Is it time to leave?

Since October 7, many American Jews have quietly found themselves asking loved ones a question that once seemed unthinkable: Is it time to leave?

Jewish history offers no shortage of reasons for such fears. Many of us are the children or grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. Anyone raised on stories of relatives who left Europe just in time — and of those who did not — cannot help but wonder what they would do if their own darkest fears ever materialized. Even if we believe such fears are unlikely, the instinct to think through a contingency plan is deeply ingrained.

Yet it is hardly an easy time to be living in Israel, let alone making aliyah. Israelis have spent years on the front lines of missile attacks, recently running in and out of bomb shelters as Iranian rockets rained down across the country. At the same time, the weakening dollar against the shekel has made aliyah significantly more expensive, placing it further out of reach for many young families.

A recent viral sketch from “Eretz Nehederet,” Israel’s version of “Saturday Night Live,” captured this paradox perfectly. Jennifer, an American Jew, and Eli, a secular Israeli, unexpectedly meet at Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv. Jennifer is arriving to immigrate to Israel; Eli is preparing to leave.

Both have reached the same painful conclusion: one day, you wake up and realize that the country you grew up in no longer feels like the country you once knew.

For Eli, the rockets and missiles have become unbearable. “It’s no longer safe for us to live here,” he says. For Jennifer, rising antisemitism and the outcome of New York City’s recent mayoral election have convinced her that America is becoming increasingly inhospitable to Jews. Neither believes the other has made the right choice. Each thinks the other is crazy.

And yet both are responding to the same instinct: the desire to secure a future for themselves and their families in a world that feels increasingly uncertain.

The conversation depicted in the sketch also points to a deeper question confronting American Jews: How should we understand the relationship between anti-Zionism and antisemitism?

In recent years, many Jewish leaders, including Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, have argued that anti-Zionism is simply a modern form of antisemitism. There is truth in that claim. Calls for the elimination of the world’s only Jewish state, or the application of standards to Israel that are not applied to other nations, can reflect hostility toward Jews rather than merely criticism of Israeli policy.

Yet treating anti-Zionism and antisemitism as interchangeable carries risks of its own, particularly for Jews living in the United States. If every critic of Zionism is labeled an antisemite, then political disagreement becomes evidence that our neighbors, classmates, and coworkers are enemies. Such a worldview encourages American Jews to see themselves as permanent outsiders in a country where they have achieved an unprecedented degree of acceptance, security, and success.

The danger is not merely analytical; it is practical. Ideas have consequences, especially when they shape how a community understands its place in the society around it. If Jews come to believe that America is irredeemably hostile, then every election becomes an existential threat, every protest a warning sign, and every political setback further proof that it is time to leave. Jewish history teaches the importance of recognizing danger when it is real. It also teaches the importance of distinguishing between genuine threats and fears that can become self-fulfilling.

American Jews should neither dismiss antisemitism nor exaggerate it. We should confront it honestly, name it when it appears, and fight it vigorously. But we should also be careful not to conclude that every expression of anti-Zionism, however objectionable we may find it, is proof that America has no future for Jews. The distinction is not merely semantic. It shapes whether we see ourselves as citizens with a stake in this country’s future or as perpetual exiles waiting for the next warning sign.

Sarah Kukin Gretah is passionate about philanthropy in the Jewish community and is a fierce advocate for the State of Israel. She lives in Tenafly with her family.

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