There’s something I feel every time I speak to Jews abroad, especially now, with antisemitism spiraling out of control, war still at our doorstep, and the foundations of truth and stability crumbling across the Western world.
It’s that increasingly clear realization that Israel is no longer just the center of Jewish life in the world, it’s the shield of it. And because of that fact, this country is no longer solely the responsibility of the people who were born here or moved here, but of Jews everywhere.
As Israel and the Jewish people can breathe a sigh of relief with our hostages finally home, big challenges still lie ahead for us.
Any Jew who is aware of the reality today understands what Israel means. Not as a vague idea. Not as a sentimental homeland or some far-off place of refuge. But as the only serious force standing between the Jewish people and annihilation.
Israel is the thriving Jewish project that is an ongoing, imperfect, but extraordinary work in progress, and we all have a role in shaping its future. A young country that is punching well above its weight and has yet to reach its full potential. And that potential can only be fully realized when people understand that this is much bigger than any one of us, yet requires each of us to play our own individual part, in whatever capacity possible.
And yet, I notice when that truth hits too close to home, when it becomes personal, not theoretical, many in the Diaspora freeze. “Wait… now I have to pay part of the bill?”
For decades, since Israel’s founding, the relationship was comfortable. Write a donation check. Attend a dinner. Maybe visit once in a while. Support Israel in spirit, but not in burden. Meanwhile, Israelis have carried that burden every single day. The burden of defending the Jewish people’s right to exist. With our sons. Our daughters. Our futures. We built this nation with sweat and sacrifice. We defended it with our lives, and we buried our friends to keep it standing.
Someone abroad recently asked me, “How many sirens have you had this month?” He and his family are thinking of visiting but have reservations because of “the situation”. I answered respectfully. But inside, the cognitive disconnect is hard to process. As if one siren during their vacation would be an unbearable inconvenience, while millions of Israeli adults and children have spent the last two years running in and out of bomb shelters, day and night.
Israeli children are not made of a different material than anyone else’s. They’re not less sensitive. Not less worthy of peace. They’ve just been born into a reality that doesn’t offer the privilege of distance. And while we live that reality without complaint, without playing the victim, some are worried their kids might be too uncomfortable to experience a fraction of it?
No. Those days are over. This is not a guilt trip, but rather a wake-up call. We’re not asking Jews abroad to be martyrs. We’re asking them to stop being spectators and to stop outsourcing Jewish survival. To stop cheering from the stands while others carry the weight.
It’s something I never understood when I first arrived here, how does it make sense that Israelis have to serve and carry the burden, while I or anyone else born outside this country does not have to? Yet without Israel, global Jewry would be in a much more dire situation than it is currently. And if that wasn’t clear enough before October 7, then it should be now.
Because here’s something most won’t say out loud: Israel needs more soldiers. Yes, the army is stronger than ever, but it needs to expand, and rapidly. Yes, many brave Jews from the Diaspora do step up, and we honor them, a group I am proud to be a part of. But there are around 8.5 million Jews outside Israel, of which about 12% are of army age, that’s over 1 million people. If even 5% stepped up, that’s over 50,000 additional young Jewish adults choosing to stand for something bigger than themselves.
Now, I know what happens when I say this. People get defensive. Parents get startled and scared. I’m usually hit with: “Are you saying my kid should go fight on the front line?” Well, not every soldier is on the front line. In fact, most are not, and there are many roles in the IDF, both military and civil.
But let me ask you this: How do you think our parents feel? Do you think they’re immune to fear? Try sending one child into combat. Or two. Or three. Try watching your spouse and your kids serve at the same time.
Don’t tell me your children are more precious than ours. Don’t act like fear belongs only to you. We feel it too, every single day. And still, we show up. We live. We build. We thrive. And more than that: The fact that your child even has the birthright to serve in the army of a sovereign Jewish State? That is not something to fear, that is a badge of honor.
Barely 77 years ago, we were defenseless. Stateless. Powerless. Our people were marched to their deaths with no means of protection.
Today? We have the privilege of fighting back. Of being part of the generation tasked with bringing victory to the Jewish People over those who seek our destruction. Of defending Jewish life - not as victims, but as a nation. If your child wears that uniform in any capacity, they are carrying something our ancestors could only dream of. That’s not a burden. That’s dignity.
So you’re not of army age, then I ask you: What are you doing? Have you shown up in any real way? Have you invested in the Israeli economy? Have you bought real estate? Not just as an asset, but as a statement of connection? Have you volunteered? Flown in? Given your time? Have you done anything that costs you more than a passive donation or a social media post from the comfort of your home?
Because here is the reality, feeling bad isn’t enough. Caring isn’t enough. If all you do is care, then someone else is paying your price for you. This isn’t about guilt.
It’s about ownership. We are one Jewish nation that is facing one existential threat. And there is only one country on earth doing something about it. So stop asking if it’s safe to support your people. Stop acting like a guest at the Jewish table. Start acting like a stakeholder. This isn’t about sirens. It’s about responsibility. It’s about Jewish history unfolding right now and whether you’ll be counted in it.
And now, for the first time, we’re looking outward and saying to our brothers and sisters abroad: Join us. Not just to care but to act and show up. To prove that when you say “Am Yisrael Chai,” you actually mean all of Am Yisrael in its entirety. Not just the part that’s convenient.
And while many in the Diaspora have stepped up more than ever before, what I still often see is discomfort. Like someone being pointed to at a large table in a restaurant, handed the check after years of watching others pick it up. And the instinct is to shrink back into the crowd. That time is over. This is the moment of truth, and the sidelines are gone. You’re either part of the Jewish future or you’re not.
We built this home not just for ourselves but for all of our Jewish brothers and sisters. Now it’s time to come home. In commitment. In action. In investment. In responsibility. We’re not asking you to do what we haven’t already done. We’re asking you to finally join us.
- Noah Sander is a Canadian-born real estate agent based in Tel Aviv, specializing in helping international buyers and new olim navigate the Israeli property market. For inquiries: [email protected], his brokerage: Daon Group Real Estate