It’s never been easy to raise a Jew, but today, it feels harder than ever.
To be Jewish now is to live inside complexity and contradiction. It means navigating pride and frustration, hope and heartbreak, love and critique—all at once. It’s about holding Israel close, embracing it deeply as our ancestral home, even while acknowledging its imperfections and wrestling openly with its moral and political struggles.
And yet, there’s a deep courage and authenticity in standing proudly within this tension. This is precisely what it means to be a liberal Zionist.
What Exactly Is Liberal Zionism?
To be a liberal Zionist means affirming two truths simultaneously, without contradiction:
- Israel is the ancestral and rightful homeland of the Jewish people. Our support for Israel’s existence is unconditional and rooted in historical, emotional, and spiritual truths.
- Israel must continuously strive to embody its foundational ideals of democracy, human dignity, equality, and justice for all. Because we love Israel deeply, we challenge it when necessary demanding that it live up to the very values it was created to uphold.
This balance is neither easy nor comfortable, yet it is exactly what our tradition demands of us. It echoes the teachings of Rav Abraham Isaac Kook, the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of pre-state Israel, who wrote profoundly about this tension:
“The purely righteous do not complain of the dark, but increase the light; they do not complain of evil, but increase justice; they do not complain of heresy, but increase faith; they do not complain of ignorance, but increase wisdom.” (Arpilei Tohar)
Rav Kook knew that true Zionism was inherently hopeful, aspirational, and deeply rooted in moral courage. Liberal Zionism calls us to stand within complexity rather than flee from it, to live inside questions rather than to retreat into easy answers.
Standing Proudly in the Middle
It’s profoundly difficult today to occupy this nuanced space. We live at a time when extremes dominate the conversation: either unconditional allegiance or unconditional rejection. Loud voices demand purity—ideological, political, and moral purity. To occupy the center feels precarious, lonely, even risky.
Wouldn’t it be easier to avoid the tension altogether? To raise our children without the complexities of Israel and Zionism? Easier, perhaps, to let our Judaism become casual and disconnected from political reality, rooted only in comfortable nostalgia and cultural habits?
Yes, perhaps. But that’s not who we are.
And it’s not who we’re meant to raise our children to become.
The Torah commands us explicitly: “V’shinantam l’vanecha”—teach your children diligently. This mitzvah has never felt heavier or more urgent than right now. We must ask ourselves:
- What do we want our children to carry forward?
- Will we pass on fear, silence, and uncertainty?
- Or can we offer something deeper—our strength, resilience, courage, and our beautifully complicated Jewish story?
A Love That Challenges and Endures
Liberal Zionism is not blind allegiance. It’s a tested love, mature enough to critique Israel precisely because it cares so deeply. Think about your family: the people you love most are often those you challenge hardest, because real love demands honesty.
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously said, “Israel is a personal concern. It is part of the sacredness of my life.” Similarly, Rav Kook taught:
“Love needs to fill the heart for all—love for all creation, love for Israel, and from this love comes critique. Critique from love builds and improves. Critique from hatred destroys and uproots.”
To be a liberal Zionist is to love Israel fiercely—not because she is perfect, but because she is ours. Our responsibility is not to dismiss her imperfections, but to help her become the nation our ancestors dreamed of, even if that dream remains unfinished.
Where We’ve Fallen Short
We often fail our children when we allow Judaism to become superficial—a mere cultural identity stripped of depth and moral grounding.
We fail when we avoid uncomfortable conversations about antisemitism, racism, nationalism, war, and occupation, because these conversations feel risky or divisive.
We especially fail when we let our children become strangers to their own Jewish story. Because if we don’t clearly teach them who they are, others will eagerly teach them who they are not.
The Honest Questions Our Kids Ask
I recently heard a story from a colleague that cut to my heart:
His daughter’s best friend—a thoughtful young woman raised in Jewish day schools, camps, and Israel trips—approached him with a question that shook him:
“Does your synagogue have an Israeli flag on the bimah? Do you recite the prayer for the State of Israel?”
“Yes,” he replied cautiously. “But tell me—what are you really asking?”
She took a deep breath and confessed honestly: nationalism frightened her. Zionism felt tangled with oppression. She desperately wanted to remain Jewish—but not in a way tied to a state, a flag, or politics she couldn’t reconcile.
She wasn’t being rebellious. She was simply honest.
And honesty like that demands our courage and compassion in response. Our job isn’t to silence such voices but to lovingly say:
“I hear you. I love you. And I’m not letting go of you.”
Because we raise proud Jews not by shutting down difficult questions, but by honoring them and courageously wrestling together for deeper understanding.
How Do We Raise Liberal Zionists Today?
- Teach our kids that being Jewish means being different—and different is holy.
- Allow them to see Israel fully—as miraculous, complicated, imperfect, and unfinished.
- Share stories, history, language, heroes, Torah, and authentic emotional connection.
- Encourage them to ask their toughest questions, making clear Judaism is strong enough to hold their doubts.
- Let them see our tears when Israel disappoints us, and let them hear our joy when Israel inspires.
- Show them how to hold tension: pride and critique, love and accountability.
If we create Jewish spaces that only welcome those who agree fully with one particular viewpoint, we’ll inevitably lose our kids. But if we teach them to own their Jewish identity honestly and deeply, to carry their Zionism thoughtfully and bravely, then we’ve done something profoundly right.
Why This Moment Matters
We must raise children who confidently say:
“This is who I am. This is where I come from. This is what I carry.”
Rav Kook wrote beautifully:
“Let the old be renewed, and let the new be made holy.”
Judaism and Zionism must remain dynamic, alive, and always rooted in hope. Our task as liberal Zionists today might be difficult and often painful, but it’s profoundly sacred.
The future of the Jewish people—and the soul of Israel—depends on our courage to raise a generation that chooses Judaism and Israel not out of blind obedience, but out of authentic conviction.
Let’s raise liberal Zionists who stand proudly, argue compassionately, and love fiercely.
Because they are our greatest hope, our truest legacy, and our deepest responsibility.
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