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Sicily’s Jews have their first rabbi in 500 years. Italy’s Jewish establishment won’t accept them.
CATANIA, Italy (JTA) — Rabbi Gilberto Ventura believes his synagogue has the most beautiful view in the world. Located in the tower of a century-old castle on the slopes of Mt. Etna in the eastern Sicilian city of Catania, the synagogue is wedged between a snow-capped volcano and the sun-kissed Mediterranean sea.
The 49-year-old Brazil-born rabbi also thinks his congregation is one of the most unique in the world. It’s made up mainly of Bnei Anusim — descendants of Jews forced to hide their religious practice and convert to Catholicism after the Spanish Inquisition of 1492. Before that infamous decree, Sicily was home to tens of thousands of Jews.
The synagogue, which was first inaugurated last fall, is the result of decades of grassroots efforts by those descendants in Catania to find each other and forge a sense of community that had been lacking for centuries.
Hiring a full-time rabbi was the last piece of the puzzle, and Ventura, who has a long history of working with communities of Bnei Anusim in Brazil, was a natural candidate. He arrived in Catania in January.
“I really believe that the future Judaism in the world, especially in some places like Italy and, of course, Brazil, is connected to the Bnei Anusim, and the need to embrace the Bnei Anusim,” Ventura said.
But in an ongoing point of frustration, the formal organization representing Italian Jewry, the Union of Italian Jewish Communities (UCEI), does not recognize them as Jews.
“In the case of Catania, this strange Jewish community hasn’t passed all the steps the law requires,” said Giulio Di Segni, the vice president of UCEI.
He was referring to the fact that the community did not seek UCEI’s permission before establishing themselves under the name “Jewish community of Catania.” Per Italian law, UCEI has a monopoly on acknowledging and establishing Jewish communal life in Italy — including authority over who can use the term “Jewish community of” in formal ways.
“UCEI can’t accept this because it is too easy,” he added. “We are not against their synagogue or their way of prayer, but they cannot use the name ‘Jewish community of Catania.’”
The rooftop of the Castello Leucatia, where the community meets, has a large menorah and a view of the Mediterranean. (David I. Klein)
Catania’s Jewish community members told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency a variety of stories about their Jewish backgrounds. Some came from families that always outwardly identified as Jewish. Others identified the source of family traditions practiced by parents and grandparents who — as descendants of Jews who faced persecution for practicing Judaism — still felt the need to hide aspects of their Jewishness from the public eye.
In the midst of questions about their ancestry, the majority of the Jewish community members have undergone Orthodox conversions. But that hasn’t led to their acceptance.
Benito Triolo, president of the Catania Jewish community, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that he first came to Judaism at the age of 40, thanks to the insight of a Jewish friend in Palermo, Sicily’s capital and most populous city. Working together, they established a Charter of Sicilian Jewry, which aimed to identify and highlight the Jewish heritage of neighborhoods across the island.
While working on that project, Triolo came closer to his own Jewish heritage, and after years of study, he completed an Orthodox conversion through a rabbi in Miami 25 years ago.
Another community member, who was born Alessandro Scuderi but today goes by the name of Yoram Nathan, first felt drawn to Judaism as a child watching news of the Six-Day War in 1967. At first, he was laughed at by other members of his family — except his grandmother, who happened to have a tradition of lighting eight candles in early winter and baking flat unleavened bread around Easter time.
Decades of study later, Scuderi also completed a formal conversion to Judaism before an Orthodox rabbinic court, or beit din.
Others had more straightforward backgrounds.
“I was born in a Jewish family,” said David Scibilia, the community’s secretary. “Frankly speaking, we were not hiding or deep in the shadows in this part of the country.”
Scibilia said that his father explained to him that he was a Jew as early as the age of four. Within their own home, they observed holidays and kept Shabbat — no easy task since Italian schools at the time of his childhood in the 1970s had class on Saturdays. He did not eat meat until he was an adult and was able to acquire kosher meat.
