The recent debate set off by a speech that New York Times columnist Bret Stephens gave earlier this month at the 92nd Street Y on New York’s Upper East Side—and the thoughtful responses it drew—is itself a testament to something deeply Jewish. Ours is a tradition shaped by argument, by the relentless urge to analyze, to wrestle with ideas, to care enough about our future that disagreement becomes a form of devotion. This is not a flaw in our character, but a source of our resilience.
Yet it is what follows the argument, the choices we make, the responsibilities we shoulder, that ultimately define who we are.
Today, the conversation splits along familiar lines. There are those who insist that our first duty is to confront antisemitism wherever it surfaces—politically, legally, institutionally—meeting each threat with vigilance. Others urge us to turn inward, to fortify Jewish identity, education and pride, believing that only a community rooted in itself can withstand the storms that gather outside.
But history and experience suggest that both instincts are not only valid but necessary. This is precisely why we cannot afford the luxury of choosing one path and neglecting the other.
Jewish leadership has never been about choosing the easier road. We cannot fund identity and turn a blind eye to security. We cannot confront antisemitism while letting assimilation quietly erode our foundations. Nor can we speak about Jewish continuity without anchoring it in the central role of Israel in Jewish history, peoplehood and future. We cannot defend Jewish students on campus if we have not invested in the education and sense of belonging that gives them the courage to stand tall.
We are called to shoulder all of it, whether or not it is comfortable.
In my work, I have seen that antisemitism is not a passing storm. It is organized, ideological and patient, woven into the very institutions and narratives that shape public life. It moves with strategy and resources, adapting itself to each new era.
To ignore this reality would be to abdicate our responsibility.
At the same time, my work with Jewish Future Promise has shown me that Jewish continuity is never a given. Identity does not pass from one generation to the next by accident. Pride must be nurtured, knowledge must be taught, and community must be built with intention and care.
Neglecting this truth risks losing what makes us who we are. Security, without the anchor of identity, is an empty shell. Identity, without the vigilance of security, is a fragile hope. This is not a moment for false choices. It is a moment that demands we hold both truths at once.
Our tradition is built on argument for the sake of heaven, with the Talmud preserving every disagreement in painstaking detail. But these arguments were never meant to paralyze us. They were meant to sharpen our thinking, so that our actions might be wiser and our commitments stronger.
At this moment, we risk letting our arguments turn into noise and miss the chance to align on the responsibilities we all share.
To fight antisemitism is not a matter of politics, but a moral imperative. Strengthening identity is not about retreat from the world, but about investing in the future of our people.
Supporting Israel is not a matter of preference but a foundation upon which Jewish continuity rests. Israel is not simply another communal priority. It is our historic homeland—the physical embodiment of Jewish sovereignty after 2,000 years of exile and the single greatest guarantor of Jewish dignity in the modern era. When Israel is weakened, Jewish confidence everywhere is diminished. When Israel stands strong, Jews around the world stand taller.
Investing in Jewish education, in leadership, in the infrastructure of community is not an act of sentimentality. It is an act of survival.
True leadership means holding all these truths together, refusing to let one eclipse the others.
For our legacy institutions, federations, foundations, national agencies and campus organizations, this is a moment that demands clarity. We cannot afford to sort ourselves into ideological lanes, as if the threats facing Jewish life respected such boundaries. Our response must be as integrated as the challenges we face.
For philanthropists, this is a time to look beyond personal preference and toward collective responsibility. The question is not which cause feels most comfortable, but what combination of investments will strengthen the entire ecosystem of Jewish life.
Alignment does not require uniformity. It does not demand that we suppress debate or erase the differences in our perspectives or strategies.
It means recognizing that, whatever our disagreements, our stakes are shared. It means seeking coordination where possible, rather than falling into reflexive competition. It means ensuring that our resources flow to the defense of Jewish communities, the cultivation of Jewish identity, and the enduring strength and legitimacy of the State of Israel.
Jewish history teaches a clear lesson: The communities that survive are those that combine resilience with renewal. They defend themselves even as they educate their children. They respond to hostility by deepening their own commitments. They build institutions strong enough to withstand pressure because they are anchored in purpose.
We have done this before, and we are capable of doing it again. We have extraordinary institutions, generous philanthropists, passionate young leaders, and a depth of intellect and strategy. What we cannot afford is to let fragmentation, born of false choices, undermine all we have built.
The Jewish future has never been guaranteed. But it is not fragile, so long as we are willing to lead with courage and clarity.
This is not a moment for fear, but for seriousness and resolve. We must fight antisemitism with urgency and without hesitation. We must strengthen Jewish identity, unapologetically and with intention. We must invest in both our security and the soul of our community. We must debate vigorously, as is our tradition, and then find the resolve to move forward together.
The question before us is not who wins the argument. The real question is whether we are prepared to align our strength, our resources and our leadership to meet the full. We are called to do it all. Jewish leadership has never been about choosing one priority at the expense of another. We must defend our people. We must deepen our identity. We must stand unapologetically with Israel. We must do it all. And we must do it together, as we always have.
