By Rabbi Jason Nevarez in San Diego
(Photo: Beth Israel Quarterly)
I grew up with an image of Israel that felt almost aspirational – an Israel trying, with real effort and intention, to be recognized and accepted, to carve out legitimacy in a very rough neighborhood. An Israel that believed, or at least hoped, that if it showed enough restraint, enough openness, enough willingness to engage, it might not only survive – but be understood.
And in that same spirit, it poured its energy into building and contributing – offering the world breakthroughs in science, medicine, technology, and innovation that reflected not only resilience, but a deep desire to be part of something larger than itself.
That was the story many of us carried.
Even in the moments that most tested modern Israeli society, that narrative endured – a continued striving to be accepted, to be seen, to belong.
And before I go further, let me be clear: none of this is a blank check for the policies or missteps of Israel’s current government – whose direction I often find deeply troubling. Holding that critique while still grappling honestly with Israel’s reality is not a contradiction. It’s part of the responsibility.
Because over time, reality presses in on the stories we inherit. It asks us to see not just what we hoped would be true, but what is.
This is what I now see: a small nation, still surrounded by those who have too often imagined a world without it, making a decisive and irreversible choice not to live at the mercy of those expectations.
There are voices that insist Israel’s actions are excessive or misguided, that strength itself is suspect, that survival should always be negotiated and explained. But history teaches something more difficult: nations do not endure by hesitation when their existence is at stake.
What we are witnessing, I believe, is not simply a moment – but a fundamental break from the narrative we have carried for decades.
For years, Israel operated with restraint – responding, containing, managing. But over time, restraint was too often read as weakness. And when that happens, the calculus doesn’t just shift – it demands to be rewritten.
There is now a growing recognition that security cannot be built on reaction alone – that shaping reality sometimes requires acting before you are forced to.
That unsettles people. Because it disrupts a long-held narrative that Israel is fragile and temporary and dependent. That with enough pressure, it might one day collapse.
But narratives cannot outlast reality forever.
What is being exposed is not only the limits of Israel’s adversaries, but the collapse of the myths that sustained them – the belief that power can be projected without consequence, that rhetoric can replace strength.
And this is not only military. It is psychological. Power lives in the confidence of a people, in whether a society believes it will endure. When that confidence cracks, everything else begins to follow.
What is shifting, slowly but unmistakably, is an understanding that a shared society cannot be built on illusions about who will disappear, but on clarity about who is here to stay.
This is part of why I believe the region is changing. Not because hearts transformed overnight, but because reality has forced a reckoning.
I say this not with a lack of acknowledgement of the tremendous pain and loss throughout the region, but with a belief in the possibility – and necessity – of a shared society that is grounded in truth.
Peace is not built on illusion. Peace begins when illusion falls away.
And so, whether we are comfortable with it or not, a new reality is asserting itself – one in which Israel is no longer seeking permission to belong but acting from the certainty that it does.
In our tradition, we are commanded: “U’vacharta bachayim” – you shall choose life. (Deut. 30:19)
We can question the choices. We can struggle with the cost. But we should not misread the direction.
A people that chooses life does not wait for permission – it acts, it stands, and it endures.
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Jason Nevarez is the senior rabbi at Congregation Beth Israel.