He said that his family had maintained their Jewish identity since the days of the Inquisition and married amongst a small group of other similar families.
“I was a Jew, but not part of any community,” Scibilia said. “Just my family was my community.”
An aerial view of the city of Catania shows the Mt. Etna volcano in the background, Jan. 28, 28, 2022. (Fabrizio Villa/Getty Images)
Scibilia explained that once he had a child of his own, he realized he did not want her to have the same lonely Jewish experience. But when he reached out to UCEI, he said he found the proverbial door to organized Jewish life shut. Earning membership in Jewish community organizations across Western Europe involves a strict vetting process, and many groups require applicants to prove their mothers’ Jewishness according to varying standards.
Scibilia’s experience was echoed by Jews outside of the community in Catania and across Italy’s south who talked to JTA — a feeling of neglect or rejection by UCEI for those who fall outside of the norms of Italian Judaism.
UCEI currently recognizes 19 Jewish communities across northern Italy and just one in the south, in Naples, which has jurisdiction over the rest of the southern half of the peninsula and the island of Sicily. The organization recognizes around 28,000 Jews in total across the country.
Scibilia noted that despite his Jewish upbringing, he has multiple certificates of conversion from Orthodox rabbis. The first came from a beit din of American rabbis from who traveled to Syracuse, Sicily, to assess Scibilia and others like him in Sicily. His second comes from the conversion court of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate, which is known for its exacting Orthodox standards.
Both were rejected by Italy’s own Orthodox rabbinate, and he was forced to stand before another rabbinic court in Italy.
“I have at this moment — don’t start to laugh — three documents that prove that I am a Jew, two Ketubah [marriage contracts] for my wedding, and so on, again and again and again,” Scibilia said.
Others’ experiences in the region have been even more fraught, he said.
“The problem in Italy, that if you try to study with any rabbi here, you can study for 20 years, maybe you can die even before you reach the end of the tunnel,” he said. “From my point of view, they are playing with the spirituality of these people.”
In a statement last year, UCEI called the the Catanians “a phantom ‘Jewish community’” and accused them of “misleading the local institutions and deluding believers and sympathizers into adhering to traditional religious rites, never actually recognized or authorized by the Italian rabbinical authority.”
“Between UCEI and the Italian republic is an agreement signed in ‘87,” Di Segni said. “This law means everything about Jewish communities in Italy is through the Union Jewish community in Italy (UCEI).”
Noemi Di Segni, shown in Rome in 2017, is president of the Union of Jewish Communities in Italy. (Stefano Montesi/Corbis via Getty Images)
Triolo said he isn’t too concerned about UCEI’s recognition.
“Ours is a process of refounding old communities that existed as early as 200 and up to 1492,” Triolo said. “Our recognition is already in our history. At that time the UCEI did not exist. We were there and we simply returned!”
No one knows when Jews first arrived in Sicily, but the Talmud tells a story that claims Rabbi Akiva, a well-known early rabbinic sage, visited the island in the early second century and told of a small Jewish community in Syracuse. Some historians believe the Roman writer Caecilius Calactinus — who was born in a town near Messina in the first century B.C.E — to have been of Jewish origin.
All agree that over the course of history, Sicily’s Jews watched as the island was traded between Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Normans and half a dozen other empires. The narrative has also long been that Jewish life there ended five centuries ago, under Spanish rule.
The Spanish empire’s Jews suffered the same fate as Jews from the Iberian peninsula, who would become known to the world as Sephardim when they were expelled in 1492.
The descendents of Spain — and Sicily — spread throughout the world, establishing communities in North Africa, throughout the Ottoman empire, in the Netherlands and ultimately the British Isles and North America, as it was believed that Judaism faded away in their homelands.
Catania’s Jews disagree, arguing that many Jews practiced their religion over the centuries, in secret.
