19 Mar IS ALIYAH ALL OR NOTHING?

The hardest part of
coming to Israel is
leaving.
A visit to Israel these
days involves
connecting with the
heroic and courageous
soldiers of the IDF, engaging with the
seemingly ordinary but in truth, truly
extraordinary people, absorbing the
tremendous energy and unity of our people,
tapping into the spiritual awakening of so
many, and much more.
I came to Israel for a few days this week to
participate in the weddings of two young
members of our community who have placed
their lot and destiny in our homeland. Each
wedding was extraordinary in its own right.
Didi went to Israel for a year of seminary and
decided to stay forever. She married Rafi,
who followed Yeshiva by joining the Israeli
Air Force, where he continues to serve
faithfully during this war. The singing under
the chuppa of the Mi SheBeirach for Tzahal,
as the Chosson and many of his friends in
attendance continue to fight on the Jewish
people’s behalf, was deeply moving and
brought goosebumps. The Israeli and Tzahal
flags that draped those dancing reflected the
enormous pride in our people and the
boundless loyalty and selflessness to our
homeland and nation, especially during this
difficult time.
The second wedding celebrated the marriage
of Yosef and Gavriella, two righteous converts
who each joined our people at a young age.
Their souls were both at Sinai, destined to join
our people and that night, under the stars, their
souls united as one. Together they began a
new song and a new saga, building a future
and a family in our fateful land.
At both weddings I was in awe, filled with
admiration for the courage, faith, and fortitude
of these four young people who walked away
from what might be an easier road of life, to
walk the path of our forefathers, placing their
lot in the land of our people.
These two magnificent weddings, combined
with the many locations we visited, including
the army outpost on the northern border, to the
army headquarters in the south, from Shlomit
to Nachal Oz, from Shuva Junction to
volunteering on a farm, from walking Sderot
to touring the Galilee Hospital, and so much
more, this trip, like the three others I have
been privileged to be part of since October 7,
were life-changing, making it harder than ever
to leave.
So why leave? Why not stay, announce
Aliyah, and call on the entire community to
join? Indeed, this is a question I receive
regularly online and offline, on every trip to
Israel and when engaging Israelis who visit
America. Without exaggeration I have been

told more than once, “Rabbi Goldberg, you
are among the reasons Moshiach isn’t coming.
If you would simply announce you are making
Aliyah and tell the community to come with
you, certainly they would.” I appreciate this
encouragement comes from the best place,
from those with the best intentions, many of
whom have themselves taken this tremendous
step. (As an aside, it is important to dispel the
myth and fantasy that if American rabbis
would simply declare Aliyah, their
communities would most certainly pack up
and come with them. From the time of Ezra
and Nechemia until this very day, from Rabbi
Riskin to the Klausenberger Rebbe, to the best
of my knowledge, never has a community
picked up and moved with their rabbi.)
So if it is so hard to leave each time we
come, why not stay, why not finally move?
That question plagues me regularly and
nobody asks it more forcefully than I do to
myself.
To be clear, I am deeply and profoundly
inspired by, and envious of, family members,
my rabbinic colleagues, and so many friends
who have made Aliyah, many of whom are
building new communities in Israel and
bringing their unique voices to the symphony
of our people on the greatest and most
important stage we have. Their courage, faith,
leadership, and example are enormous, and
they and their leadership are being inscribed
in the book that captures the story and destiny
of our people.

However, if we can be honest and non-
judgmental for a moment, the reality is that

not everyone can or should make Aliyah at
this moment. There are compelling reasons
that make it the correct and responsible
decision to remain outside of Israel for the
time being.
There are legitimate reasons not to make
Aliyah at the moment. But there are no
legitimate reasons to not be struggling and
wrestling with when, not if, to move oneself
and one’s family to Israel permanently. Doing
so is not a favor or gift to others, and it
shouldn’t come from guilt, shame or fear. It
should be an expression of understanding
Hashem’s will for His children, of embracing
our responsibility to our mission and our
destiny.
Many, like the young people whose weddings
we just celebrated this week, uproot
themselves and move to Israel. Each year, at
BRS we honor those families, and our
community and its leadership continues to
unabashedly and unapologetically push and
promote Aliyah regularly.
But Aliyah at any given moment is not for
everyone. The question that has been on my
mind lately is does Aliyah have to be all or
nothing? Are you either physically living and
spiritually identifying exclusively in Israel or

