VIENNA — A keffiyeh was blocking my view, and it bothered me less than I would have expected.

It was around 9:45 pm, and I was standing outside Vienna’s city hall, where the city had erected a “Eurovision village.” The pan-European singing competition was taking place in the former Habsburg capital, grand architecture framing massive public viewing screens.

Security was tight. Visitors weren’t allowed to bring bags inside the area, and we were patted down by two separate guards before we were allowed to enter. In August 2024, a foiled terror attack led to the cancellation of three Taylor Swift concerts, an international embarrassment authorities were keen not to repeat.

And then there were the protests over Israel’s participation.

The day before, an anti-Israel solidarity concert had featured a video call with Unorthodox author Deborah Feldman, who said she was protesting the “whitewashing” of a genocide. A separate “song protest” reportedly escalated from chants of “One love” to “Death, death IDF.” Earlier that day, demonstrators had marched along Vienna’s main shopping boulevard. By the time evening rolled around, a group of clowns had gathered outside the parliament, practicing creepy, Joker-like laughs and holding signs that said “United by Genocide,” a play on the Eurovision Song Contest’s slogan. “United by Music.”

For a contest that insists on being apolitical, Eurovision had become unmistakably political.

I didn’t care much for the music, but world events were unfolding here in Vienna, and I wanted to see them up close.

Israeli singer Noam Bettan was the third to perform. As he got on stage and started singing “Michelle,” a couple of people in the crowd I was standing in started shouting “Free Palestine” at the screen. The chants weren’t loud enough to drown out the performance

Then, someone in front of me raised a keffiyeh, stretching it between both hands and waving it in the air. It blocked my view. I considered asking him to lower it. But did I really want to risk a confrontation? Instead, I stepped sideways – slightly annoyed, but telling myself this was the price of tolerance.

Only later that night did I begin to wonder whether tolerance was, in fact, a shared value.

Back home, I watched the voting. Just before 1 a.m. the audience vote catapulted the Israeli act into the lead. In the previous two years, Israeli entries had also performed strongly with viewers, placing first and second in the public vote without winning overall. The reasons have been debated: diaspora support, savvy promotion, or simply songs that fit the Eurovision formula — catchy, theatrical, sung with a powerful voice. (Israel has won the competition four times, most recently in 2018.)

Israel’s promotional efforts have drawn criticism, but no evidence of manipulation has emerged, and the public broadcaster KAN has responded quickly to European Broadcasting Union reprimands.

It didn’t matter. Social media filled with accusations that Israel had cheated. In the arena, just before Bulgaria’s points were announced, the booing aimed at Israel’s entry grew so loud it was clearly audible on the broadcast.

Bulgaria won, Israel came in second, and I felt something close to relief. At a time when several countries had already stayed away and others were wavering, it seemed less like a celebration than a breaking point. I wouldn’t want to witness what would happen if Eurovision were to be held in Israel next year.

It had been easy to move when the keffiyeh blocked my view. One step to the side, and the problem was gone. However, there was no stepping aside from what came later. Freedom of speech is about making space, but it can also be used to close it.

The post At Eurovision, Israel’s near triumph shows the limits of tolerance appeared first on The Forward.

In a recent viral Jubilee video viewed more than 1.5 million times, pro-Israel activist Rudy Rochman sits across from a group of 20 pro-Palestinian activists, debating the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Draped around his neck is a black-and-gray checkered scarf that looks almost identical to a kaffiyeh.

Look closer, and the pattern resolves into something else: tiny Stars of David clustered together, alongside Hebrew lettering spelling out Am Yisrael Chai — “the people of Israel live,” which has became a mantra after Oct. 7 and the hostage crisis. It’s not a kaffiyeh, Rochman says, but a modern twist on the sudra, a cloth head covering once worn by Jews across the Middle East — and he wants to bring it back.