Triolo and others in the community formally inaugurated their synagogue in October. It was furnished with Torah scrolls donated by the Ohev Sholom synagogue in Washington, D.C.
The synagogue is situated in the tower of the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. The building was granted to the community by the city’s municipality.
“So they had the people, they had a synagogue, but they needed somebody to teach,” Ventura said.
The community meets in the Castello Luecatia, an early 20th-century structure built by a merchant believed to be of Jewish origin. (David I. Klein)
Ventura, who is Orthodox, may be the island’s first permanent working rabbi in over 500 years, but it’s not his first time working with Bnei Anusim.
Back in his native Brazil, Ventura was the leader of the Synagogue Without Borders, an organization through which he served 15 communities in Brazil’s north that were made up of descendants of Jews who came with the first Portuguese colonists to South America and who ultimately had to hide their identity as the Inquisition spread to the New World.
His work there put him in conflict with Brazil’s Jewish establishment, too. But Ventura is unfazed.
In Brazil, he founded synagogues and summer camps and built mikvahs and yeshivas across the country’s north. Since 2015, he has facilitated the conversion of hundreds of Bnei Anusim, bringing them back into the fold of mainstream Orthodox Judaism.
“I am a teacher since I was 21 years old,” he said. “Now I am 49, along with my wife. It’s one of the things we love to do, and know how to do. To teach Jewish philosophy, to teach Torah, to teach Tanakh, to teach the story of the Jews in Brazil, and now we are starting to teach the story of the Jews in Italy, the story of the Inquisition etcetera.”
In Castello Leucatia, he leads Shabbat services with the energy of a gospel preacher, pausing between prayers to explain a verse, teach a new tune, welcome latecomers, or simply to allow the congregation to talk.
Catania community members are shown at a recent gathering. (David I. Klein)
“This is what’s most important,” he remarked during one such lull on a recent Friday night. “That they get to talk and be a community.”
Ventura had organized a Shabbat event for other Jews across Italy — from Naples to Turin — who shared his belief that the future of Judaism was in communities like the one in Catania.
“Our point of view of Judaism is that we have to be a part of society, we don’t have to insulate ourselves, we believe that Judaism has a lot to contribute to society,” Ventura said. “In Brazil, we have a lot of connections with people from the periphery, in the favela and other communities, immigrants, Indians, etcetera. So that is something we want to establish here, to teach the people a Judaism that brings good things to the wider society.”
Ventura isn’t the only one working with such communities in southern Italy. Across the Strait of Messina, Jewish life has also been on the rise in Calabria — the toe of Italy’s boot — thanks to an American-born rabbi named Barbara Aiello.
Aiello, though raised in Pittsburgh, is of Calabrian descent. She returned to the land of her ancestors in the early 2000s and began working with the Bnei Anusim there, ultimately establishing a synagogue called Ner Tamid del Sud, meaning “eternal light of the south.”
“Until now, nobody took care of Judaism in the south of Italy,” Scibilia said while looking out at the Mediterranean from the terrace of Castello Leucatia.
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The post Sicily’s Jews have their first rabbi in 500 years. Italy’s Jewish establishment won’t accept them. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The secret Jewish history of Dolly Parton
Dolly Parton, the musician, actor and philanthropist died Aug. 25 at the age of 80. A Christian known for her Christmas output, she nonetheless connected to Judaism through a cause dear to her heart: literacy.
In a “By the Book” interview, Dolly Parton told The New York Times that a copy of the Bible is always on her nightstand, next to a “daily devotional book.” In her memoir “Songteller,” Parton explains, “I’m not that religious, but I’m very, very spiritual. I grew up in very religious surroundings. I grew up with a Bible background, and I’m glad I did.”
Parton’s knowledge of the Jewish Bible is evident in several of her most beloved songs, including “Coat of Many Colors” and “The Master’s Hand.” The song “Coat of Many Colors” is based on Parton’s own childhood growing up in relative poverty and draws upon the story of the biblical Joseph. Parton sings, “As she [her mother] sewed, she told a story from the Bible she had read / About a coat of many colors Joseph wore….”
