I am not saddened by the results of America’s elections. On the contrary, I believe they may be precisely the wake-up call that American Jewry desperately needs. While many see the political upheaval sweeping the Western world as a reason for despair, I see another message from Hashem, calling His people to recognize the extraordinary times in which we are living and finally come home.
Throughout Jewish history, Hashem has communicated with His people in different ways. Sometimes His messages arrive through extraordinary miracles, so overwhelming that even skeptics struggle to explain them away. The Six-Day War, the rescue at Entebbe, Israel’s remarkable pager operation against Hezbollah, and other extraordinary episodes of Jewish survival remind us that history is not simply a collection of random events. There is a Master of the Universe directing the unfolding story of our people.
These are the pleasant messages. They inspire us, strengthen our faith, and remind us that Hashem has not abandoned His people. Ideally, they should be sufficient to awaken us to our responsibilities. But what happens when we celebrate the miracles, thank Hashem, and simply return to business as usual?
Consider something as ordinary as dental hygiene. Neglect your teeth, and the first warnings may be relatively harmless: discoloration, bad breath, or mild discomfort. Ignore them, and eventually a cavity develops. A simple filling might initially solve the problem, but continued neglect can require a root canal or even extraction. The warnings were there all along. We simply chose to ignore them until the consequences became impossible to overlook.
The Rambam teaches precisely this principle in Hilchot Ta’aniyot (1:1–3). When calamity strikes, we are obligated to examine our actions and recognize that events demand a spiritual response. He warns that dismissing such events as mere coincidence is a form of cruelty, because it encourages people to continue along the same destructive path, inviting further suffering. Ignoring the message does not make the problem disappear. It merely allows the consequences to become more severe.
For nearly eighty years, Hashem has been sending the Jewish people an extraordinary series of messages, many of them overwhelmingly positive. Consider 1948. A nation that had just endured the Holocaust, with six million Jews murdered, rose from the ashes and reestablished Jewish sovereignty in its ancient homeland after nearly two thousand years of exile. Against seemingly impossible odds, the fledgling Jewish state survived an invasion by neighboring Arab armies. Then, in 1967, the world witnessed another astonishing victory, culminating in the liberation of Jerusalem’s Old City and the return of the Jewish people to the Temple Mount.
And the miracles continued. Through wars, terrorism, international isolation, and countless threats, the Jewish people have rebuilt their cities, revived their ancient language, gathered exiles from across the globe, and established a thriving nation where generations once saw only ruins. The broader historical trajectory is unmistakable. Hashem has opened the gates of Eretz Yisrael and invited His children home. How much clearer does the message need to become?
Yet much of world Jewry continues to live in exile, treating Israel as an inspiring vacation destination, a place to send children for a gap year, or an emergency refuge should life abroad become uncomfortable. They celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut, donate generously to Israeli institutions, and proudly display Israeli flags. But when confronted with the possibility of actually participating in the return of our people to our homeland, too many find endless reasons to postpone the decision.
Rabbi Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal, Hy”d, understood this tragedy with extraordinary clarity. Writing during the Holocaust in his monumental work Eim HaBanim Semeicha, he confronted what he understood as the devastating consequences of Jewish resistance to returning to Eretz Yisrael. He argued that the failure to recognize the historic opportunity for national restoration had contributed to the tragedy of remaining trapped in Europe. His words, written amid the destruction itself, remain an uncomfortable warning to anyone who assumes Jewish life in the Diaspora can continue indefinitely, regardless of the signs appearing around us.
Imagine a driver traveling down a highway, ignoring signs warning of dangerous curves and an approaching cliff. Initially, the signs are small. As the danger approaches, they become larger, brighter, and more urgent. Eventually, flashing lights and enormous barriers appear. But the driver remains convinced that he knows the road better than those who placed the warnings. At best, he becomes lost. At worst, he drives straight into disaster.
This is how I understand the political upheaval sweeping the Western world. Growing antisemitism, increasingly hostile environments for Jews, and the rise of movements challenging the political and cultural foundations of Western societies should force us to reconsider assumptions that once seemed unshakable. The elections in America, Europe, and Israel are bright neon signs begging us to examine our choices. We can argue endlessly about politicians and parties, but the larger question is whether we recognize the historic direction in which our people are being called.
And then came another extraordinary announcement, almost overshadowed by the election results themselves. President Trump declared that America would discontinue its approximately $4 billion in annual military assistance to Israel. Although the details of implementing that decision remain unresolved, I regard the prospect not as a curse, but as a potential blessing.
