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Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it?
(JTA) — I was a remote worker long before the pandemic made it a thing, but it was only last month that I really took advantage of it. Early on the morning of New Year’s Day, I boarded a plane from Connecticut bound for Mexico, where I spent a full month sleeping in thatch-roofed palapas, eating more tacos than was probably wise and bathing every day in the Pacific. I’ll spare you the glorious details, but suffice it to say, it wasn’t a bad way to spend a January.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found myself again and again coming into contact with expats who had traded in their urban lives in northern climes for a more laid-back life in the tropics. There was the recently divorced motorcycle enthusiast slowly wending his way southward by bike as he continued to work a design job for a major American bank. There was the yoga instructor born not far from where I live in Massachusetts who owned an open-air rooftop studio just steps from the waves. There were the countless couples who had chosen to spend their days running beachfront bars or small hotels on the sand. And then there were the seemingly endless number and variety of middle-aged northerners rebooting their lives in perpetual sunshine.
Such people have long mystified me. It’s not hard to understand the lure of beachside living, and part of me envies the freedom to design your own life from the ground up. But there’s also something scary about it. Arriving in middle age in a country where you know nobody, whose language is not your own, whose laws and cultural mores, seasons and flora, are all unfamiliar — it feels like the essence of shallow-rootedness, like a life devoid of all the things that give one (or at least me) a sense of comfort and security and place. The thought of exercising the right to live literally anywhere and any way I choose opens up a space so vast and limitless it provokes an almost vertiginous fear of disconnection and a life adrift.
Clearly, this feeling isn’t universally shared. And the fact that I have it probably owes a lot to my upbringing. I grew up in an Orthodox family, which by necessity meant life was lived in a fairly small bubble. Our house was within walking distance of our synagogue, as it had to be since walking was the only way to get there on Shabbat and holidays. I attended a small Jewish day school, where virtually all of my friends came from families with similar religious commitments. Keeping kosher and the other constraints of a religious life had a similarly narrowing effect on the horizons of my world and thus my sense of life’s possibilities. Or at least that’s how it often felt.
What must it be like — pardon the non-kosher expression — to feel as if the world is your oyster? That you could live anywhere, love anyone, eat anything and make your life whatever you want it to be? Thrilling, yes — but also frightening. The sense of boundless possibility I could feel emanating from those sun-baked Mexicans-by-choice was seductive, but tempered by aversion to a life so unmoored.
The tension between freedom and obligation is baked into Jewish life. The twin poles of our national narrative are the Exodus from Egypt and the revelation at Sinai, each commemorated by festivals separated by exactly seven weeks in the calendar, starting with Passover. The conventional understanding is that this juxtaposition isn’t accidental. God didn’t liberate the Israelites from slavery so they could live free of encumbrances on the Mayan Riviera. Freedom had a purpose, expressed in the giving of the Torah at Sinai, with all its attendant rules and restrictions and obligations. Freedom is a central value of Jewish life — Jews are commanded to remember the Exodus every day. But Jewish freedom doesn’t mean the right to live however you want.
Except it might mean the right to live any place you want. In the 25th chapter of Leviticus, God gives the Israelites the commandment of the Jubilee year, known as yovel in Hebrew. Observed every 50 years in biblical times, the Jubilee has many similarities to the shmita (sabbatical) year, but with some additional rituals. The text instructs: “And you shall hallow the 50th year. You shall proclaim liberty throughout the land for all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you: each of you shall return to your holding and each of you shall return to your family.”
Among the requirements of the Jubilee was that ancestral lands be returned to their original owners. Yet the word for liberty is a curious one: “d’ror.” The Talmud explains its etymology this way: “It is like a man who dwells [medayer] in any dwelling and moves merchandise around the entire country” (Rosh Hashanah 9b).
The liberty of the Jubilee year could thus be said to have two contrary meanings — individuals had the right to return to their ancestral lands, but they were also free not to. They could live in any dwelling they chose. The sense of liberty connoted by the biblical text is a specifically residential one: the freedom to live where one chooses. Which pretty well describes the world we live in today. Jewish ancestral lands are freely available to any Jew who wants to live there. And roughly half the Jews of the world choose not to.
Clearly, I’m among them. And while I technically could live anywhere, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to. I like where I live — not because of any particular qualities of this place, though I do love its seasons and its smells and its proximity to the people I care about and the few weeks every fall when the trees become a riotous kaleidoscope. But mostly because it’s mine.
A version of this essay appeared in My Jewish Learning’s Recharge Shabbat newsletter. Subscribe here.
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The post Judaism doesn’t want you to wander and live just anywhere — or does it? appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Tensions in Israel loom large in these Oscar-nominated shorts
Despite a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, two Oscar-nominated short films show that the deep division that the war sowed in Israeli society will take a long time to mend.
