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Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it?
(JTA) — I was a remote worker long before the pandemic made it a thing, but it was only last month that I really took advantage of it. Early on the morning of New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane from Connecticut bound for Mexico, where I spent a full month sleeping in thatch-roofed palapas, eating more tacos than was probably wise and bathing every day in the Pacific. I’ll spare you the glorious details, but suffice it to say, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a January.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found myself again and again coming into contact with expats who had traded in their urban lives in northern climes for a more laid-back life in the tropics. There was the recently divorced motorcycle enthusiast slowly wending his way southward by bike as he continued to work a design job for a major American bank. There was the yoga instructor born not far from where I live in Massachusetts who owned an open-air rooftop studio just steps from the waves. There were the countless couples who had chosen to spend their days running beachfront bars or small hotels on the sand. And then there were the seemingly endless number and variety of middle-aged northerners rebooting their lives in perpetual sunshine.
Such people have long mystified me. It’s not hard to understand the lure of beachside living, and part of me envies the freedom to design your own life from the ground up. But there’s also something scary about it. Arriving in middle age in a country where you know nobody, whose language is not your own, whose laws and cultural mores, seasons and flora, are all unfamiliar — it feels like the essence of shallow-rootedness, like a life devoid of all the things that give one (or at least me) a sense of comfort and security and place. The thought of exercising the right to live literally anywhere and any way I choose opens up a space so vast and limitless it provokes an almost vertiginous fear of disconnection and a life adrift.
Clearly, this feeling isn’t universally shared. And the fact that I have it probably owes a lot to my upbringing. I grew up in an Orthodox family, which by necessity meant life was lived in a fairly small bubble. Our house was within walking distance of our synagogue, as it had to be since walking was the only way to get there on Shabbat and holidays. I attended a small Jewish day school, where virtually all of my friends came from families with similar religious commitments. Keeping kosher and the other constraints of a religious life had a similarly narrowing effect on the horizons of my world and thus my sense of life’s possibilities. Or at least that’s how it often felt.
What must it be like — pardon the non-kosher expression — to feel as if the world is your oyster? That you could live anywhere, love anyone, eat anything and make your life whatever you want it to be? Thrilling, yes — but also frightening. The sense of boundless possibility I could feel emanating from those sun-baked Mexicans-by-choice was seductive, but tempered by aversion to a life so unmoored.
The tension between freedom and obligation is baked into Jewish life. The twin poles of our national narrative are the Exodus from Egypt and the revelation at Sinai, each commemorated by festivals separated by exactly seven weeks in the calendar, starting with Passover. The conventional understanding is that this juxtaposition isn’t accidental. God didn’t liberate the Israelites from slavery so they could live free of encumbrances on the Mayan Riviera. Freedom had a purpose, expressed in the giving of the Torah at Sinai, with all its attendant rules and restrictions and obligations. Freedom is a central value of Jewish life — Jews are commanded to remember the Exodus every day. But Jewish freedom doesn’t mean the right to live however you want.
Except it might mean the right to live any place you want. In the 25th chapter of Leviticus, God gives the Israelites the commandment of the Jubilee year, known as yovel in Hebrew. Observed every 50 years in biblical times, the Jubilee has many similarities to the shmita (sabbatical) year, but with some additional rituals. The text instructs: “And you shall hallow the 50th year. You shall proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: each of you shall return to your holding and each of you shall return to your family.”
Among the requirements of the Jubilee was that ancestral lands be returned to their original owners. Yet the word for liberty is a curious one: “d’ror.” The Talmud explains its etymology this way: “It is like a man who dwells [medayer] in any dwelling and moves merchandise around the entire country” (Rosh Hashanah 9b).
The liberty of the Jubilee year could thus be said to have two contrary meanings — individuals had the right to return to their ancestral lands, but they were also free not to. They could live in any dwelling they chose. The sense of liberty connoted by the biblical text is a specifically residential one: the freedom to live where one chooses. Which pretty well describes the world we live in today. Jewish ancestral lands are freely available to any Jew who wants to live there. And roughly half the Jews of the world choose not to.
Clearly, I’m among them. And while I technically could live anywhere, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. I like where I live — not because of any particular qualities of this place, though I do love its seasons and its smells and its proximity to the people I care about and the few weeks every fall when the trees become a riotous kaleidoscope. But mostly because it’s mine.
A version of this essay appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Recharge Shabbat newsletter. Subscribe here.
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9 Israeli Soldiers Injured in Lebanon Fighting, 2 in Serious Condition
Two IDF soldiers. Photo: IDF.
i24 News – Two Israeli officers were seriously wounded and seven additional soldiers injured in two separate incidents in southern Lebanon, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) said.
According to the military, the first incident occurred during the morning hours amid an encounter between Israeli forces and armed militants operating in the area.
During the engagement, an anti-tank missile was launched toward deployed troops, which the IDF said was fired by Hezbollah operatives. Two officers were struck in the attack, with one sustaining serious injuries and the second moderately wounded.
A second incident took place overnight in a separate sector of southern Lebanon, when Israeli forces operating in the area came under rocket fire. In that strike, one officer was seriously wounded and six soldiers were moderately injured, the IDF said.
The incidents come amid ongoing cross-border hostilities between Israel and Hezbollah, marked by repeated exchanges of fire and periodic ground confrontations in southern Lebanon.
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Report: Some 30 US Troops Injured in Iranian Attacks on Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi
Screenshot of video of Saudi Arabia’s Air Force intercepts Iranian drones over Saudi airspace. Photo: Saudi Defense Ministry / Screenshot
i24 News – Over 12 US troops have been injured in Iranian attacks on a Saudi air base in the past week, the Associated Press reported on Saturday citing two people who have been briefed on the matter.
