Welcome to 2025, a year brimming with potential—not just for the world at large, but for the Jewish people. As I sit here reflecting on what it means to step into this new chapter, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the generations who came before me. Millions of Jews—countless souls whose names we may never know—sacrificed everything to ensure I could stand here today, boldly declaring: I am Jewish. I am proud. And I will not let our story be reduced to a tragedy.
Because here’s the truth: We owe them more than survival. We owe them vibrancy.
Yes, we live in a time when antisemitism is on the rise, when the Jewish people are once again being vilified, and when standing tall can feel like an act of defiance. But if 2025 is going to mean anything, it cannot be the year we let ourselves be defined by our enemies. Fighting hate is necessary, but it cannot be the entirety of our identity. If the only reason to fight for the Jewish people is to stop them from being erased, then we have already failed.
I don’t want to fight for a community that’s merely surviving. I want to fight for one that is thriving. One that takes its rightful place as a source of light, love, and life.
That’s the Jewish world I want to be part of—a world that is just as passionate about living Jewishly as it is about resisting those who wish us harm. We should be shouting from the rooftops about the joy of Shabbat dinners, the wisdom of our traditions, the beauty of our music, and the resilience of our communities.
Why should anyone care to defend a Jewish world that is meh? We have to be amazing. As amazing as our ancestors believed we could be when they risked everything to carry our story forward.
Earlier this year, I stood looking out at the sea on the beaches of Israel, and I cried.
I cried thinking about the indescribable gratitude I have for everyone who worked to keep this tribe alive and in our homeland. I looked to my right, I looked to my left, and all I saw for miles were families and friends camping along the beach, laughing, sharing meals, and simply being.
We can get so consumed with the fight that we forget what we’re fighting for. But that moment, standing there with the waves crashing before me, I remembered:
This is why. This is what we’re fighting for.
It wasn’t just an emotional moment—it was a transformative one. It stripped everything down to the essence of what it means to be Jewish: joy, connection, resilience, and a deep love for the life we’re building. It was a reminder of the beauty we are all part of, the legacy we’re upholding, and the responsibility we have to carry it forward.
That feeling stays with me and, I hope, with all of us. Because these moments—the laughter of children playing on the sand, the warmth of a shared meal, the quiet power of lighting candles on Shabbat—are what make the fight worthwhile. They’re the moments that remind us of our why.
In my work, I am lucky to witness this Jewish magic every day. I see it in the laughter of teens learning about their heritage for the first time, in the volunteers who pour their hearts into rebuilding communities, and in the courage of activists who use their voices to make the world a better place. I see it in the thousands of people who gather for Shabbat, not just to light candles but to ignite a collective spirit of belonging.
This is what it means to be Jewish in 2025—not just to endure but to thrive. To wake up every morning and say, “I am here because they dreamed I could be.”
So let this be the year we put as much energy into celebrating as we do into resisting. Let’s sing louder than the voices that try to silence us. Let’s embrace our differences and build bridges across generations and denominations. Let’s embody what it means to be a light unto the nations—not by dimming our flames, but by letting them burn brighter than ever.
Because being Jewish isn’t just a label or a checkbox on a census. It’s a living, breathing testament to everything our ancestors believed in. It’s a gift. A privilege. And a responsibility we cannot take lightly.
We are ready. And not just to fight—but to shine, to celebrate, and to build a Jewish world so full of life that it will make those who sacrificed for us proud.
So to 2025, I say this: Bring on the challenges. Bring on the noise. Bring on the work. We are ready. And not just to fight—but to shine, to celebrate, and to build a Jewish world so full of life that it will make those who sacrificed for us proud.
Am Yisrael Chai. Let’s make this year amazing. For them. For us. For everyone.
Shanni Suissa is the podcast and social media director for the Jewish Journal.
