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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.


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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German Court Sparks Outrage by Allowing Anti-Israel Protest at Nazi-Era Jewish Deportation Site

A protest encampment with tents and banners is seen occupying Hamburg’s Moorweide square in northern Germany, the historic site where thousands of Jews were deported by the Nazis during the Holocaust, amid mounting controversy and security concerns. Photo: Screenshot

German authorities are facing mounting outrage from the country’s Jewish community after an anti-Israel protest encampment was allowed to remain for nine days at Hamburg’s Moorweide Square — the historic site from which thousands of Jews were deported by the Nazis to their deaths during the Holocaust.

On Friday, the Higher Administrative Court in the northern German city of Hamburg issued an expedited ruling overturning a previous police ban and allowing a pro-Palestinian demonstration camp, including tents and protest displays, to remain for more than a week at the historic site.

Local police had previously barred the anti-Israel protest camp from being established at Hamburg’s Moorweide memorial site, citing its deep historical significance as the Nazi-era gathering point from which thousands of the city’s Jewish residents were deported to concentration camps and systematically murdered by the Nazis.

Instead, protesters had been offered the option of relocating their encampment to Sternschanzenpark, a large public park located west of the city center.

However, the anti-Israel group successfully appealed the restriction before Hamburg’s administrative court.

According to the court’s ruling, the encampment falls under constitutionally protected freedom of assembly, with judges rejecting concerns that the demonstration could lead to criminal offenses.

“A broadly radical or extremist stance held by an organizer or protest leader is not, in itself, legally relevant to assessing potential risks unless it results in concrete actions during the demonstration that threaten protected legal interests,” the court stated in its ruling.

With more than 200 participants already on site and the encampment set to remain in place until May 16, police have established a substantial round-the-clock security presence, deploying multiple officers to monitor the area continuously.

Among the groups organizing the demonstration is Thawra Hamburg, which has been under surveillance by Germany’s State Office for the Protection of the Constitution since 2025 over alleged extremist activity and openly antisemitic rhetoric.

The anti-Israel group has been accused by German authorities of pursuing objectives hostile to the principle of international understanding, including publicly expressing support for or endorsing attacks carried out by Hamas and Hezbollah against Israel.

Philipp Stricharz, chairman of Hamburg’s Jewish community, condemned the court’s decision allowing the encampment to proceed, warning that extremist activists were being granted a public platform for antisemitism in the heart of the city.

“People who have even been officially classified as extremist are now being given space to spread antisemitism openly,” Stricharz said in a statement. “Jews must finally be able to move freely and visibly throughout Hamburg without fear — and that is currently no longer the reality.”

The Israeli Embassy in Berlin also denounced the demonstration and accused organizers of promoting extremist rhetoric and glorifying terrorism.

“Those who call for the ‘killing of colonialists,’ glorify Hamas terror, and propagate ‘resistance by any means necessary’ are not defending human rights. This is not a peace movement. This is extremist hatred,” the embassy wrote in a post on X.

Local Jewish community leaders have now organized daily counterprotests against the encampment, scheduled to take place every evening at 5 p.m. through May 16.

Police have deployed a large number of riot officers to protect Jewish and pro-Israel demonstrators following repeated incidents in which activists at the encampment reportedly shouted chants including “child murderers” and “women murderers” at counter-protesters.

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Polish novel portrays nostalgic image of the Jewish life that once existed there

ס׳איז לעצטנס אַרויס אַן ענגלישע איבערזעצונג פֿונעם ראָמאַן „איך הייס שטראַמער“, וועגן אַ ייִדישער משפּחה אין דער פּױלישער שטאָט טאַרנע (טאַרנאָוו). דאָס בוך האָט אָנגעשריבן דער פּױלישער שרײַבער מיקאָלײַ לאָזינסקי.

אין משך פֿון העכער װי 150 יאָר האָט טאַרנע געהערט צו דער עסטרײַכישער פּראָװינץ גאַליציע. אונטער דער עסטרײַכישער אימפּעריע האָבן ייִדן ניט געליטן פֿון מלוכישן אַנטיסעמיטיזם, און די באַציִונגען צװישן ייִדן און פּאָליאַקן זײַנען געװען רעלאַטיװ רויִקע.

דער מצבֿ האָט זיך געביטן נאָכן אױפֿקום פֿון דער אומאָפּהענגיקער פּױלישער רעפּובליק נאָך דער ערשטער װעלט־מלחמה. די באַציִונגען זײַנען געװאָרן אַלץ מער געשפּאַנט מיטן צוּװוּקס פֿונעם פּױלישן אַנטיסעמיטיזם אין די 1930ער יאָרן.