Butcher’s Stain, a nominee for Best Live Action Short Film, is the debut of Israeli director Meyer Levinson-Blount, who based it on an experience he had working at a supermarket. Samir, a Palestinian employee at an Israeli grocery store, is accused of tearing down hostage flyers in the breakroom. A single dad who can’t afford to lose his job, he sets out to find the real culprit, only to find himself betrayed by his Israeli friends.
The 36-minute documentary Children No More: “Were and Are Gone,” directed by Israeli filmmaker Hilla Medalia, follows a group of Israeli activists who silently protest the war by going to public spaces and holding photos of Palestinian children killed by the Israel Defense Forces. At the beach and on the street, they are yelled at and physically threatened by passersby who call their acknowledgement of Palestinian death an endorsement of Hamas.
Neither movie particularly stands out in its style or structure as something revolutionary. However they both capture how difficult — and sometimes impossible — it has been to have civil discourse since Oct. 7. People are quick to make assumptions about others’ motivations for sympathizing with either or both sides. Friendships fall apart. Blanket statements alienate people from one another.
The shorts also demonstrate how emotionally charged images have been during the conflict. Both the Israeli hostage posters and the Palestinian flyers showcase the victims’ humanity, hoping viewers will empathize with the subjects regardless of their politics.
But protesters across the world have called the hostage posters Zionist propaganda and tearing them down has been likened by some to a form of anti-colonial resistance. In Children No More, some Israelis respond to the faces of dead Palestinians with the middle finger. In Butcher’s Stain, Samir is accused of supporting terrorism because he posted about children dying in Gaza on social media. To recognize the humanity of someone you may not agree with has become a politically incorrect act.
Reactions to the shorts have further demonstrated the polarizing climate they capture. Israeli culture minister Miki Zohar lambasted both films as being “against Israel,” saying they “amplify our enemies’ narratives.” When I watched Butcher’s Stain at the IFC Theater in New York, the woman two seats down from me became visibly agitated, her knee bouncing up and down as she scoffed disapprovingly before loudly whispering to her partner that the “fucking film” was “antisemitic” for portraying the Israeli employees as bigoted.
There were similar reactions when the Israeli-Palestinian documentary No Other Land won best documentary last year. The film about Israeli forces destroying the Palestinian village of Masafer Yatta was accused of being anti-Israel propaganda. Conservative commentator John Podheretz congratulated “Hamas for its Oscar win” on social media.
Clearly, the Academy was not swayed by last year’s critics to back away from films about Palestinian suffering. In fact, Butcher’s Stain’s selection feels pointed, as it’s the only political drama among the five live action short competitors this year (compared to last year’s lineup that included films about poaching, immigration, child labor, and the Bosnian War). Another Oscar nominee is The Voice of Hind Rajab, a dramatization of Palestinian emergency workers efforts to save the titular five-year old, up for best international feature.
Regardless of whether or not the shorts take home trophies on March 15, they leave audiences with pressing questions about the future now that there is a ceasefire: Can people with different views — in Israel and elsewhere — learn to talk to each other again? Will images of human suffering always be seen as political propaganda? And will Israeli society ever be able to move on?
The post Tensions in Israel loom large in these Oscar-nominated shorts appeared first on The Forward.
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Toronto synagogue hit by gunfire hours after Purim event
(JTA) — A Toronto synagogue was hit by gunfire late on Monday night, just hours after a Purim celebration was held there.
No injuries were reported in the shooting, according to police, which targeted Reform synagogue Temple Emanu-El at around 10:49 p.m. The event, which was billed as a “sing-along shpiel” and costume contest, had run until 9 p.m.
But Rabbi Debra Landsberg told reporters that she couldn’t sleep much Monday night: She was still inside the building when the shooting occurred, and could hear the gunshots.
“I’m a bit shaken up,” she said. “It is devastating that there are those in this society that want to shatter what we have here.”
Police did not confirm how many shell casings were found outside the building, but the synagogue wrote on Instagram that “20 shots were fired at our synagogue.”
“We are working closely with law enforcement and security partners,” the post read. “We remain united and resilient. Our building is damaged; our congregation is not. Chag sameach, everyone.”
The incident is being investigated by Toronto police’s hate crime unit, as well as the gun and gang task force; the suspect is currently unknown.
Police have upped their presence in Toronto’s Jewish neighborhoods since the war in Iran broke out on Saturday, as well as around houses of worship and other Jewish institutions, deputy chief Robert Johnson said in a press conference on Tuesday. Iranian agents have a record of targeting Jewish sites with gunshots and other disturbances, and Jewish security officials have urged vigilance since the war began.
When asked if there was any connection between the Temple Emanu-El attack and the war in Iran, Johnson said making that connection “would be speculation at this point.”
