July 1, 2026|ט"ז תמוז ה' אלפים תשפ"ו 250 Years of America - and a Question American Jews Can No Longer Avoid By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

This July 4th, America celebrates its 250th birthday.

As I think about that milestone, I find myself feeling two emotions at the same time.

The first is gratitude.

America has been extraordinarily good to the Jewish people. Few countries in Jewish history have offered the freedom, opportunity, and acceptance that American Jews have experienced. We have built thriving synagogues, schools, yeshivot, camps, charitable organizations, and vibrant Torah communities. I feel blessed to be a rabbi in this country, and my family has been blessed to raise our children here.

But alongside that gratitude is another feeling.

For the first time in almost 2,000 years, the Jewish people once again have a sovereign state in our ancestral homeland.

And that raises a question previous generations of American Jews never had to ask in quite the same way:

What is the role of Jewish life in America now that the Jewish people have reestablished a sovereign state in Israel – a state that is now home to the largest Jewish population in the world?

Last Saturday evening, that question became the focus of a fascinating conversation.

We began something new in our community – a monthly Tradition journal book club. Each month we'll read an article together from that journal and then discuss not just what the author wrote, but what it means for our lives.

Our first article was Malka Simkovich's The Jewish State and the Failures of Diaspora: Three Approaches. On the surface, it was about the different views of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits, and Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. But before long, our conversation stopped being about three rabbis and started becoming about us.

The three thinkers were all wrestling with the same question: What changed when the Jewish people returned to sovereignty after nearly two thousand years?

Their answers were different.

Rav Soloveitchik cautioned us not to confuse history with redemption. The State of Israel is a gift, but it doesn't suddenly make Jewish life outside Israel less authentic. A Jew in New York and a Jew in Jerusalem are equally members of God's covenant. Israel creates new opportunities, but it doesn't erase the religious significance of Jewish life in the Diaspora.

Rabbi Berkovits pushed in the opposite direction. He argued that exile forced Judaism into survival mode. Only in a Jewish state can Torah express itself fully – not only in the synagogue and the beit midrash, but in agriculture, government, economics, the military, and every part of national life.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks charted a middle course. Israel, he taught, is central to the Jewish story. But Jewish sovereignty isn't an end in itself. The purpose of a Jewish state is to help the Jewish people become a blessing to humanity. The stronger our Jewish identity becomes, the greater our responsibility to the world around us.

As rich as the article was, one comment during our discussion stayed with me.

Someone suggested that perhaps we're asking two different questions at the same time.

One is about the destiny of the Jewish people.

The other is about the choices of individual Jews.

Those are not always the same question.

That distinction resonated with me.

At the level of Jewish history, I don't think we can ignore what has happened. The return of millions of Jews to the Land of Israel, and the fact that Israel has become the largest center of Jewish life in the world, is one of the most extraordinary developments in our people's history. Some Religious Zionists call it atchalta de-geulah – the beginning of redemption. Whether or not one uses that language, it's hard to deny that the center of gravity of Jewish history has shifted.

But that doesn't automatically answer where every individual Jew should live.

Real life is more complicated.

People have aging parents, careers, children, communities, responsibilities, and opportunities. Those are not excuses. They are part of how God guides our lives.

For me, this is deeply personal.

My wife and I bought an apartment in Israel because we hope, God willing, to retire there one day. We also encourage our children, if the opportunity is right for them, to seriously consider building their lives in Israel.

But today, our lives are here.

Our community is here.

Our responsibilities are here.

And I believe those responsibilities are holy.

Living in America today doesn't mean pretending Israel is just another country. Nor does believing in Israel require feeling guilty every morning because you woke up somewhere else.

Maybe that's the balance we are all trying to find.

To recognize that Israel has become the center of the Jewish people's unfolding story while embracing the responsibilities God has given each of us where we are right now.

As America celebrates 250 years, I find myself thanking God for this remarkable country. I also find myself thanking God that we live in a generation in which returning to Israel is no longer only a dream or a prayer but a real possibility.

Perhaps that is the greatest change of all.

For generations, Jews ended the Seder with the words, "Next year in Jerusalem," as an expression of hope. Today, for many Jews, it is no longer only a hope – it is a lived reality.

Many of my friends have made aliyah. Many of our children spend years studying there. Some choose to build their lives there. Israel is now home to the largest Jewish population in the world.

That doesn't mean every Jew should make the same decision. But it does mean every Jew should think differently about Israel than our grandparents did.

That doesn't diminish the importance of what we build here. In some ways, it makes our work here even more meaningful. American Jewish communities are no longer building Judaism because there is nowhere else to build it. We are building vibrant Torah communities while helping raise a generation that sees itself as part of a global Jewish story whose center increasingly lies in Israel.

On this Fourth of July, I'll celebrate America's remarkable promise and all it has meant for the Jewish people.

But I'll also remember that we are living through something our ancestors longed and prayed for.

The Jewish people once again have a national home, and that home has become the demographic and historical center of Jewish life.

The question each of us must answer is not whether that matters.

It's how that truth should shape the way we live.