Since the Gaza War, the kaffiyeh has become an increasingly visible symbol of pro-Palestinian activism. Now, Rochman is part of a small but growing effort to revive the sudra as a marker of Jewish identity rooted in the Middle East. He runs the company My Sudra, promoting and selling the garment online. It has been embraced by a niche but visible group of young pro-Israel influencers.

Rochman, a 32-year-old Jew of Moroccan and Algerian descent, said he and his family wore sudras during celebrations like bar mitzvahs and weddings. In old family albums, Rochman says most photos of his grandfather and great-grandfather show them donning the garment in Morocco.

As a child, Rochman understood the head covering as Middle Eastern rather than distinctly Jewish. Once he learned about its connection to Judaism, he set out to revive it, beginning to create sudras in 2016 while a student at Columbia University.

The term sudra appears in rabbinic literature, including the Mishnah and Talmud, as a general term for a cloth typically worn as the religiously prescribed head covering, though some sources describe Jews wearing it around their necks. Experts say Jews across the Middle East wore sudras, likely before the Middle Ages, with styles varying by region and period.

From the Middle Ages into the modern era, Jews in the Middle East, classified as dhimmis, sometimes faced legal restrictions on dress. One notable prohibition during certain periods was the wearing of a headscarf or turban by Jews, including the sudra.

“This form of headgear by Jewish men was not tolerated in many communities,” said Gillian Vogelsang-Eastwood, a textile historian specializing in Middle Eastern dress. “Men could wear the kippah, but nothing significant in public on the head.”

Over time, she said, those constraints contributed to the fading of the custom.

“For me, it’s about reviving an aspect of our culture that was beaten out of us by force,” said Rochman. “It’s not like we consciously made a decision. ‘Hey, we want to stop wearing sudras.’ We were forced to stop wearing it.”

Historically, sudras did not usually feature identifiably Jewish symbols. The Kurdish sudra is an exception, incorporating circles and dots with religious meaning. Even in Rochman’s own family photos, his ancestors typically wore plain white sudras.

Rochman, however, has deliberately added Jewish symbols to make the garment legibly Jewish to contemporary eyes.

Rochman sells sudras in various colors, including a black and white version that looks exceptionally similar to the Palestinian version of the kaffiyeh. Instead of the pattern of zig-zag stripes and criss-crossed squares that can be found on that kaffiyeh, Rochman’s sudra has stars of David juxtaposed to create a similar checkered pattern, as well as Jewish symbols like the menorah, along with the phrase Am Yisrael Chai.

The resemblance to the kaffiyeh is not accidental.

The kaffiyeh is widely seen today as a symbol of Palestinian identity and resistance, but it did not always carry that meaning.

According to Vogelsang, “The kaffiyeh is basically regarded as a 19th-century development worn by farmers in Syria,” she said. “The Jordanian army later adopted it as part of their uniforms.”

Vogelsang says its political symbolism developed in the 20th century, particularly through its association with Palestinian nationalism and figures such as PLO leader Yasser Arafat, who popularized the black-and-white kaffiyeh widely worn today.

Some say the patterns on the Palestinian black-and-white kaffiyeh represent different aspects of Palestinian culture. The criss-cross lines represent the Palestinian ties to the Mediterranean Sea because of their resemblance to fishnets; the black stripes symbolize trade routes through Palestine; and the curved lines are said to symbolize olive trees.

But Vogelsang and other experts say that this symbolism is a modern interpretation of older patterns. “They didn’t have these meanings. The Palestinian community has given them these meanings,” she said.

Patterns like checks and stripes were often used for garments in the Middle East, not because of any particular symbolism, but because “they are just an easy, convenient design to make,” said Vogelsang. Both Jews and Muslims used whichever fabrics were locally available, often checkered and striped patterns commonly associated with the modern-day kaffiyeh.

In a similar way, Rochman’s sudra takes on explicit political meaning through the inclusion of the phrase Am Yisrael Chai, popularized in the 1960s as a rallying cry for Soviet Jewry and now widely used at pro-Israel demonstrations. In that sense, his garment does not just revive a historical practice, but imbues it with ideological significance.