In “Songteller,” Parton recounts, “My mom made me this little coat. In order to make me proud of that little coat, I know now, she told me the story about Joseph from the Bible and his coat of many colors. So I thought, ‘Well, if it’s from the Bible, and Joseph was an important person, it has to be very special and important.’ Then when I went to school, the kids did not see that. They just made fun of my little coat. I had seen so much more in that coat than what Mama had sewn, things sewn into my body, my soul, my everything. Mama had made it and told the story and made it all seem so real. It was so mind-warping and heart-shattering to me when they made fun of it. In my mind, I thought I looked just like Joseph. But the kids didn’t, and it crushed me.”
Her song “The Master’s Hand,” written in 1971, displays Parton’s deep immersion not only in the Five Books of Moses but also in the Writings — specifically, the Book of Daniel. The song begins by recounting the familiar story of Noah thusly:
In the days before the flood
The world grew wicked and corrupt.
But Noah was a good man,
And the Lord unto him came.
And He said to Noah, “Go build an ark.”
Noah did, and the sky got dark,
And a great flood destroyed everything.
Except for Noah and his wife
And their three sons and their wives
And a pair of every kind of creature
Walkin’ in the land.
And the people mocked.
And they made fun.
But ol’ Noah worked ’til it was done,
’Cause he was holding to the Master’s hand.
After the song’s refrain, it continues with the lesser-known story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, three figures from the Book of Daniel. The three are thrown into a “fiery furnace” after refusing to bow down to an image of Nebuchadnezzar II, the king of Babylon. Rewarded for their loyalty to God, the three miraculously survive the fire. Or, as Dolly Parton puts it:
Three Hebrew children in days of old
Were marched into the fiery coals,
’Cause they would not deny the Lord,
Would not obey command.
And the furnace roared like a mighty storm,
But the Hebrew children saw no harm.
The flame was smothered by the Master’s hand….
Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego
Had no fear of the fiery coals,
’Cause they were holdin’ to the Master’s hand.
“I know my Bible stories, like the ones I mention in this song,” Parton writes in “Songteller.”
Parton’s charity, the Imagination Library, a program with free books for children was the inspiration for Harold Grinspoon’s PJ Library, which provides Jewish-themed books to young readers.
“I’m always honored when my Imagination Library inspires others,” Parton said.
While Dolly Parton’s musical roots are in country and gospel, by the mid-1970s, with her career at a standstill, she was ready to reach a larger audience. Two Brooklyn-born Jewish men played essential roles in helping Parton make the leap from Nashville to mainstream pop stardom. Parton gives full credit to Sandy Gallin, one of the most successful talent agents from the 1970s through the 1990s, for helping her to achieve “crossover” success in music and to expand into TV, movies and even a theme park.
In 1977, Gallin convinced Parton to record a song called “Here You Come Again,” written by the Jewish husband-and-wife songwriting duo Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. He brought in another Brooklyn native, Gary Klein, to produce the song and the album of the same name. The single cracked the Top 20 Pop Album charts and spawned her first Top 10 pop hit; the album was her first to sell millions. (Incidentally, her pop success didn’t come at the cost of her country credibility; the song sat atop the Country Singles chart for five weeks.) The song also garnered Parton her first-ever Grammy Award, for best female country vocal. Over the next few years, Klein produced a number of other hits for Parton.
But for Gallin, it didn’t end there. He convinced Parton to open the “Dollywood” theme park in Tennessee, and the two co-founded a production company, Sandollar, among whose many successes were the Steve Martin film “Father of the Bride” and the hit TV series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” The producers won an Academy Award in 1990 for their AIDS documentary, “Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt.” Gallin also produced the Parton-starring movies “Rhinestone” and “Straight Talk.” Parton commemorated her friendship and loyalty to Gallin by writing “Sandy’s Song,” sung to the tune of “Greensleeves.”