For far too long, Israel has grown accustomed to depending on the generosity of a foreign nation, albeit one that has frequently been a loyal and valuable friend. But foreign assistance is never entirely free. Sovereign nations have interests, and the United States is no exception. Financial and military assistance inevitably creates political leverage, diplomatic expectations, and sometimes limitations on Israel’s freedom to act independently. A truly sovereign Jewish state must ultimately aspire to defend itself without depending on the permission or generosity of another government.
Of course, American assistance has provided substantial military benefits, and replacing it will require serious economic and strategic planning. But the deeper issue is not merely financial. It is a question of national confidence and faith. For decades, many have spoken as though Israel’s survival depends upon American protection. I believe this fundamentally misunderstands the relationship between the Jewish people and the nations of the world.
From a Torah perspective, the opposite spiritual relationship may be far more significant. Hashem’s promise to Avraham Avinu was unequivocal: “ואברכה מברכיך” — “I will bless those who bless you” (Bereishit 12:3). I believe that one of the reasons America has enjoyed extraordinary blessings throughout its history is its support for the Jewish people and, in modern times, the State of Israel. America has benefited from this relationship not only strategically, economically, and technologically, but spiritually as well.
America needs Israel more than Israel needs America. Not necessarily in the narrow calculations of military budgets or weapons inventories, but in the much larger framework of divine history. Israel’s ultimate security does not originate in Washington, just as our national destiny was never dependent upon London, Rome, or any other imperial capital. Our survival rests upon the covenant between Hashem and His people. Nations rise and fall. Empires that once appeared eternal disappear into history. But the Jewish people endure. נצח ישראל לא ישקר — “The Eternal One of Israel does not lie” (Shmuel I 15:29).
Perhaps the prospect of losing American aid is another opportunity to mature as a nation, to strengthen our own industries, deepen our independence, and recognize that alliances, however valuable, must never be confused with the ultimate source of our security. We should appreciate America’s friendship without becoming dependent upon it, and cultivate partnerships without surrendering our sovereignty.
The same lesson applies to American Jewry. For generations, Jews have enjoyed extraordinary freedom, prosperity, and opportunity in the United States. But temporary comfort should never be mistaken for permanent security, and the remarkable kindness of a host nation should never be confused with the fulfillment of our national destiny.
Hashem has granted us bechirah chofshit, free will. We have our hands on the steering wheel, and the choices we make matter. We can participate willingly in the unfolding process of Geula, or resist the direction of history and risk learning its lessons through increasingly painful experiences. We cannot know with prophetic certainty why any particular election unfolds as it does, but our Torah demands that we examine the events around us rather than dismissing them as meaningless coincidences.
The destination is not in doubt. The prophets promised the ingathering of the exiles, the restoration of Jewish sovereignty, the rebuilding of Jerusalem, and ultimately a world transformed by the knowledge of Hashem. The question is not whether the Jewish people have a future. The question is how much unnecessary suffering we will endure before embracing that future.
To my brothers and sisters in America, I say: do not wait for the next warning. Do not assume the political pendulum will swing back and everything will return to normal. Do not confuse the comfort of yesterday with the security of tomorrow. And above all, do not imagine that because Jewish life in America has flourished for generations, it is therefore destined to remain unchanged forever.
We were not preserved through two thousand years of exile merely to become another comfortable minority among the nations. We were chosen for a mission: to live as a sovereign people in our ancestral homeland, build a society guided by Torah, and become the light unto the nations that the prophets envisioned.
The signs are growing brighter, and the messages more urgent. We can continue debating election results, blaming politicians, and hoping that the next administration will restore yesterday’s reality. Or we can recognize that Hashem has already provided us with something infinitely greater than political security in a foreign land: the opportunity to come home.
Let us not wait until the ship is sinking before searching for lifeboats. Let us choose the smoother path while that choice remains available, participating willingly and joyfully in the greatest national homecoming in human history. The ultimate Geula is not merely about escaping danger. It is about fulfilling our destiny, restoring the relationship between Hashem, His people, and His Land, and moving humanity toward the redeemed existence that Gan Eden represents.
The Torah places the choice before us with breathtaking simplicity: “ובחרת בחיים” — “And you shall choose life” (Devarim 30:19). It is time to choose life, choose our future, and finally come home.
This first appeared on Rabbi Wander’s Substack
