Don’t Confuse an Ally with a Savior
“I’m saving your ass.”
“Everybody hates you now.”
“Everybody hates Israel.”
Those were the reported words President Trump used when speaking to Prime Minister Netanyahu regarding Israel’s response to continued Hezbollah attacks despite a ceasefire.
My first reaction was probably the same as many Israelis.
How dare he talk to Israel like that?
For years, many of us viewed Donald Trump as one of Israel’s strongest allies. Whether it was moving the US Embassy to Jerusalem, recognizing Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, or helping broker the Abraham Accords, there was a sense that Israel had a friend in the White House who understood its security concerns.
Reading those reported comments, my immediate instinct was to feel defensive, disappointed, and even a little betrayed.
I read the words several times, hoping perhaps they had been taken out of context. Not because I doubted that allies might disagree, but because they sounded so unlike the language one expects from a friend.
If these reports are accurate, the comments sounded less like counsel from an ally and more like a lecture from someone who had forgotten that alliances are built on mutual respect.
Israel is not a child in need of reprimand. It is a sovereign nation facing real security threats and making decisions that no leader takes lightly.
True allies can disagree. They can challenge one another. They can express concern when they believe a different course of action is warranted. But they can do so without condescension.
The strongest alliances are not built on dependency. They are built on respect.
But after sitting with my feelings for a while, I realized something.
Why was I so upset?
Was it simply because of the words themselves?
Or was it because, somewhere along the way, I had come to place too much confidence in a human being?
Perhaps that is the deeper lesson here.
Over the years, many of us came to see President Trump as one of Israel’s greatest friends. We celebrated his support, appreciated his actions, and felt reassured knowing there was a powerful ally standing beside us.
And perhaps that is precisely why moments like this are important.
Because they remind us not to confuse an ally with a savior.
No politician is our savior.
No president is our protector.
No world leader, no matter how supportive, ultimately controls our destiny.
As Jews, we believe that Hashem runs the world. He can send help through presidents, prime ministers, diplomats, and armies. They are His messengers. But they are not the source.
When we place too much faith in human beings, we eventually discover what we already knew all along: they are human. They have their own interests, political realities, pressures, and priorities. At times, those priorities do not align with ours.
The moment I stopped focusing on my disappointment in Donald Trump and started focusing on what Hashem might be teaching me through that disappointment, the entire story looked different.
Perhaps this was never really about Trump at all.
The issue is not whether allies have the right to disagree. Of course they do. The issue is what appears to happen when diplomacy collides with Israeli security.
If Hezbollah continues attacking Israel despite a ceasefire, what exactly is Israel expected to do? At what point does the desire for calm outweigh a government’s obligation to protect its citizens?
Since making aliyah, I have learned that security is not an academic discussion. It is not a headline, a diplomatic talking point, or a polling number. It is the difference between families feeling safe in their homes and wondering where the nearest shelter is.
Israelis do not have the luxury of viewing security through the lens of public relations. We live with the consequences when deterrence fails.
What troubled me most was the reported remark that “everybody hates Israel.”
Even if that were true, what exactly is Israel supposed to do with that information?
Should a nation make decisions about the safety of its citizens based on its popularity?
History has shown us that public opinion is fickle. Governments change. Headlines change. International sentiment changes. The responsibility of an Israeli government does not.
Its first obligation is not to be admired. It is not to be applauded. It is not to win a popularity contest.
Its responsibility is to ensure that Israeli families can go to sleep at night knowing they are safe.
Perhaps this disappointment is a reminder from Hashem Himself.
A reminder to lift our eyes a little higher.
Perhaps the answer was written thousands of years ago by King David in Tehillim:
“אֶשָּׂא עֵינַי אֶל הֶהָרִים, מֵאַיִן יָבֹא עֶזְרִי”
“I lift my eyes to the mountains; from where will my help come?”
The very next verse gives the answer:
“עֶזְרִי מֵעִם ה’, עֹשֵׂה שָׁמַיִם וָאָרֶץ”
“My help comes from Hashem, Maker of heaven and earth.”
To appreciate our allies without depending on them.
To be grateful for support without placing our trust in it.
To remember that the Jewish people survived long before any modern superpower existed and will continue to survive through the same Source that has carried us through every generation.
Allies matter. Diplomacy matters. International relationships matter.
But there is something that matters more.
The safety of Israeli citizens cannot become secondary to public opinion, political pressure, or international approval. Not from our adversaries, and not even from our friends.
Israel does not need to be loved. It needs to be secure, and its citizens safe.