In “Songteller,” Dolly Parton writes of Gallin, “We were so close and our relationship was so loving. We were from two completely different worlds, but we just clicked, somehow. He was just one of those friends that you find who you just know are going to be your friend forever.” For a time, the two even shared an apartment on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. After Gallin died in 2017, Parton told an interviewer, “Nobody could quite get how the Christian Southern girl and the New York Jewish boy could have so much in common. But it was real.”
PJ Grisar contributed to this article.
The post The secret Jewish history of Dolly Parton appeared first on The Forward.
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A tourist’s guide to the vanished Jewish quarter of Warsaw
פֿאַרן חורבן האָבן אין וואַרשע געוווינט אַן ערך 370 טויזנט ייִדן — די גרעסטע ייִדישע שטאָט אין אייראָפּע און די צווייט גרעסטע בכלל נאָך ניו-יאָרק.
נאָך דער מלחמה איז די שטאָט און אירע ייִדישע אײַנוווינער, ווי באַוווּסט, געוואָרן איין גרויסע חורבֿה. דאָס גאַנצע רײַכע ייִדישע לעבן איז געוואָרן שטויב און אַש. אָבער אַ דאַנק די דיגיטאַלישע אַרכיוון, קען דאָס אַמאָליקע ייִדישע לעבן אין וואַרשע ווײַטער עקזיסטירן אין דעם מענטשלעכן דמיון, און מע קען עס ווידער אויפֿלעבן אין אונדזער תּקופֿה. אַ מענטש קען זיך פֿאַרטיפֿן אין די אַמאָליקע וואַרשעווער ייִדישע צײַטונגען, זיך פֿאַרלירן אין דער רײַזע אויף דער צײַטמאַשינקע, און זיך פֿאָרשטעלן אַז מע געפֿינט זיך אין וואַרשע אין 1938.
דאָס איז פֿאַקטיש דער רושם וואָס בלײַבט נאָכן דורכבלעטערן בני מערס נײַ בוך אויף העברעיִש, „מורה דרך: ורשה היהודית 1938“ (אַ וועגווײַזער צו דער ייִדישער וואַרשע, 1938), אַרויס אין 2025 בײַם מאגנס-פֿאַרלאַג. דער געדאַנק הינטער דעם בוך איז גאָר אייגנאַרטיק און אומגעוויינטלעך: צו שרײַבן אַ בוך הײַנט צו טאָג וואָס איז צונויפֿגעשטעלט ווי אַ בוך פֿאַר טוריסטן וועלכע ווילן באַזוכן דעם ייִדישן ייִשובֿ אין וואַרשע אין 1938; און דער „מחבר“ פֿונעם וועגווײַזער איז אַ וואַרשעווער ייִד פֿון יענע יאָרן, וואָס ווענדט זיך צו די דעמאָלטדיקע לייענערס.
