a single soul standing before God.

Yes, Jews know how to come together when it’s urgent. But perhaps the greatest challenge — and the greatest calling — of our generation is to make unity itself urgent. To create moments of togetherness not because we must, but because we can.

Let’s make k’ish echad b’lev echad not just a memory from Sinai, but a mission for today.