The 10-Minute Miracle: How American Jews Are Rewriting the Rules of Belonging

The Neighborhood That Became a Village

In the quiet, tree-lined streets of Teaneck, New Jersey, something extraordinary unfolded on Friday. An Israeli family—parents and three children, one with special needs—arrived confused and scared. They spoke no English; they had come for vacation to the East Coast, after 18 months of war in Israel, and were trapped by war, with very little money and nowhere to go.

This family was one of hundreds who had turned to the “Brothers from Across the Ocean” initiative of the Israeli-American Council. One of our dozens of volunteers approached me for help. I had a feeling that Teaneck would be the answer. The day before, four different families had already adopted four Israeli families into their homes.

Within hours, the entire neighborhood had mobilized. The families who had already adopted Israelis rallied their friends. One family took in the parents and their child with special needs, setting up a small private kitchen space and arranging specialized care. Another family welcomed the two other children, despite the language barrier. By Thursday night, every Shabbat meal for Friday had been arranged—each to be hosted by a different family on the same street: “They don’t speak our language, and we don’t speak theirs,” one neighbor said, “but we’re all fluent in Jewish love.”

The parents, overwhelmed by anxiety about rockets falling in their hometown in Israel and uncertainty about their child’s needs, found themselves surrounded by strangers who had become family.

When Theology Meets Reality

Perhaps the most striking transformation happening across America involves the very communities that Israel’s religious establishment refuses to recognize. Reform and Conservative Jews—those whose rabbis aren’t considered legitimate by Israeli law and all official rabbis—are reaping the fruits of seeds of Jewish education they planted over the years by opening their homes unconditionally to any Israeli families.

Take Shahaf, a young Israeli woman stranded after backpacking through South America after her military service. Her parents, living under Hezbollah rockets in northern Israel, were frantic about their daughter’s safety. The solution came through a Manhattan woman, a Reform rabbinical student.

The moment that crystallized everything was a video call I arranged between Shahaf’s parents and her American host. Here were Israeli parents, speaking to a young American Reform future rabbi whose Judaism their country considers invalid—yet trusting her completely with their daughter’s life, to be hosted for unlimited time.

“Thank you for taking care of our daughter,” the father said simply. “We know she’s in good hands.”

The young American woman, soon to become a rabbi (only in the US), responded with tears: “She’s not just staying with me—she’s family now. I promise to take her on Shabbat to pray with me in the synagogue.”

For a moment, my breath stopped. Honestly, I don’t know what Shahaf’s parents think about visiting a Reform synagogue—in the preliminary conversation, Shahaf had never heard of such Judaism. Shahaf’s mother answered: “I would be happy if you pray for us on Shabbat.”

The Ten-Minute Miracle

The scale of individual sacrifice defies comprehension. When an Israeli family relocating back to Israel after four years of living in Washington State, found their flight to Israel turned back mid-air, landing in New York with suitcases containing their entire lives, panic set in. They stood in JFK with everything they owned, not knowing a soul.

It took my volunteer team exactly ten minutes to solve their crisis.

An American Jewish Conservative woman, who the night before had started hosting a family in her small apartment in Brooklyn, connected all her network. She found a NYC family who were stuck in Israel, and they arranged for the stranded family to have keys to their home. Their only condition was humorous: that when they return from Israel to the US, they will get it back. Another Reform young adult decided to move in with her friends, so another Israeli family could have privacy and space.

Beyond Organizations: The Power of Individuals

After October 7th, we witnessed unprecedented support from major Jewish organizations—fundraising campaigns, political advocacy, institutional solidarity. But this crisis revealed something different: the quiet power of individual families making space in their daily lives.

Young American couples with toddlers are hosting entire Israeli families with children. Single professionals are sharing their apartments with complete strangers. Reform families are keeping Orthodox Shabbat to accommodate Orthodox guests. Orthodox hosts are creating separate Shabbat experiences so their secular Israeli guests can celebrate however feels authentic to them.

This is the meaning of Am Israel—of peoplehood: American Jews are embodying their values of “Elu v’Elu Divrei Elohim Chaim” (These and these are the words of the living God). No one asks about politics, or how long guests might stay. A few doctors in New York conduct free Zoom consultations, translating Israeli prescriptions into American medications. Children give up their bedrooms, sleep with their parents—all for people they’d never met.

The Minority That Understands

There’s something profound about watching American Jews respond to this crisis. As a minority community in America, they understand vulnerability in a way that I, as an Israeli, can’t understand. They know what it feels like to need acceptance, not to have the public sphere echo who you are, they know the power of the community. Not by chance, the idea of Bet-Kneset (synagogue)—the gathering of people together to feel togetherness—was created in the diaspora, in Babylon. One of the Hasidic leaders said that the Jewish people chose the Babylonian Talmud over the Jerusalem Talmud because it is a softer Talmud. American Judaism teaches us in these days the value of softness, the meaning of the Covenant of Destiny in Rabbi Soloveitchik terms.

Perhaps that’s why the usual divisions that plague Jewish life—religious versus secular, American versus Israeli, liberal versus conservative—simply evaporate in these living rooms. When our family from Israel needs help, the questions about legitimacy disappear.

The 1:2 ratio—two potential hosts for every Israeli family needing help—represents more than generosity. It represents a fundamental truth about Jewish identity that transcends borders, denominations, and official recognition. When Jews are in danger, other Jews respond. Not because organizations tell them to, not because it’s politically expedient, but because that’s what family does.

The author manages this hosting network through the Israeli-American Council, coordinating dozens of volunteers who create these life-changing connections daily.