בעצם איז דאָס גאַנצע בוך אַ שפּיל פֿון „לאָמיר זיך פֿאָרשטעלן“: אַ געשיכטע-בוך וואָס מאַכט זיך פֿאַר אַ טוריסטיש בוך, וואָס גיט פּרטים וועלכע זענען דעם הײַנטיקן לייענער דווקא אומניצלעך. דאָס שטייט אין שאַרפֿער סתּירה מיטן עצם געדאַנק פֿון אַ טוריסטיק בוך וואָס זײַן ציל איז צו געבן ניצלעכע פּרטים וועגן אַ געוויס אָרט. ווי מער שרײַבט אין דער הקדמה: „כּמעט אַלץ וואָס וועט ווײַטער געשילדערט ווערן אין אָט דעם וועגווײַזער עקזיסטירט ניט הײַנט… דאָס שרײַבן פֿון אַזאַ מין וועגווײַזער איז אויף אַ גרויסן מאָס דערמעגלעכט געוואָרן אַ דאַנק דער וועבזײַט ׳עיתּונות יהודית היסטורית׳ [דער היסטאָרישער ייִדישער פּרעסע].“
ווי יעדער וועגווײַזער פֿון דעם זשאַנער, איז דאָס בוך צעטיילט אויף דרײַ קאַטעגאָריעס: אַלגעמיינע קענטשאַפֿט, ניצלעכע אינפֿאָרמאַציע און די טורן. אויף דער ערשטער קאַטעגאָריע, „אַלגעמיינע קענטשאַפֿט“, קען מען לייענען וועגן דער שטאָטס געשיכטע, איר באַפֿעלקערונג, אירע לשונות, רעליגיע, ווירטשאַפֿט, קולטור, ספּאָרט, אַרכיטעקטור, חיות און פֿלאַנצן. למשל, ניט געקוקט אויף אַלע פּאָליטישע, רעליגיעזע און קולטורעלע מחלוקתן צווישן די וואַרשעווער ייִדן, האָבן זיי כאָטש איין זאַך געהאַט בשותּפֿות: די ייִדישע שפּראַך. ווי עס שטייט אינעם וועגווײַזער, רעדט מען אין דער ייִדישער וואַרשע בעיקר ייִדיש, ווי 88.9% פֿון די ייִדישע אײַנוווינער האָבן אין 1931 דעקלאַרירט. און זיי רעדן זייער אייגענעם ייִדישן דיאַלעקט מיט זײַנע אייגענע טערמינען. אַ באַלעבאָס, צום בײַשפּיל, הייסט אַ „וואַרעט“; אַ פֿינצטערער קאָרידאָר איז אַ „שטשאָנקע“; בכּיוון איז „אינאַמישנע“.
אויף דער קאַטעגאָריע „ניצלעכע אינפֿאָרמאַציע“ אינפֿאָרמירט דער וועגווײַזער דעם לייענער אין וועלכער צײַט פֿון יאָר איז ייִדן כּדאי צו באַזוכן וואַרשע (דער ענטפֿער: פֿרילינג און האַרבסט, ווען מע פֿײַערט דעם „חודש פֿון ייִדיש בוך“). צווישן די אַנדערע שאלות: וווּ אײַנצושטיין; וואָס צו עסן און טרינקען, פֿון אייער קיכלעך ביז וואַסער־פּלעצלעךף וויפֿל קאָסטן פֿאַרשידענע זאַכן? (אַ ייִדישע צײַטונג למשל קאָסט צווישן 10 און 30 גראָשן; אַ קילאָ קעז — 1 זלאָטע); וואָס צו לייענען אויפֿן וועג? פֿון וואָס מע זאָל זיך אָפּהיטן? (פֿון די גנבֿים, פֿאַרשטייט זיך) און ווי אַזוי מע קען אָנקומען קיין וואַרשע. מע לייענט אויך וועגן דעם פֿאַרקער אויפֿן וועג, דער פּאָסט, די בענק, דער פּאָליציי, די פֿײַערלעשערס, די ביבליאָטעקן, און נאָך און נאָך.
