After more than a year of travel restrictions, in the words of the poet Yehuda Halevi, “My heart is in the east.”

I’m longing to visit my youngest daughter, spending her gap year in Israel, who I’ve not been able to see in eight months. I’m also missing the simple things that are uniquely Israel: strolling through the food stalls of Mahane Yehuda. Going on a tiyul (hike) in the Golan. Picking up a few items at the makolet (grocery store) on Friday afternoon and hearing everyone — secular and religious — wishing one another a Shabbat shalom.

Every experience, every moment is a privilege that, as this year made even clearer, we can never take for granted. Having been a displaced people for thousands of years, we once again have a sovereign homeland, world-renowned after only 73 years of existence for advances in technology, medicine, and science. And most recently, for its global leadership in vaccine rollout.

This is our miraculous modern State of Israel.

For American Jews who’ve lived through any of Israel’s existential conflicts — the War of Independence, 1956, the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War — our pride and love for Israel are rooted in its very being. We saw time and again how a tiny country, with enemies on all sides and against all odds, not only survived but flourished. We witnessed deserts bloom and the historic ingathering of our people from the four corners of the world. On the other hand, many younger people have a very different perspective. In their lifetimes, Israel’s existence has never been at stake; they only know Israel as a powerful country, a military giant. Added to that, in recent years many young people (as well as not-so-young people) have struggled to reconcile their sense of Jewish values, often rooted in social justice, with certain Israeli governmental policies.

That’s why for years now we’ve invested many millions of dollars in programs like Birthright Israel, MASA, Onward Israel, and other Israel experiences, bringing hundreds of thousands of young Jews to the streets of Israel, where they can ask hard questions, meet Israelis, and hear for themselves the whys and hows of the Jewish State.

These programs have been enormously impactful in helping to connect American Jews to Israel. But it’s also become abundantly plain in recent years that our strategy for bridging the gap between the Jewish State and world Jewry was too narrow. Our focus was on American Jewish perceptions of Israel — we hadn’t paid enough attention to how Israelis perceived us.

The consequences of this became clearer in June 2017, when Israel’s government announced on the same day two controversial actions that left a broad segment of American Jewry feeling unwelcome and unheard. The first reneged on a years-in-the-making agreement to create an egalitarian prayer space at the Kotel (Western Wall). The other was proposed legislation that would have legally codified for the first time the unilateral authority of the Orthodox Rabbinate to perform religious conversions. In the aftermath, bridging the gap between Israel and world Jewry took on new urgency.

We realized then that funding trips for American Jews to Israel only addressed a part of the challenge; we also needed to bring many more Israelis to America. How could we expect Israelis to understand and appreciate American Jewish life and our differing attitudes and perspectives if they didn’t experience and hear it for themselves? And what else could we do to help educate Israelis about American Jewry?

Bridging the Gap

Over the last four years, we’ve significantly ramped up support of programs that have brought thousands of Israeli influentials — journalists, members of Knesset and their advisors, young business leaders, and educators — to see firsthand the dynamism of American Jewish life and learn about our worldviews. They visit our vibrant Jewish community centers, day schools of various denominations, and synagogues filled with Jews of all backgrounds and practice. They hear our take on Israeli policies, our concerns, and our points of pride. Back in Israel, they become ambassadors, sharing insights with their respective spheres of influence.

We’re also working closely with the Ministry of Education in Israel and the Jewish Agency to craft a curriculum on contemporary world Jewry, funding pre-Covid trips to America (now virtual seminars) for Israeli educators. Imagine American Jewish life and culture being taught early on in Israeli schools and how that might build an awareness of peoplehood. Additionally, we’re working with the Jewish Agency to deepen its shlichim program, which sends hundreds of Israeli emissaries each year to America, so that they are equipped to serve as “American Jewish ambassadors” when they return to Israel.

In an out-of-the-box approach, we’re harnessing the power of television to enter right into people’s living rooms. If you’re a fan of Shtisel, you know how this medium can shift perceptions. That’s why we helped fund a documentary series that will air in Israel starring a popular comedian who explores his Jewish identity while learning about American Jewish life. Funny and endearing, we believe the show will open eyes.

This week, we celebrated Yom Ha'atzmaut for the second time in the middle of a pandemic. As with everything this year, we’ve paused to reassess and appreciate. This is what we know: America and Israel represent the two primary centers of modern Jewish life. Each is incalculably strengthened by the other. And the Jewish future depends on these two centers remaining vibrant and connected.

Ensuring this shared future will require the ongoing focused work of many people on both sides of the ocean, for years to come. And the pandemic still challenges us. But, for now, what helps sustain me is the hope of being back very soon with my daughter, walking together in Mahane Yehuda.

Shabbat shalom