My friend, Steven Shalowitz, hosts a podcast called The One Way Ticket Show. In each episode, he asks his guests where they would go if given a one-way ticket, no coming back: past, present, future, real, imaginary, or state of mind.
The question is a good one, as it allows us to ponder what we value most.
As I ponder the literally infinite destinations, I picture many moments worth visiting. I picture myself standing at Mount Sinai and hearing the Torah being given. I picture
walking through Jerusalem in 1948 as Jewish sovereignty returned.
Perhaps I would visit Herzl’s Vienna in 1896 to see the spark of political Zionism at its birth or Paris at the turn of the 20th century, when Jewish culture, politics, and art thrived. Maybe I would go to Vilna in its prime, when it was known as the Jerusalem of Lithuania, its streets alive with learning and debate, or to medieval Prague, a rare center of stability and Jewish scholarship.
I picture catching a glimpse of my parents as children, before I ever knew them. I picture watching their parents when they first met and began the lives that would eventually make mine possible. I picture witnessing ordinary, intimate moments that carry extraordinary meaning because they form the foundation of everything that followed.
History pulls at me. I live within it, and I carry it into every room I enter. But I would not choose the past.
I would choose Israel a century from today, in the year 2125.
Israel's future
I would walk through Jerusalem to see how we carried our story forward. I would visit Tel Aviv to see what vision and innovation had become when anchored in Jewish identity.
I would stand in Kiryat Shmona in the North and Nir Oz in the South and see how we rebuilt from heartbreak.
I would see how we fulfilled the promise of October 8, the day after the unthinkable. I would see how the Jewish people transformed devastation into determination and grief into collective purpose. I would see how the shocking rise in antisemitism did not weaken us but united us. I would see how we turned crisis into clarity. I would see how we raised a generation that stood tall in its Jewishness, linked arm in arm across borders and backgrounds.
And I would see a country that had become not only the beating heart of the Jewish people but also grown further in its role as a source of strength for the world – a place where ingenuity and conscience meet. Israel’s medical researchers would be curing diseases once thought incurable. The engineers would be greening cities and making deserts bloom.
Our trains would run from Tel Aviv to Riyadh, carrying goods, ideas, and friendships across and along former enemies. Our universities would welcome even more scholars from every corner of the globe, eager to study in a land where ancient values still guide modern life. The word “Israel” would mean more than a place on a map; it would mean creativity, resilience, and moral leadership.
I would see how we honored the promise of 1948. I would see how we built a society rooted in Jewish values and animated by meaning. I would see our great-grandchildren living proudly as Jews, strong in their identity, confident in their future, and fully at home in their homeland.
Our role
I do not wonder whether we will survive. We will. We always have. However, we must do more than survive. We must thrive. We must teach, build, protect, and lead. We must pass on not only memory but purpose. We must raise a generation that knows who they are and what they carry.
My vision of Israel a century from now is not a fantasy; it is a future within reach. If we act with clarity and courage, we will help shape that reality. We will meet that moment. And when we arrive, it will feel like coming home.
That is where I would go. The Jewish future is not only worth seeing. It is worth building, and it begins with us.
The writer is chief executive officer of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations. Follow him on X at @Daroff.