John,

When I was 13, in a bow tie and braces, at my Bar Mitzvah, I had no idea what the next fifty years would ask of me.

Here's the photo of me, in all my "glory" back then:

It's easy to chuckle at it now — the classic 1970s bow tie, the braces, the yarmulke, the look on my face — but I think about that kid a lot these days.

The values I learned preparing for that morning are the same ones I lean on now: that we're commanded to pursue justice, that we don't turn away from a stranger, that silence in the face of wrong is its own kind of failure.

Throughout my career in public service, I've thought a lot about the Jewish tradition of "Tikkun Olam" — repairing the world. This High Holiday season, as I reflect on the year behind us, I keep coming back to how much harder it's become to live those values out loud: watching hate rise, watching people target Jewish institutions, watching leaders who should know better stay quiet about antisemitism.

I won't stay quiet.

Before I go any further — will you chip in a few dollars to support this work? If you're not ready yet, please read on. I have more to share.

I want to take you back to 1973. Our family moved around a lot because my father was in the "schmata" business. He worked as a regional manager for a men's clothing company, named Farrah.

We moved from Massachusetts where I was born, lived a few years in Arizona, and ended up in the Bay Area. It was there where my dad got out of the clothing business and bought a lumber yard, where I worked during the summers. There's nothing like hauling sheets of plywood and roofing, and shoveling concrete to make you want to go to graduate school.

This photo was taken when my family was a member of Temple Isaiah in Lafayette, California, a reform synagogue we joined after moving to the Bay Area. And it came after months of practicing for my Bar Mitzvah. I even taped my practice sessions on our tape recorder (I have a copy of that tape somewhere, believe it or not.)

While the Hebrew language skills I quickly acquired were just as quickly lost, the lessons that my faith taught me endure and guide me to this day.

In fact, my favorite passage comes from Micah: What is required of us, but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God.

These principles have guided my work in Congress and now in the Senate — pursuing justice, making housing the homeless a priority, fighting discrimination, and making sure the rule of law applies to everyone. They have also guided me as I stood up to the most unscrupulous man to ever occupy the Oval Office.

And they guide me now, in the fight to repair and rebuild our democracy — so we leave it better for my children, and yours.

That's why I put everything I have into my work in the Senate and for the cause of our democracy. It's the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and I don't rest until I've done all I can for the day.

If these values resonate with you, will you chip in $10 to support this work? Every donation makes a difference with control of the Senate in the balance.

Hopefully this photo brightened your day, and gave you a little more insight into why I've dedicated my life to it — and why, this High Holiday season especially, I refuse to stay quiet.

Shana Tova, and Shalom!

— Adam