For many years—decades, even—of terrorist strikes and wars, Israel had been the most dangerous place for Jews. But is it still?

Reflecting on the Bondi Beach massacre made me remember—perhaps strangely—a remark once made by my son, Noam, in his Bar Mitzvah speech. The year was 2003, the height of the Second Intifada, with hundreds of Israelis murdered by Palestinian suicide bombers. In spite of this nightmarish situation, my two sisters flew from the United States to attend Noam’s ceremony in Jerusalem. He turned to them from the pulpit, smiled, and quipped, “I want to thank my aunts for risking their lives to be at my Bar Mitzvah.” The congregation laughed, but bitterly. Visiting Israel at that time could, in fact, be life-threatening.

Truth is, life in Israel can often seem precarious. This was especially true on October 7, a date which some commentators claimed transformed Israel into the most dangerous place for Jews. They were wrong. For many years—decades, even—of terrorist strikes and wars, Israel had been the most dangerous place for Jews. But is it still?

In the more than two years since October 7, I have visited Diaspora communities throughout much of the world. In all, I heard unprecedented concern for Jewish safety. In some, I heard deepening doubts about Jewish survival.

In Australia, activists in the Jewish community lamented how the country, long hospitable to Jews, no longer guaranteed them a secure future. The anti-Zionist policies of the government, combined with a growing population sympathetic to Islamic extremism, meant that the firebombing of a Melbourne synagogue was only the beginning. Speaking by phone with Australian friends after the Bondi Beach bloodbath, I heard how the slaughter was shocking but not surprising.

Still, I was both surprised and shocked when prominent members of the Toronto community—along with Australia’s, one of the world’s most established and successful—told me they no longer feel safe sending their children to public schools. The pro-Israel event I attended required many dozens of security guards and police squads. Looking at all the security we needed as Jews in Toronto, a colleague of mine observed, “It feels like we’re in Gaza, not Canada.”

In Canada, too, the presence of a pro-Palestinian government and a burgeoning population often supportive of Islamic extremism has raised questions about the country’s long-term viability for Jews.

And if the dangers to Jews in Sydney and Toronto have escalated, how much higher have they soared in New York? With a mayor openly advocating Israel’s destruction, the message of open season on the Jews is clear to antisemites of both the left wing and right. While it’s difficult to get a gun in Canada, and next to impossible in Australia, in America it’s pro forma. However shocking, any attack on a Manhattan synagogue or Jewish community event will scarcely be surprising.

The situation isn’t all that different in Central and South America. Several virulently anti-Israel governments and politicians with longstanding ties to terrorism threaten the deeply-rooted Jewish communities. In Colombia, where I visited last summer, President Gustavo Petro, himself a former terrorist, obsessively posts anti-Zionist and antisemitic rants that compare Hitler to Netanyahu and Gaza to the Holocaust. “The Jewish people are no longer the people of God,” read one. And another claiming the Holocaust “was just training for the real thing: Gaza.” Commenting on the Bondi Beach massacre, my good friend, Jack Goldstein, a leader of South American Jewry, told me, “It would be shocking if it happened here, but not surprising.”

Now, after the antisemitic demonstration outside New York’s Park East Synagogue, after the Yom Kippur attack in Great Britain, and the assaults on Jewish communities throughout Western Europe—after Bondi Beach—the time has come to reexamine the question of which is more dangerous for Jews, living in Israel or the Diaspora?

Even today, with the war hopefully behind us, one can hardly say that life in Israel is completely safe. We still reside in arguably the world’s toughest neighborhood, especially for Jews. But in our neighborhood, we are the police. Our Jewish neighborhood has a powerful Jewish army sworn to protect it. In Israel, we can control our destiny—and mitigate the dangers—to a degree unthinkable in the Diaspora.

Should millions of Jews then leave their homes in Australia, Europe, and North America tomorrow and move to Israel? I still say no. As Israelis, we will, of course, be delighted and honored to welcome all Jews back to our ancient homeland. And though classic Zionism negates the Diaspora and envisions the ingathering of all Jews in Israel, the reality has always been that a strong and secure Diaspora represents a paramount interest for Israel, both morally and strategically. Israel needs a strong Diaspora no less than Diaspora Jews rely on a robust Israel.

While inviting all Diaspora Jews to come home, Israel must demand that host countries protect their Jewish communities and refrain from anti-Israel incitement. We must insist that, by espousing anti-Israel policies and permitting antisemitism to spread unchecked, foreign governments are gravely endangering their Jewish citizens.

We must do all that while acknowledging the inexorably mounting dangers of Diaspora life. We must be prepared for a new reality in which attending a Bar Mitzvah in Sydney, Toronto, or New York—rather than just Jerusalem—can be hazardous.