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The settlers’ attack on Huwara is not the Orthodox Judaism I grew up on
(JTA) — Nighttime in Huwara, a small Palestinian town in the West Bank. Jews in large skullcaps and sidelocks, prayer fringes dangling from their waists, responding loudly to the cantor: “Yehei shmei raba mevurach leolam u’leolmei olmaya” (“May His great name be blessed, forever and ever”) — the words of Kaddish, a regular daily prayer that can also be said to mourn the dead.
The gloom outside is illuminated by an enormous bonfire of cars, shops and homes belonging to the Palestinian residents of the village, which the Kaddish-reciters have set on fire, in revenge for the horrific and heartrending murders, hours before the pogrom, of brothers Hillel and Yagel Yaniv (may their memory be a blessing) and for other recent terror attacks in the area.
One Palestinian was killed during the rioting by these Jewish settlers. Dozens of wounded Palestinians were evacuated to hospitals, some from smoke inhalation, others from beatings and stabbings. A family was evacuated by IDF troops, moments before they might have perished in the flames that took their home.
This wasn’t just any Kaddish, yet another one of those said and repeated by any observant Jew multiple times a day, sometimes in mumbling fashion. This time it was a Kaddish for Judaism itself.
I grew up in a small town in central Israel, in a classic “dati leumi” or national religious community whose ideology combines Zionism and Orthodox Judaism. I studied in typical religious institutions: a school in the state-religious education stream, a high school yeshiva and a “hesder yeshiva,” which combines advanced religious studies with military service. I was also very active in the religious Zionist Bnei Akiva youth movement, as an educator and leader.
Even today I live in a religious community in Jerusalem, and my young children study in schools that belong to the state-religious education stream.
The Judaism that I know and by which I try to live is a Judaism that operates according to the commandment “walk in His ways” (Deuteronomy 11:22) and the Talmud: “As He is gracious you should also be gracious, as He is compassionate you should also be compassionate” (Shabbat 133b:4-6). This Judaism operates according to the verse from Leviticus, “The land shall not be sold permanently, for the land belongs to Me, for you are strangers and [temporary] residents with Me.”
By contrast, the Judaism that the militant settlers imbibed — or distorted — led one of the pogromchiks, he too in skullcap and sidelocks, to speak in Hebrew words I understood but whose language I could not not comprehend. “There is something very moving here,” he told a reporter. “Jews won’t be silent. What the army can’t do, what the police will never do, simple Jews come and carry out a simple act of vengeance, setting fire to anything they can.”
The same Judaism led Davidi Ben Zion, deputy head of the Samaria Regional Council, also an observant Jew, to say blithely, shortly before the pogrom, that “Huwara should be wiped off the earth — no room for mercy,” and “the [Jewish] guys in Huwara right now are behaving precisely like guys whose brothers were massacred in cold blood at point-blank. The idea that a Jew in Samaria is a diasporic Jew who will be stabbed in the heart and politely say thank you, is childish naivete.”
That same Judaism led Israel’s finance minister, Betzalel Smotrich, the de facto governor of the West Bank, to publicly support a tweet by another coalition member calling to “wipe out” the village.
In the name of this Judaism, denizens of hills and outposts abuse the Palestinians daily, with the aid or under the blind eye of the IDF. A national Jewish settlement endeavor has been taking place for two generations now, which despite the good intentions of some of its practitioners, has included land theft, institutionalized discrimination, killing and hatred. An endeavor under which the current coalition, the most observant ever, only grows and intensifies.
In ordinary times life is not black and white. The Palestinian side also has a significant part in the story. The violence comes in great force and cruelty from there as well, and its many victims and circles burn the soul and draw many good people into the cycle of vengeance. The solution, too, is complex and hard to see, even far off on the horizon. But there are moments when things are actually very clear, clarifying the gray areas, when the choices are between life and death, and good and evil.
This evil version of Judaism is a lethal drug, which through a historical twist of fate gained ascendance over our ancient tradition. Combined with nationalism and majority hegemony in the Land of Israel, it has become a conflagration, one that has long since spread beyond religious Zionism — what Americans might refer to as “Modern Orthodox” — to the haredi, or ultra-Orthodox sector, and Israeli society in general.
