On Oct. 3, 1789, George Washington wrote the Thanksgiving Proclamation. In it, he recommended that “the people of the United States (have) a day of public thanksgiving and prayer.” His vision was that it would both serve as a day of gratitude for the existence of the country, while also being a day of reflection for how the country could continue to grow and progress.
For us, Thanksgiving brings into the spotlight a tension that we live with daily and that is the question: Are we thankful to be here or is it time to go? This is not a political question. Rather, it is a halachic and a hashkafic one. The question is whether we are able to live our optimal lives as Jews outside of Eretz Yisrael or should aliyah be our top priority.
This tension is one that Jews have been struggling with for hundreds of years. When the Reform movement started in the early 19th century in Germany, part of their goal was to settle this tension. They changed the name of the house of worship from synagogue to temple, indicating their temple was by them and not in Israel. They also changed the language of prayer from Hebrew to German. Finally, they took the mention of Jerusalem out of the liturgy. Their goal was to show no aspiration of leaving the country or any allegiance to a different place.
We, however, live in the pulls of this tension. We start businesses, buy houses and build up institutions here, while also keeping the idea of aliyah in the back of our heads. We take trips and vacations to Israel. We go on summer programs there. Many of us go to study and live there for a year or two or longer at some point in our life. We feel rooted here and simultaneously drawn to be there.
What are the factors pulling us to Israel? What reasons do we have to say it is time to go? First is the enthusiasm that Chazal has for the land of Israel. The Gemara, Kesubos 110b, quotes a baraisa that a person should sooner live in a city located in Israel that is majority non-Jews, then live in a city outside of Israel that is majority Jews. It says that a person who lives in Israel is considered one who has a God and a person who does not live in Israel is considered one who does not have a God. This statement of the Gemara is one we can appreciate more this time of year, when we consider the decorations we see around us in America versus the decorations that are all around in Israel.
Another reason is the closeness one readily feels with Hashem when in Israel. The Zohar says that Hashem gives every nation a Malach, an angel, to watch over them, except for Israel which He watches over Himself. One can so readily feel Hashem’s presence in their lives in Israel. They see His guiding hand orchestrating everything. It is much more tangible there.
Finally, there is an absolute love that we have for the physical land. The Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Melachim 5:10) says that many of the great sages would kiss the ground, as they crossed into Eretz Yisrael and rolled in its dirt. Anyone who has lived in Israel for an extended period knows how the dust finds a way to get into one’s home. To live there a person needs to constantly sweep and mop. But it never seems to bother anyone. We love the land so much that we are happy to get dirty from it.
At the same time, there are legitimate reasons pulling us to stay where we are. The Rambam (Mishneh Torah, Melachim 5:9) says, “a person can never leave Eretz Yisrael, except for business.” Probably the biggest dark cloud that hangs over the head of a person who wants to make aliyah is how to make parnassa. The schools are great and they know they’ll have a strong social network, but supporting one’s family can be a challenge.
Another reason is to help the Jews here, particularly the ones who are not aspiring to move to Israel anytime soon. The Lubavitcher Rebbe was corresponding with a shaliach in 1983 about why he never made aliyah. The rebbe told him that he felt his mission was to stay in America and spread Yiddishkeit to those who are disconnected. He gave an analogy of a ship and he said that the captain of the ship goes last. Even though none of us are on the level of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, we can all have an impact on the Jews around us. Every single one of us can inspire and encourage the disconnected Jews with whom we interact.
Finally, a reason to stay is because eventually when Mashiach comes and we finally get to move to Eretz Yisrael, we take it all with us. The Gemara Megillah 29a says that in the times of Mashiach, the synagogues and the yeshivos from outside of Israel will be taken to Israel. Even though they are built here, they will be brought there. The Kedushas Levi—Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev—says all the more so our homes will go. He explains that if the houses of worship where we perform the rabbinic mitzvah of praying will go, then all the more so, our homes where we do constant Torah-level mitzvos (mezuzah, chinuch habanim, kibbud av va’em) will go as well.
We feel the pull tugging at us from both sides. We see legitimate reasons to go and also legitimate reasons to stay. Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, zt”l, gave a talk to his students at Yeshivat Gush Etzion, in 1998, that beautifully articulated this tension. Rabbi Lichtenstein himself was very much so a product of this tension. He was born in France, lived a large portion of his life in America and, ultimately, moved to Israel to join Yeshivat Gush Etzion and, finally, realized his dream of aliyah.
The very first pasuk of parshas Vayeishev says, “Yaakov settled in the land where his father had lived, the land of Canaan,” (Bereishis 37:1). Asks Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, “Why did the Torah need to repeat itself? Why did it need to say he lived both in the land that his father lived in and that he lived in the land of Canaan? Had it just said one, we would have understood. He answered that they were two separate desires that Yaakov had. One was to be in the land that his father lived in—wherever that might have been—and the other was to be in Eretz Canaan, what we know as Eretz Yisrael.
Rabbi Lichtenstein encouraged his students not to run away from the tension or settle it, but rather to embrace it. He said, “Aliyah is critically important on both an individual and a communal level. Yet—at the very least—even if one feels that at the moment, he must remain in ‘the land of his father’s dwelling,’ he should feel deeply the draw of “the land of Canaan.”” We do not simply run away from our dreams just so we can live lives of contentment, rather living with aspirations is part of a religious life.
Thankful to be here or time to go? It is a difficult question that often lacks a simple answer and that is, all the more reason, why we should embrace and struggle with it.
Rabbi Noah Whittenburg is the assistant rabbi of Congregation Ahavas Achim in Highland Park, NJ. Previously, he served as the assistant rabbi at Beth Jacob Congregation in San Diego, CA and as a rebbe at the Southern California Yeshiva High School. He was a kollel fellow in the Torah Mitzion Kollel at Yeshiva University, a middle school rebbe at the Rabbi Pesach Raymon Yeshiva in Edison and a rabbinic intern at Congregation Eitz Chayim of Dogwood Park in West Hempstead and the Roslyn Synagogue in Roslyn.
