“On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed…”

Unetaneh Tokef, the haunting High Holy Day liturgy, confronts us with an uncomfortable truth: the year ahead is uncertain, and our fates are beyond our control.

For many, that uncertainty feels abstract. It can mean fleeting anxieties about markets, elections, or global tensions. But for families grappling with catastrophic illness, the unimaginable is part of daily life.

In the United States, roughly 15,000 children and adolescents are diagnosed with cancer each year, often without warning. A morning that begins with routine school drop-off can end in a hospital room, surrounded by doctors delivering devastating news. Beyond illness, research shows that more than two-thirds of American children will experience at least one traumatic event by age 16. These are not statistics that live in the margins. They represent families in every community, facing futures they did not choose and cannot control.

From these families, we can learn an essential lesson: While none of us can predict the future, we can decide how to respond.

As the CEO of an organization that supports these families, I have seen mothers and fathers rise to challenges that would overwhelm most of us. One mother, after shepherding her own child through cancer, now spends her days volunteering to drive other families to medical appointments so no parent faces the journey alone. A young man who once spent summers at Camp Simcha, our medically supervised program for children with life-threatening illness, has lived his entire life in a wheelchair; and each year, he returns to mentor children who share his challenges, showing them that independence and self-worth are possible even in the face of profound disability.

In a year overshadowed by geopolitical turbulence, economic instability and the rising tide of antisemitism, cynicism and despair can feel like default positions. It is no coincidence that depression rates in the United States have climbed to record highs, now affecting more than one in eight Americans. This quiet crisis underscores how uncertainty and fear are eroding resilience across society. Yet crisis also presents a choice. We can retreat into fear, or we can respond with purpose.

Illness teaches us that hardship never strikes in isolation. A diagnosis affects not only the patient but parents, siblings, friends, colleagues and entire communities. In this way, illness is not their challenge alone. It is ours.

The question before us is not whether we will be touched by hardship. The question is how we will respond when it comes. Sometimes it is a modest donation to your local nonprofit. Sometimes it is an afternoon spent volunteering to ease the burden on a family in crisis. Sometimes it is as simple as sitting at the table with someone who feels alone in their pain. These gestures may feel small, but their impact is immediate and enduring.

This Rosh Hashanah, as we confront the truth that none of us knows what the coming year will bring, let us choose not despair, but resolve. Let us commit to meeting uncertainty with compassion, investing in one another and transforming fear into solidarity. In doing so, we are not only praying for a better year — we are building one.

Rabbi Simcha Scholar is the CEO of Chai Lifeline, an international health and crisis support network.