Fighting for Israel in a World Gone Cold

Fighting for Israel in a World Gone Cold.

There’s a widely held belief that what separates humans from animals is the ability to feel. Yet when I look around, I wonder; do we still feel at all? Or have many of us traded empathy for apathy, truth for comfort, and morality for popularity?

It’s 2025, and this is not just a blog. It’s a cry from the heart of someone who feels alien in this world. Not because I’m strange, but because I feel too deeply in a world that has become too numb. And because I dare to love Israel openly, fiercely, and without apology.

I watch the images from Israel. Young soldiers, barely adults, giving their lives for a country constantly under threat. Families burying sons and daughters while rockets still fly overhead. Empty chairs at dinner tables. Names read aloud at funerals. The sorrow in Israel is real and raw. And yet, despite the unbearable grief, there’s a strength that refuses to break. A people who mourn together, but rise together. That is the Israeli spirit.

But what about those of us living far from her soil, yet carrying her in our hearts?

For those who love Israel but live abroad, especially in Europe & the US, the emotional toll is almost unbearable. We are surrounded by growing hostility. People we once called friends now speak of boycotts and “genocide.” Colleagues avoid us, neighbors glare. Suddenly, loving Israel is treated as something shameful. Dangerous, even.

Each day, the climate gets colder.

We are asked to stay silent, to keep our heads down. To not provoke. But our silence is not safety, it’s surrender. And for many of us, it is deeply personal. We are the children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. We carry the trauma of generations who were once told to stay quiet… just a little longer… just blend in. We know how that ended.

And now, again, we are asked to apologize for defending ourselves. To explain why Israel has the right to exist. To justify every bomb, every tear, every loss as if Israel were not fighting a war of survival.

The emotional weight is crushing. We feel isolated, betrayed, exhausted. Yet we continue to speak, even if our voices tremble. Even if we are called names, threatened, or unfriended. Because we know what’s at stake.

We feel the fear of rising antisemitism, the sting of every media lie, the loneliness of being hated for loving a nation that is fighting for its life. And still we hold the line.

Because when we see the faces of Israeli mothers clinging to folded flags, we know this is not a political issue. This is personal. This is about justice, dignity, and survival.

When our Jewish leaders abroad choose appeasement over truth, when they claim it’s acceptable to say “Israel must disappear,” it cuts deeper than any hate speech. It is betrayal dressed in civility.

But we will not betray her. We will not be silent. Even if we stand alone in the cold, we will light our small flame of truth and hold it high.

Israel may be small, but she is mighty. Her people mourn, but they fight. They are alive not just in body, but in soul. And for as long as she exists, we have a beacon to turn toward in a darkening world.

We may not live in Israel. But Israel lives in us. And no amount of hate will change that.

Am Yisrael Chai.