Growing up in rural Florida, Leah Robbins’s Saturdays involved synagogue services followed by a barbecue lunch, a routine that shaped her early understanding of Jewish life.
Surrounded mostly by non-Jewish neighbors, her family meticulously upheld their Jewish identity. For her parents, this included supporting the pro-Israel lobbying group AIPAC and encouraging young Leah to sing the Israeli national anthem alongside her peers who recited the Pledge of Allegiance.
However, during her college years and beyond, new friendships and perspectives began to challenge her views on Israel’s history, its actions towards Palestinians in the West Bank, and its involvement in conflicts in Gaza. This led to a significant departure from her Zionist upbringing. Now, Robbins advocates for young, Israel-critical Jews to establish fresh communities—including spiritual gatherings and educational institutions—that deliberately move away from Zionist ideology.
As news of the Israel-Hamas cease-fire and the exchange of hostages and prisoners brought a mix of relief and anxiety, she pondered a crucial question: “Once this devastation passes, what will remain of Judaism if the Jewish left isn’t actively building its future right now?”
For a long time, a particular narrative dominated discussions about left-leaning Jews within the wider Jewish community. It suggested that while young progressive Jews might advocate for more critical views on Israel, they would eventually conform, sending their children to the same traditional Jewish day schools where Israeli pioneer songs and falafel on Independence Day were staples.
The assumption was that these young critics would either embrace the established organizations and institutions of their youth, or simply drift away from organized Jewish life.
But for some Jewish families, this is clearly no longer the case.
Across the U.S., a remarkable shift is underway. Progressive Jewish communities, especially those rejecting Zionist labels, have seen significant growth and recognition over the past two years.
Ms. Robbins, for instance, is actively fundraising to establish a “diasporist” Jewish day school in Boston. This school would prioritize Jewish identity and history apart from Israel, teaching the region’s complex past from a non-Zionist perspective. In Brooklyn, three Jewish friends, who once lived in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, recently campaigned for a Muslim mayoral candidate who had vowed to arrest Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu if he visited New York.
A rabbi in Chicago successfully brought together 400 families for high holiday services in a congregation explicitly supporting Palestinians and refraining from displaying the Israeli flag. While most of these burgeoning groups acknowledge the horrific attacks by Hamas militants on October 7, 2023, they also strongly condemn the Israeli government’s military response, the ongoing conflict in Gaza, and the long-standing occupation of the West Bank that preceded it.
Recent interviews with dozens of young people reveal a deep struggle with complex questions. Whether proudly Zionist, critical but pro-Israel, anti-Zionist, or simply unsure, they are all grappling with the future of American Jewish communities and their relationship with Israel.
Credit: Natalie Keyssar for The New York Times
Leaders within Jewish institutions are well aware of this growing uncertainty. Rabbi Rick Jacobs, who heads the largest movement of American Jewry, the Reform movement, stated, “Your responsibility as a Jewish leader is to be concerned about the people within your movement. We’re at a critical moment. I don’t think at this moment we have a clear sense of where it’s going.”
The period since October 7, 2023, has been profoundly painful for many, sparking intense discussions within families and communities about ethics, security, and identity. A generational gap concerning Israel, already evident in the American Jewish community, has widened significantly. According to 2024 Pew polling, younger Jews report more negative sentiments towards Israel than their older counterparts. A Washington Post poll from last month further highlighted this, showing that while 56 percent of Jewish Americans felt an emotional connection to Israel, this dropped to just 36 percent among those aged 18 to 34.
Membership in IfNotNow, an American Jewish organization opposing Israel’s occupation of the West Bank, has surged by over 500 percent since October 7, 2023, now exceeding 6,000 members. Similarly, Rabbis for Ceasefire, established after October 7, boasts around 430 rabbis. Jewish Voice for Peace has reported a budget increase from $5 million to $9 million and a growth from 45 to over 100 chapters in the last two years.
While these communities are still relatively small in absolute numbers, their rapid expansion is undeniable. Arielle Angel, editor-in-chief of the progressive magazine Jewish Currents, emphasized this need in a recent editorial, stating, “We need new Jewish institutions.”
