The Israel I Have Come to Know

From California to Israel: A Journey of Identity

Living in Israel has always been complicated for me. I grew up enjoying the easygoing California lifestyle of the 1960s through the 1980s, surrounded by great music, parties, and the endless “fun in the sun” of the Bay Area.

I owe a great deal to my father, who sent my brother and I to Israel in 1974, when I was 16, as part of a group of kids from Palo Alto. None of us had grown up with much of a Jewish life. We were largely disconnected from what it meant to be Jewish. I barely knew where Israel was, let alone understood much about it.

Yet that trip became one of the most consequential experiences of my life. It introduced me to something I had never fully appreciated before, the depth, resilience, and spirit of the Israeli people. It changed how I saw my Jewish identity and forged a lasting connection to Israel. I became an ardent, uncompromising Zionist.

Later, at San Francisco State University, I found myself defending Israel in debates with Palestinian students and others who challenged its legitimacy. My connection to Israel had become an integral part of who I was.

When strangers become family

Living here can be exhausting. The arguments, the divisions, and the constant need to defend your point of view can wear you down. There is often a “my way or the highway” attitude, a lack of customer service, and plenty of other daily frustrations. Yet when a crisis comes, something extraordinary can happen. Individual differences begin to fade, and a powerful sense of collective responsibility takes over. For all our disagreements, we discover that we are still bound together by something deeper: a shared commitment to one another and to the country we call home.

I remember when I was passionate about four-wheel driving and loved taking my family deep into Israel’s magical deserts. On one trip, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we got a flat tire. Then, out of nowhere, another driver stopped. He changed our tire and went on his way. He didn’t know me or expect anything in return. He simply helped.

Just this weekend riding my mountain bike, I got off twice to adjust my seat and both times different Israelis asked if I need help – complete strangers.

That small encounter stayed with me because it reflected something I had come to associate with the Israeli character, an instinct to step in when someone needs help.

It also made me reflect on the differences between societies. In the California environment where I grew up, I often felt that independence meant learning to manage problems on your own. Of course, kindness and generosity exist everywhere. But in Israel, I have repeatedly encountered a willingness to get involved, even when helping means interrupting your own plans or taking responsibility for a stranger.

The recent Air Dubai incident offers another example of Israelis coming together to help one another when circumstances suddenly change. Whatever their differences, people often discover that they have something more fundamental in common.

The Paradox of Helping a World That Criticizes You

Israel’s contributions extend well beyond its borders. Its intelligence services cooperate with foreign governments, its technology supports developments in fields such as medicine and security, and Israeli medical and humanitarian teams have aided in different parts of the world.

Some of these contributions happen quietly. Intelligence sharing, for example, may help authorities identify threats or prevent attacks without the public ever learning where the information originated.

And yet there is a paradox. Israel can provide intelligence, technology, medical assistance, and security cooperation to countries around the world, while some of those same countries later criticize or exert political pressure on it.

From the Israeli perspective, that can be deeply frustrating. A country may contribute to the security and well-being of others, only to feel that those contributions are forgotten when political disagreements arise.

Of course, countries pursue their own interests, and cooperation does not eliminate differences over policy. But the contrast remains striking. Israel continues to contribute to the world even when it feels misunderstood or unfairly judged.

Running Toward the Fire

Perhaps these experiences help explain a quality I have come to associate with Israeli society. When danger comes, people often don’t wait for someone else to act. They generally run toward the fire to help.

That instinct is not limited to soldiers or emergency workers. It can appear in the simplest circumstances, in a stranger stopping on a deserted road, a neighbor opening a home to someone in need, or people organizing support for families they have never met.

You can reach out to an Israeli you’ve never met, and there is a good chance that person will try to help. You may have nothing in common. You may come from completely different backgrounds or disagree about politics, religion, and almost everything else. Yet when someone is in danger or genuine need, those differences can suddenly fade.

Israelis come together to support families they have never met.

When the chips are down, the question often becomes less about who you are or what you believe and more about what needs to be done.

That is the Israel I have come to know.

For me, that is the heart of what it means to be Israeli.