An entire generation of Jews has been raised on this Judaism of hate, contemptuous of anyone who is not Jewish, of any display of weakness, of compassion. To whom Judaism is not the keeping and continuation of our tradition, observing commandments or studying Torah, but a worship of “Jewish might” (“Otzma Yehudit,” the name of a far-right political party) and limitless greed. In this Judaism, traditional values like modesty, pity and charity are signs of weakness, or remnants of a pathetic and feeble Christian morality that under no circumstances are to be shown to a stranger, the other, those who are not like us.
What we need now is not accommodation, nor soft words and platitudes. Neither will an obvious and empty condemnation of the pogrom do a bit of good. What we need now — having seen the elected officials who represent this religious population, having witnessed their nationalist Judaism — is a policy rooted in a tradition they abandoned. We should treat those who distort Judaism as the Mishnah tells us to treat all evildoers: “Distance yourself from an evil neighbor, and do not cleave to a wicked person” (Ethics of the Fathers 1:7). We need to announce that we want no part in the feral growth that has sprung up here, that this is not the tradition we grew up on, this is not the Torah we studied, and this is not how we wish to live our lives and raise our children.
Let us return to tradition and start over.
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The post The settlers’ attack on Huwara is not the Orthodox Judaism I grew up on appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Apple TV’s ‘Your Friends & Neighbors’ just gave us a stunningly authentic Jewish episode
(JTA) — Matzo is not something I typically give much thought to in the days following Passover. Yet I cannot stop thinking about a piece of shmura matzo I recently encountered.
The encounter came on Apple TV’s “Your Friends & Neighbors,” where the handmade round matzo (that always tastes a little burnt) just had a major cameo — perhaps its debut on a national TV series — in the episode that dropped on Friday.
“Your Friends & Neighbors” stars Jon Hamm as a suburbanite who takes to theft, roiling his community. The entire show is packed with rounds of golf and all-you-can-eat buffets at a WASPy country club — I hadn’t gotten the sense that anyone was Jewish. Until I saw that the fourth episode of the second season was called “The Bread of Affliction.”
Perhaps I should have known: The show is based (and filmed) in Westchester County, just north of New York City, where I work as a rabbi and where many secular families include Jews. And there was a “L’chayim” in the previous episode, but that phrase has practically entered the English lexicon. I never saw the matzo coming.
I’ve carved out a social media niche critiquing portrayals of Judaism in pop culture. So I have to give credit where credit’s due — what transpired on “Your Friends & Neighbors” was no less than a modern miracle: Judaism done right.
I was sold at “Good yontif,” the words recited by Hari Sahni (played by Manu Narayan), one of the hosts, as guests entered his gorgeous, towering home for the seder.
What soon transpired was not your traditional hodgepodge of a Passover table: no scattered Hebrew school projects or random plastic frogs. We viewers got an aspirational seder, with an aesthetic somewhere between cottagecore and, well, upscale Westchester. The seder table was a canvas filled with floral arrangements, votive candles, and beautifully scripted place cards. For those playing insider Jewish baseball, there was even a place card for Elijah (no last name).
There was also drool-worthy matzoball soup being stirred in a giant, seder-sized pot, and caviar on matzo, an atypical yet perfectly kosher combination.
And then, the kiddush. Gretchen Reagan (played by Miriam Silverman, a Jewish actress and Broadway star), who is married to Hari, recited a full version of the Passover blessing — not the one-liner everyone knows from Hebrew school — and with the right nusach (tune). That tune, that beautiful, trembling holiday version, is one that most traditional households don’t even quite land as well as she did.
All of the guests at the table held (in unison) a classic yellow-and-maroon haggadah, first published in 1949. This nostalgic haggadah, which also appeared in the Passover episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” back in 2005, is still used at many seders today. It’s known for its simplicity, black-and-white drawings and helpful directions.
Following that epic kiddush, Mel and Coop’s teenage son, Hunter, struggles to sing “Ma Nishtanah.” Honestly, an all-too-accurate portrayal, too — he probably hadn’t practiced since Hebrew school. He was soon backed up by another Jewish actress and Broadway star, Rebecca Naomi Jones, who plays Suzanne Haber, a neighbor in the series’ fictional Westmont Village community.
Yet what blew me away the most was that shmura matzo. Square matzo famously occupies supermarket kosher sections year-round, but shmura matzo tends to appear only right before the holiday.
