When then-prime minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated in November 1995, the American Jewish community filled Madison Square Garden (MSG) to mourn him. Twenty thousand people, religious and secular, liberal and conservative, gathered under one roof for a single night of collective grief and purpose.
The event, organized by the Conference of Presidents of Major Jewish Organizations, the Jewish Community Relations Council, and UJA-Federation of New York, was the last such gathering at which mainstream Jewish institutions had summoned that kind of spontaneous, mass Jewish event in the US.
Since then, only two communities have brought American Jews back to arenas and stadiums: the Orthodox and Israelis.
The 1995 Shalom Chaver memorial at MSG symbolized an era in which the Jewish federation world and organized communal leadership could still convene the broad center. It was a civic moment, not a partisan one, a spiritual act of democracy as much as of mourning.
Compare that to now: When thousands of Jews recently packed MSG again, it wasn’t for a communal call to conscience but for a concert by Israeli singer-songwriter Ishay Ribo.
Ribo’s 2023 show, the first time an Israeli artist had a sell-out at Madison Square Garden, drew Jews and non-Jews, observant and secular, Israeli expats and American-born fans, all singing along to Psalms and pop.
Last week, Israeli pop-star Omer Adam did the same and sold-out MSG, creating an intensely Jewish space of connection and joy, where Adam paid tribute to the IDF, the freed hostages, and even to US President Trump. These aren’t federation convenings or donor galas; they are cultural revivals born from Israeli-ness and spirituality that transcend institutional boundaries.
Parallel to this, another segment of the Jewish world has mastered the art of scale. Orthodox Jews now regularly fill massive arenas, not for entertainment, but for faith. The Siyum HaShas, marking the completion of the Talmud, draws nearly 90,000 people to MetLife Stadium.
In 2020, the World Siyum organized by Dirshu, an international Torah study movement, filled Newark’s Prudential Center with 18,000 participants. And this is not new. Back in 2012, the “Internet Asifa,” a mass rally addressing the challenges of digital life, filled Citi Field and Arthur Ashe Stadium with more than 60,000 Orthodox Jews. These are not fringe gatherings; they are declarations of communal power and purpose.
Orthodoxy is the fastest-growing stream in American Judaism, according to Pew. In 2013, just 9% of American Jews identified as Orthodox. By 2020, that number had nearly doubled among Jews aged 18 to 29, reaching 17%. These communities are young and confident and are building infrastructure to match their growth. A recent JFNA survey reinforces this trend.
In the wave of post–October 7, Jewish engagement has increased, with this phenomenon becoming known as “The Surge.” The sharpest increase has come from those connected to the Chabad-Lubavitch movement, with 44% reporting deeper involvement in Jewish life, almost doubling the rate of those with “no particular denomination” (24%).
It’s not only Orthodox Jews joining Chabad. The same survey found that 30% of respondents participated in Chabad activities in a typical year. Of these, 39% identified as Reform and 20% as Conservative, showing that Orthodox organizations are learning how to reach far beyond their own community.
Meanwhile, mainstream institutions have become excellent at convening conferences, but not crowds.
In November 2024, the Jewish Federations of North America (JFNA) and the Conference of Presidents organized a pro-Israel rally at Nationals Park in Washington, DC. Organizers hoped for 30,000 to 40,000 people. In the end, only about 2,000 came.
Rain fell, seats stood empty, and the stadium looked cavernous. The event, a follow-up to the historic 2023 March for Israel that drew hundreds of thousands to the National Mall, became a symbol of exhaustion. It revealed something deeper: Even on the issue of Israel, institutional calls to unity now struggle to inspire mass participation.
If a Federation-led call to “stand with Israel” can’t fill a stadium, what chance does a call to “stand for American Jewish life” have?
Sociological map of global Jewry
Beyond Orthodoxy, the sociological map of global Jewry is being redrawn by another force: the growing Israeli Diaspora. A 2025 report by the Institute for Jewish Policy Research (JPR) shows that Israelis now account for between 20% and 40% of some European Jewish communities. The trend is increasingly visible in the United States, where at least half a million Israelis now live. Former Israeli-American Council CEO Shoham Nicolet goes even further and puts the number closer to 800,000. That would make Israelis roughly 10% of American Jews.
Their cultural and demographic imprint is deepening. In cities such as Miami, Los Angeles, and even Austin, where the Jewish population has swelled from 6,000 in the 1990s to nearly 39,000 today, largely due to an influx of Israeli tech workers, Hebrew is heard in supermarkets and playgrounds. Their presence is fueling new modes of Jewish life: Israeli pop stars fill arenas, grassroots cultural festivals, and informal communities that operate well outside the traditional federation system.
Concurrently, the Orthodox share of the American Jewish population continues to expand, bringing with it a sense of communal cohesion that mainstream institutions struggle to replicate.
The ability to fill a stadium or an arena is not just about entertainment; it’s about identity. Who can convene tens of thousands of Jews today reveals who holds the cultural and emotional center of gravity in Jewish life. The Orthodox and the Israelis can. The mainstream cannot.
Suppose the 1995 MSG memorial symbolized the end of a unified liberal-Zionist era. In that case, the current Madison Square Garden moment belongs to the Israeli and Orthodox Jews who still know how to pack a stadium. Whoever has the ability to fill these spaces won’t just entertain; they will redefine Jewish unity for the 21st century.
The question for organized Jewish leadership is whether it wants to learn from that shift or keep watching from the VIP suite.
The writer is a Middle East Initiative fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government and Elson Israel fellow at the Jewish Federation of Tulsa; he is also a former executive director of the Reut Institute and an expert on Israel-US relations and world Jewry.