Features
It was just one year ago that Rabbi Matthew Leibl entertained a Rady JCC audience with “Oy to the World!”
This article first appeared in the Dec. 23, 2019 issue of The Jewish Post & News. It’s hard to believe, but it was only a year ago that Rabbi Matthew Leibl entertained a packed room of mostly seniors in the Adult Lounge of the Asper Campus with a medley of famous xmas songs – all written by Jewish composers.
By BERNIE BELLAN
Rabbi Matthew Leibl is not your usual rabbi – but he sure can command a room.
With all his considerable talents – as a clever and always witty speaker, as a terrific keyboardist and pleasant singer, and with a range of interests from that go anywhere from Jewish scholarship to sports, Rabbi Matthew can both entertain – and educate, often simultaneously.
It came as no surprise, therefore, that on Tuesday, December 10, 2019, the adult lounge of the Asper Campus was packed – entirely with older adults mind you, who were there to hear Rabbi Matthew give a presentation that was titled “Oy to the World: The Jewish Contribution to Christmas”. (The name of the event itself was a pretty good clue that this was not going to be your typical “drash”.)
It turns out that Rabbi Matthew did do his research for what was to follow. He unveiled a seamless narrative, mixing well-known Christmas songs with stories about their composers, combining everything into a narrative that demonstrated how so many Jews have influenced our modern attitudes to Christmas.
Of course, nothing that Rabbi Matthew does is predictable, so when he greeted the audience with the first few lines of “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas”, I would dare say that most of us there were expecting him to reveal that well-known song was written by a Jew.
Aha – gotcha! It was written by Meredith Wilson – most famous undoubtedly for having written “The Music Man” – or, as Rabbi Matthew announced to the audience: “not a Jew”.
The tone was set, therefore, for what would turn out to be an evening of surprises, in which Rabbi Matthew would sing a well-known Christmas song, and then follow the song with what was almost always an unexpected story, either about how the song was written, or about how it came to be universally popular (often when the composer himself thought it would be a flop).
But first, Rabbi Matthew told another funny story about how, as a child, he misinterpreted the name of a well-known Christmas carol: “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”. To his mind, Rabbi Matthew said, he thought it was a song about his “Zaida Harold” (the late Harold Pollock) – “Hark, the ‘Harold” Angels Sing”.
At that point, Rabbi Matthew launched into playing – and singing, words to a song that just didn’t seem familiar. Here’s what he sang:
The sun is shining, the grass is green
The orange and palm trees sway
There’s never been such a day
In Beverly Hills, L.A
But it’s December the twenty-fourth
And I am longing to be up North
Can you guess that those are the words in the introduction to “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”? As Rabbi Matthew explained it, however, we never actually hear the introduction to the song on any of its many recordings – and the image that introduction evokes is hardly one of a “white Christmas”. In fact, time and time again, as we were to learn, songs that have come to conjure up images of snow-lined streets, fireplaces blazing, and other such stereotypical Christmas images, were actually composed in Los Angeles – often during heat waves when various composers were all trying to cool themselves off by imagining cold winter scenes!
In any event, “White Christmas” was composed by Irving Berlin – born Israel Isidore Beilin in 1888 in Russia. A prodigy at an early age, Berlin’s first big hit was “Alexander’s Ragtime Band”. Berlin is considered one of the greatest American songwriters of all time. With so many hits to his name, it’s hard to realize they were all written by the same person. For instance, Berlin also wrote “God Bless America” (in 1938), which was a way for him to show his appreciation for the country that had taken in his family.
“White Christmas”, as Rabbi Matthew told the audience, was originally written in 1940 for the movie, “Holiday Inn”, which wasn’t released until 1942. (The introduction was scrapped when it was sung in the movie.)
The song, however, sung by Bing Crosby, was first played on the radio on Christmas day, 1941. It became an immediate sensation – and the Bing Crosby version went on to sell over 50 million copies, making it the best-selling Christmas single of all time. (Altogether, various different recordings of the song have sold over 100 million copies.)