Where did the props department find an intact piece? Most boxes of shmura matzo come cracked. And once they had one, how many tries did it take for Amanda Peet to break it neatly in half? The notable Jewish actress plays Mel Cooper, the Jewish ex-wife of Andrew (Coop) Cooper (Hamm), who is not Jewish. Peet’s role has been central across both seasons, as she navigates challenging family dynamics, many of which play out at the seder.
As the seder continued, guests dipped pinkies in wine (ever so daintily) for the Ten Plagues. They went around the table, each reciting one plague in English — a genuinely engaging idea. And of course, there is an epic afikomen hiding spot. I won’t spoil details about its discovery, but let’s just say the afikomen was located exactly where it gets hidden in most households.
This episode was like manna from heaven. It literally just dropped. No hype, no press conference, no rounds of Jewish podcasts that project Jewish pride, sometimes a little too hungrily.
This may be the best thing that happened to Passover since 1995 — i.e., a “Rugrats Passover.” That episode still has the edge because it not only portrayed the seder and intergenerational family drama accurately, but it actually told the story of the Exodus in a way that felt new: accessible, funny and memorable. (Plus, it gave us the line “Let my babies go!”)
I wonder whether my excitement is simply because the standard is just that low for Judaism on-screen. It is. But this episode went above and beyond — even explaining that “Shanah Tovah” is not the appropriate greeting for Passover, or that afikomen means “dessert.”
The episode comes in stark contrast to another trending “Jewish show”: “Nobody Wants This.” I’m still not over Rabbi Noah Roklov (played by Adam Brody) trying to make “Mazel” a greeting. It’s not. Nor is Tu Bishvat a mourning holiday (thank you, Rabbi Neil, played by Seth Rogen).
Where does that leave the future of Judaism on TV? The bar has certainly been leavened, and I’m here for it.
From a material culture perspective, we’ve been living in an era where it has been dayenu — enough — just to have something on the shelves for Hanukkah or Passover, even if it was riddled with errors that could have been fixed by asking one person familiar with Hebrew or Jewish symbols.
And at a time when many people fear being Jewish in public, seeing Judaism on screen as a given — and portrayed correctly — is so affirming. At a moment when I, as a Jewish content creator, am flooded with antisemitic comments, direct messages, and screenshots of my “Jewish” nose, seeing Judaism in the wild is a reminder that they have not “won.”
This episode makes me hopeful that Judaism can be once again celebrated and talked about — not hidden. Now, I’m ready for a Rosh Hashanah episode in Season 3!
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Apple TV’s ‘Your Friends & Neighbors’ just gave us a stunningly authentic Jewish episode appeared first on The Forward.
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NATO Alliance Considers End to Annual Summits
US President Donald Trump holds a bilateral meeting with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte at the World Economic Forum (WEF) in Davos, Switzerland, Jan. 21, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Jonathan Ernst
NATO is considering ending its recent practice of holding annual summits, six sources told Reuters, a move that could avoid a potentially tense encounter with US President Donald Trump in his final year in office.
Trump‘s administration has engaged repeatedly in scathing criticism of many of the US-led defense alliance‘s 31 other members, most recently berating some for not providing more assistance to US military operations against Iran.
The frequency of NATO summits has varied over the alliance‘s 77-year history but its leaders have met every summer since 2021 and will gather this year in the Turkish capital Ankara on July 7 and 8.
But some members are pushing to slow the tempo, a senior European official and five diplomats, all from NATO member countries, told Reuters.
NATO MEMBERS LOOKING FOR LESS DRAMA AND BETTER DECISIONS
One diplomat said the 2027 summit, to be held in Albania, would likely take place that autumn and NATO was considering not holding one at all in 2028 – the year of the US presidential election and Trump’s final full calendar year in office.
Another said some countries were pushing to hold summits every two years, adding that no decision had been taken and Secretary General Mark Rutte would have the final say.
The sources spoke on condition of anonymity to discuss internal NATO deliberations.
In response to a query from Reuters, a NATO official said: “NATO will continue to hold regular meetings of Heads of State and Government, and between summits NATO Allies will continue to consult, plan, and take decisions about our shared security.”
Two of the sources mentioned Trump as a factor but several said broader considerations were at play.
