![American Jews [Illustrative]](https://images.jpost.com/image/upload/f_auto,fl_lossy/q_auto/c_fill,g_faces:center,h_720,w_1280/433149 "American Jews [Illustrative]")
In a sharp, satirical video sketch featuring comedians Dovie Neuberger and Eli Lebowicz, viewers witness a telling classroom scene.
An American rabbi addresses a room full of Modern Orthodox teenagers who display their Zionism openly and enthusiastically. The rabbi, speaking gently but clearly, distances himself from their fervor. He declares he is not a Zionist, at least not in the way they are.
The scene then shifts to a synagogue rabbi who professes love for Israel yet delivers his support with a casual wink and shrug, implying the students’ commitment somehow falls short or remains incomplete. Through humor and pointed dialogue, the sketch highlights an underlying discomfort: something in the transmission of Zionist values does not fully add up.
The disconnect portrayed is not subtle. These American Modern Orthodox teenagers emerge from homes and schools that present a straightforward equation – Jewish survival, dignity, and flourishing are inextricably linked to the State and Land of Israel.
Many of their educators, however, appear to operate with a different calculation. Some reject the equation outright; others recite the words while living thousands of miles from their logical conclusion. The result is a learning environment where youthful passion collides with what can feel like performative rhetoric.
Sharp, skeptical teenagers, hungry for intellectual and moral consistency, quickly sense the gap and risk becoming disillusioned.
I lived in America as an Israel educator in Modern Orthodox schools and synagogues. I felt my congregants’ and students’ skepticism every day. I could almost read their minds: “C’mon Rabbi, if you loved Israel so much, you’d move back there.” In my heart, I knew I loved Israel, but I also knew my students took my professed love with a grain of salt.
This tension is hardly new. Orthodox institutions have long grappled with the distance between the ideals a teacher preaches and the life he actually leads. Just as a Judaic-studies faculty would hesitate to hire a rabbi who publicly drives on Shabbat to teach its laws, knowing students would disengage immediately, the same principle applies to some when it comes to Zionism.
When an educator extols Israel as the Jewish home yet chooses to remain in the diaspora, the message struggles to land with full force.
None of this critique should diminish the millions of American Jews who love Israel deeply while building meaningful lives in the United States. A committed Zionist living in America is no contradiction. Zionism has always encompassed more than any single address.
Theodor Herzl recognized that the movement needed diplomats in London, fundraisers in New York, and journalists in Vienna as much as pioneers in the Galilee. Vladimir Jabotinsky argued that the struggle for Jewish statehood would be fought as vigorously in the halls of power as on the hills of Judea.
American Jews who lobby Congress, visit Israel frequently, support Israeli hospitals and universities, and raise children who may one day serve in the IDF practice Zionism at a high level. The ideology was never intended as a loyalty test measured solely by a change of address.
Yet perception proves stubborn, especially among teenagers who focus less on footnotes and more on actions. When the very person teaching that the Jewish people’s return to sovereignty forms the central drama of our era continues to reside in the diaspora, or lives in Israel but doesn’t show love for the land or the state, students perceive inconsistency. The finest teachers, warm, learned, and deeply committed, still contend with this perceptual tax.
The core issue is less personal failing than institutional mismatch. Many Modern Orthodox schools were established by parents seeking to immerse their children in both Torah and a profound love of Israel. Over time, hiring pools have sometimes narrowed, bringing in gifted educators who excel in Gemara or hashkafa but may not fully share the school’s Zionist intensity.
Boards occasionally overlook the gap, prioritizing teaching talent over ideological alignment, while tuition-paying parents assume values will be transmitted seamlessly. Students, caught in the middle, notice the mismatch.
A gap between values and practice
History provides a helpful perspective. Early Zionist congresses included many who never intended to leave Europe right away, yet devoted themselves to the cause. Ahad Ha’am envisioned a spiritual center in Israel that could sustain those remaining in exile. Even the pragmatic Ben-Gurion understood the young state would require a robust global support network.
None of them demanded that every Zionist board a ship immediately after the Basel Congress. Zionism was conceived as a collective endeavor, not a personal ultimatum.
Three practical steps could narrow the gap without sacrificing teaching quality.
First, schools should treat Zionist commitment as an explicit element of the hiring process, not an afterthought. A candidate who states, “I love Israel, but I’m not a Zionist,” deserves a direct yet respectful question about how they intend to teach sacred texts that frame the return to Zion as both divine promise and historical necessity – just as boards and administrators already inquire about Shabbat observance and kashrut.
Second, every Judaic-studies faculty should include at least one full-time Zionist educator on a multi-year contract. These would be a living embodiment of the Zionist ideal, not merely a short-term visitor. Students need to witness someone who has chosen Israel deliberately, daily, and unapologetically.
Third, American teachers who remain in the diaspora must demonstrate the broader, non-aliyah dimensions of Zionism with unmistakable seriousness by leading delegations to Israel, organizing advocacy programs, hosting Israeli soldiers in class, and making support for Israeli causes a communal norm rather than an optional extra.
When students observe their teachers investing time and resources to advance the Jewish state, the sense of inconsistency fades. Zionism becomes something actively practiced, not merely professed.
None of these suggestions undervalues the contributions of outstanding educators who happen to live in America. Many have imparted profound Torah knowledge and genuine love of Israel without ever making aliyah. Classroom excellence is not measured by passport stamps. Teenagers do not demand perfection; they seek coherence.
American Jewish Zionist resilience reflects credit on both families and the State of Israel itself, which continues to inspire even amid difficulties. Yet schools owe their students more than mere survival.
They owe them teachers whose lives and lessons align, pointing toward a Jewish future that feels immediate, purposeful, and not three thousand miles away.
The writer is a Zionist educator at institutions around the world and recently published a new book, Zionism Today.