Kiddush Hashem – Sanctifying God’s Name

Friends, what does it truly mean to sanctify God’s name in the world? When we think of Kiddush Hashem, what comes to mind? Is it primarily through grand sacrifices, moments of profound suffering, our deliberate silences, or specific ritual acts? Today, I want to explore the idea that there are two fundamental and complementary pathways through which we can fulfill this vital mitzvah: one woven into the very fabric of our daily existence, and another manifest in specific, sacred utterances and actions.

We read earlier from Vayikra/Leviticus 22:32 which offers us a foundational directive: וְלֹ֤א תְחַלְּלוּ֙ אֶת־שֵׁ֣ם קׇדְשִׁ֔י וְנִ֨קְדַּשְׁתִּ֔י בְּת֖וֹךְ בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אֲנִ֥י ה’ מְקַדִּשְׁכֶֽם׃

“Do not desecrate My holy name. I must be sanctified among the Israelites. I am the Lord, who made you holy and who brought you out of Egypt to be your God. I am the Lord.”

The Torah warns against desecrating God’s name—Chilul Hashem—and commands us to sanctify it—Kiddush Hashem. Traditionally, Chilul Hashem refers to conduct that brings dishonour to God or the Jewish people, while Kiddush Hashem is its antithesis: an act that brings honour and sanctity to God’s name, particularly in the eyes of others.

Let’s first consider the pathway of Kiddush Hashem through mindful living and everyday conduct. This is a way of sanctifying God’s name that is profoundly accessible to every single one of us, every single day. It doesn’t necessarily require taking on new, time-intensive mitzvot, like committing to daily Torah learning or ensuring every bracha is said before eating – though these are, of course, invaluable practices. Rather, it’s about how we conduct ourselves in the lives we already lead, in our work, in our relationships, and in our public and private personas.

Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, a master of Mussar (character development) from the 20th century—a fascinating character who attended the University of Berlin in the 20s and migrated with the Mir Yeshiva to Shanghai during WWII—once taught in a lecture I attended in Jerusalem that the essence of Kiddush Hashem is the way we affect others—how our presence and actions uplift those around us. He stressed that it’s not about dramatic gestures, but about daily dignity and decency.

This idea resonates powerfully with a striking passage from Maimonides in the 12th century. In Hilchot Yesodei ha-Torah (5:11), he states: “If a person has been scrupulous in his conduct, gentle in his conversation, pleasant toward his fellow creatures, affable in manner when receiving, not retorting even when affronted, but showing courtesy to all, even to those who treat him with disdain, conducting his business affairs with integrity … and doing more than his duty in all things, while avoiding extremes and exaggerations – such a person has sanctified God.” This is the Kiddush Hashem of integrity, of kindness, of ethical business practice. It’s about living in a way that inherently sets our shared Jewish values apart as sacred and praiseworthy.

Many of us may have experienced the following, perhaps without naming it. In my research interviews for my Master’s degree, many Jews described feeling like de facto ambassadors for Judaism or Israel—predominantly in non-Jewish work, educational or social environments. This role, whether desired or not, underscores how our everyday actions can indeed be a form of Kiddush Hashem or, Heaven forbid, its opposite. This path asks us to be mindful that our interactions can bring honour to our people and our God.

The second pathway to Kiddush Hashem is through specific mitzvot and sacred declarations. The very word ‘Kiddush’ means to set something apart, to declare it sacred. On Shabbat, for instance, we make Kiddush over wine, consciously sanctifying time. The word appears as well at the wedding ceremony. In Kiddushin, the first stage of marriage, a couple sets their relationship apart from all others. The groom says under the chuppa “harei at mekudeshet li…– You are betrothed to me.” These are explicit acts of sanctification.

Perhaps one of the most poignant examples of this type of Kiddush Hashem is found in a prayer that, on the surface, seems disconnected from its primary purpose: the mourner’s Kaddish. The liturgy of Kaddish makes no direct mention of death or memorial. Yet, as my colleague and distant cousin through marriage, Rabbi Leo Dee, who tragically lost his wife and two daughters in a terror attack, reflected, saying Kaddish even in the depths of grief sends a profound message. He said that when a mourner can still utter those words—words that proclaim faith and sanctify God’s name—it conveys: “If they, in their pain and loss, can express those words of belief, what does that mean for me?” For him, Kaddish became a form of inspiration, a living sanctification of God’s name through a specific, prescribed text. Rabbi Joseph Telushkin adds that reciting Kaddish testifies that the deceased left behind worthy descendants who proclaim their ongoing loyalty to God. This, too, is a powerful act of Kiddush Hashem.

These two pathways – mindful living and specific mitzvot – are not in opposition; they are complementary. The ultimate al Kiddush Hashem is often seen as martyrdom—dying for one’s faith. Thankfully, as the Talmud teaches, not all sanctification demands such a price; far more often, it is found in how one chooses to live.

Etty Hillesum, a young Dutch Jewish woman murdered at Auschwitz, exemplified a profound spiritual resistance that intertwined both these paths. She didn’t define sanctity solely through death, but through a deep awareness and cultivation of God within life—even as her world collapsed. Her diary speaks to this inner work, the foundation for outward action: “There is a really deep well inside me. And in it dwells God. Sometimes I am there, too. But more often, stones and grit block the well, and God is buried beneath. Then He must be dug out again.” This “digging out the well” is the internal work that fuels the Kiddush Hashem of both our ethical actions and our sacred declarations.

So what does Kiddush Hashem look like for us—here and now, in our lives? It can be found in the quiet integrity of our daily dealings, in the patience we show, the ethical choices we make in our businesses, the kindness in our relationships. This is a path readily open to all of us, a way to sanctify God’s name by simply striving to be our best selves. And it can also be found in the specific moments we dedicate to sacred speech and action, like the Kiddush on Friday night or the solemn words of Kaddish.

In a world of noise and cynicism, perhaps our Kiddush Hashem lies in choosing patience, upholding integrity, maintaining faith in moments of doubt, or simply, as Etty Hillesum beautifully put it, digging out that well inside us, where the Divine waits to be found. May we all find our ways, through our actions and our words, to sanctify God’s name. Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Michael Rosenfeld