“Being a Zionist outwardly was kind of seen as excessive before Oct. 7, but after Oct. 7 it became something that was cool again,” Rochman said, adding that interest in — and sales of — his sudras increased following the attacks and the war in Gaza that followed.

I asked Rochman if he’s ever worried about being mistaken for wearing a kaffiyeh or accused of cultural appropriation. Dozens of Reddit threads are dedicated to the topic online. In the Jubilee video, one Palestinian activist tells him, “Are you going to pretend that the kaffiyeh you’re wearing is not a culturally appropriated kaffiyeh? And you just added the Hebrew and all of that to it.”

But he is not particularly bothered by either accusation.

“I look at it as just an opportunity to tell that person, whether a Jew or not a Jew, that doesn’t know anything about a part of Jewish culture, who we are and what we are.”

And while Rochman’s main goal is to help younger generations of Jews understand a part of their history that has faded, he hopes that more Jews wearing the sudra will also foster a greater understanding of Jewish history in the Middle East.

“We need to know where we’re from,” Rochman said. “And if it helps us connect with other Middle Eastern peoples, that’s amazing too.”

The post It looks like a kaffiyeh, but this pro-Israel influencer wants you to wear a sudra appeared first on The Forward.

(JTA) — As part of a 250th anniversary celebration of the United States, President Donald Trump is calling on Americans to pray together in a nine-hour marathon on the National Mall Sunday featuring a host of Christian speakers — and one rabbi.

But first, Trump is calling on Jews to mark Shabbat, the Jewish day of rest from sundown Friday to nightfall Saturday, and encouraging other Americans to consider embracing the ritual as well.

“In special honor of 250 glorious years of American independence and on the weekend of Rededicate 250 — a national jubilee of prayer, praise, and thanksgiving — Jewish Americans are encouraged to observe a national Sabbath,” Trump said in his Jewish American Heritage Month proclamation on May 4.

“From sundown on May 15 to nightfall on May 16, friends, families, and communities of all backgrounds may come together in gratitude for our great Nation,” he continued. “This day will recognize the sacred Jewish tradition of setting aside time for rest, reflection, and gratitude to the Almighty.”

The call marked the first time that an American president has formally urged the celebration of Shabbat. Trump’s daughter Ivanka, who converted to Judaism before marrying Jared Kushner, now a prominent Trump advisor, reportedly observes Shabbat according to traditional interpretations of Jewish law.

Trump’s call echoes the legacy of conservative Christian activist Charlie Kirk, who was fatally shot in September. Kirk’s book detailing his own observance of a “Jewish Sabbath” every week was published posthumously.

The exhortation has received mixed reviews from the American Jewish community. Some Jews have said they appreciate the gesture and recognition of a central tradition to Judaism, and even are promoting their own Shabbat services as part of “Shabbat 250.”

Others say Trump is appropriating Judaism to promote conservative political goals and Christian nationalism, a movement backed by a portion of Trump’s base that scholars say could push the country in a direction that is less hospitable to Jews.

Support for the initiative has been strongest among Orthodox Jews, who tend to be more politically conservative. Rabbi Josh Joseph, executive vice president of the Orthodox Union, endorsed Trump’s call soon after it was made.

“This weekend, following President Trump’s encouragement, we will mark Shabbat 250,” he said in a statement earlier this week. “We will pause to acknowledge all the blessings that the Almighty has provided American Jews through the unique devotion to liberty embedded in this nation.”

Some Orthodox synagogues, including many affiliated with the Chabad Hasidic movement, have announced “Shabbat 250” programming, such as dinners and special speakers. The group Young Jewish Conservatives, meanwhile, doled out $180 grants to conservative Jews under 35 who committed to hosting at least five people for a Shabbat dinner in their homes.

