Why I Stand With Israel, No Matter What

I often meet disbelief, astonishment, even anger when I speak openly about my deep love for Israel. People are stunned, especially when they learn that I am neither Jewish nor Christian. Their reactions range from confused stares to accusations that I’ve lost my mind. “How can you love Israel?” they ask, as if I’ve declared allegiance to an alien planet.

But love, by its very nature, is not always logical. It’s not something that can be boxed into ideology or justified by religion. Love is emotional, spiritual, deeply personal. And my love for Israel is exactly that, real, raw, and unwavering.

Yet even I have struggled during my time in Israel. I’ve felt disappointment. I’ve been frustrated with cultural differences, the Middle Eastern mindset that can be a shock to those of us raised in more structured, punctual societies. Promises aren’t always kept, punctuality is often optional, and personal space can be fluid. Still, despite these differences, Israel is the only place on Earth where I’ve felt a spiritual and emotional connection so strong it’s hard to put into words.

So why do I remain loyal to Israel?

Because love isn’t just about the pleasant parts. It’s about standing with someone, or,  in this case, a people, even when it’s difficult. When you understand what Israelis endure daily, that loyalty becomes not only understandable but necessary.

Imagine living in Sderot or Ashkelon, near Gaza, where the sound of a Red Alert siren means you have 15 seconds to find shelter before rockets rain down. Imagine your children growing up with that fear as normal, running to bomb shelters instead of playgrounds. Can you feel the trauma they carry?

Now picture driving in Judea and Samaria or parts of Jerusalem, where tension is always present, and every trip could be your last. Just recently, a pregnant woman was gunned down by terrorists, yes, terrorists, not “militants”, on her way to give birth. Her baby, delivered with an emergency C-section,  survived for two weeks before passing away.

A few years ago, another attack in the same region left seven injured, including a pregnant woman and her husband. Their baby was born 10 weeks early, barely clinging to life. While the parents slowly recovered, their tiny son succumbed to his wounds. His name was Amiad Yisrael, “The People of Israel will live in Israel.” He, too, was buried on the Mount of Olives.

These aren’t statistics. These are human beings. These are parents who will never hold their children again, families torn apart by unthinkable violence. If you have even a shred of empathy, you must feel their pain.

But here is where the Israeli spirit shines brighter than ever. In moments of deep sorrow, the Jewish people come together in breathtaking unity. Hundreds show up for funerals, not just to mourn but to sing, to pray, to hold one another up. In hospitals, you’ll find people bringing food, singing songs, embracing the grieving, offering strength through community and love. It’s not performative. It’s real.

This is what makes Israel unique. The profound value placed on life, the celebration of resilience, the refusal to surrender to hate. Even in the face of relentless attacks, Israelis don’t glorify death, they honor life. That is a moral contrast that must be acknowledged.

Because across the border, in Hamas-controlled Gaza or parts of the Palestinian Authority, the reality is tragically different. There, children are taught that martyrdom is the highest goal. Streets and schools are named after terrorists. Foreign aid is not invested in infrastructure, education, or prosperity, it is used to build terror tunnels and fund propaganda. Where Israel builds, they destroy. Where Israel grieves, they glorify death.

This is not a conflict between two moral equals. It is a war between life and death, good and evil, hope and hatred.

Israel isn’t perfect, no country is, but its core values are. A nation that absorbs immigrants from over 100 countries, including Ethiopian Jews, Russian Jews, and Ukrainian refugees. A country that sent aid to Turkey after earthquakes, and to Africa during Ebola. A country whose hospitals treat Syrian refugees and Palestinian civilians alike, even as rockets are launched from across the border.

And for all its imperfections, Israel remains a beacon of life in a region plagued by tyranny and terror.

So yes, I will continue to love Israel. Not blindly, but fiercely. I see the soul of a people who choose life, who choose unity, who choose to keep dancing and building and singing despite the horrors they face. And I know, deep within me, that their cause is just.

If you believe in empathy, if you believe in moral clarity, there is only one side to take.

Stand with Israel. Because life matters.