Gratitude Without Dependence
At a recent appearance, President Donald Trump said that without the United States—and without his own actions—Israel would not have survived, adding that no other president had been willing to do what he did for the Jewish state.
Such statements naturally draw attention. They also raise a serious question: how should a Jew hear claims like this, especially when gratitude and dependence can so easily blur into one another?
Judaism places great weight on gratitude. Hakarat hatov is not a courtesy; it is an obligation. When individuals or nations support Israel in moments of need, that support must be recognized with honesty and appreciation. In that sense, President Trump’s policies toward Israel—including the recognition of Jerusalem as its capital, the relocation of the American embassy, recognition of Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and the Abraham Accords—represent significant actions that strengthened Israel diplomatically and strategically. They deserve genuine thanks.
But gratitude is not dependence.
Jewish history makes that distinction unavoidable. We have lived through the rise and fall of empires that once seemed permanent—Egypt, Babylon, Persia, Greece, Rome. Each shaped its era, each projected permanence, and each eventually disappeared from history’s center. The Jewish people, however, remained.
That pattern continued through centuries of exile, persecution, expulsions, inquisitions, and repeated attempts at destruction. Again and again, our survival defied expectation.
The same is true in modern times. Israel’s wars in 1948, 1967, and 1973 were fought under immense pressure and genuine uncertainty. From a purely military perspective, outcomes were far from guaranteed. Yet Israel endured and, in key moments, prevailed.
This is the meaning behind Netzach Yisrael—the enduring nature of Israel’s existence. It cannot be explained by military strength alone, nor by diplomacy alone, nor by any single alliance, however important it may be.
Human effort is real and necessary. We are obligated to act, to defend ourselves, and to pursue security with wisdom and responsibility. But Jewish history also teaches that human control is never absolute.
As King Solomon teaches, “The heart of a king is in the hand of Hashem” (Mishlei 21:1). Leaders make decisions, but they do not determine the final direction of history.
Anyone who follows politics long enough knows how quickly things change. Governments shift. Elections overturn assumptions. Alliances are redefined. Leaders who appear central at one moment can be replaced the next.
That is true even of Israel’s closest partners. Every national leader ultimately acts in accordance with the interests of his own country. That is not a flaw—it is the nature of international relations. But it means that Israel cannot base its long-term security on expectations of permanent external alignment.
History has already warned against confusing reassurance with security. The Munich Agreement remains a stark example of how diplomatic confidence, detached from reality, can lead to catastrophe. Good intentions and agreements are not substitutes for clear judgment.
This does not diminish the value of alliances or friendships. On the contrary, Israel should value and cultivate them. Support from allies can be decisive in diplomacy, defense, and international standing. But it remains support—not foundation.
Therefore, two truths must be held together without tension.
We are obligated to express sincere gratitude for the good others do on Israel’s behalf. And we are equally obligated never to convert that gratitude into dependence.
Because governments change. Policies shift. Leaders come and go.
What does not change is deeper.
As the Psalmist says: “Hinei lo yanum v’lo yishan Shomer Yisrael”—the Guardian of Israel neither sleeps nor slumbers.
That is the ultimate stability beneath all of history’s instability.
Human leaders play real roles in shaping events, and when they act for the good, they deserve appreciation and thanks. But Israel’s survival has never rested on any single ruler, government, or superpower.
It rests on something far older and more enduring: the covenant between Hashem and His people, and the unbroken continuity of Netzach Yisrael.