completely outside of it? Or is
there some area in between, in
which you fully believe in your
current decision to reside outside
of Israel but also genuinely feel
your heart is in Israel and your
feet are there as often as possible?
Again, making Aliyah – moving
permanently including taking on
citizenship, settling the land,
paying taxes, and participating
fully – that is the ultimate goal,
without question. But if we make
Aliyah binary, if we set up a
paradigm in which you are either in or you are
out, either you are here permanently and if
you’re not you don’t really care, are we
serving the greater goal of connecting our
people and our land?
Taking delight in living in the Diaspora, not
caring enough to make the effort to visit,
having moving be the last thing on one’s
mind, is not only shameful, it runs counter to
authentic Torah values. But coming as often
as possible, regularly thinking about,
advocating for, fundraising on behalf of, and
putting one’s efforts and energies towards
Israel counts, it matters, it means something.
These are the stepping stones to being there
permanently one day, but they also have value
in the meantime, both for the individual and
for Israel.
To those who have made Aliyah – you are
heroes, you have cemented your place in
history, you are living the Jewish dream.
To those who regularly consider Aliyah but
feel now is not the time, don’t stop thinking
about it and struggling with it. Keep the
dream alive, keep the goal in view, keep Israel
at the forefront of your mind, and keep going
as often as you can.
To those who are happy where they are,
would never consider moving to Israel,
haven’t visited in forever and have no plans to
go in the near future, I beg you to reconsider
and to radically change your attitude, not for
anyone else, but for yourself.
On our trip this week was someone who
hadn’t been to Israel in a very long time. After
the experience, he shared the following:
As you know it’s been some time since I’ve
been to Israel – 25 years. It was a real struggle
to decide if I would come on this trip. Was this
how I wanted my first time in Israel in a
quarter of a century to be? Without my family?
For such a short visit? War time tourism? It
seemed macabre and voyeuristic. It’s not what
I imagined it would be for my return to the
holy land. But thankfully, my wife pushed me
and I relented.
There are many legitimate reasons why a
person cannot travel to Israel. For 20 years I
could never take time off from work, using

every vacation day for Yom Tov. Also
financially it’s a huge expense for so many.
But there is another reason that people have – I
know I did – in the back of their minds: I want
my Israel trip to be perfect. When the weather
is good, when the crowds are small, when
flights are cheap, when the kids are off, etc.
and with that in mind it took an extra four
years for me to just come home.
This is what was running through my mind
on the flight. I felt like it was a mistake, I
shouldn’t come to gawk at the soldiers or the
displaced families like going to a museum or
sideshow. I should come when I can be with
my entire family and do all the things that
people do: Kotel, Masada, tunnel tours, Ein
Gedi, Eilat, etc.
But I was wrong. This experience was
something that I will never forget. Not only
because of the incredible access, the people
we met, or the places we went, but because we
were able to be with Israel instead of just
going to Israel…
That’s my take away. If you can afford to go,
don’t put it off. Don’t put your trip to Israel on
a pedestal that it needs to be perfect or you
won’t go. Because before you know it, 25
years will go by, and you’ll wonder what
could have been.
Israel is not just another place; it is not where
others go to live or visit. It is core, central,
and fundamental to what it means to be a Jew,
to who we are, and how we identify. Think of
Israel as a parent. When they can’t travel to
you, you don’t save up to go on vacation
elsewhere and neglect seeing them. You
aren’t satisfied checking in on them
occasionally from afar. You make it a priority
to show up whenever you can, to be present,
to connect and experience what it means to be
together and spend time. Your focus is fixated
on their well-being, you remain eager to hear
and learn how they are, you visit as often as
possible and even though there are legitimate
reasons to be apart, you can’t wait to next be
together.
Whatever the reason, stop waiting. Plan your
trip now, start saving up and taking steps
necessary to make it a reality. It isn’t Aliyah,
but it matters to those in Israel and it will
forever change you.