Scrolling through Instagram or TikTok these days, it's easy for young Jews in the Diaspora to feel like we're living in unprecedented times. The headlines are relentless, the rhetoric intense, and the questions endless. Many of us find ourselves wrestling with big, heavy questions about Israel, Zionism, Jewish identity, and our place within it all. But if we take a step back, and by step back I man way back, thousands of years, we might find comfort, and even pride, in the realization that there truly is nothing new under the sun.

It’s a funny thing about history: when your frame of reference is limited to your own lifetime, or maybe your parents’ and grandparents', every crisis feels like the biggest one ever. Every protest seems to herald unprecedented division, and each wave of antisemitism feels uniquely threatening. But zoom out far enough, and you’ll notice a cyclical pattern. Not only have our ancestors faced similar dilemmas, but they’ve also overcome them. Every single time.

The narrative being sold to young Diaspora Jews today often hinges on novelty: an idea that something uniquely bad or uniquely complicated is happening now. It's easy to feel isolated, like our generation is uniquely challenged or tasked with questions no one has had to face before. But to believe this is to miss out on the profound resilience baked into Jewish history. Our story is not a straight line but rather a winding spiral; each loop bringing familiar challenges dressed in slightly different clothing.

Take Zionism and the modern relationship between Diaspora Jews and Israel. It might feel brand new, like the debate over identity, politics, and morality has never raged so hotly. Yet, from the moment Abraham and Sarah set off for Canaan, the Jewish people have grappled with their connection to a physical homeland. The question of Jewish sovereignty, of our obligations to fellow Jews living far away, and how we reconcile our identity with competing ideas, has always been there. Diaspora life, as vibrant as it can be, has always carried tensions and dilemmas about belonging and responsibility.

When young people today criticize Israel, challenge its policies, or even question its fundamental nature, they're engaging in a debate older than the State itself. Jewish communities across centuries have vigorously debated questions of governance, ethics, military power, and identity. From the Babylonian exile to the debates in medieval Spain, to the passionate arguments among early Zionists, Jews have always debated fiercely, struggled deeply, and yet remained profoundly interconnected. And loyal to the idea of a Promised Land. An eventual sovereign state. Whether in our dreams or reality.

Today, some young Diaspora Jews feel a strong pull to distance themselves from Israel, often out of discomfort with current politics or policies. Maybe they would just prefer to choose the path of least resistance; heck, they’ll face plenty of resistance in life being Zionist. They may feel isolated, misunderstood, or even targeted. But history has something to teach us: even at the times of greatest internal disagreement, Jewish communities have maintained deep, abiding bonds of solidarity. Disagreement doesn’t necessarily mean disconnection. Indeed, it's often evidence of a thriving, passionate, committed relationship. The very act of debating Israel’s future is an expression of care and attachment—a part of our heritage that spans thousands of years. We disagree, wrestle, and then hug it out.

Our ancestors faced persecution and exile, immense ideological differences, and repeated existential threats. Yet through each challenge, they found innovative, adaptive, resilient ways to both survive and thrive. They understood what our generation sometimes forgets: the existence of debate, even fierce debate, isn't a bug in our communal life: it's a feature. Debate is how we've always navigated uncertainty, grown stronger through adversity, and reaffirmed our values.

Looking far enough back in history reveals another essential truth: hope. Each era had its moments when the situation felt impossible, when the threats seemed insurmountable, and when communal division felt irreparable. Yet, consistently, the Jewish story has been one of renewal and resilience. Every challenge eventually met with creativity, courage, and innovation, leading not just to survival, but to cultural flourishing, ethical clarity, and spiritual renewal.

So perhaps instead of despairing at our "unprecedented" times, young Jews should feel a deep sense of pride. We come from a tradition of survivors, of dreamers and debaters, of those who have consistently chosen hope over despair, engagement over apathy, and unity - even amidst profound disagreement over division.

When we look at Israel today, let’s do so with historical eyes. Let's engage actively, critically, and passionately, but let's also take comfort and pride in knowing we've been here before. Our historical horizon must stretch beyond a few decades. Embracing the broad sweep of Jewish history equips us with the perspective and tools to confront today’s challenges confidently.

Indeed, the greatest resource we have might not be in new solutions, but in ancient wisdom; that wisdom earned over centuries of hardship and joy, disagreement and reconciliation, exile and return.

Jewish youth today, navigating complex feelings about Israel, should remember this deeply comforting reality: There truly is nothing new under the sun. But that's not a limitation: it's a liberation. It means we've been here before, and we’ve always found a way forward.

*Some of these ideas are based on a lecture delivered by Rabbi Meir Soloveichik in South Beach, Miami, March 23, 2025