When I heard MK Ohad Tal speak at an Israel365 event a few months ago, something clicked. Not because it was dramatic or provocative, but because it named something many of us feel and rarely say out loud. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
For 2,000 years, the Jewish people were forced to fight for survival.
Empires rose and fell trying to erase us. Communities were destroyed. Millions were murdered. And yet, we survived as a people.
That is not a small thing. It is almost without precedent.
That survival instinct is deeply embedded in us. It is why Israel knows how to respond to distant threats with clarity and force. It is why, when danger comes from thousands of kilometers away, we act decisively. Survival is a muscle we were forced to develop over centuries of exile.
But Gaza is not thousands of kilometers away. Judea and Samaria are not distant fronts. They are here. They are home.
And that difference matters.
As we begin Sefer Shemot in the weekly Torah readings, the distinction becomes clearer. Egypt was about survival. Leaving Egypt was about staying alive. Escaping slavery. Avoiding annihilation. And God carried us out with open miracles.
But survival alone did not bring the Jewish people into the Land.
That generation left Egypt, but it did not enter Israel.
Why? Because surviving oppression did not prepare them to assume responsibility. Egypt tested whether we could endure. The Land tested whether we knew who we were.
The transition from slavery to nationhood required a different posture. Not fear. Not reaction. Not dependence. It required identity, purpose, and belief. It required clarity.
That tension exists today.
What Israel faces on its own borders is not a failure of military power. We do not lack intelligence, technology, or courage. The difficulty comes from something deeper and far less comfortable to confront.
Survival answers the question of how not to die. It does not answer the question of how to win.
You can survive indefinitely while remaining unsure of yourself. You can fight tactically while lacking conviction. You can keep threats at bay while never fully resolving them. That is what happens when a nation knows how to defend itself but hesitates to define itself.
The conflicts closest to us expose this hesitation. Not because our enemies are stronger, but because the stakes are existential in a different way. These are not wars about deterrence alone. They are wars about presence. About legitimacy. About whether we truly believe we belong where we are standing.
When a people doubts its own right to be where it is, every decision becomes temporary. Every operation becomes cautious. Every achievement feels unfinished. Strength without clarity becomes restraint. Power without purpose becomes circular.
We are not here because history accidentally placed us here. We are not here because it was convenient. We are here because this land is inseparable from Jewish identity, Jewish history, and Jewish responsibility. That truth does not require permission from the world to exist.
This is not about slogans or ideology for its own sake. It is about alignment. A nation that knows who it is moves differently. Decides differently. Wins differently.
We have proven we can survive.
The question now is whether we are ready to live with purpose.
Victory begins when we remember why we’re here.