די העלדן פֿונעם ראָמאַן זײַנען די משפּחה שטראַמער, װאָס באַשטײט פֿון זעקס מענטשן: דער טאַטע, די מאַמע, פֿיר זין און צװײ טעכטער. זײ זײַנען ייִדן פֿון אַ גאַנץ יאָר. דער טאַטע נתן איז אַ לא־יוצלח, װאָס האָט אַ מאָל עמיגרירט קײן אַמעריקע אָבער האָט ניט געהאַט קײן מזל אין דער „גאָלדענער מדינה“ און זיך אומגעקערט אַהײם צו זײַן פֿרױ און קינדער. זינט דעם פֿעפֿערט ער זײַנע ייִדישע רײד מיט ענגלישע װערטער און האַלט אין אײן חלומען װעגן צוריקפֿאָרן קײן ניו־יאָרק, װוּ ער האָט אַ ברודער אַן אָלרײַטיק.

זײַן פֿרױ רבֿקה איז אַ יוסטע באַלעבאָסטע װאָס האַלט אונטער דאָס גאַנצע געזינד. יעדער אײנער פֿון די קינדער האָט אײגענע דאגות, באַגערן און פּלענער פֿאַר דער צוקונפֿט.

לאָזינסקי שטעלט צונויף דעם סיפּור־המעשׂה אויף אַ קונציקן אופֿן, מישנדיק פּערזענלעכע שטאַנדפּונקטן פֿון פֿאַרשײדענע פּערסאָנאַזשן. אַזױ אַרום שאַפֿט ער אַ פֿילזײַטיקן קאָלעקטיװן פּאָרטרעט פֿון אַ טיפּישער משפּחה מיט אירע טאָגטעגלעכע עסקים.

לכתּחילה איז דער נאַראַטיװער טאָן אַ ביסל איראָניש. עס דאַכט זיך אַז די פּאָליטישע ענדערונגען האָבן ניט קײן סך השפּעה אױף זײער לעבן. דער טאַטע בענקט נאָך די אַלטע גוטע צײַטן פֿונעם אַמאָליקן עסטרײַכישן מלכות: „עס װעט קײן מאָל ניט זײַן אַזױ גוט װי בײַם קייסער פֿראַנץ־יאָזעף“, בעת זײַנע קינדער פּרוּװן זיך צוצופּאַסן צו די נײַע פּױלישע פּאַראָנדקעס.

די קינדער װאַקסן אונטער און די שטימונג פֿונעם ראָמאַן װערט ערנסטער. די האַנדלונג שטײַגט אַריבער די דלתּ־אַמות פֿון דער הײמישער שטאָט טאַרנע. נתן און רבֿקה רעדן נאָך אַלץ ייִדיש, אָבער זײערע קינדער פֿילן זיך הײמיש אין פּױליש. זײ בײַטן זײערע נעמען — הערש־צבֿי למשל װערט העסיאָ – און לערנען זיך אין פּױלישע גימנאַזיעס.

שפּעטער קלײַבן זײ אױס פֿאַרשײדענע דרכים: דער עלטסטער זון שטודירט לאַטײַן און גריכיש אינעם יאַגעלאָנער אוניװערסיטעט אין קראָקע אָבער קלײַבט אױס אַ קאַריערע װי אַ געשעפֿטסמאַן. זײַן ייִנגערער ברודער װערט פֿאַרטאָן אין דער קאָמוניסטישער פּאַרטײ, ער פֿאַרברענגט אַ פּאָר יאָר אין תּפֿיסה און דערנאָך פֿאָרט ער קײן שפּאַניע צו קעמפֿן אינעם בירגערקריג.

מיט דער צײַט װערט דער דערצײלערישער טאָן אַלץ מער דראַמאַטיש. דאָס שפּיגלט אָפּ די אַלגעמײנע פֿינצטערע אַטמאָספֿער אין פּױלן אין די 1930ער יאָרן, װען דער אַנטיסעמיטיזם װערט אַלץ מער בולט, און די עקאָנאָמישע לאַגע פֿון ייִדן ווערט אַלץ ערגער.

„עס האָט זיך אָנגעהױבן מיט ׳יעדער אײנער פֿאַר זײַנע אײגענע און מיט זײַנע אײגענע׳ און ׳קױף ניט בײַ די ייִדן׳ [די פּאָפּולערע אַנטיסעמיטישע לאָזונגען], און ענדיקט זיך מיט צעבראָכענע פֿענצטער אין ייִדישע קראָמען און לאָזונגען ׳ייִדן קיין מאַדאַגאַסקאַר!׳.“

אַזױ טראַכט דער ייִנגערער זון נוסעק, װאָס האַלט זיך װײַט פֿון פּאָליטיק. אָבער אַפֿילו ער װערט געװױר, אַז פּױלן גליטשט זיך אַרײַן אין אַ פֿאַשיסטישן רעזשים װי אין דײַטשלאַנד און איטאַליע.

