On August 8, the UJA-Federation of New York proudly announced it was donating $1 million to help “the people of Gaza,” funneled through IsraAID for food, medicine, and water filtration. The statement framed the gift as both humanitarian and strategic—an attempt to show the world that Jews care, even for those in enemy territory.
But let’s be honest: this donation will not meaningfully change conditions in Gaza. The Strip is already awash in aid, much of which Hamas seizes for its war machine. A million dollars dropped into that abyss is a gesture, not a solution. So the real question is: a gesture to whom?
The answer is not the people of Gaza. It is to a certain segment of American Jewry—the “troubled committed.”
These are the Jews who sit on boards, lead congregations, and speak from pulpits while clutching their unease with Israel as a badge of moral sophistication. They are “committed” in name, but perpetually troubled by Israel’s every flaw: judicial reform, settlements, coalition politics, the conduct of war. In their troubledness, they confuse criticism with conscience and handwringing with holiness.
History shows where this leads. Today’s troubled committed become tomorrow’s disillusioned uncommitted. Some drift into radical groups that accuse Israel of genocide. Others, like Peter Beinart, use their troubledness as a career path—cashing in by turning against the Jewish state entirely. The pattern is clear: when the moment of crisis comes, the troubled don’t stand with Israel. They stand apart, or worse, with Israel’s enemies.
That is why the UJA’s gift is so destructive. It is not about feeding Gazans. It is about pandering to a group that will not carry Jewish life forward. It signals that our institutions would rather appease the anxious than empower the steadfast.
Meanwhile, there is another group rising: the “untroubled committed.” These are Jews—young influencers on Instagram, Mizrahi and Russian communities, synagogue regulars, and Gen Z leaders—who see through the lies. They understand that Hamas is not a partner for peace, that humanitarian aid is not a magic wand, and that Israel is not on trial. They grasp Sartre’s point that the antisemite accuses the Jew not because of facts, but because he enjoys watching the Jew twist to prove his innocence. And they refuse to twist.
These Jews are the future. They are the remnant Rashi described in Exodus—the fraction who chose to leave Egypt and carry the covenant forward, while the majority stayed behind. Today, it is the untroubled committed who will defend Israel, nurture Jewish life, and ensure our survival.
The UJA has a choice: squander resources appeasing those already halfway out the door, or stand firmly with those who know who they are and what they are fighting for. Israel does not need million-dollar gestures to Gaza. It needs unwavering solidarity.
At a time when antisemitism is resurgent, when Israel is vilified on campus, and when Hamas threatens another October 7, Jewish institutions cannot afford the luxury of self-doubt. They must stop pandering to the perpetually troubled and start investing in the proud, untroubled core that will carry Jewish life forward.
The lesson of Jewish history is clear: the survival of the Jewish people has never depended on the majority, but on the few who refused to bend. The question now is whether the UJA will join them—or be remembered as the ones who didn’t.