Not only is “White Christmas” a song that tugged at the heartstrings at a time when America had just been plunged into what would become the second most costly war (in terms of lives lost) after the American Civil War, as Rabbi Matthew explained, it also set two other precedents: It was the first commercial success for a Christmas song and it was the first-ever secular Christmas song.
The song also set the pattern for future composers to follow, in terms of its beat which, as Rabbi Matthew noted, was “A,A,B,A”. “The time repeats, but the words change,” Rabbi Matthew explained.
Having begun with what is undoubtedly the most successful Christmas song of all time, Rabbi Matthew then took a step back in time to play another song that wasn’t really a Christmas song in the sense that it doesn’t mention the name “Christmas” at all, but nonetheless has come to be associated with the Christmas season: “Walking in a Winter Wonderland”, music by Felix Bernard, and written in 1934.
“The words to the song are terrible,” Rabbi Matthew suggested. He gave as an example these lines:
“He’ll say ‘are you married?’, we’ll say ‘no, man’‘
But you can do the job when you’re in town’ “
Moving back to the 1940s again – which turned out to be a most productive decade when it came to composing great Christmas songs, Rabbi Matthew sang “I’ll be home for Christmas”, released in 1943, music by Walter Kent (a.k.a. Walter Kaufman). The song was also first recorded by Bing Crosby.
As with “White Christmas”, this song captured the mood of America, with its famous final line “I’ll be home, if only in my dreams.” At the time, while America was fully at war with Japan in the Pacific, hundreds of thousands of American soldiers were also in England preparing for what would turn out to be D-day the next year.
As it was, there was also quite a bit of controversy attached to “I’ll be home for Christmas”, as another composer, by the name of “Buck Ram” (whose name I can’t help but think would be great for a male porn star), claimed he had met Walter Kent and lyricist Kim Gannon at a bar, where he had given them a copy of the song. His name was eventually added to the record label as a co-writer and he received royalties.
The next song on Rabbi Leibl’s list was “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” (or as it is actually titled, “The Christmas Song”), music by Mel Tormé (whose name was really Tormé!). As I noted at the beginning of this article, this was one of those songs written in L.A. during a torrid summer heat wave.
Rabbi Leibl quoted Mel Tormé as having said this about his song: “It was not one of my favourites, but it was my annuity!” The song is also noteworthy for being the first song ever to drop the name “Santa Claus” into it. (Boy, you have to wonder what Christmas would be like if so many Jews hadn’t fashioned its modern-day image.)
Keeping with the theme of heat waves, the next song was also written in the same 1945 heat wave that engulfed Los Angeles: “Let it Snow”, lyrics by Sammy Cahn, music by Jule Styne.
Here are some comments made by Rabbi Leibl about the song: They (the composers) were trying to think cool thoughts…there’s no mention of Christmas…the song appears at the end of “Die Hard” – one of the two greatest Christmas movies ever made (the other being “Home Alone”). You can kind of get a sense of the era in which Rabbi Leibl grew up by his loving references to the 1980s.
As with every other song he played during the evening, the next one was accompanied by a very amusing anecdote.
The song was “City Sidewalks, Silver Bells” – written in 1951 by Jay Livingston (
born Jay Levison) (music) and Ray Evans (lyrics) – both Jewish. The duo also went on to write “Que Sera Sera” – which is probably the first song I myself ever remember from a movie.
“Silver Bells” was originally called “Tinkle Bells”, Rabbi Matthew explained, but when Jay Livingston went home to his wife and told her that he and Evans had composed a song called “Tinkle Bells”, her reactions was: “Are you crazy? Do you know what ‘tinkle’ means?” (Actually, a reference to Wikipedia expands upon Rabbi Matthew’s story. Apparently, Jay Livingston didn’t know what his wife was talking about: “Of course, Jay and Ray had never heard it used in that way. ‘Tinkle’ (for ‘pee’) is a woman’s term. As Jay said in the act that they used to do, ‘When I was a boy, I said “Pee-pee”. Come to think of it, I STILL say “Pee-pee’”, only more frequently’.”
