A President’s Call, A Neighbor’s Call, and Your Calling

This week, something remarkable happened.

For what appears to be the first time in American history, the President of the United States issued a public proclamation calling upon Americans to recognize and observe Shabbos.

Whatever one’s politics may be, that moment is profoundly significant. The head of the most powerful nation on earth publicly acknowledging the value of Shabbos is not something previous generations of Jews could have imagined. For centuries, Jews sacrificed livelihoods, opportunities, and comfort in order to keep Shabbos. In many places, governments outlawed it, mocked it, or pressured Jews to abandon it. And now, in a stunning turn of history, the president of the United States speaks publicly about the importance of a day devoted to rest, faith, family, and spiritual reflection.

It is especially striking because this week’s Parsha, Behar-Bechukosai, places Shabbos at the very center of Jewish life.

Parshas Behar begins with the mitzvah of Shemittah — the land itself observing a Shabbos every seventh year: “V’shavsah ha’aretz Shabbos LaHashem.” Not only people rest. Even the earth rests. The Torah introduces the idea that productivity is not the highest value in life. There is something higher than constant output: the recognition that the world belongs to G-d.

Shabbos declares that human beings are more than workers, consumers, or producers. We are souls.

And perhaps that is precisely why Shabbos continues to captivate even those outside the Jewish world. In an age of burnout, anxiety, distraction, and endless digital noise, the idea that one day each week can become sacred time feels revolutionary.

This past week, Ahuva received a phone call completely out of the blue from a woman named Rosemary. Rosemary had grown up next door to the Drizins in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where Ahuva spent part of her childhood. Nearly forty-two years had passed since they had last spoken.

Rosemary had tracked Ahuva down through social media because she felt compelled to share something.

Rosemary had recently been reminiscing with her mother about childhood memories and how unique it was for her to witness religion woven into every aspect of her Jewish neighbors’ lives. She remembered the Sukka, the way they would knock instead of ringing the doorbell on Shabbos, and being at Ahuva’s baby brother’s Bris. She also remembered that the “We Want Moshiach Now” poster hanging on Ahuva’s wall gave her the sense that the world was connected in some bigger way — that everyone was part of a shared effort to elevate the world and move it forward together.

Forty-two years later, she was still moved by it.

Imagine that.

No lectures. No persuasion. No grand campaign. Just the quiet holiness of living Jewish authentically.

That may be one of the deepest messages connecting Behar and Bechukosai. Holiness is not created only through dramatic moments. It emerges through consistency. Through rhythms. Through building a life shaped by sacred values week after week, year after year.

The Torah promises in Bechukosai that when we live aligned with Hashem’s vision, the world itself becomes elevated and harmonious. Jewish life was never meant to remain hidden behind closed doors. We are called to become an “ohr lagoyim” — a light unto the nations.

The prophets describe the days of Moshiach with the words: “V’naharu eilav kol hagoyim” — “all the nations will stream toward it.” The world itself will recognize the beauty of G-dliness and seek connection to holiness.

For much of history, that vision seemed distant. But today we are witnessing glimmers of it unfolding before our eyes.

A president publicly speaks about Shabbos. A woman calls forty-two years later to describe how a neighbor’s Jewish life impacted her. Millions encounter Jewish life publicly, proudly, and unapologetically in ways unimaginable just generations ago.

We are living in a time when the light of Torah can travel farther than ever before.

And perhaps that is the deeper message and opportunity of this moment.

It is not enough to admire Shabbos from afar. Shabbos must be experienced. It must be tasted, heard, felt, and shared.

So many Jews can trace their connection to Judaism back to a single Shabbos table — one Friday night filled with song, warmth, meaning, laughter, challah, and conversation. Sometimes one invitation can echo across an entire lifetime. Just ask Rosemary, who forty-two years later still remembers the feeling of walking into a Jewish home where every detail of life seemed infused with holiness and purpose.

And in a beautiful providence, this coming Shabbos is the Shabbos before Shavuos — the very Shabbos the Rebbe, in 1986, designated as “The Shabbos of Unity,” commemorating the Jewish people’s arrival at Mount Sinai, where they stood כאיש אחד בלב אחד — “like one person with one heart.”

Before receiving the Torah, the Jewish people first learned how to stand together. Unity became the vessel for revelation.

Perhaps that is why Shabbos remains Judaism’s greatest unifier — a sacred space where families reconnect, communities gather, souls breathe, and we remember what truly matters.

So here is a simple challenge for all of us this week:
Invite someone for Shabbos.

A neighbor.
A friend.
Someone new to the community.
Someone who may never have experienced an authentic Shabbos before.

Open your home. Share a song, a story, a bowl of chicken soup, a l’chaim, a little Torah, a little warmth.

Because sometimes changing the world does not begin with grand speeches or dramatic gestures.

Sometimes it begins with lighting candles, making Kiddush, and making one more seat at the table.

And perhaps the greatest reminder of all is this:

You never know who is watching your Shabbos table.
You never know which candle, which song, which moment of holiness may illuminate a soul for decades to come.

Good Shabbos and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Ruvi New