פֿון דעסט װעגן קומט דער חורבן אומגעריכט פֿאַר די שטראַמערס. אַפֿילו װען היטלער און סטאַלין צעטײלן פּױלן, האַלטן זײ נאָך אַלץ בײַ אַ האָפֿענונג, אַז אַלץ װעט זיך װי ניט איז אױססדרן און דאָס לעבן װעט זײַן װידער נאָרמאַל.

„איך הייס שטראַמער“ געהערט צו אַ נײַער כװאַליע אין דער פּױלישער ליטעראַטור, װאָס פּרוּװט צו באַטראַכטן דעם פּױלישן עבֿר דורך אַ ייִדישן שפּאַקטיװ. פֿאַרן חורבן זײַנען בערך צען פּראָצענט פֿון דער פּױלישער באַפֿעלקערונג, דאָס הײסט, בערך דרײַ מיליאָן נפֿשות, געװען ייִדן. ערשט ניט לאַנג צוריק האָט מען אָנגעהױבן צו באַטראַכטן ייִדן װי אַ װיכטיקער באַשטאַנדטײל פֿון דער פּױלישער געשיכטע.

עס איז ניט קײן חידוש, װאָס דער פֿאָקוס איז דאָ אױף די באַציִונגען צװישן ייִדן און פּאָליאַקן און ניט אױף די אינעװײניקע פּראָבלעמען פֿונעם ייִדישן ציבור. דער דאָזיקער חילוק צװישן דעם פּױלישן און ייִדישן קוקװינקל איז בולט װען מען פֿאַרגלײַכט „ איך הייס שטראַמער“ מיט די ייִדישע ראָמאַנען פֿון יענער תּקופֿה, װי למשל מיכל בורשטינס „איבער די חורבֿות פֿון פּלױנע“, לײב ראַשקינס „די מענטשן פֿון גאָדלבאָזשיץ“ אָדער אַלטער קאַציזנעס „שטאַרקע און שװאַכע“.

די פּערסאָנאַזשן אין אָט די ייִדישע ראָמאַנען זײַנען געװען טיף פֿאַרטאָן אין ייִדישע סאָציאַלע, רעליגיעזע, קולטורעלע און פּאָליטישע פּראָבלעמען, בעת די קריסטלעכע פּאָליאַקן זײַנען געװען זײַטיקע און לרובֿ פֿײַנטלעכע פֿיגורן.

די ייִדישע מחברים האָבן באַטאָנט די אָפּזונדערונג פֿון ייִדן אין פּױלן, בעת בײַ לאָזינסקין זײַנען ייִדן מיטגלידער פֿון דער ברײטער פּױלישער געזעלשאַפֿט, כאָטש זײער אינטעגראַציע איז װײַט ניט קײן פֿולע.

אַזאַ צוגאַנג איז היסטאָריש אַקוראַט, װײַל אַ היפּשע צאָל ייִדן, בפֿרט אין די שטעט, האָבן טאַקע זיך געװאָלט אַסימילירן אין דער פּױלישער געזעלשאַפֿט. לאָזינסקי װײַזט די דאָזיקע טענדענץ גאַנץ גוט, אָבער װען עס קומט צו ייִדישקײט, זײַנען דאָ פֿעלערס װי למשל װען נתן, און ניט רבֿקה און די טעכטער, צינדט אָן די שבת־ליכט און דערצו נאָך, שרײַבט ער, „אײן ליכט פֿאַר יעדן משפּחה־מיטגליד“.

צום סוף פֿונעם ראָמאַן גיט לאָזינסקי צו אַ רשימה ביכער, װאָס ער האָט גענוצט װי היסטאָרישע מאַטעריאַלן. דאָס רובֿ זײַנען דאָס סאָלידע פּױלישע היסטאָרישע שטודיעס און זכרונות, אָבער עס איז ניטאָ קײן אײן מקור איבערגעזעצט פֿון ייִדיש אָדער העברעיִש. עס פֿעלט דאָ אַפֿילו דאָס יזכּור־בוך „טאַרנע: קיום און אומקום פֿון אַ ייִדישער שטאָט“ װאָס איז פֿאַראַן אין אַן ענגלישער איבערזעצונג. אין דער הײַנטיקער פּױלישער ליטעראַטור װעגן ייִדן פֿאַרבלײַבט ייִדיש בלױז אַ סימן פֿון ייִדישקײט, און ניט קײן שליסל צום רײַכן קולטורעלן אוצר.

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There Are No ‘Moderates’: Most of the Democratic Party Is Turning Against Israel

Former Wayne County Health Director Abdul El-Sayed, a Democrat now running for US Senate in Michigan, speaks at a “Hands Off” protest at the state Capitol in Lansing, Michigan, on April 5, 2025. Photo: Andrew Roth/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect

Americans are bracing for a politically charged summer as momentum builds for radical Democrats in key races across the country.

