Shalom! Welcome.
This site is where I write. It is where I put down history, argument, and reflection on the Jewish people, Israel, and the endurance that ties past to present.
If you are new here, the best place to begin is the completed nine-part essay series, Jewish Endurance Across Time. It follows our story from origins through exile, struggle, return, and the challenges of today. Each essay stands on its own. Read together, they form a single thread: why the Jewish people endure, why Israel matters, and why antisemitism never truly disappears.
Read the series in order:
If you want to know what drives my work, start there.
And if you want the ongoing conversation, you’ll find me on X @UriZehavi.
Uri Zehavi
Originally, I’m from New York’s Hudson Valley, though I moved to metro Atlanta at eleven. That shift impressed on me how place shapes identity, how belonging is learned, and how resilience begins when the familiar falls away. As an adult, I returned to New York — where I met my husband Modi, who had relocated from Southern California. Together we moved south, and now we're preparing for Aliyah — our final move. We intend not only to live in Israel, but to become as Israeli as possible. That means studying Hebrew daily while, in very Israeli fashion, shouting at the bureaucracy to finish processing our Aliyah papers.
My education ranged across literature, law, and applied disciplines. Study gave me habits of critical thought; work gave me discipline. In research, strategy, and communications I wrote to brief, persuade, and clarify. Much of it was for others — as an analyst, as a ghostwriter — shaping arguments that were not my own. The discipline was useful but incomplete. Eventually the restlessness grew too loud: I wanted to write in my own name, without compromise, about the matters that demanded clarity.
In preparing for Aliyah, I am Hebraicising my name to Uriel Zehavi, though I live and write as Uri. Uriel carries the meaning “God is my light,” while Uri, more intimate and direct, means “my flame.” Both point toward endurance and illumination. Zehavi is a deliberate choice—a reclamation of our family's most recent fully Jewish name, Goldstein. To carry that lineage forward in Hebrew asserts continuity across rupture, intermarriage, and distance. I've written as a journalist and author under my pre-Aliyah name as well, but this represents a clean break — a fresh start.
I now serve as a Senior Fellow with the Atlanta Israel Coalition. AIC strengthens ties between Atlanta and Israel, confronts antisemitism, and builds opportunities for advocacy and education. Their mission is inseparable from mine. Through AIC, I write on Israel, Jew-hatred, and the narratives that shape Jewish life — work that connects a local community to a global struggle.
Together with my husband, Modi, I also edit and publish Israel Brief, a daily roundup of curated Israeli news drawn from both global outlets and Israeli voices. It is an exercise in shmirah — guardianship of truth — offering clarity and continuity amid distortion, and ensuring readers can follow Israel’s unfolding story with focus.
After the 12-day war, I joined AIC's urgent relief mission to Israel. We carried medical supplies, comfort kits, and more into hospitals, rehabilitation centers, schools, IDF bases, and communities under fire. I watched children clutch toys with relief in their eyes, parents shed tears they had been holding, and soldiers thank us for food and water as they came straight from Gaza. These moments stripped abstraction away and taught me that words must be tethered to presence.
My book, Holiday From History: The West's Peacetime Delusion and the Resurgence of Jew Hatred, releases in October. It contends that the West mistook a fleeting period of calm for enduring stability, leaving it blindsided by the return of antisemitism, with Jews and Israel facing the fallout. The book examines the complacency of the post-Cold War era, the misguided hope of the Oslo accords, the naivety of early twenty-first-century America, and the stark awakening of October 7. Having lived through September 11 in the United States and the 7/7 bombings in London, I once believed the world had turned against jihadist terror and that the Second Intifada had been universally rejected. I was wrong. As hatred resurges, now openly embraced by many, the lesson of October 7 is clear: too many excuse terror, especially when its victims are Jews. This reality, not theory, drives my writing.
After Aliyah, I will build Magen HaDerekh, a project devoted to practical shmirah — guardianship — through training protection dogs for families and communities in Israel and abroad. I have trained and lived with dogs for years, including work with service dogs. My early exposure to protection culture — executive security, detection, defense — informs this effort. Magen HaDerekh is not a writing project, yet it grows from the same conviction that shapes my books and essays: safety is not given; it must be cultivated, practiced, and sustained.
Beyond work, I travel widely for the sheer joy of it. With my husband, we've lived for months in Mexico and the Netherlands, and visited dozens of countries across four continents (some through our European base, but most simply because we can't sit still). We've also traversed much of America by car — there's something deeply satisfying about watching the landscape change mile by mile. We even take cruises occasionally, though we avoid the disgusting, germ-infested buffets like they're chametz during Pesach. (The kosher options on ships? Let's just say dayenu takes on new meaning when you're grateful for anything edible.) We are most at ease near water, though we are choosing the desert. We run for exercise, though we take no pleasure in it—I doubt anyone truly does. I also live with migraines, making sunglasses a permanent fixture. Perhaps it's ironic that I'm moving to a land of harsh light while choosing a profession that binds me to a screen, but choices need not be convenient to be true. Besides, what's more Jewish than embracing a beautiful contradiction?
I live with my husband Modi, a fine art photographer whose work can be found at www.modizehavi.co.il, and our dog and cat.
This publication gathers my books, essays, and reflections. It follows the arc of Aliyah, the work of protective shmirah, and the discipline of resilience. It rests on a simple conviction: Jewish life endures when we claim responsibility for it, in word and deed.
Values
My work rests on a few commitments. Jewish life must be defended — in both word and deed. Safety is not given, unfortunately. It must be built, sustained, and renewed. Clarity matters more than comfort, and truth must be spoken even when it unsettles.
Aliyah is part of this — to live in Israel is not only a personal choice but a statement of responsibility, a willingness to share in the fate of a people in its land.
These are not abstractions. They are the reason I write, the reason I build, and the reason I refuse to yield in the face of denial, inversion, and moral confusion.
Support the Work
This site is free to read. All public essays, updates, and news about books and projects are open to every subscriber.
A paid subscription goes further. It sustains the writing and the projects on Israel, resilience, and guardianship. In return, you’ll occasionally see subscriber-only posts: early excerpts, behind-the-scenes notes, or drafts. You’ll also have access to subscriber Q&As and community updates.
A guardian circle membership is for those who want to go even deeper. Founding members are recognized as core supporters and receive early access to special projects and releases.
Students get 50% off with a .edu email through this link. If you want to subscribe but genuinely can’t afford it, contact me directly. I’d rather have you reading than not.
Speaking & Media
I am available for interviews, speaking engagements, or commentary on Israel, antisemitism, Jewish resilience, and security.
