Changing the World

Something needs to change. It really does.
Things are falling apart. Right now.

We don’t have time to trust “the government” or “the experts.” So what do we do? And no — there’s no time to imagine. We need to act. And most importantly: don’t tell me what to imagine. It’s my world as much as it is yours. So give me the space I need.

Just tell me how to change. Maybe a recipe. Make it simple — simple enough for a child to understand. Make it real. Yes. I’m throwing shade here.

This article is brought to you in collaboration with Bible Way.

In Part 1, I shared how in high school we came up with the “Music Theory” to explain why Israeli women are more confident than their American peers — and how it somehow gained national popularity. In Part 2, I described the moment I realized this semi-joking theory might be much more serious than I thought — when I came face to face with British culture. I also introduced a song that could only exist in Hebrew:

Suddenly a man wakes up in the morning
He feels he is a nation and begins to walk
And to all he meets on his way he calls out “Shalom.”

The idea that a man is a nation — rooted in figures like Abraham and others — plants the seed of change. It rewrites the relationship between the individual and the collective. The nation isn’t above the individual — it’s an extension of personal identity. Other countries wait for a movement. In Israel, a single person is expected to be one.

If you grow up in Israel, you know you can change the world. Because a man can become a nation. So yes, “I can change the world.” But I can imagine what some people might be thinking: “You Jews are crazy.” Which, to be fair, is a pretty good summary of what many think. Fine. I hear you. What if we walk this walk together?

If you want to go fast, walk alone. If you want to go far, walk together.

So let’s look at what it sounded like when Israel asked this same question: What now?

1971. Israel. Something shifted.

After the euphoria of the Six-Day War and years of urgent state-building, the focus on survival gave way to a quieter question: What now? Purpose, once obvious, was now up for grabs.

Inspired by the Civil Rights movement in the United States, Israel found a new mission — creating a better society. And so — a song was born, a recipe for change.

Me and You

Me and you, we’ll change the world
Me and you — then all the rest will come too
They’ve said it before me
Doesn’t matter — me and you will change the world.

Me and you, we’ll try from the beginning
It’ll be tough* — so what, it’s not the end
They’ve said it before
That doesn’t matter — me and you will change the world.

— Arik Einstein · *more accurately, it will be so difficult we will genuinely suffer.

Where most English songs say “wait,” “imagine,” “hope,” or “believe,” this one says: Try. Suffer. Keep going. Start small. Just start.

If Imagine is the anthem of dreamers, Me and You is the anthem of builders.

That might just explain the Start-Up Nation. When I left high-tech and opened my YouTube channel, it wasn’t just a career shift. It was a declaration. Suddenly one person — me — woke up in the morning, decided they are a nation, and began to walk.

Me and you, we’ll change the world
Me and you — then all the rest will come too.

For those who are curious, yes — I started my channel to build a nation of warriors. Which is exactly why I named my membership tiers:

• Free Speech Cheerleader — $5
• Freedom Soldier — $10
• Values Commander — $20
• Royalty — $100

A nation built on values. And those values? They come from the Bible. While I was heading down the path of content, Holly, who shared this vision, decided to build an app. She knew more people should follow the right way. So she acted. The Bible Way.

On the surface, I was walking alone. In reality, people were walking with me. Especially one person, my friend Holly. Behind the scenes, we were walking this path together. Cheering each other on. And while some may have thought we were crazy, we had each other to rely on. We both wanted to change the world. And we shared the same vision: bringing the values that shaped us — the ones that made us who we are — back to the forefront.

They said it before us. But the timeless wisdom that went down from generation to generation? It’s no longer accessible. Not because of the content — but because of the setting.

This idea — that the world changes when just two people begin walking — goes all the way back to the Bible. Just like the song in Part 2, this song simply repackages ideas that were already written there. Here’s another incredibly well-known story that sends the exact same message.

Ruth

A Moabite outsider tells her widowed Jewish mother-in-law:

“Where you go, I will go. Your people will be my people. Your God, my God.”Ruth 1:16

Two women. Poor and displaced. But they change the future of Israel. The straightforward explanation is that Ruth becomes the great-grandmother of King David. But actually, what changes the world is something much bigger: the reframing of the Stranger.

In the biblical world, the ger — the stranger — is a recurring figure. The Torah commands kindness toward the ger:

“You shall not wrong a ger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”Exodus 22:20

But even with these moral commands, the ger remained on the margins. Protected, but not necessarily included. Then comes Ruth. A Moabite. From a nation the Torah explicitly says:

“An Ammonite or a Moabite is not to enter the assembly of YHWH; even to the tenth generation no one from them is to enter the assembly of YHWH, for the ages.”Deuteronomy 23:4

And yet, she says:

“Your people will be my people, and your God my God.”Ruth 1:16

A radical, voluntary act of covenant. She’s not asking to be tolerated. She’s asking to belong. And in the end, she marries Boaz — a leader of Judah — and becomes the great-grandmother of David.

Without Ruth, there is no David. Without David, there is no Messianic line.

The rabbis didn’t ignore this. The Book of Ruth reshaped Jewish thought.

“The convert is dearer to God than the Israelites who stood at Sinai.”Tanchuma, Lech Lecha 6

This statement flows directly from Ruth’s story. It’s not lineage that matters. It’s choice. And yes — for those following closely — the Bible Way includes the New Testament too.

Me and you, we’ll try from the beginning
It’ll be tough — so what, it’s not the end
They’ve said it before
That doesn’t matter — me and you will change the world.

My friend Holly Samuel quit a high-paying job as a manager at Apple, just to fight for the values we so desperately need. She founded Bible Way.

And me? All I do is tell these stories. Really — that’s all. And we can’t do this without you.

In most English-language songs about change, the call to action is vague, collective, or externalized. The responsibility is often diffused, rarely placed directly on the listener or singer in a grounded, actionable way. In Me and You, the who is clear, humble, and radical: me and you. Not “the people,” not “humanity,” not even “the next generation.” Just two people — equal partners — who take it upon themselves to begin.

This is not leadership in the traditional Western sense, where a visionary speaks to the crowd from a stage. It’s a shoulder-to-shoulder kind of leadership. The song doesn’t ask the listener to follow; it invites them to walk alongside. That’s what makes it so Israeli. See what needs to be done, and simply begin.

A small story from school

In many Israeli elementary schools, Me and You is not just sung — it’s taught using Israeli Sign Language. Teachers guide students through hand gestures so that everyone — including hearing-impaired children — can take part. But more than that, it becomes a shared ritual. Children raise their hands together to “change the world,” acting out the message that even small movements — a gesture, a voice, a friend — can ripple outward.

From a young age, Israeli kids are told: it starts with you.

For those with sharp minds

Believing you can change the world — that can be scary. Not because it’s unnecessary. But because of something deeper: what if I lose myself in the process?

Some people, once they start imagining, become blinded by their own vision. This song — unlike many manifestos — doesn’t dictate a belief system. It simply says: start. But even then, the journey needs more guidance. How do you hold on to what really matters?

When everything else is falling apart, there’s still one unshakeable foundation.