For Jews in the diaspora who may have long dreamed of living in Israel—of finding love, career, family and a sense of religious or national belonging in the Jewish state—now might not seem like a fortuitous time to make aliyah.

But for 26-year-old Eitan Meyerowitz, the opposite proved true. After Hamas terrorists infiltrated southern Israel on October 7, slaughtering 1,200 people and kidnapping more than 250 hostages, he felt an unwavering pull to be in Israel, where history was unfolding.

“This is a Jewish war as much as it is an Israeli war,” said the Australian native, who moved to Israel in January. “I could be in Melbourne and witness this war from afar, or I could be in Israel and be a part of it.”

While his decision may seem unlikely, professionals involved in aliyah said that there has been an influx of applications from Jews worldwide who are interested in moving to Israel—some despite the conflict, others because of it. Even though aliyah has dipped from the previous two years, it continues even in the wake of October 7.

“Thousands of families have made aliyah since October 7,” said Maj. Gen. (res.) Doron Almog, chairman of the Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI), the quasi-governmental organization that coordinates immigration to Israel for most Jews. “These newcomers symbolize hope and the promise of growth and prosperity. With their arrival, we are strengthening and advancing the State of Israel, furthering the vision of the ingathering of exiles and reinforcing our nation’s resilience.”

According to Jafi, between January 2024 and the end of July, the number of olim—new immigrants to Israel—stood at 19,885, representing a 43 percent decrease from the same period last year. In all of 2023, more than 46,000 Jews and others with Jewish heritage moved to Israel, representing a 39 percent decrease compared to the almost 75,000 the previous year, in 2022, mainly due to a decline in immigrants from Russia and Ukraine. There had been a spike in immigration from those countries since the start of the Russia-Ukraine war in 2022.

The number of new olim, however, doesn’t paint a complete picture of the current appeal of aliyah for Diaspora Jews. There has been a significant rise in Jews filing applications to move to Israel, though not all who file will ultimately make aliyah. Between October 7, 2023, and the end of June 2024, there was a 233 percent increase among French Jews filing applications; a 97 percent increase among Canadian Jews; a 62 percent increase among American Jews; and a 52 percent increase among British Jews.

Jews from the United States and Canada are usually supported in their aliyah journeys by the nonprofit Nefesh B’Nefesh (NBN), which works in conjunction with JAFI. According to NBN, more than 2,500 Jews from the two countries have relocated to Israel since October 7, with many settling in the center of the country in cities such as Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Holon, Ra’anana, Modi’in and Beit Shemesh. A recent NBN report stated that “around 50 percent of aliyah candidates cite Zionism as their primary motivation for moving to Israel”—not necessarily the rise in antisemitism throughout the Diaspora.

Meanwhile, Yigal Palmor, head of JAFI’s International Relations Unit and foreign policy adviser to Almog, described antisemitism as only one factor in the surge in applications from Western countries. Potential immigrants have shared other motivations like Jewish heritage, personal growth and family connections.

What can newcomers to Israel expect during a time of war and existential crisis for the Jewish state? There is the financial assistance package provided by the Ministry of Aliyah and Integration, based on age and family status, that all olim receive.

But perhaps greater than any financial subsidy is the opportunity for these men, women and children to manifest their Zionism by joining their fates with that of the Jewish state. It is this resolve and determination that motivated Meyerowitz and the others interviewed for this story to make aliyah after October 7. Here are their stories.

‘If Not Now, When?’

Rosie Sternberg bounces her cooing 11-month-old on her knee as the scorching Israeli sun beats down on them as they sit at a cafe table in Carmei Gat, a neighborhood of Kiryat Gat in southern Israel. Despite the relentless summer heat and the ongoing war in Gaza, Rosie, her husband, Meir, and their blue-eyed daughter, Liel, are all smiling.

“There are zero regrets,” Meir said about their decision to move to Israel in April, seven months after the Hamas massacre.

Rosie, 27, grew up in New Jersey in what she described as a “stereotypical Modern Orthodox, Zionist family.” After attending day school, she spent a year at a seminary in Israel, an experience that “ignited” her love for the Jewish state. From then on, she said, she knew she would one day make Israel her home.

Meir’s mother is Israeli, and throughout his childhood in New York, he spent his summers visiting family in Israel. His mother has seven siblings, and Meir, who is also 27, has over 100 cousins in the country, all part of what he described as a large, close-knit family.

