A Covenant Across Millennia: Jewish Identity, Longing, and the Road to Israeli Sovereignty

A Covenant Across Millennia: Jewish Identity, Longing, and the Road to Israeli Sovereignty 

Dr. Liron biran-nisnholz

The historical and spiritual continuum between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel constitutes an enduring covenant that has evolved and deepened significantly across epochs, remaining intrinsically central to Jewish identity. It is the land where the Jewish people's spiritual, religious, and political identity was forged, where they lived in sovereign independence, created cultural assets, and bequeathed the eternal "Book of Books" to the world. Rooted in the biblical narrative, this profound relationship was first articulated through God's divine promise to Abram to establish a great nation in a designated land. In biblical antiquity, territorial sovereignty in Zion functioned as a tangible manifestation of divine protection and the vitality of this covenant. Though exiled by force, the Jewish people kept faith, never ceasing to pray and hope for a return to their land and a renewal of their political freedom. Today, alongside existing as a sovereign state for approximately 78 years, Israel remains a subject of extraordinary attachment for the Jewish people — an attachment spanning thousands of years — serving as the spiritual focal point of prayer, poetry, and national identity wherever they have gone.

Following the loss of sovereignty, the relationship transformed into one of persistent yearning. The Diaspora experience framed exile as a consequence of past transgressions, while the eventual return to Zion was sustained as an eschatological hope. Throughout centuries of dispersion, this connection was preserved both culturally and practically. Culturally, the longing was immortalized in poetry and literature that expressed the inner tear of a heart dwelling in Zion while the body remained bound in exile. This yearning accompanied Jewish life daily through prayer books (siddurim), the practice of turning toward Zion during prayer, the marking of home walls in memory of the destruction, and the aspiration of many to reach Israel and be buried in its soil. Practically, rabbinic emissaries (Shadarim) traversed the globe to raise funds and ensure the continuous survival of the Jewish settlement in the land.

The advent of Jewish emancipation in Europe during the late 18th century introduced profound new complexities, shifting this longing from a purely religious sphere to a national-cultural one. As Jews were granted equal rights and citizenship, communities faced immense pressure to assimilate and were expected to demonstrate loyalty to their host nations. In many instances, this led to traditional Jewish law being subordinated to the secular laws of the land, precipitating communal fragmentation, the growth of new religious denominations, and an ongoing tension between religious and civic obligations.

Against this backdrop, the traditional, passive anticipation of redemption — encapsulated in the rabbinic injunction not to "hasten the end" — gave way to an active, political commitment to rebuild Zion. Pioneering thinkers such as Rabbi Judah Alkalai, who was active roughly fifty years before Theodor Herzl, championed this ideological shift. They argued that true redemption required human initiative: proactively organizing, leaving the Diaspora, and undertaking a physical return to the land — thereby fusing religious imperatives with nationalist pragmatism.

The Holocaust served as a central catalyst for realizing this vision, while simultaneously posing unprecedented existential and theological challenges. The immense destruction necessitated a "new Exodus" to restore hope and ensure survival. The urgent pursuit of sovereignty — to secure a physical haven for the Jewish people — became an absolute imperative, compelling Jewish leadership to act outside conventional diplomatic frameworks.

Today, the realization of this eternal bond finds institutional expression in the national holidays of Yom Ha'Zikaron (Remembrance Day) and Yom Ha'Atzmaut (Independence Day). After 2,000 years in which no new holiday had been added to the Hebrew calendar, Independence Day was established in 1949 as a "State Holiday" — a "national holiday, a holy celebration, commemorating our exodus from bondage to freedom," as articulated by Yom Tov Levinsky. Yet celebrating freedom alone was not sufficient; remembering the pain was equally required. Avraham Yitzhak Merhavia, a bereaved brother from Kibbutz Tirat Zvi who lost his brother in the battles of Gush Etzion, proposed linking the remembrance of the fallen to the celebration of independence. He observed that "on the beacons of Etzion our independence arose," giving rise to a general day of memorial for all who fell in the struggle for liberation, placed on the 4th of Iyar, immediately preceding Independence Day.

The intertwining of these two days continues the classic Jewish dialectic of mourning before joy — much like the transition from the Fast of Esther to Purim, or from the Fast of the Firstborn to Passover. This structure serves as a solemn reminder that modern sovereignty and freedom were achieved only through immense sacrifice: the metaphorical "silver platter" of the fallen upon which the State of Israel was ultimately given.