More than 7,500 people have declared on a new website, Shabbat250.org, their intention to observe Shabbat. Some Orthodox commentators tied Trump’s proclamation to the week’s Torah portion, which describes how the Israelites, having been freed from Egypt, took a census of themselves in the desert as their new nation came into focus.

“Today we celebrate the numbers, the 250th anniversary, but like a census, this milestone must also be a springboard from which to consider where America is going,” wrote Jonathan Feldstein, president of the Genesis 123 Foundation, a nonprofit that aims to build ties between Jews and Christians, on his Substack.

On the other side, Rabbi Jonah Pesner of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism is among the faith leaders scheduled to participate in a virtual event Friday morning that organizers say will “explain why so many religious Americans of diverse faiths are alarmed and alienated by attempts to use America’s 250th birthday as an opportunity to frame the US as a ‘Christian nation’ and to misrepresent the approach to religious tolerance and freedom adopted by our founders and Constitution.”

The perspective is shared widely on the Jewish left, where many leaders say it is inappropriate and harmful for Trump to involve himself in Shabbat.

“When the state meddles in our sacred affairs, blurring the already fuzzy lines between church and state, it doesn’t elevate the Sabbath; it diminishes the democracy that 250 years of history were supposed to protect,” Rabbi Amichai Lau-Lavie of the progressive Lab/Shul wrote in a blog post Wednesday. “I suggest we each adapt this ‘National Shabbat’ in our own unique way – not because a leader commanded it, but because our humanity demands it.”

The debate comes ahead of the prayer rally planned for the National Mall on Sunday. The event, called Rededicate 250, is organized by a nonprofit called Freedom 250, which is advertising an event lineup featuring Christian music as well as “Freedom Trucks” that provide educational material provided by the conservative advocacy group PragerU and the Christian classical school Hillsdale College.

Organizers are also promoting performances by U.S. military bands as well as participation from several Trump administration officials, including Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. Trump himself is set to appear by video, and House Speaker Mike Johnson, a Republican from Louisiana, will also take the stage.

Of the 33 prayer leaders set to appear, about half are of evangelical or non-denominational evangelical Christian practice. Baptist, Catholic and Seventh Day Adventist speakers will also speak.

The only non-Christian speaker on the lineup is Rabbi Meir Soloveichik, an Orthodox rabbi and senior scholar at the Tikvah Fund, a politically conservative Jewish think tank, who also sits on the Religious Liberty Commission that Trump created last year.

Rachel Laser, the Jewish CEO of Americans United for the Separation of Church and State, denounced the rally as part of a rising tide of Christian nationalism.

“If President Trump and his allies truly cared about America’s legacy of religious freedom, they would be celebrating church-state separation as the unique American invention that has allowed religious diversity to flourish in our country,” she said in a statement. “Instead, they continue to threaten this foundational principle by advancing a Christian Nationalist crusade to impose one narrow version of Christianity on all Americans.”

The rally comes as Americans are growing more appreciative of religion, even if they do not necessarily practice any themselves. A new Pew Research Center report out this week shows that an increasing minority of American adults say religion is “gaining influence in American life” and more than half of Americans say religion plays a positive role in society.

The proportion of Americans who believe Christianity should be declared the official religion of the United States has grown slightly in recent years and now stands at 17%, according to the survey. A much larger proportion of Americans, 43%, said they believe Christianity should not be an official religion but that the government should promote Christian moral values.

The White House will host a reception to mark the start of Shabbat 250 late Friday afternoon.

The attention to Shabbat jolted by Trump’s proclamation has spurred a wave of non-political attention to Shabbat, too. The writer Daniella Greenbaum Davis, for example, explained rabbinic teachings in a column in the Washington Post urging non-Jews to consider adopting Shabbat as a mindfulness practice.

“Shabbat is a Jewish tradition,” Davis wrote. “But the case for a weekly day of rest, taking a formal break from worldly concerns, is universal.”

This article originally appeared on JTA.org.

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