Inseparable

By: Rabbi Moshe Taragin

Yitzchak is preparing to leave Israel. A famine has struck, and he considers following his father Avraham to Egypt, where food is more plentiful. But Hashem intervenes, instructing him to remain in the land. This is one of only two Divine revelations Yitzchak experiences, in contrast to his father, who encountered Hashem repeatedly. What makes this revelation significant is the message Hashem delivers at this critical moment.

Hashem reaffirms the covenant with Avraham, promising Yitzchak His protection and blessing. Yitzchak will inherit his father’s mission of spreading monotheism, his descendants will multiply like the stars in the heavens, and the nations of the world will be blessed through them. The religious mission of Avraham will continue through his son.

Yet Hashem also reaffirms the promise of the land. The timing is crucial. Precisely when Yitzchak considers leaving Israel, Hashem reminds him that the covenant includes both a universal religious mission and a national homeland. The Jewish people are destined to bring blessing to humanity, but their mission remains bound to the land promised to their ancestors. From the very beginning, Jewish identity and our attachment to Israel are presented as inseparable parts of the same covenant. Though scattered across the globe, we turned toward Jerusalem three times a day in prayer. Across continents and generations, Jerusalem remained the center of our spiritual imagination.

Beginning in the 19th century, we were invited to leave the ghettos and enter European society as equal citizens. Granted freedom of worship and opportunities long denied to us, we became active participants in science, medicine, commerce, culture, and public life. Through these contributions, we helped advance human progress and welfare, one of the central aspirations of our historic mission. As Jewish integration deepened, many began to imagine a Jewish future rooted in the countries where they lived.

Alongside Jewish contributions to human progress, another dimension of the Jewish mission also appeared to be advancing. Even as European society became less formally religious, monotheistic faiths had become dominant across much of the world.

To many Jews, it appeared that both dimensions of Judaism’s mission, spreading monotheism and advancing human welfare, could be fulfilled within the societies where they lived. The dream of returning to Israel gradually lost its centrality. Some siddurim and Haggadahs even removed traditional references to Zion, including “L’Shanah haba’ah b’Yerushalayim.” This hope of a return to Jerusalem, which for centuries had sustained us, was no longer universally regarded as essential to our future.

The establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 dramatically altered this picture. A Jewish mission that many had come to imagine unfolding primarily in the Diaspora could now be pursued in our ancestral homeland. We could apply our religious and moral ideals to the challenges of governing a society, managing an economy, and defending a population, all in our ancient homeland.

However, 1948 did not convince everyone that the restoration of Jewish sovereignty was part of the process of redemption. Many Charedim, while deeply committed to Eretz Yisrael and the eventual redemption, do not view the establishment of the State of Israel as a step toward redemption. They distinguish between the sanctity of the land, rooted in the biblical covenant, and the modern state, established through secular political means. Yet this distinction does not diminish the centrality of the land for them. Quite the opposite. They believe that Jewish destiny remains bound to Eretz Yisrael and that the Jewish mission will ultimately be fulfilled there, even if they envision a different path to that destiny.

A more fundamental divide exists among Jews over the role of Israel in our national destiny. Unfortunately, many Jews believe their Jewish destiny can be realized outside the State of Israel. The Jewish mission of teaching humanity about Hashem and morality, advancing justice, and improving human welfare can be realized in any geographic location. From this perspective, attachment to Israel and Judaism are distinct commitments. A person can embrace his Jewish identity, religion, and values without considering a connection to Israel essential to that identity.

Yet history has a way of challenging such assumptions. Jewish history is filled with irony. Sometimes, when we lose sight of the foundations of Jewish identity, the societies around us force us to confront the deeper bonds that define who we are as a people. Unfortunately, those reminders are sometimes delivered through hostility and hatred.

As worldwide anger toward Israel grows, it spreads from the streets and college campuses to the political discourse and national policies targeting the Jewish state. Though much of this hostility is focused on Israel and its right to exist in peace and security, it has increasingly spilled over into broader antisemitism, targeting Jews regardless of their connection to the State of Israel. Jews are being attacked, boycotted, and discriminated against because of their presumed attachment to Israel, even when they have minimal connection to the state. They make little distinction between Jews and Israel, even when Jews themselves seek to separate the two.

A similar pattern emerged in Germany nearly ninety years ago. Many Jews came to regard Judaism as merely a religion that they could practice in private while openly living as Europeans. Others abandoned Judaism altogether, giving up religious practice and embracing their place as full members of European society.

Hitler and the Nazis shattered these assumptions. Their grotesque racial ideology classified Jews by ancestry, regardless of religious belief or observance. Their hatred exposed something that assimilation had led some Jews to overlook: Jewishness is an inherited peoplehood, linking individuals to a historical community even when they no longer practice its religion. Our relationship with Hashem is rooted in our membership in this historical community, a bond that endures regardless of our personal religious beliefs or practices.

Once again, history is reminding us of something that some Jews have chosen to overlook. The State of Israel is vital to Jewish continuity and identity. Without it, the future of our people would be far more precarious, and our ability to fulfill our historic mission would be severely diminished. Israel is woven into the fabric of Jewish identity.

The Jewish world is divided by a fundamental question: Is the Land of Israel central to Jewish identity and destiny, or can the Jewish mission flourish outside of it? October 7 and its aftermath have convinced many Jews, though not all, that Jewish identity and Israel are inextricably tied. What history has repeatedly taught us must become clear to all Jews: Our nation, our mission, and our homeland have always belonged to the same story. n

Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rabbi and educator at Yeshivat Har Etzion (Gush). Find his latest book, Echoes of Rashi: Bereishit, at MTaraginBooks.com.