July 6, 2026

I am generally a crier. Just the way I’m made. But I don’t remember ever crying when arriving in Israel, as so many others do. I’m lucky that I’ve been here more times than I can count. This time, to my surprise, I cried. Really cried.

Some of it was catharsis, cleansing after one of the roughest two-month periods of my rabbinate. We experienced so much loss in our community, and it all happened so quickly that I never really stopped to grieve losses that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Some of it was relief that I was finally beginning a sabbatical devoted to learning, connecting, walking, eating, and simply being home.

And I must admit, I cried because I felt safe in a way I realized I had not felt during my last few weeks at home.

To be clear, I don’t consciously walk around feeling unsafe. I feel free to be who I am with pride and enthusiasm. But the results of the recent primaries in New York City and Colorado, and what seems likely in Michigan next month, shook me.

Their ideology doesn’t shake me. I don’t use political labels as insults. There are wonderful socialists, capitalists, liberals, conservatives, you name it. Take a position, make your case, and I’ll make mine. I want to be tolerant, and I am, of so much.

But when you hate me for supporting Israel as the Jewish homeland; and sometimes disguise that hatred as something deeper because I am Jewish, I cannot be tolerant. No Jew can afford to be. When people protest Israel one day after October 7, 2023, before any Israeli response, the problem is painfully clear.

When candidates with those views gain power, I become acutely aware that Jews in America feel less safe than at any point in my lifetime.

Perhaps I was slow to realize it. When Israel was called colonialist, imperialist, or oppressive, I assumed those accusations were directed at settlement policy in the West Bank (which I strongly oppose), violence against innocent Palestinians (which I will always oppose), or the worst actors in Netanyahu’s government. What these elections made me realize is that, for many, those words reject not Israeli policy but Israel’s very existence as a Jewish state.

I will reboot, and I promise my congregation I will find pragmatic, rational, confident, and loving ways to engage these challenges. I still believe we can find our way in the United States.

But for now, I realized my tears came because, as difficult as life can be here, I needed to be in my homeland, where I can be openly Jewish without fearing that parts of my own government may someday work to dismantle Israel.

I know this can ignite a holy war on social media. I simply hope you can hear my fear for the country that raised me and allowed me to become everything I am today. I’m not trying to prove a political point or advocate for a party. I have always welcomed differing opinions. But when someone wants me gone; or wants Israel gone; where do I go?

Okay… it has been way too busy a week for a sabbatical.

My first stop is always our home away from home with Joel and Gail. As always, I was greeted with incredible food and drink, this time with Joel surprising me by having Yaniv there. No small talk, just diving into the most important moments of life since we were together six months ago. Only the early morning hours forced us to sleep.

Then on to Jerusalem to settle into the apartment I’ve stayed in for the past three and a half years. It knows me and I know it. That evening I spent time with one of my dearest friends and fraternity brother, Dave (Matos) Mathews, one of the major reasons I became a rabbi. We hadn’t been together in Israel for over 35 years. He, his cousin Shayke, and I ate and drank into the night. Lauren arrived the next day, and off we went. We attended our first classes, “ran into” Sadie who is here for the month and positively glowing (thank you, MetroWest Federation and Diller!); and then took the train to Tel Aviv.

Time with my dear friend Rabbi Michali Ken Tor was followed by one of the real highlights I have ever had here. Michali, Lauren, and I literally hid behind a wall waiting for Rabbi Dan Cohen and Raina Goldberg to arrive from the airport as newly minted Israeli citizens. They stepped out of the cab, bewildered, only to find us jumping out to welcome them home. Sacred tears all around. Mazel tov to Dan and Raina.

The week continued with Shabbat back at Joel and Gail’s, long walks, unbelievable falafel, and another incredible Shlomo Artzi concert, where I somehow managed to spot my classmate Rabbi Ari Goldstein (being 6’6″ certainly helps). We first saw Artzi together in 1993, so the symmetry made me smile. At 76, Artzi may be even better than he was twenty years ago.

Add in taking wonderful TBJ college students and friends out for drinks, and spending time with Alan Holtz, his daughter Rachel, and her fiancé Nadav, whose wedding I’ll officiate in a few months.

This is my first dispatch, so forgive the length. One last word about the vibe here.

There is definitely more joy than during my visits over the last three years. But there is also post-trauma. People speak about it openly. Many children are struggling. People wonder what comes next. There is deep concern for American Jewry and genuine confusion about how things have deteriorated so quickly. Among many on the Israeli Left, I hear no desire to “end” the other side. I hear people who desperately want peace but no longer know how to trust enough to get there. I felt that especially around Joel and Gail’s table. No one in the family supports Bibi, yet they passionately disagree about where Israel should go as another election approaches. I also meet friends whose young adult children struggle to get out of bed because they’re not sure what future they’re working toward.

And yet, as you’ll see in the pictures, joy is real. Just look at Shabbat with the Rosenfeld clan; connection, laughter, loving disagreement, and the kind of Shabbat that nourishes the soul. We’ve never felt closer to a family here, especially across all generations. We even brought along my cousin Jeff, who is here competing in Maccabi tennis. Naturally, he fit right in.

Okay, yes… that’s just one week. I’ll try to be more brief next time.

Thank you for coming along on this journey. Enjoy the pictures.

Love from Jerusalem.