Last week, conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated while speaking at Utah Valley University. A young life ended, a family shattered, and a public voice silenced – not by counter-arguments, not by debate, but by bullets.

The symbolism is terrifying. Our world is aflame with intolerance. Disagreement has become dangerous. We no longer argue – we cancel. We no longer debate – we destroy. If persuasion fails, the gun speaks.

As Jews gather for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, this tragedy should pierce our conscience. The sound of the shofar is not a nostalgic ritual. It is an alarm clock for a sleeping world. It calls us to awaken from indifference and demand a different way: the way of civility.

The collapse of everyday respect

The Torah commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves (Leviticus 19:18). Rambam explains that this includes speaking kindly, showing honor, and offering simple gestures of respect. The Talmud praises Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai for greeting every passerby with a warm “shalom,” even gentiles in the marketplace (Berachot 17a).

Contrast that with our public square today. We honk instead of waiting. We push in line. We curse at drivers and snap at cashiers. Social media magnifies the contempt: insults replace dialogue, dehumanization replaces dissent.

French CRS riot police stand next to the slogan ''More Dead Charlie Kirk'' during a demonstration in Paris as part of a day of nationwide strikes and protests against the government and cuts in the next budget, with supporters of the ''Bloquons Tout'' (Let's Block Everything) movement, France, September
French CRS riot police stand next to the slogan ''More Dead Charlie Kirk'' during a demonstration in Paris as part of a day of nationwide strikes and protests against the government and cuts in the next budget, with supporters of the ''Bloquons Tout'' (Let's Block Everything) movement, France, September (credit: BENOIT TESSIER/REUTERS)

It is tempting to see Kirk’s assassination as an extreme aberration. But assassinations do not emerge in a vacuum. They grow out of an environment where civility has decayed, where contempt becomes habitual, and where hatred becomes normalized.

Rosh Hashanah as a reboot

Rosh Hashanah is Yom Harat Olam, the birthday of the world. It marks creation itself – a reminder that human beings, all of us, are fashioned in the image of God. The shofar’s cry awakens us to that dignity.

The Rambam (Laws of Repentance 3:4) interprets the shofar: “Awake, sleepers, from your sleep! Examine your deeds and return in repentance.” It is a summons to personal change, but also to societal repair.

This year, the shofar must be heard as a call to civility. To reset not only our relationship with heaven, but our relationship with each other.

Three commitments for 5786 

Choose words carefully: Proverbs teaches, “Life and death are in the power of the tongue” (18:21). We cannot continue treating words as cheap weapons. Social media rage and verbal abuse corrode the foundations of trust.

Just this last week, my YouTube channel became home to comments such as “raving lunatic,” “you are a moral degenerate,” “what a load of sh**.” The mitzvah of guarding one’s speech is not antiquated. It is urgent.

Rebuild everyday civility. Saying “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” are not Western niceties; they are Jewish imperatives. Holding a door, letting a car merge, offering a seat on the bus – these are acts of derech eretz, the respectful conduct that “precedes Torah” (Vayikra Rabbah 9:3). Without them, society collapses into chaos.

Protect debate, reject violence: The Talmud thrives on argument. “These and those are the words of the living God” (Eruvin 13b). Judaism teaches that disagreement is holy if it is conducted for the sake of heaven. We must reclaim debate as a path to truth, not as a prelude to violence.

Israel’s urgent test

Israel, our beloved homeland, is not exempt. In fact, our culture is often defined by brusqueness. The driving is aggressive, the language harsh, the queues chaotic. We defend ourselves by saying it is “honesty,” or “Mediterranean warmth.” But too often, it is simply rudeness.

The stakes here are not just manners. When civility erodes, national unity frays. When every disagreement becomes a shouting match, we invite division that endangers us more than any external threat.

The assassination of Charlie Kirk is a tragic American story, but it is also a warning for Israel. A society that fails to cultivate courtesy will one day find itself unable to sustain democracy.

The shofar’s cry

The shofar is raw, primal, wordless. It cuts through excuses. It tells us: wake up. Stop justifying cruelty as “passion.” Stop excusing rudeness as “authenticity.” Stop pretending that contempt is strength.

The world doesn’t need more shouting. It needs more listening. It doesn’t need more contempt. It needs more patience. It doesn’t need more bullets. It needs more handshakes, more opened doors, more drivers slowing to let another pass.

A vision for the New Year

As we dip apples in honey this year, let us taste not only the sweetness of tradition but the sweetness of civility. Let us commit to a new culture where:

Leaders model respect rather than derision.

Citizens treat opponents as fellow human beings, not enemies.

Small daily courtesies remind us that we are all part of one fabric.

Rosh Hashanah is about creation; about the possibility of beginning again. We cannot undo the bullets fired last week, but we can choose the tone of our words tomorrow. We cannot erase intolerance overnight, but we can begin with kindness in traffic, gentleness at the supermarket, and patience in a family quarrel.

If we want a safer world, we must start by building a more civil one.

This year, may the shofar awaken us not only to our sins against heaven but to our failures against each other. May it call us to a new year of courtesy, patience, and kindness. May it remind us that God’s world was not created for rage, but for respect; not for contempt, but for compassion.

Best wishes for a sweet new year. May we all be inscribed for a year of life, civility, and peace.

The writer, a rabbi and physician, lives in Ramat Poleg, Netanya, and is a co-founder of Techelet – Inspiring Judaism.