In any event, the song title was changed to “Silver Bells” – and although it was first sung by William Frawley (who went on to play Fred Mertz in “I Love Lucy”), it was made famous when it was recorded by Bing Crosby in 1950.
Forward to 1962 – and the Cuban Missile Crisis. (Where’s this going, you’re probably wondering?) Rabbi Leibl told a story about someone named Gloria Shayne who, when she was growing up, happened to live next door to a family by the name of Kennedy (as Gerry Posner would say, “as in John Fitzgerald Kennedy’ ”).
Gloria Shayne and her then-husband, Noël Regney, wrote the song, “Do You Hear What I Hear?” as a plea for peace. Something else that set this song apart from every other song Rabbi Leibl sang that evening, as he noted, was that it was the only one that mentioned the name “Christ”.
Many of you reading this might remember the “Andy Williams Show”, which was popular in the 1960s. But, did you know that the song “It’s the most Wonderful Time of the Year” was written for that show? It was written in 1963 by Sydney Pola (born Sidney Edward Pollacsek) and George Wyle (born Bernard Weissman, also famous for composing the theme song to “Gilligan’s Island”, a very important show for Rabbi Leibl’s parents’ generation). By the way, although I was taking copious notes during this very important lecture, I have had to resort to Googling a good portion of the information you’re reading here. I can’t imagine how much work Rabbi Matthew put into putting together his song list. He really should do his show again; I’m sure it would attract an even bigger audience next year.
Next, we were told we’re going to hear songs by “the greatest Christmas composer of all time!” But, what about all the songs we just heard? Who could top some of those songwriters?
It turned out that it was Johnny Marks. Here’s an excerpt from Wikipedia: John David Marks (November 10, 1909 – September 3, 1985) was an American songwriter. Although he was Jewish, he specialized in Christmas songs and wrote many holiday standards, including “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (a hit for Gene Autry and others), “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” (a hit for Brenda Lee), “A Holly Jolly Christmas” (recorded by the Quinto Sisters and later by Burl Ives)” and even more.
While Rabbi Leibl told one story after another about each of the above songs, he really outdid himself when he told the story how “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” came into being. The story goes that Marx’s sister was married to a guy by the name of Robert Ray.
Ray was working for the department store Montgomery Ward, working as a low-level copywriter. Although Rabbi Leibl described what happened in great detail, it’s such a beautiful story that I thought I’d quote extensively from the Wikipedia article describing how the song came into being:
Sometime in the 1930s, May moved to Chicago and took a job as a low-paid in-house advertising copywriter for Montgomery Ward. In early 1939, May’s boss at Montgomery Ward asked him to write a “cheery” Christmas book for shoppers and suggested that an animal be the star of the book. Montgomery Ward had been buying and giving away coloring books for Christmas every year and it was decided that creating their own book would save money and be a nice good-will gesture.
May’s wife, Evelyn, had contracted cancer in 1937 and was quite ill as he started on the book in early 1939. May “drew on memories of his own painfully shy childhood when creating his Rudolph stories.” He decided on making a reindeer the central character of the book because his then four-year-old daughter, Barbara, loved the deer in the Chicago zoo. He ran verses and chapters of the Rudolph poem by Barbara to make sure they entertained children. The final version of the poem was first read to Barbara and his wife’s parents…
In 1948, May’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, wrote (words and music) an adaptation of Rudolph. Though the song was turned down by such popular vocalists as Bing Crosby and Dinah Shore, it was recorded by the singing cowboy Gene Autry. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” was released in 1949 and became a phenomenal success, selling more records than any other Christmas song, with the exception of “White Christmas”.
And with that, the entire audience joined in the singing of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” All that was needed to cap off the evening was for everyone to adjourn to The Shanghai (which, alas, is no longer) – and which, Rabbi Leibl recalled, was where his family always used to go for Christmas.
