Why We Persist, How We Thrive

“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”—Viktor Frankl

After being freed from captivity, hostage Eli Sharabi shared how Hersh Goldberg-Polin (z”l), a fellow Israeli hostage murdered while in Hamas captivity, repeated this saying to him and others. In Eli’s words, contemplating their own “whys” and “hows” helped them endure the hellish conditions of the terror tunnels beneath Gaza.

Ever since, these words, attributed to Viktor Frankl, have been echoing in our minds.

The past two years have been unbelievably painful. And as I write these lines, the end remains unclear. Everywhere we look, dread and despair continue to grow. The cracks and fissures among our people widen rapidly. Ein milim, there are no words.

And yet within this nightmare, we must persist. This is not the first time our people have faced difficulties—not by a long shot. To say that does not diminish the pain of this moment. It is only to remind ourselves that we have endured before. Always bruised, always scarred, but still, somehow we carried on.

With that being said, something about this moment feels different. The very bonds that have always given the Jewish people the strength to withstand external forces are fraying. I am speaking of arevut — a word that connotes camaraderie, kinship, mutuality and deep commitment to the entirety of the Jewish people. That sense of our oneness is fading.

Israelis face a double threat, each compounding the other. On the one hand, the ongoing war, with 48 hostages still held in Gaza. On the other, the erosion of Israel’s own social contract — judicial overhaul and state-sanctioned draft evasion. Many Israelis feel that the very country they serve is turning its back on them. The perceived abandonment of the hostages juxtaposed by the failure to support the army is too much to bear. And all of this is without having even mentioned the devastation in Gaza and the toll it takes on the humanity of the entire region.

In the United States, Jewish communities are also facing persistent challenges on multiple fronts. The increasing homegrown threat of violent antisemitism is real, and at the same time, our connection with Israel is being tested. Loyalties are questioned. Our very identity is politicized and weaponized. Too often, we are turned into a pawn in larger political games without considering our humanity and stripping us of our agency. When our safety becomes a talking point in mayoral debates — tied explicitly to the war in Israel, outsized compared to a mayor’s many responsibilities — Jews are reduced to a symbol, instead of actual people.

All of this contributes to the growing sense that we are losing our shared belonging — both within our communities and to each other.

As I struggle with these realities while trying to focus on actions to build our people, I feel that somewhere along the way we have forgotten our “why”. Sure, rediscovering our “why” will not solve everything. However, as Hersh (and Frankl) wisely reminded us, it is certainly a necessary first step.

Why do we belong to one another? Why does Jewish peoplehood matter? Why must we maintain our connection to one another — even when it hurts, even when we disagree, even across oceans and borders?

We must force ourselves to explore these questions together — to find the “whys” we share and to name the ones we don’t. Because if we are able to figure out the why, we can face any how. 

Now, it is vital to keep in mind that the “why” and the “how” go hand in hand. It is not simply enough to ponder the whys. We must also dedicate time and attention to working towards the “how”.  

How do we rebuild our communities, our trust and our shared frameworks? How do we repair and strengthen the social contract that binds us as Jews, both in Israel and across the Diaspora? How do we chart a future in which Jewish life is not merely surviving, but thriving?

This work of rebuilding is not abstract. It touches every level of our lives — from the political to the personal. In Israel, it means finding resilience amid polarization and prolonged conflict. In North America, it means resisting the pull of withdrawal and instead creating spaces where Jews of every background and belief can sit together, disagree together and still be one community. Globally, it means renewing our commitment to our shared future.

The Z3 Conference has always been a space to wrestle with hard questions while also celebrating what binds us. This year, perhaps more than ever, we need both. We need the courage to confront fractures with honesty — and the creativity to imagine new frameworks of resilience and belonging. We created the Z3 Conference to be our public square: a place to come together, to explore our identity and to chart a future on our own terms — by us and for us.

This year’s Z3 Conference, our 11th, is centered on a simple yet urgent theme: Why We Persist, How We Thrive.

Because if we can answer the “why” with moral clarity, we will be able to bear almost any “how.” And in doing so, we will not only persist. We will thrive.

We hope you will be a part of this vital conversation. Registration for the Z3 Conference 2025 is open now.