The couple, who are religiously observant, married three years ago and relocated to Florida for what they thought would be a short period, before their ultimate move to Israel. But both Rosie’s speech pathologist certification and the aliyah process took longer than expected.

“We were not in a rush, but when October 7 happened, moving to Israel became a constant conversation,” Rosie recalled. “We had our worries,” she admitted, “and a lot of honest talks and self-reflection. But we concluded, if not now, when?”

Meir said that as antisemitism surged across the United States and violence against Jews erupted, he realized he did not want to live in a country where he was reliant on a non-Jewish police force.

“These are my brethren,” Meir said of Israel’s police and soldiers. “God forbid something happens, we’re a massive family. Israel is one community, and that stood out after October 7.”

Meir acknowledged that moving to Israel comes with financial challenges. He doesn’t expect to buy new cars, opting for used ones instead, or own a house with a big backyard like he might have in America. He also finds himself constantly needing to “relearn” basic tasks, such as ordering gas canisters for cooking and being mindful about water consumption in a country with water shortages.

But not making aliyah because of what he deemed to be minor discomforts “feels hypocritical and hard to reconcile,” he said.

The couple began their lives in Israel near a childhood friend of Rosie’s in Carmei Gat, a largely English-speaking community with around 200 other olim families. Rosie is working on her Hebrew while she continues her speech pathology job back in the United States remotely. Meir works for an American nonprofit. Their dream is to secure employment in Israel and, once the war ends, move to a moshav in the North.

‘Sexual Zionism’

Eitan Meyerowitz wants to be a part of the Jewish story.

“The Jewish story is happening here in Israel,” said the 26-year-old, who made aliyah from Melbourne, Australia, in January. “If I want to be part of it, I must be here.”

Although he said that he always knew he wanted to live in Israel, he had gotten comfortable in his local Jewish community, where he was an educator at the Leibler Yavneh College day school. One day, he said, he realized he had to move to Israel soon or get stuck. The attack on October 7 prompted him to reconsider—not out of fear, but because he wasn’t sure if he could contribute to the Jewish state meaningfully during wartime.

“My dad and I sat down, and he asked me, ‘Are you going to be in specific danger?’ and ‘Are you going to be a burden on Israel?’ ” Meyerowitz said over an almond milk latte at a cafe in central Jerusalem. “We even considered the financial aspect, as every new immigrant gets some government aid. But we understood that I wouldn’t be in immediate danger and that Israel specifically wanted olim during this time, so I decided to come.”

Meyerowitz, who recently completed ulpan and is working as a waiter, acknowledged that he is in a “privileged position.” He doesn’t know anyone personally affected by the war. Living in downtown Jerusalem, near the city center’s main thoroughfare of Ben Yehuda Street, he has experienced only rare rocket sirens, and he said that he doesn’t visit the North or South of the country.

Meyerowitz said that instead of physically fighting for Israel, he is engaged in combat online. He now dedicates his TikTok account (@the_chalutz) to sharing his aliyah experience and what he calls “authentic Judaism” as he tries to defend his new country and religion.

Meyerowitz, who is gay, said that he is also hoping to find love.

“I knew if I was going to find a religious [shomer Shabbat] gay companion, it was going to be here in Israel,” Meyerowitz said. “This is my sexual Zionism.”

So far, he said, he has been dating a lot. But he added that life in Israel is not a “magical fairyland.”

“You have to reimagine yourself,” said Meyerowitz, who hopes to move to Tel Aviv and study acting or directing. “It is a bit hard and disarming, but it is a good experience nonetheless.”

‘I Want to Stay in Israel’

Sergei Naumenko is not Jewish according to religious law, but growing up in Moscow with his Jewish grandfather, he was introduced to Shabbat and the holidays. When he turned 18, he visited Israel through Birthright Israel. Then, he tried a longer-term program with Masa Israel Journey last year and decided to stay—even though the war had started by the end of the course and he had no family in the country.

The 23-year-old officially became a citizen in February and lives in Haifa. Despite the city’s bustling noise, he said he enjoys his neighborhood, which has a large Russian immigrant population. The owners of the coffee shop where we spoke knew him by name and, during the interview, served him his favorite sweets.

“I want to figure out what it is to be a Jew. I want to learn the language and the culture. Maybe then I’ll learn the religion,” Naumenko said, though he did not articulate if that meant official conversion.

