If Hashem has placed us here, in this chapter of history, then there is an avodah for us here — a mission to fulfill in the darkness while we wait

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here’s no denying that the atmosphere today feels increasingly fraught. With elected officials now openly vilifying us, mainstream conservative voices questioning our legitimacy, and anti-Semitism once again spreading across the globe, some Jews are slipping instinctively into survival mode. We lower our voices. We walk cautiously. Every step is measured, every word filtered.

That instinct is understandable. Jewish history has taught us — painfully — the cost of naivete. Vigilance is a virtue. But today we risk crossing a subtle line: from healthy caution into a posture that shrinks us from within.

More and more, some have begun to live a defensive Judaism — a Judaism of staying small in galus. Be polite so as not to provoke. Keep a low profile. Daven. Say Tehillim. Hope for the best.

It may feel protective in the moment, but over time it weakens something essential. It teaches us to survive galus instead of to serve in galus.

Perhaps it’s time to shift gears — from defense to offense.

What “Offensive Judaism” Really Means

“Offensive Judaism” doesn’t mean fighting, yelling, or protesting. It means living in galus with a sense of mission, not fear.

This week’s parshah gives us that blueprint. Yaakov Avinu leaves Eretz Yisrael alone, hunted, and vulnerable. If ever there was a moment to shrink, this was it. Yet, as the Rishonim explain, the very first message Hashem gives him is not how to hide — but how to live with purpose:

“Ufaratzta yamah v’kedmah… v’nivrechu becha kol mishpechos ha’adamah.” Your role in galus is to expand, illuminate, and become a source of blessing.

Yaakov’s journey begins not with fear, but with mission. With becoming a conduit of Hashem’s presence in a foreign land. Galus, Yaakov teaches, is not the place where we just survive. We are here to fulfill a mission inside it.

A Tradition of Purposeful Galus

This vision of a purposeful galus runs through the words of our nevi’im and mefarshei Tanach.

Yeshayahu (60:1–3) calls us an ohr lagoyim. The Radak and others (aside from Rashi) explain this to mean that our journey through exile is meant to illuminate the world through the Torah lives we live.

The Netziv (parshas Noach) writes that our presence among the nations is meant to elevate them  — not through preaching, but through derech eretz, integrity, and moral conduct.

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch (Shemos 19:6) explains that being called a mamleches Kohanim means that in galus we are to be a model nation. Just as Kohanim uplift Klal Yisrael, we are meant to uplift humanity. Galus is not merely a punishment; it’s an opportunity for us to demonstrate what it means to live in harmony with Hashem’s will.

In The Nineteen Letters, Rav Hirsch deepens this idea: Surrounded by moral confusion and a depraved environment, the Jew’s mission is to embody discipline, compassion, and dignity — to show a fractured world that a higher life is possible.

The Malbim (Yeshayahu 49:6) adds that our mission is twofold — to strengthen ourselves from within and to radiate light outward, shining upon the nations around us.

Our role, then, is not simply to survive among the nations — but to elevate them and show them a better way.

Moving from Fear to Purpose

This calls for a shift in our mindset. Not be careful, be nice, don’t make a chillul Hashem. But rather: Treat people with dignity because they carry a tzelem Elokim. Carry yourself with confidence because a Jew is meant to uplift the world around him. The goal isn’t to hide in galus. It’s to inspire within it.

There are three main benefits to be gained from this shift in perspective.

1. Defensiveness is just unhealthy.

A defensive Judaism trains us to stay small and unnoticed. Over time, that scars our collective identity, turning pride into apology and confidence into anxiety. Emotionally, it confines us — and it’s just not healthy for us.

2. Fear stifles purpose.

A nation that sees itself as a victim cannot fulfill its Divine mission. Victims do not think about uplifting the world. They think about surviving the day. When we tell ourselves, “They’ll hate us no matter what,” we stop seeing ourselves as Hashem’s ambassadors — as people meant to elevate the world. We cannot be an ohr lagoyim and elevate the people around us when we have a victim mentality.

3. True conviction earns respect.

When our kindness is motivated by fear, it earns us tolerance at best, not respect. But when it stems from conviction — from knowing this is part of our mission — others feel it. Authenticity commands respect.

Fear is human — but it cannot define us. We must teach our children that galus is not a failure. It is the stage where our avodah unfolds. Of course we yearn for Mashiach, and we pray daily for redemption. But our role now cannot be limited to anxious waiting: “When will Mashiach just come already, life is unbearable!”

If Hashem has placed us here, in this chapter of history, then there is an avodah for us here — a mission to fulfill in the darkness while we wait. We are here to represent Hashem in the world. When success is measured by how clearly we stand for truth, we don’t just endure galus — we elevate it. We were not placed here to fear the world. We were placed here to uplift it.

This moment does not call for retreat. It calls for mission. 

Rabbi Aryeh Kerzner is the rav of Agudas Yisrael of Montreal and a noted posek and popular speaker. Many of his shiurim and speeches are available online. He is the author of the sefer Halachah at Home, published by ArtScroll/Mesorah.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1088)