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Engaging in Judaism and the Modern World, Without Losing Identity

10 May 2026
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This essay is one of the winning submissions to the Rabbi Sacks Essay Contest. Drawing on the teachings and writings of Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks zt”l, students were invited to reflect on contemporary questions through the lens of his ideas. This piece reflects the voice and perspective of its student author.

Author: Lea Rebibo (Carmel School, Hong Kong) - Second Prize

The world today often feels like a giant centrifuge, spinning so fast that it threatens to flatten our identities into one blurry, global average. For someone my age, the pressure to fit in is just constant – it’s in the apps we use, the clothes we wear, and the values we’re told to adopt. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks lately because he argued that we shouldn’t just try to survive this modern world, but that we should lead within it while remaining fiercely and unashamedly Jewish. His philosophy feels like a bridge for anyone struggling to balance an ancient heritage with a modernized future. He taught that Judaism must be true to itself and a blessing to others, meaning we don’t have to choose between our faith and our place in a global society.

At the heart of his thought is this radical idea he called the “dignity of difference.” Most people think that for the world to have peace, we have to erase our differences and find some generic, universal common ground. Sacks argued the exact opposite. He believed that the unity of the Creator is actually expressed through the diversity of His creation. To him, the fact that we are different isn’t a flaw to be fixed; it’s a divine imperative and something that should stand out. He used to point out that in nature, biodiversity is a sign of health, and he felt the same applied to human culture. By being different, we actually add something essential to the human story.

I love his distinction between a contract and a covenant. A contract is just a transaction for mutual benefit, but a covenant is a bond of “we,” built on mutual responsibility and loyalty. In this lonely, digital age where it’s so easy to feel isolated, I think the Jewish model of community and family offers a moral map that the world really needs. For a Jew to stay faithful while engaging with science and politics, Sacks explained a partnership between Torah and Chokhmah. Chokhmah is the universal wisdom – science, technology, reason – while Torah is the specific wisdom we inherit. He didn’t see them as enemies, but as a conversation where science gives us the “how” and Torah gives us the “why.”

To me, this means identity isn’t a fortress to be guarded, but a home you journey from. If you’re secure in who you are, you don’t feel threatened by the “other.” You can listen to a different perspective without losing your own voice. In an age of digital homogenization, where algorithms try to make us all the same, maintaining a specific, ancient identity is actually a form of spiritual resistance. A healthy society needs pockets of difference to stay vibrant. You can see this in the life of Maimonides back in the 12th century. He was a court physician to a Sultan and a total polymath, but he was also the greatest Torah scholar of his time. He didn’t live a split life; he used the logic and science of his day to explain eternal truths. He proved that Judaism flourishes most when it’s in conversation with the best of contemporary thought.

I felt the tension of this personally just a few weeks ago. My friend and I were taking the MTR home after lunch on a Friday. The train was packed with people in suits and students in uniforms, everyone rushing toward the weekend. She pulled up a group chat and showed me that everyone was meeting at a mall in Causeway Bay that night for a movie and dinner. She asked if I was finally coming this time, and I had to tell her no, because it was Friday night and my family was starting Shabbat. Since we are one of the only religious families in our circle, she looked at me with total confusion. She asked if my parents were making me stay home or if I was just not allowed to have fun. In that moment, I felt a huge wave of embarrassment. I felt left out, like I was living in a bubble while the rest of the world was out there having “real” experiences. I just wanted to be a normal teenager in Hong Kong without having to explain why I couldn’t use my phone.

But as I said bye and got off at my stop to get home in time for Shabbat, I started to see things differently. I looked at all the people around me who looked totally exhausted, staring at their screens and rushing to the next thing. When I got home and the candles were waiting to be lit, the silence of the apartment felt like a relief rather than a cage. I realized she wasn’t judging me; she was actually curious because she doesn’t have anything in her life that forces her to just stop and be with her family.

Thinking through Sacks’ teachings has changed how I see my own life. I’ve realized you don’t have to choose between the skyline of a city like Hong Kong and your traditions. The skyline is where we work and learn, but the traditions is what keeps us from being swept away by whatever is trendy. I’ve learned that I don’t need to blend in to belong. In fact, the more I embrace what makes me different, the more I actually have to offer the people around me. Being “bilingual” – speaking both the language of my heritage and the language of the modern world – is a gift that helps me navigate life with more balance. Sacks taught us that Judaism is a small voice in the conversation of mankind, but it’s a voice that has been heard for a long time. Whether in Hong Kong or London, our task is to stay true to ourselves so we can remind the world what it means to be human.

Read the other prize-winning essays from the 2026 Contest