אויף דער טורן-סעקציע לייגט דער מחבר פֿאָר זיבן מעגלעכע טורן, למשל: אַ טור פֿונעם פּלאַץ גזשיבאָווסקי דורך דער קראָכמאַלנער גאַס – דער צענטער פֿון „דאָס פּלעצל“ (דער ייִדישער אונטערוועלט), פֿון וואַנען עס שטאַמען די דרײַ מחברים פֿון דער זעלבער משפּחה, י. י. זינגער, יצחק באַשעוויס זינגער און אסתּר קרײַטמאַן, און וווּ עס געפֿינט זיך אויך דער באַרימטער סאַסקי-גאָרטן; אַ טור וואָס דערפֿירט דיך דורך דער באַרימטסטער ייִדישער גאַס נאַלעווקעס, דער האַרץ פֿון ייִדישער וואַרשע, וווּ מחמת דער בליִענדיקער עקאָנאָמיע שפּראָצן דאָרט אויף יעדן שריט און טריט נײַע קיאָסקן פֿון זעלצער און אײַזקרעם; אָדער אַ שפּאַציר וואָס גייט דורכן צפֿונדיקן טייל שטאָט, אַרײַנגערעכנט דורך דער אָרעמער סמאָטשע־גאַס, וואָס ניט געקוקט אויף דעם דלות פֿאַרמאָגט זי דעם שיינעם „מעטראָ-קינאָזאַל“. בני מער האָט אַגבֿ מיט 8 יאָר צוריק טאַקע געשריבן אַ גאַנץ בוך וועגן דער סמאָטשע־גאַס (מאגנס, 2018).
„אַ וועגווײַזער צו דער ייִדישער וואַרשע, 1938“ איז אַ וויכטיקער בײַטראָג צום זשאַנער פֿון פּאָפּולערער געשיכטע, וואָס באַנײַט און באַלעבט די אַמאָליקע שטאָט דורך זײַן אויסנעמיקן פֿאָרמאַט. דער העברעיִשער לייענער וועט געניסן פֿון מערס ברייטער קענטשאַפֿט, הומאָר און טאַלאַנט ווי אַ דערציילער. ס׳איז פֿאָרט אומפֿאַרמײַדלעך, אַז בשעתן לייענען פֿילט מען זיך ווי מע דרייט זיך אַרום אין דער וועלט פֿון שדים און ווי מע ווערט געפֿירט דורך אַ „טויטער שטאָט“. דאָס בוך פּאַסט צום בעסטן פֿאַר די לייענערס וואָס זענען מסוגל אַ ווײַלע „צו סוספּינדירן דעם ספֿק“ און זיך איבערגעבן דער פֿאַנטאַזיע.
נאָכן איבערלייענען דאָס בוך, שטעל איך זיך אַליין די קשיא: וואָס פֿאַר אַ ווירטועלע פֿאַנטאַזיע אין דרײַ דימענסיעס וואָלט די אַלמעכטיקע קינסטלעכע אינטעליגענץ געקאָנט שאַפֿן פֿון מערס בוך? אויף אַזאַ סאָרט אויפֿלעבונג דאַרף מען נאָך וואַרטן.
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Can an Oklahoma Senate candidate attract voters with an ad tossing out AIPAC ‘trash’?
(JTA) —Oklahoma grassroots activist N’kiyla Jasmine Thomas is facing off on Tuesday against centrist Jim Priest in a Democratic Senate race that has become the latest litmus test for progressive politics in a conservative stronghold.
The two candidates are battling at the ballot box for the second time this summer after neither of them secured the needed majority to win the June primary contest. Thomas, a nurse who has been vocal against AIPAC, earned 45% of votes in the June five-person matchup, while Priest, a lawyer and ordained minister, accrued 24%.
Both Thomas and Priest would be underdogs in the general election against Republican candidate Rep. Kevin Hern, who swept his primary and clinched the endorsement of President Donald Trump. Oklahoma hasn’t sent a Democrat to the Senate in more than three decades.
Nonetheless, Tuesday’s runoff will serve as a referendum on the potency of progressivism in a deep-red state, just a week after democratic socialist Angie Nixon knocked out her moderate opponent in Florida’s Democratic Senate primary.
Unlike Nixon, Thomas is not a member of the Democratic Socialists of America. She has, however, openly identified with socialist policies, while her opponent, Priest, calls himself a moderate.
Neither candidate has a wealth of political experience. Priest, 70, made a failed bid for Oklahoma attorney general in 2010 and was previously the CEO of two nonprofit organizations. His campaign priorities center on reducing the cost of living, making healthcare more accessible and inspiring confidence in government.
