I’ll start with the what, then I’ll get to the why.
The what is I’m moving from Israel to New York for a few years. I’ll be continuing my role at Lemonade but I’ll be helping the company build a product team in New York, only its second one outside of Israel.
The why, in its simplest form, is that my girlfriend, Kayla, is beginning her PhD at Columbia University in Biomedical Informatics. It’s one of those opportunities you don’t pass up. There’s a lot I could say about moving across the world for a significant other, but that’s another post.
Coming to terms with this move has been difficult. I deliberately built my adult life in Israel. I love it here. I live at the intersection of classic romantic Zionism and a more modern pragmatism: As Jews, we belong here, and we also have the opportunity to build truly exceptional lives here. That’s what makes this hiatus so difficult.
I started thinking a lot about what Zionism looks like outside of Israel. What does Judaism look like outside of Israel? Or better yet — what should they each look like? I grew up in New York, spent countless visits there with my family since moving away — I’m far from a stranger. But anticipating being there on a more permanent basis has me wondering what my ideological counterpart looks like in New York.
I keep coming back to an idea I’ve heard before but never fully appreciated:
Judaism is too rigidly divided between Israel and the diaspora.
You’re either here, or you’re there. Israelis have one set of problems, while chutznikim (Israeli slang for foreigners) have another. There may be overlap here or there, but the perspectives of the two groups couldn’t be further apart.
Judaism teaches mutual support and care. These ideas are rooted in biblical and talmudic texts dating back thousands of years, and they’re something we’re seeing come to fruition in our lifetime through the development of a country that can support world Jewry. A mentor of mine, Michael Eisenberg, calls this the responsibility economy: taking ownership of not only yourself, but of the collective. This is happening in Israel, and presents a unique opportunity to bridge the gap between diaspora and Israeli Jewry.
Given my background, I’ll speak to this divide as it manifests in American Jewry, but I believe it can be extrapolated across the diaspora. It’s a divide of politics and economics. American Jewry too often views Israel as a function of its latest threat, be it Iran or the Palestinians. These threats range from existential dangers to the notion that the country is straying from its democratic roots. Both ends of the American Jewish political spectrum see Israel through the lens of some third party, fostering the idea that our future — our destiny — is dependent on someone other than ourselves.
However, Israelis by and large think of their homeland differently. Their day to day worries consist of rising housing costs, antiquated public transportation and finding the right school for their children. Israelis don’t wake up every day with the existential dread that informs much of American Jewry. But that’s only the political divide.
More important is the economic divide. American Jews have historically done better financially than Israeli Jews. Americans indulge in vacation homes that Israeli locals could hardly dream of as primary homes. Most American Jews aren’t actively involved in Israel’s burgeoning economy; they sit on the sidelines and peer in when it’s convenient.
This is the heart of the divide. Not only does Israel’s viability not depend on any external party, but Israel is thriving and wants to take more people along for the ride. Israel’s economy is thirsty for more participants, and the more chutznikim get involved, the more the success of world Jewry becomes tied to that of its homeland.
Americans do great things for their local economies, but how many of them take Israel into account while building their careers? This doesn’t have to mean living in Israel, but rather utilizing professional platforms to contribute to the growth of the Jewish state from a far.
To bring diaspora and Israeli Jewry closer together, our worlds need to become more economically intertwined. There are countless ways a diaspora Jew can prioritize Israel when planning their career: employees can choose to work for companies that operate in both Israel and their home country; founders can build their companies in both of these worlds, so that locals and Israelis alike can get involved, as employees or investors; attorneys can deliberately look for ways to help Israeli clients — the list only goes on.
What it comes down to is not confining ourselves to one country, one world, one time zone — but instead, being continuously in both, working for the Jewish people and state from wherever we live. If we begin with economics, politics will follow.
I’ve written about the plethora of professional opportunities in Israel. And that’s the beauty of this brand of Zionism: it doesn’t have to come at a cost. A person can build a career in Israel that’s as good as — if not better than — what they could build anywhere else. It’s rare to encounter an ideal that doesn’t require self sacrifice, but actually offers self actualization. That’s the opportunity in Israel.
Zionism means working towards the establishment and betterment of a Jewish homeland. Sometimes, the careers we choose for ourselves might not be based in that homeland, but our ideals don’t have to suffer for it. If we’re real zionists, we are constantly asking ourselves, “how can my career, wherever it may be, help make Israel better?”
Over the next few years, I’ll be living in New York. This decision, which I originally made for personal reasons, has turned out to be an incredible professional opportunity as well. I’m excited for the chance to help Lemonade build R&D teams in The States. I’m excited because I’m not sacrificing my principles by moving — I’m upholding them in a significant way. I’m doing my part to help an exceptional Israeli company based in New York grow. Lemonade is at the forefront of the economic bridge, and I want to be right there with them.
And when it’s time to make my next career decision, these are the principles that will guide me. I will continue to ask myself, “Am I doing my part to better the Jewish people and state? Am I tying my success to the success of Israel?” The more seriously we ask ourselves these questions, the smaller the gap between world Jewry and the Jewish homeland becomes. Building this bridge is an essential component of modern Zionism, and it’s what I’ll be working on until I come home.
Thanks to Abbey Onn, Jessica Kane and my father for helping me articulate myself on paper, a task easier said than done.