Rabbi Jacobs acknowledged that the perspectives of these left-leaning Jews might continue to evolve. He mused, “If this war is indeed concluding, what are the chances that a new Israeli government could emerge in the coming months, fostering a reconnection among young Jews who were unsettled or hurt by the conflict?”
Despite these shifts, a significant majority of Jews maintain a strong emotional and political connection to Israel, supporting its continued existence as a Jewish state. Furthermore, American Jews show greater support for Israel’s actions in Gaza compared to the general American population, as indicated by Washington Post and Gallup polls.
However, many younger Jews interviewed expressed a growing reluctance to engage with synagogues, schools, camps, and non-profit organizations that do not align with their perspectives on the recent Gaza conflict.
Daniel May, publisher of Jewish Currents, highlighted a significant disconnect: “Four in 10 American Jews believe Israel has committed a genocide. This contrasts sharply with the stance of American Jewish institutions, where even the most liberal leaders have hesitated to use that term. Those committed to Jewish life often feel compelled to forge new communities.”
This conviction drives Ms. Robbins’s efforts to launch a Jewish day school, Achvat Olam (meaning universal solidarity), in Boston, slated to open in fall 2029. Her vision is a school where Jewish belief is not centered on Zionism. She asserts, “There is a real hunger to save the soul of Judaism, and see it decoupled from nationalism.”
Breaking Tradition
Last September, Jews for Racial & Economic Justice, a progressive New York organizing group, hosted their ‘Mazals’ gala at a Sunset Park sports center, drawing around 1,000 attendees. Amid a vibrant mix of dress—from glittering sequins to comfortable clogs—guests reconnected with old summer camp friends, while a speaker passionately declared, ‘Mazel tov and free Palestine!’
Among the crowd were three women, all of whom had once felt such a profound connection to Israel and a sense of responsibility for its actions that they chose to live there. They forged friendships in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, but today, none identify as Zionists.
One of these women is Simone Zimmerman, 34, a prominent left-wing Jewish activist and co-founder of IfNotNow. She was also the subject of the 2023 film ‘Israelism,’ which chronicled her journey from a student at Berkeley to questioning her long-held support for Israel.
Credit: Natalie Keyssar for The New York Times
Her friend, Liya Rechtman, 33, from Brooklyn, dedicated her teenage years to pro-Israel activities, including a week-long training program connected to the Israel Defense Forces and recruiting peers for Birthright Israel trips. However, her perspective shifted while living in Israel from 2016 to 2017, particularly after witnessing violent attacks on Palestinians in the West Bank by settlers.
Shortly after October 7, she attended a Jewish leadership program in Germany, where she openly expressed her shame about being Jewish due to Israel’s actions in Gaza.
An audible gasp filled the room. Ms. Rechtman recalled, “It was upsetting for some people to hear that.”
Natasha Westheimer, 35, was the last of the three to leave Israel, staying long after the conflict began. In 2021, she sustained a broken hand when Israeli soldiers intervened in an anti-occupation protest in the West Bank. As the risks of such demonstrations escalated and avenues for advocacy diminished, she found it increasingly difficult to remain in Israel without participating in the Palestinian-led activism and civil disobedience. She returned to the United States in 2024.
Westheimer noted her surprise at how many anti-occupation activists she had encountered in Israel later became anti-Zionist activists residing in New York.
Ms. Rechtman resonated with this observation, stating, “There is a broad network of people that I see myself as part of, who have intimacy with Israeli culture and who have my left-wing politics and my understanding of the stakes.”
No Middle Ground
Author Benjamin Moser has dedicated recent months at the New York Public Library to writing a book on anti-Zionist Jews. His research chronicles the historical opposition faced by these rabbis, lawyers, poets, and scholars across the globe, from Britain to Brazil and Amsterdam to Houston.
Moser noted, “My book tells a pretty unbroken story from the 19th century to the present: of anti-Zionist Jews being exiled and killed, being fired from their jobs, and families splitting up.”