Thomas, meanwhile, is a 31-year-old citizen of the Chickasaw Nation, who says she represents “the next generation of leaders.” Among her key focuses are women’s health and safety, civil rights and LGBTQIA+ protections. She has also repeatedly pledged to never take money from the American Israel Public Affairs Committee.
Although the pro-Israel lobby has not been involved in this race, a November social media reel showed Thomas pulling a giant red trash bin, adorned with the labels “AIPAC Funds” and “Corporate PAC Funds.” Alongside the reel is a caption that reads, “Just taking out the trash.”
“I am a sole grassroots candidate,” she said in the reel. “And we are not accepting AIPAC or corporate PAC funds. It’s garbage.”
Asked about her rhetoric on AIPAC, Thomas told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency that “My concerns have NEVER been about Jewish people, Judaism, or Israel’s existence,” saying that she instead prioritizes human rights, civilian lives and the accountability of all governments.
Some voters see it differently. David Howman, a 30-year-old Jewish banker in Tulsa, said that although he’s “a fairly progressive Democratic voter,” he considers Thomas’s usage of AIPAC to be “a pretty cheap political tactic.”
“It’s kind of like a little grenade you get to toss out in there,” Howman told JTA.
“If AIPAC were funneling a bunch of money into the Jim Priest campaign, maybe that’s a conversation that is worth having,” he added. “But they’re not even touching this race.”
Though Howman voted for Priest in Tuesday’s runoff, he noted that a different candidate, Troy Green, was his favorite in the June primary.
When asked at a Saturday debate about Israel’s military actions, both candidates confirmed their belief in the existence of a “genocide” in Gaza. Only Priest, however, linked the word to Israel, while Thomas connected it to the actions of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
Priest recognized that Hamas “committed atrocities,” noting that “they kidnapped people, they killed people, they tortured people” and that “they should be held accountable.” But he also deemed Israel’s retaliation “disproportionate to the threat.”
“In response, Israel is committing genocide,” he said, accusing the Jewish state of preventing medical supplies and food from getting to people.
Expressing skepticism about both one-state and two-state solutions, Priest declared that “what’s needed is a 24-state solution,” in which the whole Middle East unites “in something like the Abraham Accords.”
The Priest campaign did not respond to JTA’s request for comment.
Thomas, meanwhile, emphasized that “we can be for our Jewish brothers and sisters, and we can be against Netanyahu and what he is doing.”
“He is committing genocide. He is absolutely murdering children,” Thomas said. “We have to stop providing funding for these wars.”
She also backed the International Criminal Court’s decision to issue arrest warrants for Israeli leaders, noting that the U.S. should “not be on the side of another country that we don’t even have any ties to, outside of allyship.”
Thomas had previously refrained from using the word genocide in public statements, instead expressing “solidarity with Palestine” and calling for an end to “unconditional funding of Israel’s military.”
In her response to JTA’s request that she clarify her stances on AIPAC and Israel, Thomas provided a lengthy written statement.
“I stand with my Jewish brothers and sisters against antisemitism, hate and discrimination in all forms,” she said, referring to Judaism as one of the “most enduring faith traditions.”
Reiterating remarks she made at the debate, Thomas noted that “two things can be true at the same time,” and advocated for both the security of the Jewish people and a willingness to criticize “any government, including the current leadership of Israel.”
Thomas also voiced support for a two-state solution, explaining that “both Israelis and Palestinians deserve the opportunity to live in peace, security and self-determination.”
“When I discuss political influence or organizations, my focus is on the broader role of money, lobbying, and special interests in our political system, not on any one religion or community,” she added.
Regardless of who comes out victorious on Tuesday, Howman said that many Democrats will be heading to the ballot box this November with a pessimistic outlook.
“That’s kind of the challenge that we have here in Oklahoma,” he added. “There’s definitely a sense of defeatism on the Democratic side.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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