Next on the list of off-beat stories for this paper: A scholarly dissertation on David Steinberg’s famous line that almost got him thrown off the Smothers Brothers Show for good: “Let’s put the ‘Ch’ back into Chanukah – and the ‘Christ’ back into Christmas.”
You can watch a compilation of Rabbi Matthew singing popular xmas songs here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWyZ1djqxaI
Features
EINSTEIN, RITA AND ME
By DAVID R. TOPPER In the early 1960s, when I was an undergraduate student majoring in Physics at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh – there was only one girl in my advanced physics classes. As I learned later, nothing much had changed since the days of Einstein. When he was studying Physics at the Polytechnic in Zurich, the physics classes were all male – except for Mileva Marić, a Serbian who was the first girl in high school ever to take a physics course in the entire Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because Switzerland was the only place where women were admitted to university classes, she was there with Albert in Zurich.
She was very smart, especially in math, and also proficient at the piano. Born with a dislocated hip, Mileva had a slight limp, and the men in the class ignored her – except for one, Albert. They became a couple and eventually married.
Back to me in my university physics classes – where it seems that little had changed for over sixty years. In my advanced classes there was only one girl. Her name was Rita. She mainly stayed to herself. Majoring in Mathematics, she took all the advanced physics courses available, right through the fourth year. In short, in those predominantly male classes, she was an anomaly – alone and ignored by her classmates.
Except me. No, I didn’t date her, yet I didn’t ignore her. During those undergraduate years, I lived at home and took a bus or a trolley to school five days a week, leaving early in the morning. The university is in downtown Pittsburgh. Walking to the campus, I first went to the Physics Department, using it as my base. From there I went to my other classes during the day. There was a small classroom in the Department that was almost always empty, especially in the morning. It could be used for individual studying or small group discussions and such. In the early morning, I was usually the only one there – except for Rita, who used it for studying, too. She often was there, even before me. Usually the conversation started by me saying something like: “Hi Rita, did you get the last problem in mechanics class homework?” Her response was invariably, “Yes.” We would go over it, with her finding my mistakes. We had an amiable relationship that never went beyond our interactions about physics – right up to the end of our university years. As far as I can remember, I don’t think I knew much about her beyond the classroom.
But one event, which I’ll never forget, stands out. It was during our last year of classes in a course on the theory of relativity. For the textbook the prof used a paperback edition of the original papers on the theory. Early in the course, we went through Einstein’s first paper of 1905 – step by step. On this particular day, the prof came in and said he had a problem with the next step in the paper. As we all sat with our books in front of us, he pointed to a certain equation where we ended in the previous class. In the next sentence, Einstein says that such and such follows. The problem for the prof was that he didn’t know how Einstein got that deduction. I looked at it, and didn’t have a clue either.
Just then, Rita’s hand went up. She said she thinks she knows how Einstein got it. The prof asked her to come up to the blackboard and show him. Rita did, and the prof said that she was right. I’m quite sure that – then and there – Rita got an A in that course, if not an A+.
That gives you some idea about Rita and my relationship with her at the time. Not a very significant part of my 4-year undergraduate years – except for this one event in a physics course.
Why then am I bringing this up now, so many years later? Here’s why.
I graduated with my BS degree in the fall of 1964. I then went to graduate school at Case Institute of Technology in Cleveland, majoring in Physics. (It’s now Case-Western Reserve University.)
When I moved there, I lived in a formerly swanky hotel on the edge of the campus, which was purchased by the university as a residence solely for graduate students. They called it The Graduate House. Eleven floors, the top 8 with suites for students, with one floor solely for female students. It was a radical experiment in co-ed living for the time.
My first day there, after getting my room and putting my things in drawers and so forth, it was late in the afternoon – and I was hungry. I had been told when I registered that the dining hall would open the following morning, but for now there was no food. However, on the third floor there were vending machines with sandwiches and such, so I went to find them.