In what is emerging as a clarifying moment for just how far the Democratic Party is willing to swing, current polls depict a competitive race among the three candidates running for US Senate in Michigan’s August Democratic primary.

Some of the latest numbers show Abdul El-Sayed, the Bernie Sanders-endorsed physician, holding a slight lead over the other two Democratic challengers, Michigan State Senator Mallory McMorrow and Congresswoman Haley Stevens.

In a page pulled out of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani’s playbook, El-Sayed, who blamed Israel for the attempted terrorist attack in March that targeted preschoolers at Temple Israel in Detroit, often cloaks his radicalism in rhetoric that focuses on affordability and universal healthcare.

He displays open contempt for Israel, and has called the Jewish State “just as evil” as the genocidal terrorist group Hamas.

El-Sayed campaigns with people who justified the 9/11 attacks, and refused to take a position on the death of former Supreme Leader Khamenei for fear of offending the Islamist sensibilities of Michigan’s Dearborn residents.

For many Jewish Americans, the ascendance of El-Sayed, Mamdani, and Graham Platner, the Democratic Senate Candidate from Maine who has praised Hamas’ military tactics (and had an SS symbol tattooed on his body), reflects a new moment — a shifting of the Overton window that not only propels dangerous candidates to prominence, but paves a paradigm in which politicians whose views would have been disqualifying just a decade ago are rebranded as moderates.

Campaigning as a suburban mom trying to capture the votes of centrists and peel off some left-wing voters from El-Sayed’s camp, the present political landscape is planting the 39-year-old Mallory McMorrow firmly in the center of the Democrats’ electoral path in Michigan, with El-Sayed to her left, and the Congresswoman Haley Stevens, who has pro-Israel views, to her right.

Yet when it comes to the state senator’s platform regarding Israel, McMorrow engages with many of the same anti-Zionist ideas espoused by her challenger, El-Sayed.

She traffics in similar language falsely accusing Israel of committing genocide in Gaza with a deft talent for fashioning her far-left views in a palatable package: a Christian wife and relatable mother, whose husband also happens to be Jewish.

McMorrow satisfies the Democrats’ defined virtuous, big-tent philosophy with competing statements insisting that she would not meet with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu but also believes that Democrats’ affinity for Hasan Piker is a step too far into the realm of radicalism.

Should McMorrow be elected to the US Senate, would she vote any differently than El-Sayed when it comes to supporting the US-Israel alliance and providing Israel with the critical weapons it needs for its self-defense? It seems highly unlikely.

Much of the public discourse surrounds the surge of left-wing Democrats such as El-Sayed, Platner, and Mamdani, but the larger story to consider lies with politicians like McMorrow, who are using the atmospheric conditions to claim the mantle of moderation, but adopting the exact far-left positions of the candidates who hate Israel, and spread libels about Israel committing “genocide” and practicing “apartheid.”

If McMorrow is victorious in Michigan’s Democratic primary, her win would certainly be used by the Democratic establishment and its media allies to uphold a false narrative that the election was a defeat for the far left.

Yet there is perhaps no better example that illustrates just how successful leftists have been in dragging the center down than last month’s vote in the United States Senate, when nearly  80 percent of Democrats voted in favor of two anti-Israel measures introduced by Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders (I-VT) that, if passed, would have blocked approximately $450 million in weapons transfers to Israel.

The retreat from previously held pro-Israel leanings is reverberating beyond Congress, as “moderates” like Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro (D) and Rahm Emanuel showcase their willingness to create daylight between the US and Israel.

For its part, AIPAC has been historically quick to praise and bolster the candidacies of politicians like New Jersey Senator Cory Booker, only to have the lawmaker court his state’s growing Muslim and Arab constituencies by announcing that he will no longer accept money from AIPAC. Senator Booker also backed both Senate resolutions halting military aid to Israel.

If there are legitimate debates about AIPAC’s policies to be had, Democrats aren’t engaging in it. They’re instead using AIPAC as a bogeyman to jump on the “Israel is evil bandwagon,” and perpetuate the libel that Jews control American politics with money.

Progressive populists and Muslim Socialists may differ in their ideological appeal, but both brands of candidates use their gaining leverage as a vehicle to inject their morally blind politics into the American ecosystem and generate a new standard of what constitutes a moderate in today’s Democratic Party.

There’s very little that separates El-Sayed and McMorrow’s foreign policy vision, just as there would be scant differences in how a Shapiro or a Kamala Harris White House would approach America’s relationship with Israel.

When it comes to supporting Israel’s right to exist and defend itself, the party appears nearly united in intensifying its hostility and moving the Democratic coalition onward — and firmly against Israel.

Irit Tratt is a writer residing in New York. Follow her on X @Irit_Tratt.

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