The shooting is the latest in a string of crimes targeting Jewish institutions and residents in Toronto. A Jewish girls’ elementary school was hit by gunfire three times in 2024 alone. This past December, mezuzahs were ripped from residents’ doorposts in multiple buildings, including a seniors’ residence. A month prior, police said a suspect had “damaged the outer glass windows” of Kehilath Shaarei Torah, a synagogue near Temple Emanu-El. (Police visited that synagogue while investigating the Temple Emanu-El shooting, which prompted false reports that both synagogues were attacked on Monday night.)
“This is the fourth time a Jewish institution has been targeted for gunfire in Toronto over the past two years, in addition to countless threats and acts of vandalism,” said Adam Minsky, president of UJA Federation of Greater Toronto, in a statement. “Every day, families across our community carry deep concerns for the safety of their children. But we are resilient and refuse to be intimidated. We will continue to proudly celebrate Jewish life.”
Noah Shack, CEO of the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, said in a statement that incidents like this will “inevitably lead to much worse.”
“As we witnessed in Australia, when incitement goes unchecked and synagogues are threatened, we can expect to see mass violence and tragedies that could have been prevented,” Shack wrote.
So far this year, anti-Jewish hate crimes have made up 63% of all reported hate crimes in Toronto, according to Johnson, continuing a trend of increased antisemitic crimes since Oct. 7, 2023.
“These numbers are not abstract. They represent real people and real harm,” Johnson said. “Our commitment is clear: We are doing everything within our authority to protect Toronto’s Jewish community.”
Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow called the shooting “an unacceptable act of antisemitism and intimidation.”
She also alluded to the timing of the shooting, which came days after war broke out between Israel and the United States and Iran.
“As we have seen repeatedly, incidents increase across our city as international events unfold. I want to be clear: it is never acceptable to target faith communities or cultural groups,” Chow wrote.
Shack said the shooting took place “at a time when Iran’s Islamic regime poses a heightened threat to Jewish and Persian communities worldwide,” and urged authorities to “redouble measures to safeguard our country and all Canadians.”
Just one night before the Temple Emanu-El shooting, another shooting occurred at around 2:30 a.m. in Toronto. Nobody was injured, but police said there was “damage” to businesses in the area, including Old Avenue Restaurant, a restaurant owned by pro-Israel activist Esther Bakinka. The hate crime unit “is aware” of the investigation, according to police, but not leading it. Bakinka wrote on Facebook that the restaurant’s upcoming Purim celebration would be canceled due to “extenuating circumstances.”
Deputy mayor Mike Colle called Bakinka “a courageous fighter for protection of our Jewish Community,” and called for the creation of a joint task force to combat antisemitic violence, “especially now with the Middle East on fire.”
The post Toronto synagogue hit by gunfire hours after Purim event appeared first on The Forward.
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Trump rejects idea that Israel drew US into war with Iran: ‘If anything, I might have forced Israel’s hand’
(JTA) — President Donald Trump rejected claims that Israel had pulled the United States into the war with Iran on Tuesday, instead suggesting that he had “forced their hands.”
Trump’s comments came after Secretary of State Marco Rubio told reporters on Monday that the United States entered the conflict because officials “knew that there was going to be an Israeli action” and expected to become embroiled as a result. Rubio’s comments ignited questions about whether Trump was taking his cues from the Israelis.
“Based on the way the negotiation was going, I think they were going to attack first and I didn’t want that to happen,” Trump told reporters at the White House on Tuesday during a press conference with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz. “So, if anything, I might have forced Israel’s hand, but Israel was ready and we were ready.”
The president’s claims appeared to contradict reports from the Pentagon to Congress on Sunday that there was no intelligence suggesting Iran planned to attack U.S. forces first.
“If we didn’t do what we’re doing right now, you would have had a nuclear war and they would have taken out many countries because you know what? They’re sick people,” Trump told reporters on Tuesday. “They’re mentally ill sick people. They’re angry, they’re crazy, they’re sick.”
While Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have denied suggestions that Israel steered the U.S. into the conflict, which has rapidly escalated tensions across the region, critics across the political spectrum have continued to question the extent to which the United States’ actions were influenced by Israel.
During the president’s meeting with Merz, the German leader told reporters that the two countries had a shared desire to get rid of the “terrible regime in Iran,” with Trump adding that Germany had allowed U.S. forces land in “certain areas,” though the U.S. was not asking Germany to provide troops.
The meeting followed a joint statement on Sunday by France, Germany and the United Kingdom in which the three countries vowed to “take steps to defend our interests and those of our allies in the region.”
While Republican lawmakers largely backed the joint U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran Saturday morning, rising American casualties and suggestions by Trump that he had not ruled out sending troops into Iran have spurred concern from some about the potential for a drawn-out conflict.
The post Trump rejects idea that Israel drew US into war with Iran: ‘If anything, I might have forced Israel’s hand’ appeared first on The Forward.