Going down the elevator, exiting at the third floor, and walking down a hall – suddenly I heard my name called. “David, what are you doing here?” Turning around – there was Rita! It was quite a surprise for both of us. This tells you how minimally we interacted before; not even knowing that we both were going to the same graduate school.
I told her that I was majoring in Physics at Case. She, of course, was majoring in Math. After a chat about all this, I said that I was looking for the sandwich machines. She said that there was a diner nearby, and she was going there for dinner with someone else she had just met so I went, too. Thus, Rita and I reunited in Cleveland, now living in the same building.
In a short while, I made friends with a group of people in the Graduate House with diverse majors. Some were in various sciences, others in humanities. It was a lively group, with animated discussions on a range of academic topics, including politics, especially as the Vietnam War became the center of the news in the USA.
Rita was not a part of that group, but I did often see her. Being the eager student that I was, I was up early, getting to the university to study in the library before classes started. Coming to the dining room for breakfast, not long after it opened, I often saw Rita, too – all alone in a far corner. I took my tray and we had breakfast together. Except for that morning ritual, I seldom had any interactions with her.
Thinking about this now, I find the parallel morning rituals (first in Pittsburgh and then in Cleveland) a fascinating serendipitous episode in my life. The difference was that in Cleveland, we were not taking the same courses so we didn’t have to compare solutions to homework. We did talk about our respective courses, and interestingly a parallel appeared. By around mid-term of that first year in graduate school, we both were less than enthusiastic about what we were learning and, accordingly, were both thinking of not carrying on in our respective subjects.
For me it was Quantum Mechanics and the impossibility for us to know reality in itself. Everything was statistical, uncertain and almost esoteric. I found the uncritical attitude toward this world-view to be almost religious in nature. (I only learned later that Einstein felt the same way!)
For Rita, it was the same, despite the different fields. The math now was far beyond basic geometry, algebra and calculus. Topology, Group Theory, Galois’ Theory, and more – all culminating in Gödel’s Theorem, which asserts that all mathematical knowledge is inherently incomplete. It all was too esoteric for her. She knew that she was not going to get a PhD in mathematics.
We commiserated together, with another parallel in our unusual relationship, but with a difference. I still wanted to get my Master’s Degree and somehow still go on to get a job as a professor – that had been my goal in life ever since my first semester at Duquesne. Rita, however, was thinking of dropping out immediately and leaving university life altogether.
For me, this problem was resolved in my second year of Physics at Case, when I took a course taught by Martin Klein. Although he was a physicist in the Department, for many years he no longer was doing research in it. Instead, he was writing papers on the history of the subject – mainly involving Einstein, Boltzmann, Gibbs, Ehrenfest and others. Today those papers are paragons in the field. It was my extremely good luck that the department permitted him to teach such material for the first time.
I loved the course. I was enthralled by the topics – this was the way I wanted to learn physics, through its history. After getting my Master’s in Physics at the end of that year, I moved across campus to the History of Science Department. In another four years I had a PhD in the subject.
Back to early 1965: I tried to talk Rita out of dropping out, but she was adamant. The kicker was this: she really preferred numbers with $$$$ in front of them. Yes, she wanted to be an accountant. She didn’t want to waste any more time here, when she could be home getting her accounting credentials. As I recall, sometime before the spring of that year she went back to Pittsburgh. I’m sure she had an easy time getting her accounting licence and all that went with it. As she was very smart. My guess is that she was an excellent accountant and was very successful in that career.
I have no way of knowing. We didn’t keep in touch (honestly, I don’t know why not) and I can’t even remember her last name. All that I can recall is what I’ve written here. Nonetheless, I find these two interactions between Rita and me an interesting and pleasing tidbit about life and relationships – so much so that I deem it worthy of repeating here.
David R. Topper writes in Winnipeg, Canada. His work has appeared in Mono, Poetic Sun, Discretionary Love, Poetry Pacific, Academy of the Heart & Mind, Altered Reality Mag. and elsewhere.
