The Survival Mindset

As ballistic missiles rain down from Tel Aviv to Tiberias, Haifa to Herzliya, we are in an apocalyptic moment of survival once again. There are many things about this situation that could have irked me this week, but oddly, it was the mad dash of Jews to get out of Israel that got under my skin.

Don’t get me wrong — it is a scary place to be right now. But as various messaging channels lit up with Diaspora Jews scrambling to get out of Israel, it took my breath away: “Stranded.” “Evacuate.” “Flee” and “Escape” were all added to the new lexicon of reverse exodus.

Of course, if you are a parent with a child in a war zone, your fear is valid. Your instincts are human. But Israel cannot be our spiritual Airbnb — a place we visit to “feel Jewish,” to snap the perfect sunset over the Kotel, to send our teens for a year of hummus and high school — only to call Uber when the heat gets turned up.

We survive because we choose to stay together. That purpose has carried us across deserts and continents, through pogroms and partitions, ghettos and gas chambers, expulsion and exile. We are here not because we were the strongest, but because we held fast to who we are—and taught it to our children. You don’t get to be a fair-weather Zionist. That’s not how survival works.

We are here not because we were the strongest, but because we held fast to who we are — and taught it to our children. You don’t get to be a fair-weather Zionist. That’s not how survival works.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying we send our children into harm’s way without thought or conscience. I’m not saying parents shouldn’t worry. What I’m saying is that if our children are going to inherit Jewish identity, they must see what it costs — not only to others, but to us all. We can’t outsource Jewish continuity to the IDF, who after all are a group of some other Jewish parents’ kids. Our Jewish identity cannot be vicariously lived through Israeli families sheltering in bunkers lit up by the Iron Dome, while Diaspora families’ Whats App channels light up with exit plans. We must participate — in presence, in voice, in investment and yes, sometimes in the kind of commitment that asks something of us. Because the real Diaspora crisis is this: we are raising our children to believe that Jewish life is supposed to be easy.

Jewish identity is built on endurance — on staying rooted when it is easier to run. Everyone is different, so we do not all need to move to Jerusalem, or Israel, or agree on politics. But it does require that we all share in our shared Jewish story we are still writing.

It has been a frightening week, but let’s not pull away. Let’s draw closer. Let’s not create fear; let’s reassure each other. Let’s talk about why this time in history matters. Remind our children that solidarity must endure when tested.  We are not here by accident. We have been here before.

It’s worth being reminded that for 2,000 years Jews prayed every day for a return to Ha’Aretz — the land of Israel — and now that land is a place to which we can all return, at any time of our choosing. It exists because young men and women die to defend it. They are defending your right to call Israel home over the skies of Iran right now.

Our ancestors chose conviction over comfort, courage over fear. They stood firm in exile, in hiding, in resistance, in faith. They upheld their identity when it would’ve been easier to forget it. They preserved belief when belief came at a cost. They held on to the hope that one day we would have a homeland to fight for. That is the lineage we inherit. That is the standard we are called to meet. And that is why we are here.

Survival is measured by what we’re willing to stand for — and stay for — when the stakes are high. It’s measured in presence. In responsibility. In whether we show up when it counts—and for each other.

This is one of those moments that will define how the next generation understands what it means to be Jewish — not in theory, but in practice. We survive — because we choose to belong to something that doesn’t retreat when it’s tested.

And remember: No Jew is “stranded” in Israel. Ever.

Stephen D. Smith is CEO of Memory Workers and Executive Director Emeritus of USC Shoah Foundation.