The notion of a Jewish Diaspora has existed since the conquest of Northern Israel by the Assyrians in 722 BCE.  It has become ingrained in the Jewish identity for most of the past two millennia because there has existed virtually no other option.  The reality of Jewish existence in various host countries, the observance of religious times and seasons, and the wording of the liturgy itself in religious practice were not only influenced, but defined by life in foreign countries.

Thriving in these host nations, and surviving by running to the next, while holding fast to our former national identity seems to be what the people of Israel collectively does best.  We define the word Diaspora because we have outranked all other nationalities’ diasporas in their own struggles for survival and cohesiveness.

In fact, we are so good at the rôle that many of us don’t know how to stop.  As a metaphorical nation within nations, we have often forgotten that our identity in exile has been contingent upon the intention to return to the land that we lost and to continue our cohesion there.

The future of Diaspora Jewry, from this generation forward, will be vastly different from that of every generation before, back to the final attempt to overthrow the Roman conquest of Israel in the second century CE.  Every population of Jews in foreign lands is now defined by its relationship to those of its fellow tribe members (to use Seth Godin’s terminology) who live in the land of Israel, and by the choice to say in those countries.

The contrast could not be more clear.  The voyage to Israel no longer takes months and is no longer fraught with danger and disease, and the act of moving to Israel is no longer a life of guaranteed poverty and attacks by wild animals outside the city gates at night.  Instead, the journey only takes – at the maximum – one day of airline flight, and the only hardship one is guaranteed the ad hoc Sabra culture, which will persist until there are enough new participants to outweigh the old.

No number of rallies against local manifestations of anti-Semitism in the diaspora or slogans of “Wherever we stand, we stand with Israel” can obscure the fact that Jews in those locales may be with all their hearts standing metaphorically with Israel, but not standing literally in Israel.

Faced with the awareness of Israel’s growing success both as the modern center of Jewish life and as the “Start-up Nation” in its own right, every generation from here on out is going to make a conscious decision whether or not to be a part of it.  Allow me to share some anecdotal evidence.  In my line of work I meet scores of Diaspora Jews every month here in Jerusalem.  The vast majority of these are teenagers and young adults who are only visiting the country, regretting that they must return home, and already planning their next visit.  Some are even dreaming of aliyah.

Beyond my job, I know scores of students in their twenties, in both yeshivah and university settings, who are prolonging their stay in Israel as long as humanly possible.  They return only when forced to do so by their parents, and are actively planning to arrange their lives in such a way that they will be able to return and make a viable living in Israel.  Some will be successful and some not, but the reason I mention them is for their idealism and sense of priorities.  Even if they must initially pursue a career in their countries of origin, the ability to work shift or set up their practice in a like-minded population in the place they wish they could live will weigh heavily in their long-term choices.  Many will eventually succeed in pursuing their initial idealism.  Ultimately, many will make the tough decision to break from their familiar surroundings and pursue their dreams in the Jewish homeland.

Even if these of my generation do not make aliyah, their children will grow up in an environment in which the choices are more acute than those that their ancestors faced: for instance, whether to have a bar or bat mitzvah or whether to marry Jewish.  Their choices will increasingly be skewed to the direction of whether to continue to identify with the significant majority of the Jewish people, or whether to identify with their host nation.  

This reality will be all the more evident among those who choose to go into community leadership, such as teaching and rabbinics.  It will be difficult for students and congregations to take seriously the knowledge and expertise of anyone such as a community rabbi or teacher who is not fluent in both the modern Hebrew language and the day-to-day reality of life in Israel.  This is especially true of the Orthodox, who have not traditionally been strong political Zionists, but who will be pulled by the center of gravity of the Torah world that is located here.  But all types of Jewish communities, regardless of religious affiliation, will see their brightest and best choosing to make their lives in the greater Jewish economy that is located on the other side of the world, rather than facing a future of certain non-allegiance to Israeli life.
Besides this quasi-economic view of the situation, there is an historical approach.  Rabbi Pinchas Winston, of Telz-Stone (Kiryat Ye’arim), has brought an from the esoteric Judaic literature, explaining the constraints of the Jewish people in the countries where they have succeeded to settle and prosper.  The parable goes like something like this.
A suburban family hires a contractor to build an extension to their home – say, an enclosed balcony with a view of their garden.  This is an important and costly project, so they hire the most qualified and most highly recommended contractor to do the job.

On his first day of the job, the contractor visits the family and goes over the blueprints and estimated costs with them.  He is as charming and knowledgeable as the reputation that preceded him suggests.  The family is reassured that they chose the most skilled and efficient contractor for the job.  The next day, physical work begins.

During the following days, the frame is erected, and the materials for the parts are brought in from the suppliers.  The contractor is as professional and on-task as expected, and in the afternoons after school, his children come over to play with the family’s children.  His wife visits and introduces herself. They are pleasantly surprised to find that she is a prominent member of local society. The families develop a relationship that goes beyond that of hired laborers with their employees.

In the second week, the work is reaching its completion, and the family express their awe and appreciation for the contractor’s finishing touches, while their children continue to play in the garden in the afternoons.

In the third week, the work is completed and the contractor is paid.  But he shows up for work early the next morning. He sits in the balcony, enjoying the fruits of his labor.  He sips coffee, takes calls, does paperwork, reads trade magazines, and enjoys the sunset.

At that point, the situation becomes awkward to say the least. The family approaches him and asks him gently why he is still hanging around, even though his job is clearly finished.  The only answer they can get is an enthusiastic, “This is an excellent balcony. We’re all friends and equals, right?  Hold on, I just have to take this call...”
If they can’t convince him to leave, they call the police, who come with truncheons.

Such is the fate of the nation of Israel in diaspora.  We build economies and rescue developing nations who are playing host to us by teaching them cultural literacy and moral values.  We become powerful politicians, and advisers to kings, contributors in the sciences and the arts, and famous comedians.  But there comes a time in every nation’s history that a generation of nationals takes a fresh look at their homeland and collectively asks themselves, “Why are these people still hanging around?”  

Historically this has meant resisting anti-Semitism (and doing a great job of being indignantly surprised at it) until it becomes clear that we have a life-or-death imperative to pick up and move to another host nation, where our work begins again.  This doesn’t make the actions of these host nations right or justifiable, and it does not mean that the good people of the world will not rally with us and try the make the world of exile from Israel safe for us again.
In this generation, however, the options have changed dramatically.  When today’s Jewish idealists begin to choose a future for themselves rather than for their forebears, they will cease to choose diaspora.  And the more they choose Israel, the less these host nations will matter.

Michael Eliyahou can be found on Twitter @MishnayicHacker and on Google Profiles.