His poem Seascape with Gulls: My Father’s Last Painting won first prize in the annual poetry contest of CommuterLit Mag – May 12, 2025.
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How to read fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot labels at Betscore Casino
Modern casino lobbies feature distinctive jackpot tags designed for easy recognition across various game tiles. Browsing through Bet Score, you will see that the platform uses a consistent system to present fixed, daily, and progressive jackpot displays. This brief guide explains how these labels are typically formatted, offering visual cues so you can confidently interpret each jackpot category. Betscore Casino presents these markers in a clear and recognizable way.
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Decoding fixed and daily jackpot displays in casino lobbies
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How progressive jackpot meters stand apart and quick display checks
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When identifying jackpot types quickly, three main cues make reading the tags straightforward. Fixed jackpots always feature a stable, non-animated number next to their badge, keeping things simple and clear. Daily jackpots consistently add a day-based timeframe indicator, which could be text or a countdown, usually positioned close to the label for easy association. Progressive jackpots, by contrast, are marked by a running total or animated meter, making them stand out as prize amounts increase. Paying attention to these conventions, you’ll find it much easier to compare options and navigate the jackpot categories provided with confidence and efficiency.
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Some random thoughts on the AMIA bombing, Operation Solomon, Arab migration to Palestine, and Jeffrey Epstein
By BERNIE BELLAN When I received an email from an Ethiopian Jew who is now living in Winnipeg who reminded me of the incredible efforts made by so many different people to help rescue Ethiopia’s Jewish population and bring them to Israel during Operation Solomon in 1991 (Operation Solomon) I began to ask myself why that particular event doesn’t get paid more attention within our own Jewish community here?
Recently our community held another commemoration of the AMIA bombing in 1994 in Buenos Aires, which claimed the lives of 85 people (not all Jewish) and injured over 300. Each year B’nai Brith holds a solemn ceremony during which 85 candles are lit and the names of the deceased are read out.
Yes, that was a horrific tragedy, but I wonder how much it still resonates with people. There have been so many other horrible events since that AMIA bombing, including of course the massacre of October 7, but more recently there was also the Bondi Beach attack in Australia last December, during which 15 people were killed and 40 injured. Are we also going to have commemorative events held here in Winnipeg going forward to mark that particular event?
Compare the solemnity with which tragic events such as the AMIA bombing and the October 7 massacre are remembered with the total lack of celebration of something that should be as uplifting as was Operation Solomon. Could it be because Operation Solomon happened in far away Africa and the people who were rescued were black – and seemed so foreign to those of us who can even remember what happened in 1991? I don’t know whether there’s an element of racism involved in the lack of recognition anywhere of Operation Solomon, but I thought it most interesting when I was rereading articles in The Jewish Post & News written by the one individual in our Jewish community who did more to help in the rescue of Ethiopian Jews than anyone else – the late Elliot Levine, and Levine noted the total lack of support from the Winnipeg Jewish Community Council for what was known as “The Committee for Ethiopian Jews,” I couldn’t help but wonder how much race has played a part in sidelining Operation Solomon as a momentous event in the recent history of the Jewish people.
When one considers how much attention is paid to the AMIA bombing, which affected people who, simply put, look more like us, to the lack of attention paid to Operation Solomon – well, I think you get my point.
The Ethiopian Jewish community now living in Israel has had a difficult time being accepted by mainstream Israelis, but over the years many members of that community have made significant contributions to Israeli society and the more recent descendants of the original Jews who were brought to Israel are now proud Israelis. It would be nice for our own community to hold some sort of event to mark Operation Solomon, since it is now the 35th year since that momentous achievement occurred.
