Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Freud, in his own idiom, echoed him: “Where id is, let ego be.” Both saw that most people drift through life half-awake.
Judaism answers with something far simpler—and far deeper. After a meal, when our bellies are full and our guard is down, Torah commands: “When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to the Lord your God for the good land which He has given you” (Deut. 8:10). From this, our sages shaped Birkat HaMazon, the blessing after meals.
In that moment, breadcrumbs on the table, we remember that every bite, every breath, and even the Land itself come from the Blessed Holy One. Gratitude awakens us. And once awake, we cannot help but ask: If all I have is gift, what would I be willing to die for? And—more urgently—what am I willing to live for?
Many have given their lives for the Land of Israel—Jewish patriots, Muslim fighters, Christian Zionists, even nationalist atheists. We easily forget that the Crusaders, too, were willing to die for the “Holy Land,” even as they slaughtered Jews on their way to Jerusalem. Today, some hold that Jewish sovereignty and Jewish lives are the highest value; others insist that justice for Palestinian nationalism must also be part of the equation.
The Torah is clear about the significance of the Land:
“Observe therefore all the commands I am giving you today, so that you may have the strength to go in and take over the land… and so that you may live long in the land the LORD swore to your forefathers… a land flowing with milk and honey.” (Deut. 11:8–9)
Yet the Land is not an end in itself—it is the stage upon which the fullness of covenant life can unfold. Only in the Land of Israel can all the mitzvot be observed; only there do the rhythms of Torah shape daily life in every detail. And those mitzvot are not about conquest alone: “Have one law for yourself and the stranger,” “Seek peace and pursue it,” “Love the stranger” (Deut. 10:16–19).
Still, God warns us not to confuse geography with self-sufficiency:
“The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt… But the land you are crossing the Jordan to possess is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the LORD your God cares for; the eyes of the LORD your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.” (Deut. 11:10–12)
Here the Torah shows us that God Himself serves—tending the Land, sending rain, sustaining life. If the Holy One does not consider service beneath His dignity, how could we?
And yet, our culture often elevates power over service. How do we speak to a waiter, a barista, a custodian, a housekeeper, a childcare worker—or the customer service representative on the phone when we’re already frustrated? Judaism does not condone rudeness, nor the quiet condescension that treats service as a lesser calling. If God serves, then so should we—with gladness.
Our sages tell a remarkable story: At the wedding banquet for the son of Rabban Gamaliel, the Nasi of the Sanhedrin, Rabbis Eliezer, Joshua, and Zadok were reclining while Rabban Gamaliel himself stood over them serving their drinks. Rabbi Eliezer refused the cup; Rabbi Joshua accepted it. Eliezer objected, but Joshua replied: “Greater than he has served. Abraham… stood over them” (Gen. 18:8)—and those guests appeared to him not as angels, but as ordinary Arabs.
Rabbi Zadok pressed further: “How long will you honor men and disregard the honor of God? The Holy One causes the winds to blow, the clouds to rise, the rain to fall, and the earth to blossom—setting a table before every person. If God does this, should Rabban Gamaliel not serve?” (Kiddushin 32b)
The Besorot recorded a similar scene: Yeshua’s disciples argued over who among them was the greatest. Yeshua replied:
“The kings of the nations lord it over them… But with you, it is not so. Let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves… I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:24–27)
Here it is not merely the Nasi of the Sanhedrin, but Israel’s greatest son—the incarnate presence of the Holy One—who serves His disciples, His people, and all humanity.
Perhaps it is only the foolish who think their status is diminished by serving others. Our tradition and our faith teach the opposite. There are no machers in the Kingdom—only humble servants.