Living in Haifa, where many displaced Israelis from northern towns have moved, Naumenko said he feels the impact of the war. But he is not scared, despite being only 40 miles from the Galilee, where Hezbollah has been launching rockets since October 8. Having witnessed the war between Russia and Ukraine and knowing he could have been drafted into the Russian army, he said he feels more secure in Israel. “At least here, I would be trained first,” he said with a laugh.

He emphasized that his move was not to escape the war back home but to “figure things out.” With a law degree earned in Russia, he is now attending ulpan to learn Hebrew. He does not work and is only casually dating. He has yet to enlist in the Israel Defense Forces, though he is open to serving. Olim over the age of 22 are exempt from the military draft, and up until age 28, they can volunteer for service.

“I wouldn’t want to force anyone to move during a war; it is tough,” he acknowledged. “But I plan to stay. I want to stay in Israel.”

‘Your Own Little Family’

After October 7, Esther Bensusan moved to Israel from Spain with one purpose in mind. “I wanted to support Israel as much as possible and help it become even stronger,” she said. “When Israel’s existence was at stake, I realized how crucial it is to protect and support this country.”

The 23-year-old grew up in a Jewish home in a small town in southern Spain. She describes her religious observance as traditional, but not Orthodox. After graduating from college in Madrid, she participated in a Masa program. Upon returning to Spain, she knew she would eventually move to Israel.

Bensusan arrived in March and settled in Ra’anana to attend ulpan. Her dorm-like accommodations are bright, cheerful and full of student artwork. She is preparing to join the Garin Tzabar program for lone soldiers in the IDF and hopes to join the Intelligence Corps.

“Whatever I do—work, study, military—I want to do it here,” Bensusan said.

She acknowledged missing her family, and the challenges of moving to a new country alone. Still, she admires the “amazing people” in Israel and feels a strong sense of togetherness and familiarity in her new community.

“Despite everything happening in Israel, people are always willing to help,” Bensusan said. “They make you feel like you have your own little family. It’s incredible how you can build your own family here.”

‘We Must Accept Our Fate’

Kayla Marks’s dedication to Israel extends beyond personal conviction—it’s a tribute to the legacy of her grandfather, Marvin Marks. Raised in Modern Orthodox family in Hollywood, Fla., Marks credits his love for Israel for shaping her journey toward Zionist education and advocacy.

The 23-year-old became involved with AIPAC—the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, the largest pro-Israel lobby in the United States—when she was 13, three years after she first visited Israel with her family. She has attended its annual policy conference every year since. She was the president of her high school’s Israel advocacy club and even developed a course on media bias, which she taught to her classmates.

Her grandfather purchased apartments in Israel for his children decades ago. Marks currently lives in her parents’ Tel Aviv home, which they had previously rented out. The lush interior with its stark white walls and American-style kitchen counters and bathrooms is impressive and unique—even for Tel Aviv, which is increasingly known for architecture and interior design.

One day in 2014, her grandfather invited his granddaughter over to discuss Israel’s 2005 disengagement from Gush Katif, when the government dismantled 17 Israeli settlements in the southern Gaza Strip. Sitting at his dining room table, he asked Marks to someday carry on his pro-Israel efforts. A month later, he passed away unexpectedly.

“He basically left me to carry the torch,” Marks said, although she has two older cousins also living in Israel. “I wanted to do it anyway, but his inspiration lit the fire within me. He truly wanted me here, so everything I do is because of him.”

She arrived in February after her original plan to make aliyah in early 2023 was delayed by a thyroid cancer diagnosis. Despite the setback, she persevered and made it to Israel, but the diagnosis does mean that she will not be able to volunteer for military service. Instead, Marks helps to arrange barbeques for soldiers serving in the South and is enrolled in a cybersecurity and intelligence master’s program at Bar-Ilan University.

Her advice to others considering aliyah amid the ongoing conflict is clear. “I would 100 percent recommend it,” she said. “The war wouldn’t deter me. Look at what’s happening in Europe and the United States,” she added, noting the rise in antisemitism.

“We must accept our fate as the Jewish people,” Marks concluded. “There is no other country for us other than Israel.”

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Maayan Hoffman is editor-in-chief of ILTV, an Israeli daily English-language news program. She is also the host of the podcast Hadassah On Call: New Frontiers in Medicine.