Speaking of past achievements, the furor over the Nakba exhibit at the Canadian Museum for Human Rights has continued to spark heated discussion. I’ve received a number of emails from various members of our community responding to articles I’ve written about the Nakba exhibit (and in some cases articles written by others that have appeared in the Jewish Post). I don’t mind admitting that I’m not at all sure where I stand on the whole issue of the Nakba exhibit. I can see the merits of arguments that have been made on both sides of the issue and I try to keep an open mind as I hear different perspectives. But, no matter what argument is being made, I encourage everyone to listen to what people have to say and think carefully about the pros and cons of the particular points being made.
As I noted in an earlier column, rather than descending into an argument over which group has a more valid reason to feel aggrieved – Palestinians who were forced to leave their homes in Palestine (and I’m not going to debate whether the majority left willingly or not; that’s an issue that will never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction) or Jews who were forced to leave their homes in Arab lands, I’d rather concentrate on thinking about where can we go from here?
Unfortunately, the clear consensus in Israel now seems to be that there can never be a Palestinian state and even those politicians who might have been willing to enter into at least some sort of discussion about the possible creation of a Palestinian state have moved so far to the right – in response to the clear shift in public opinion in Israel that sees no room for even contemplating a Palestinian state, that the issue of a future Palestinian state has been completely taken off the table.
At the same time though, as much as I’m generally sympathetic to the Palestinian aspiration to have a state of their own, just as I prefer to refer to historical evidence when it comes to debating what actually happened during the “Nakba,” I also like to look at the evidence surrounding just how many true Palestinians there are.
By that, I mean how many people who call themselves Palestinians can trace their roots back to the actual land which can be referred to as “Palestine.” Remember that there was no such thing as “Palestine” per se until the British Mandate over Palestine began officially in 1923. Prior to that what we now regard as “Palestine” was simply part of the Ottoman Empire.
According to figures compiled by one of the pre-eminent experts on demographic in the Ottoman Empire, Professor Justin McCarthy, there were approximately 500,000 Arabs in what is referred to as Palestine at the turn of the 20th Century, while there were approximately 23,000 Jews.
By 1945 the Arab population of Palestine had grown by over 600,000 to approximately 1,100,000 while the Jewish population had grown to over 550,000. There is much debate over whether a good part of the increase in the Arab population was due to the surge in economic activity brought on by the influx of Jews, but let’s leave that argument aside for the moment. A point that I made in another column about the Arab population of Palestine at the time when Israel was declared a state is that approximately 750,000 Arabs left what had been Palestine – but whether they left voluntarily or not was irrelevant to me. What was relevant to me, I emphasized, was that there could not have been a “Jewish” state with a majority Arab population.
I have heard nothing from those who would criticize the Nakba exhibit at the CMHR about that point.
Again – as I noted previously, I’m not arguing the morality of what happened to the Palestinians; I’m simply making the observation that Israel could not have come about had those 750,000 Arabs who did leave had chosen to stay. I don’t suppose my making that point makes one whit of difference to anyone who is criticizing the CMHR exhibit. I just wanted to reiterate my support for looking at what happened in 1948 objectively. And I’m well aware that even suggesting that one can be “objective” about such a contentious issue is up for debate – but can’t we even try for a little objectivity?
Finally, what about Jeffrey Epstein – and what’s he got to do with everything I’ve just written?
Well, it was the persistently nagging questions surrounding Epstein’s relationship with Trump that led directly to Trump deciding to join in with Netanyahu and attack Iran. Trump was desperate to “change the channel,” especially when so many of his diehard MAGA supporters kept asking questions about why Trump was so keen to put the Epstein issue aside. So now Trump is caught up in a war that he thought would divert attention from Epstein, but the most likely scenario is that he’ll end up trying to bring the war to a conclusion by ceding control over the Hormuz Strait to Iran and abandoning the notion of forcing Iran to give up its quest for a nuclear weapon. And if the only way to reduce Trump’s march toward total authoritarianism is to elect enough Democrats to at least take over the House of Representatives then what we’re going to see is a bunch of “woke” Democrats in Congress who will be wanting to end American support for Israel – and, they’ll be pushing for a Palestinian state.
Thank you, Jeffrey Epstein, for being the cause of this whole mess.
