Three Teachings for a Time of Rebuilding in a Time of War

Each summer, Jerusalem fills with the sounds of the Torah — teenagers on travel programs, college students in immersive fellowships, and adults in seminar rooms. The city becomes a meeting place for Jews from around the world who come to study, reflect, and reconnect. Israeli educators travel abroad to camps, campuses, and communities — bringing with them a spirit of learning and encounter. 

This year, that rhythm has fallen quiet.  

The war with Iran has changed the summer entirely. There are the loud and obvious consequences of the war; for those in Israel, families shelter in safe rooms and people are killed and injured among the destruction of buildings. In the US, fractures in communities become deeper or in some cases become temporarily mended while record antisemitism continues to build.

A quieter consequence is the loss of shared learning — of people encountering one another through Torah and then taking these lessons, encounters, and values back to their communities. Living in Jerusalem, I feel this absence deeply. I miss seeing groups walking to class, overhearing debates over texts, or passing a café and hearing the sound of someone studying aloud. These should be the sounds of Jewish life in motion.

The loss of this learning is more than a missed summer of knowledge or an insight forever lost; the silence is reminiscent of similar absences of Torah study in previous generations amid war, infighting and disagreement of the time. This isn’t the first time the Jewish people globally are fractured by religious, political, and ideological differences. We are in a time that requires rebuilding.

Early Teachings Offer a Blueprint

Just before Shavuot, my family gathered for a weekend together. My father, a rabbi and my teacher, led a short learning session. He spoke about how Torah has been carried through generations — and paused to reflect on a particular moment in Jewish history. 

During the early years of the return from the Babylonian exile, known as Shivat Tzion, Ezra and a group of leaders known as the Men of the Great Assembly helped lay the groundwork for rebuilding Jewish life. One of their earliest recorded teachings appears in the opening mishnah of Pirkei Avot:

Be deliberate in judgment. Raise many students. Make a fence around the Torah.

This line seems somewhat legalistic and procedural, but over time — and especially now — I’ve come to understand how essential this early teaching really is.

A Time of Transition

The historical context matters. The Men of the Great Assembly lived in a time of dislocation and uncertainty. The First Temple had been destroyed, and the majority of Jews in Israel were exiled. Some Jews returned to the land; others stayed behind. Those who returned met people who had never left — and the gaps between them were real. There were cultural differences, political divisions, and religious disagreements. Prophecy was nearing its end. The Temple had not yet been rebuilt. The people were no longer united by place or power, but by the fragile work of reconnection.

That sense of in-between defines our current moment as well. The war with Iran is still unfolding and represents another front in a broader war that has shaken the Jewish world for months. But long before the current crisis, our communities were experiencing division — over politics, identity, values, and the role of Israel in Jewish life. This war did not create the fractures, but it has revealed how deep and unresolved they are.

These three teachings from the Men of the Great Assembly are practical, intentional responses to instability — then and now.

Deliberate in Judgment: Slowing Down to Rebuild Trust

The instruction to “be deliberate in judgment” was not just for legal courts. It was a principle of leadership. At the time of the Men of the Great Assembly, the Jewish people were emerging from exile, returning to a broken land and a divided society. The stakes were high and trust was fragile.

In moments like these, leadership requires restraint. Judgment — by scholars, elders, teachers, and community leaders — had to be thoughtful, measured, and careful. It demanded the ability to listen fully before speaking, to weigh perspectives before drawing lines, and to resist the pressure to respond quickly.

That need is just as urgent now. We live in a time when relationships have been strained, communities have been tested, and public trust is eroding. In the wake of this crisis — amid fear, anger, and uncertainty — there is real risk in responding too fast. Being deliberate is a form of responsibility. It is what allows judgment to be a source of healing rather than division. And it is what will allow us to lead wisely as we begin the long work of rebuilding what has been damaged — within us, and between us.

Raise Many Students: A Strategy for Ensuring a Future

The second teaching — “Raise many students” — was a bold shift in educational vision. As an antidote to the internal and external threats they were facing, the Men of the Great Assembly chose to expand access to Torah. They built a culture in which learning became widely available, and in doing so, they shaped a future in which Torah could take root across all layers of society.

This was not simply about numbers. It was a commitment to reach more people with meaningful teaching. Opening the gates of Torah meant training more teachers, welcoming more students, and placing education at the heart of communal life. That decision turned Torah into a shared inheritance rather than a guarded tradition.

Today, that same commitment is essential. In the midst of war, and after years of disconnection and division, Jewish life must prioritize learning as an antidote. We need more spaces of Torah. More voices of Torah. More people who see themselves as learners, guides, and transmitters. Not only within institutions, but in everyday life — wherever people gather with intention. We could all benefit from an openness to expanding our own definition of “teacher” and “student.”

A thriving Jewish future requires more teaching. And teaching requires students—many of them.

Make a Fence Around the Torah: Protecting What Guides Us

The third instruction—“Make a fence around the Torah”—was given during a time of instability. The Jewish people had returned from exile to a fractured land, a destroyed Temple, and a fragile sense of identity. The Men of the Great Assembly recognized that rebuilding physical structures wasn’t enough. They needed to reinforce the spiritual foundations that would carry the community forward.

They created boundaries to help ensure that Torah would remain central, serious, and protected. A fence is not a barrier to keep people out—it is a signal that something sacred stands within. It invites care, focus, and commitment.

We are again living in a moment of rupture. The war, and the months of pain that preceded it, have unsettled Jewish life across the world. In times like this, we need Torah to be more than symbolic. It needs to be a source of direction, strength, and clarity.

That means creating spaces where Torah is held with intention. Where learning is real and tradition is carried with depth. This is how we begin to restore what has been frayed—by returning to what holds us steady.

The Blueprint for Rebuilding

These three teachings — deliberation, education, and preservation — form a remarkably durable framework. They offer direction for how to emerge from years of loss, argument, and exhaustion. When the future is unclear, we begin by grounding ourselves in what has always sustained us. We think carefully. We teach generously. We protect what matters.

There’s a verse in Proverbs: “Wisdom cries out in the street; in the public squares she raises her voice.” And the midrash explains: these are the voices of learners and teachers, filling synagogues and study halls with the sound of Torah.

May we walk again through the streets of Jerusalem and hear that sound — of students gathered, teachers guiding, Torah being shared — and may it represent the healing and rebuilding of our global Jewish community.

Shuki is the founder and CEO of M²: The Institute for Experiential Jewish Education. Previously, Shuki served as director of Service Learning and Experiential Education at Yeshiva University, where he founded the Certificate Program in Experiential Jewish Education and a range of programs mobilizing college students to serve underprivileged communities worldwide. Shuki has lived in Israel, New York, and South Africa. A Schusterman Fellow, Shuki studied Jewish philosophy, education, and scriptwriting and currently lives in Jerusalem with his wife and their four children.

The post Three Teachings for a Time of Rebuilding in a Time of War first appeared on Algemeiner.com.