Some diplomats and analysts have long argued that annual summits create pressure for eye-catching results that distracts from longer-term planning.
“Better to have fewer summits than bad summits,” said one diplomat. “We have our work cut out for us anyway, we know what we have to do.”
Another said the quality of discussions and decisions was the true measure of alliance strength.
TRUMP CASTS LONG SHADOW OVER NATO MEETINGS
Phyllis Berry, nonresident senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, wrote: “Reducing high-profile summitry would allow NATO to get on with its business and dial down the drama that has marked many recent transatlantic encounters.”
In an article published on the think tank’s website last week, she noted that NATO held only eight summits during the decades of the Cold War. She described Trump’s first three NATO summits in his first term as “contentious events, dominated by his complaints about low allied defense spending.”
Last year’s summit in The Hague was also largely shaped by Trump’s demand that NATO members boost defense spending sharply to 5% of GDP – a target they accepted by agreeing to spend 3.5% on core defence and 1.5% on broader security-related investment. The mere fact that it ended without major drama was considered a success.
This year’s gathering also looks set to be tense.
After NATO allies refused to give him the support he was demanding in the Iran war, which he had begun without consulting or informing them, Trump openly questioned whether the US should stand by NATO’s mutual defense pact and said he was considering leaving the alliance. Months earlier, he had laid claim to Greenland, an autonomous territory belonging to fellow NATO member Denmark.
At the 2018 summit, Trump threatened to walk out in protest at other NATO allies’ low defense spending.
“Had he made good on his threat to leave in protest, we would have been left to pick up the pieces of a shattered NATO,” Jens Stoltenberg, NATO’s secretary general at the time, wrote in a memoir published last year.
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When a Jewish Icon Moves to Israel for Her Safety: A Warning Sign for the Netherlands
A view of the Concertgebouw building in Amsterdam, Netherlands on Aug. 26, 2024. Photo: Jakub Porzycki via Reuters Connect
The reported decision of Dutch singer Lenny Kuhr, a beloved cultural figure and winner of the 1969 Eurovision Song Contest, to relocate to Israel should prompt serious reflection across the Netherlands.
When a Jewish public figure feels compelled to leave because of hostility, intimidation, or fear, it is not merely a personal decision. It is a warning sign about the health of Dutch society.
For generations, the Netherlands has cultivated an international reputation for tolerance, openness, and civic decency. It is a nation admired for democratic values, free speech, and social stability. Yet no society is immune to the resurgence of antisemitism, and recent years have shown that the Dutch exception is not guaranteed.
Across Europe, Jews are reporting increased harassment, threats, vandalism, and social isolation. The Netherlands is one place where this is happening. What often begins as political hostility toward Israel can quickly spill over into open hostility toward Jews. Online abuse becomes street intimidation. Campus activism becomes exclusion. Political rhetoric becomes a license for prejudice.
This is especially dangerous because it often hides behind respectable language of “anti-Zionism,” “human rights,” or opposition to Israel. But usually, this goes much deeper and becomes (or reveals itself as) a hatred of Jews.
Dutch directness is often celebrated as a cultural virtue. But there is a profound difference between candor and cruelty. When “speaking plainly” becomes an excuse for abuse, society loses an essential moral boundary. Free expression must never become a shield for threats or dehumanization.
The same is true in politics. Consensus culture has many strengths, but it can also create hesitation in moments that require clarity. When antisemitism rises, leaders cannot afford ambiguity. They must name it, confront it, prosecute it, and isolate those who spread it.
Jewish citizens should never have to wonder whether their future is safer elsewhere. They should never need to hide symbols of identity, avoid public spaces, or explain away hatred as the cost of living in a pluralistic democracy.
The departure of a well-known Jewish Dutch figure should therefore be seen not as an isolated story, but as a national test. If even prominent, admired Jews feel unsafe, what message does that send to ordinary Jewish families, students, and elders?
The Netherlands still has time to choose a different path. It can reaffirm that antisemitism has no place in Dutch life. It can protect Jewish institutions, enforce existing laws, educate younger generations, and draw a bright line between legitimate political disagreement and hatred toward Jews.
If it fails, more Jews may conclude that their future lies elsewhere. And that would not only be a tragedy for Dutch Jewry. It would be a tragedy for the Netherlands itself.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of the NGO Time To Stand Up For Israel.