For generations, Jews believed that America was different—and it was.
Families who had crossed an ocean to escape persecution found a country where their children could live openly as Jews and grow up with the same sense of belonging as everyone else.
American Jews built synagogues, schools, businesses and civic institutions. From the United States’ declaration of independence, if not before, they helped shape the country that gave them a home. For many Jews, America came to feel like the last great refuge outside of their ancestral homeland; the place where an old Jewish question could finally be put aside.
That question was: If things change here, where can we go?
America earned the Jews’ confidence. Its promise of religious liberty and equal citizenship changed what millions of them could imagine for themselves.
Nevertheless, the longer that promise held, the easier it became to assume that antisemitism would never again seriously alter the terms of everyday Jewish life.
What we are seeing now should force us to reconsider that assumption. The American experience was exceptional in how long Jews could count on that sense of belonging. But we are discovering how quickly even a deeply rooted sense of security can erode.
In 2025, the Anti-Defamation League recorded 6,274 antisemitic incidents in the United States. The total fell by a third from the previous year’s record, yet it was still the third highest since the ADL began keeping count in 1979. Physical assaults reached a record high.
The American Jewish Committee found that 91% of American Jews surveyed in 2025 felt less safe because of violent antisemitic attacks. More than half reported changing their behavior out of fear of antisemitism.
That is a change in how people live, what they wear and how comfortable they feel letting others know they are Jewish.
American Jews have every reason to defend their place in the country they helped build. They are entitled to expect their fellow citizens and public officials to defend it with them.
Israel has a responsibility of its own. If more Jewish families decide that their future lies in Israel or move there en masse, will they find a country ready for them? The Israeli government should answer that question now, while it has time to act.
Today, we in Israel are the ones who can make room.
In 1938, delegates from 32 countries met at Évian to discuss the plight of Jews fleeing Nazi persecution. Most governments expressed sympathy and then adamantly declined to admit more Jews.
For Jews seeking safety, the decisive question was what governments over which they had little influence were prepared to do.
Today, the Jewish people have a sovereign state. The people with the power to decide how much room Israel makes for Jews who want to come home are sitting in Jerusalem.
The decisions are ours, and so is the responsibility for taking them in time.
The Law of Return gives Jews the right to come home. What happens after they arrive depends on decisions about land, housing, classrooms, healthcare and work.
If several years’ worth of arrivals come in a single year, which towns can take in the most families? Where would children learn Hebrew while keeping up with their schoolwork? How long would a nurse or a doctor have to wait before being allowed to practice?
Each of these questions has an answer that can and should be worked out in advance. Each becomes harder to solve when families are already waiting.
The Israeli cabinet should commission and fund a national plan for a sharp rise in aliyah. Municipalities should identify where they can build homes and expand schools, with funding tied to what they can deliver. Professional regulators should let prospective immigrants begin the process of getting their qualifications recognized while they are still abroad.
The Law of Return gives Jews the right to come home.
Some of this will take years. That is precisely why it belongs on the new government’s agenda, whoever leads it.
A family can make the decision to move in a matter of weeks. A city cannot build a neighborhood, train teachers or expand a health clinic on the same timetable. Waiting for a surge in aliyah applications would hand the Israeli government a deadline it could never meet and leave both new arrivals and Israelis already struggling with the cost of living to bear the consequences.
The Jews who found a home in America understood what it meant to be given the chance to build a life in freedom.
Their descendants deserve to have that freedom wherever they choose to live. For generations, Jews had to hope that someone, somewhere, was making room for them. Today, we in Israel are the ones who can make room.
We should do it while there is still time to do it right.