Echoes of this historical struggle persist today, even as the ranks of left-wing Jewish groups expand. Lex Rofeberg, 34, a non-Zionist rabbi in Providence, R.I., became a target of Canary Mission, a group dedicated to identifying critics of Israel, due to his political stance. When invited to speak at a Reform synagogue in his hometown of Milwaukee, his mother, Ruth Lebed, 67, was taken aback by rumors that some local residents were uneasy about his presence.
Her Facebook post discussing his involvement in ‘Israelism,’ a film exploring anti-Zionism, led to several online acquaintances blocking her.
Ms. Lebed remarked, “There are people out there who think that his views on Israel make him antisemitic, which is ridiculous. The guy is a rabbi!”
In the Chicago area, Brant Rosen, 62, an anti-Zionist rabbi, recounted being expelled from his local rabbinical network due to his convictions. Community tensions over his activism led him to leave the Evanston congregation where he had served for 16 years. Subsequently, Rosen established his own anti-Zionist congregation, Tzedek Chicago (Hebrew for justice), which has seen its membership more than double since the Israel-Hamas War began, now encompassing over 400 dues-paying households.
Credit: Jacek Boczarski/Anadolu, via Getty Images
Since the outbreak of the recent war, Rosen has concluded that Jews with opposing views on Israel’s policies cannot coexist within the same communities. “I think the middle ground has become untenable,” he stated.
Nevertheless, many organizations within the Jewish left do identify as Zionist and strive to create a welcoming environment for individuals who are deeply and sincerely critical of Israel.
Hadar Susskind, chief executive of New Jewish Narrative, a progressive Zionist group, noted, “You have a lot of young people saying, ‘This is important to me, but it’s not, as I’ve been told, a simple yes or no, do I support Israel or not?’”
He observes that younger generations he speaks with express care for Israel while simultaneously harboring strong opposition to its current government.
Susskind added, “So many people were taught that it’s ‘You support Israel, period.’ Many people are not willing to have that be the end of the discussion.”
Generation to Generation
One September day in Park Slope, 17-year-old Vivian Russell encountered Ms. Rechtman, Ms. Zimmerman, and Ms. Westheimer canvassing for Jews for Racial & Economic Justice. She paused to introduce herself.
Russell, a high school student from Washington Heights, shared that she often found herself at odds with her public school classmates during discussions about the Israel-Hamas War. Disagreeing with her school’s Jewish Student Union, she opted to join the Muslim Student Union instead.
Two days before the recent October 7 anniversary, back in Washington Heights, Russell sat with her mother, Dara Herman. Vivian identifies as an anti-Zionist, while her 52-year-old mother expresses more sympathy for Israel’s situation.
Credit: Natalie Keyssar for The New York Times
Their dialogue mirrors the strained conversations now common in countless Jewish families, where group chats and Sabbath meals have grown increasingly tense since 2023.
Sitting with her mother at a local coffee shop, Russell shared her plans: “If I have kids, I’ll be raising my kids Jewish and celebrating Jewish holidays and stuff. But I don’t think that I’ll tell them, ‘Oh Israel is the place of our people.’”
Her mother countered, “But how do you reconcile that with the ancient history I was taught—that Jews originated from Israel, that after years of wandering in the desert, they eventually returned? Is all of that untrue?”
“That was many, many years ago!” her daughter exclaimed.
Herman explained, “I’m only one generation from the Holocaust. It feels very real to me that less than 100 years ago, millions of Jews were being killed, and those who survived desperately needed a place to go.”
Watching her daughter’s evolving perspective, Ms. Herman recognizes that the Jewish community is undergoing a profound transformation as it integrates a new generation with differing views.
Some activists even suggest that established groups may eventually wane, and the new communities being built by the younger generation—such as Ms. Robbins’s envisioned school or Mr. Rosen’s congregation—could themselves become the new establishment.
Vivian Russell, whose father is Irish American, confidently expressed the principles of Judaism she intends to instill in her future children.
“I’ll teach them about how my people—both Jews and Irish people—have been rebels,” Ms. Russell affirmed. “Both are groups that have struggled, cared deeply for one another, and championed freedom.”