Why Can’t Israelis Just Relax?

The Shabbat table in my home in Efrat was electric that afternoon. Fifteen young Christian leaders from across America sat around my dining room for seudah shlishit—the third meal of Shabbat—in the final hours of the holy day. They had just completed Israel365’s Keep God’s Land Young Leader Fellowship, and these were the last precious moments of their transformative week in the Holy Land. As soon as Shabbat ended and the meal concluded, they would head straight to the airport.

One by one, they spoke of moments that had inspired them: standing at the Western Wall, walking through Jerusalem’s ancient streets, meeting the heroic pioneers of Judea and Samaria, witnessing Israeli resilience in the face of constant threat. But when Goldy Olivier from Florida took her turn, she said something that made me pause. She spoke about being drawn to what she called “the beautiful tension” of Israeli life. Everywhere she had gone, she explained, the people she met were pulsating with energy and intensity. Israel, she concluded with a laugh, is the opposite of chilled out.

Her words hit me because they captured a paradox I witness daily in my own life and in the lives of my neighbors. The very intensity that draws people to Israel—that spiritual electricity crackling through the air, that sense of living at the epicenter of history—is the same force that drives others away. I know Israelis who packed up for Florida, California, and other “quieter” places, not because they stopped loving this land, but because they couldn’t handle the relentless pressure. The terrorism, the wars, the internal battles over Israel’s soul—secular versus religious, left versus right—create a tension that some souls simply cannot bear.

But here’s what puzzles visitors and even many Israelis themselves: Why does this tiny nation burn with such intensity? What makes life in Israel feel so charged, so consequential, so utterly unlike anywhere else on earth?

The answer lies hidden in a single verse that most people read without grasping its explosive implications. The Bible states:

At first glance, this appears to be a comforting promise about divine protection. But the Sages understood something far more radical: this verse describes a land under constant divine scrutiny—a place where the normal rules of spiritual cause and effect are amplified beyond measure.

Nachmanides explains that while God supervises the entire world, He governs other lands through intermediary forces and natural laws. Other nations experience divine providence filtered through angels, through natural processes, through the regular flow of history. Israel, however, receives direct divine attention—unfiltered, unmediated, concentrated. God’s “eyes” are constantly upon it, creating what the Sages call a microscopic spiritual environment where every action, every thought, every decision carries heightened significance.

This is not merely poetic language. The Sages teach that commandments performed in Israel carry greater spiritual weight than those performed elsewhere—but so do transgressions. When you live in a place where divine will is most focused, both positive and negative actions reverberate with amplified spiritual consequences. Every choice becomes magnified, every decision charged with eternal significance.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov taught that spiritual advancement is intrinsically linked to the sanctity of the Land of Israel. He explained that “to be a member of the Jewish People is to move always to higher and higher levels. To do this is impossible except through the sanctity of the Land of Israel.” The land itself transforms those who enter it: “Merely by stepping foot on the Land he will become merged with it and transformed by its sacred character.” What might require years of spiritual development elsewhere can occur in months within Israel’s borders. The land itself becomes a forge for transformation—sometimes beautiful, sometimes brutal, but never neutral.

But why would God design such intensity? This spiritual pressure is not accidental but purposeful. Israel is destined to serve as a “light unto the nations”—the nation that shows all humanity the path to God. This divine calling demands inhabitants who can withstand and channel extraordinary spiritual power. The relentless intensity acts as a filter: it drives away those unprepared for such responsibility while forging those who remain into vessels capable of carrying God’s light to the world. Only souls strong enough to bear this sacred burden can fulfill Israel’s ultimate mission.

This explains why Israel generates such disproportionate global attention. The world’s obsession with Israeli conflicts—far beyond any rational geopolitical calculation—stems from an intuitive recognition that what happens in Israel affects everyone. The Sages teach that “just as a navel is set in the middle of a person, so the Land of Israel is the navel of the world,” and that “the foundation stone, out of which the world was founded” lies at the heart of Jerusalem. The land serves as humanity’s spiritual center, a place where the future of human civilization is determined.

The constant wars, the terrorism, the internal struggles over Israel’s identity—these are not random historical accidents but inevitable consequences of living in a place where spiritual forces operate at maximum intensity. The battles over whether Israel will be secular or religious, socialist or traditional, are not merely political disputes but cosmic struggles played out on earthly terrain. Every election, every policy decision, every cultural shift reverberates through dimensions most people cannot perceive.

This is why Israelis can’t simply “chill out” like their counterparts in other nations. They are not living ordinary lives in an ordinary place. They are participating in a divine drama where the stakes are nothing less than the direction of human history. The intensity Goldy observed—that pulsating energy, that sense of urgency, that beautiful tension—reflects the reality of living under God’s direct gaze.

Goldy got it exactly right. There is a beautiful tension in this land, a divine electricity that charges every moment with significance. Living here means accepting that your life will never be ordinary, that every day brings both challenges and opportunities that exist nowhere else on earth. Some flee this intensity, seeking refuge in places where existence feels more predictable, more manageable. But those of us who remain understand something that transcends comfort: we are part of something infinitely larger than ourselves.

This intensity isn’t a burden—it’s a privilege. To live under God’s direct gaze, to participate in the divine drama of human history, to help shape the spiritual future of mankind—this is what it means to live in the Holy Land. The beautiful tension Goldy observed runs through every street, every home, every soul brave enough to call this place home. It’s not always easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.