Jewish Identity is Our Iron Dome

As I walk through Kibbutz Be’eri, a year and a half after the greatest disaster to strike the Jewish people since the Holocaust, I see destruction everywhere. Burned houses, shattered furniture, broken glass—and sometimes, among the wreckage, objects that hint at the lives once lived here.

One of the things I came across was a dusty sheet of paper on the floor, likely from a high school student’s binder. The topic: The Jewish Identity of the State of Israel. Headings like: “Institutions with a Religious-Jewish Character,” “Institutions with a National-Jewish Character,” and finally, “How is the Jewish Character of the State Expressed Through its Institutions?” were printed across the page.

After staring at the titles for a long while, I found myself wondering—how is Judaism really expressed in our country? Beyond the obvious fact that it is a Jewish state. And is there any connection—if any at all—between our Jewish identity and our security?

Perhaps that’s precisely the question this war is forcing us to ask.

I feel this question echoing from every corner. For example, in a heartbreaking video where a small girl from Sderot, after watching terrorists murder her parents in front of her eyes, asks the police officers: “Are you of Israel?” Meaning, do you belong to Israel?

That wasn’t just a question for the officers. It was a question for all of us: Are we “of Israel”? I’m not talking about political sides. I mean—are we truly Israelis? Do we draw from our Jewish-Hebrew roots?

To be honest, these weren’t my initial thoughts when the war broke out. At first, I asked myself: If we’re a “chosen” people, why is this happening to us? Maybe we were just chosen to be slaughtered every few generations? And if that’s the case—maybe it’s time to give up. To leave. To move to the other side of the world and live quiet lives. Without religion, without identity—but also without the constant fear and the sharp blade hanging over our necks.

But those thoughts didn’t last either. Because then I remembered our history. Running from our Jewish identity has never saved us. The Holocaust is a prime example. Six million Jews were murdered—many of them assimilated, who had cast off their Jewish identity. And many others who were devout and observant.

So we’re caught in a paradox. On one hand, abandoning our identity is clearly not the answer. But on the other hand, holding onto it, including living in our ancestral homeland, seems to be what provokes our enemies against us. What can we do in such a trap?

Looking at the numbers is not exactly encouraging. The global Jewish population—whether connected to their identity or not—numbers around 15 million. In contrast, there are nearly two billion Muslims. Radical Islam is growing rapidly, Muslim immigrants in Europe and the US are influencing public discourse and space, and there’s a growing trend of locals—Christians and secular people alike—converting to Islam.

On social media, there’s a popular trend: videos using the viral audio “WE WOKE UP,” where young Europeans and Americans show their journey from a lifestyle of parties, alcohol, and meaninglessness to a life of hijab, prayer, modesty, and devotion. It’s not just a passing trend—it’s a cultural shift.

Do the math—it’s not exactly working in our favor.

We can find comfort in sayings like “We survived Pharaoh, we’ll survive this too.” And yes, there is truth in those words. In every generation, enemies rise to destroy us—and we survive. But survival alone is not enough. We can’t rely on miracles. To ensure our continued existence here—we must strengthen our connection to our roots, to our identity.

In his book The Rise and Fall of Civilizations, Dr. Shalom Salomon Wald explores what makes civilizations thrive—and what causes them to collapse. He bases his research on the findings of 20 international historians who studied various civilizations across history. His research doesn’t focus on Jewish civilization specifically, but rather seeks lessons that can be applied to it. One of his central conclusions is that civilizations flourish when they believe in their purpose—in a unifying idea that gives meaning and direction.

So what idea unites the people of Israel? What binds together Jews from Morocco, Ethiopia, Russia, Yemen, and France? It’s not language, skin color, or culture. Only one thing: our Jewish identity. It predates the state—and it is what gave the state its legitimacy.

Yes, Israeli culture—developed since the founding of the state—plays a vital role in our identity: the revival of our ancient Hebrew language, the IDF, our music, literature, cinema. But none of this came from nowhere. It all draws from Jewish sources, ancient texts, history, symbols, and customs. Even when secular, it still stands on something old and deep. Without Jewish identity—Israeli culture loses its depth, its roots, and becomes a shallow blend of borrowed influences.

That’s why, if we truly want to live here—if we want to truly belong to Israel—we must reconnect to that identity.

Amazingly, this message is coming from the very people who returned from captivity. Many of them were not previously connected to their Jewish identity. Yet in the midst of hell—they found themselves yearning for it. Agam Berger asked to keep kosher for Passover, fasted on Yom Kippur and Tisha B’Av. Upon their return, Ohad Ben Ami put on tefillin, Sasha wore a tallit, and Keith Siegel asked for Kiddush on Friday night. I don’t know how they define themselves religiously or socially today—but it’s clear that what they sought was something bigger than themselves, something to ground them, to tie them to their roots. Not out of religious obligation—but out of deep spiritual need.

Our enemies understand this too. They know our identity is what connects us to this land. That’s why they tried to shatter it. Captive women were told they would “marry their captors and convert to Islam”—because the enemy understands what we sometimes forget.

Without this identity—we truly have no claim to this land. Without this identity, we are not “of Israel,” and therefore, Israel has no right to exist. And if we accept that premise—perhaps the pro-Palestinian narrative is right: perhaps we are just a mix of Europeans, Russians, North Africans, and Asians- colonizers with no true belonging.

The good news is—the process has already begun.

Secular Israelis in pre-military academies and study centers are re-learning about their identity. ancient Jewish music fills popular Israeli radio playlists. Celebrities like Omer Adam and Lee Biran publicly declare they won’t perform on Shabbat. The number of Israelis who avoid traveling on Shabbat is growing. Israeli youth are more connected than ever to tradition.

The quiet revolution is already here. It began even before October 7th—and has only intensified since. And as people who want to continue putting down roots in this land—to remain part of the story, to truly be ‘of Israel’—we must join it, or at the very least, stop standing in its way.