On Friday, the Islamic Republic launched six ballistic missiles and 29 drones at Saudi Arabia’s Prince Sultan air base, wounding at least 15 troops, including five seriously, according to the sources who spoke to AP on the condition of anonymity.
US officials initially reported that at least 10 US troops were injured, including two seriously wounded.
The base had come under attack twice earlier this week, including an incident that injured 14 US troops, according to the people who had been briefed on the matter.
Located some 100 kilometers from the Saudi capital of Riyadh, the base is run by the Royal Saudi Air Force, but is also used by US troops.
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At CPAC, a Generational Divide Over Republican Support for Israel
Gabriel Khuly, 19, and Joshua-Caleb Barton, 31, pose for a picture outside Generation Zion’s booth at the Conservative Political Action Conference (CPAC) USA 2026 at the Gaylord Texan Resort and Convention Center, in Grapevine, Texas, U.S., March 27, 2026. Picture taken with a mobile phone. REUTERS/Nathan Layne
When former Congressman Matt Gaetz opened his speech by aligning with a Republican faction “loyal to only one nation,” his message to the Conservative Political Action Conference was clear: It was a veiled swipe at perceived Israeli influence over US politicians, even without naming Israel outright.
A month into the US-Israeli war with Iran, Gaetz’s comments struck a discordant note at the annual CPAC event. They cut against calls for unity and exposed a growing Republican rift largely along generational lines, as younger conservatives increasingly question support for Israel.
That skepticism reflects a broader distrust of military intervention among younger Republicans, fueled in part by conservative figures such as Tucker Carlson, whose allegations of excessive Israeli influence on US policy have drawn accusations that he is stoking antisemitism. Carlson has repeatedly denied accusations of antisemitism.
The Iran war, including Israel’s role in it, emerged as one of the main flashpoints at CPAC, which for decades has served as a central gathering for Republican politicians and activists.
Jack Posobiec, a conservative commentator and online influencer, said age 45 is a dividing line, with the younger cohort more likely to question the party’s steadfast support of Israel.
“People want to paint it off as if it’s antisemitism, but I don’t think that’s what it is,” Posobiec told Reuters. “It’s just a question of: Why? What is the purpose of this relationship? And I hear that a lot from young voters.”
The issue has roiled the Democratic Party in recent weeks, with some lawmakers and primary candidates distancing themselves from the pro-Israel lobbying group AIPAC amid growing unease over Israel’s military actions.
It is now exposing fault lines among Republicans as well, turning off young voters who helped propel Trump to victory in 2024 and potentially complicating the party’s efforts to defend slim majorities in the Senate and House of Representatives heading into November’s midterm elections.
Noah Bundy, 17, and Ryder Gerrald, 18, conservative friends from Georgia attending their first CPAC, said they opposed the war with Iran and questioned whether the military operation put Israel’s interests ahead of America’s.
“I think they totally pushed us into a war with Iran,” Bundy said. “My whole family is military and none of us is really for it.”
“Our younger generation, we don’t like Israel as much compared to the older generation,” said Gerrald. He said he would prefer redirecting US taxpayer dollars toward domestic priorities, rather than spending to bolster Israel’s military.
EVANGELICAL SUPPORT FOR ISRAEL
The party’s pro-Israel stance, however, resonates strongly with evangelicals – a pillar of Trump’s political base – and with older voters like Harry Strine III, an 83-year-old CPAC attendee who was wearing a red “Make America Great Again” hat.
“Israel is God’s people,” Strine said. “The US was founded on the Judeo-Christian belief. I guess I’m a traditionalist.”
On the conference’s opening day, Rev. Franklin Graham said that, by striking Iran to protect Israel, President Donald Trump was like the biblical figure of Esther, a Jewish queen who, according to scripture, was elevated by God to save her people from annihilation in ancient Persia.
“I believe God has raised him up for a time such as this, like Queen Esther,” said Graham, a prominent Christian evangelist, invoking a core evangelical belief that the modern state of Israel represents the fulfillment of biblical prophecy.
But unease over the Iran war and rising gasoline prices has pushed Trump’s approval rating down to 36% – its lowest since his return to the White House – a Reuters/Ipsos poll completed on Monday found. Support among his core base remains strong, however, with 74% of Republicans backing the strikes on Iran.
The debate over Israel coincides with a broader Republican fight over the future of the MAGA movement and who belongs in it. Allegations of antisemitism flared at a December event organized by Turning Point USA, a nonprofit focused on promoting conservative politics. At its first national event since founder Charlie Kirk’s death, commentator Ben Shapiro criticized fellow conservatives for associating with figures like white nationalist streamer Nick Fuentes, who has praised Hitler.
In his CPAC speech on Thursday, Gaetz said he did not agree with Shapiro and other conservative commentators “that we have some sort of near slavish loyalty to a country in a faraway land,” an apparent reference to Israel.
He argued that conservatives needed to allow for disagreements and that “antisemitism isn’t hiding around every corner and in every bush.”
Visitors to the CPAC booth of Generation Zion, a nonprofit group that trains young Christians and Jews to advocate for Israel and to combat antisemitism, could pick up a sticker reading “Tucker Carlson Hates Me,” a rebuke of the commentator’s recent criticism of Christian Zionism and Israel’s alleged sway over U.S. politics.
Gabriel Khuly, a 19-year-old volunteer for the group, said that while the Republican Party has an antisemitism problem, it is driven by a small minority with an outsized voice online.
“The actual anti-Israel, antisemitic wing of the Republican Party, I think, makes itself seem a lot bigger than it really is.”