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As an American rabbi in King Charles’ court, I’m learning to love the king (in addition to the King)
(JTA) — Perhaps the strangest part was sitting through a Sunday service in the 1,000-year-old nave of St. Albans Cathedral (the longest nave in England!) and hearing the Hebrew Bible (specifically I Kings 1:32-40) read aloudt in English. Maybe stranger yet was hearing part of that passage set to the music of 17th-century maestro George Friedrich Handel! These, and many other oddities, were only a fraction of the wonderful and unusual experiences of being an American-born British rabbi during the first coronation this country has seen in 70 years.
As with the funeral last year of the late Queen Elizabeth, the scale of organization and competence required to pull off such an event is astounding. For a country where it often feels that small-scale bureaucracy can get in the way of day-to-day life, the coronation was, by all accounts, seamless. This of course makes it the exception rather than the rule, as coronations past were often marred by logistical issues, bad luck and sometimes straight-up violence.
It was the coronation of Richard I in 1189 that unleashed anti-Jewish massacres and pogroms across the country and led to the York Massacre in 1190, in which over 150 local Jews killed themselves after being trapped in Clifford’s Tower, which was set ablaze by an angry mob. During that year there were attacks in London, Lynn, Bury St. Edmunds, Stamford, Lincoln, Colchester and others. It was exactly 100 years later, in 1290, that Edward I would expel Jews from England altogether. They wouldn’t return (officially) for 400 years — or get an official apology from the church for 800.
This weekend’s festivities, thankfully, were of a very different caliber. Not only were Jewish communities front and center, but Jews, religious and not, were active and welcome participants in the ceremony in Westminster Abbey. Indeed, despite the ceremony taking place on Shabbat, the United Synagogue (a mainstream Orthodox denomination that accounts for 40-45% of British Jewish synagogue membership) was represented by Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis, who, together with other faith leaders, played a role in greeting the king as he left the church. This was especially unusual as it has long been the position of the United Synagogue that their rabbis and members should not go into churches (much less on Shabbat). In many ways, this demonstrates one of the consistent themes of the coronation: the interruption of normal routine and the continued exceptionalism of the royal family.
Rabbi Adam Zagoria-Moffet stands atop the bell tower of St. Albans Cathedral before Rosh Hashanah in 2020. (Talya Baker)
Judaism is agnostic, at best, about kings. Our own monarchy came about because the people insisted on it, but against the will of the prophet Samuel against the desire of God. Once it was established — a process which involved several civil wars, a lot of bloodshed and the degradation of many historical elements of Israelite society — it did, for a brief time, bring some stability to the fragile confederacy of Israelite tribes. But it was really only the half-century golden era under King Solomon that managed this feat. After him, and ever since, the monarchy has been a source of conflict and violence. While we still hope that a righteous heir of the Davidic monarchy will reappear and take their place as king of Israel, we, famously, are not holding our breath.
Our approach to non-Jewish monarchs is even more complex. Whilst King Charles III was being coronated to the words of our holy texts and being anointed in oil (the ceremony for our monarchs) from the Mount of Olives (in our holy land), we were at the same time reciting a litany of prayers, as we do daily, to remind us (in the words of our prayers): “We have no king but You” (Avinu Malkeinu); “Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom” (Ashrei); “God is King, God has ruled, God will rule forever (Y’hi Khavod); “God’s kingship is true there is none else” (Aleinu).
These words were chosen by our sages for our prayers in part because they shared the biblical anxiety about monarchs. Halacha, Jewish law, does retain the notion of a king over Israel, but that king is so heavily bound by legislation, it is far from the absolutist monarchies of most of Europe.
However, since 1688 at least, after the brief (and failed) experiment with the notion of divine right of kings, England (and now the United Kingdom) has endorsed the notion of a constitutional monarch — a king or queen who is esteemed, but also bound by the law and by restrictions imposed by the people. In practice, this makes today’s monarchy an awful lot like that of ancient Israel, and very different from historic European monarchies, as well as very different from how Americans and others often see it. After nearly six years living and working on these green isles, I’ve come to appreciate the complexities and absurdities of the British monarchy, and to value the role that the ceremonies play in the collective life of Britons.
Many here are surprised to find that, being a Yankee, I’m not also a republican (an anti-monarchist, in the British context). Indeed, while I have my doubts about the idea of monarchy and while, religiously, there is a strong argument against human authority, the monarchy as it operates in modern Britain is fairly compatible with the idea of kingship as established by halacha — restrained, limited and primarily occupied with being a moral exemplar rather than an authoritarian ruler. Maybe then it shouldn’t be so strange that so much of the ceremonies this weekend were drawn from our texts, and so much of the symbolism referential to our tradition. We can be grateful that King Charles’s coronation, the first in a generation, went off without a hitch and without bloodshed, and with the support and involvement of a diverse representation of Britain’s peoples and faiths.
To the outside, this weekend has likely appeared to be just a lot of pomp and pageantry. No doubt, it is often Americans who are camping out on the Mall in see-through tents or wearing the royal family’s faces as masks in coronation parties — but this American, after more than half a decade here in Britain, can appreciate the depth of the monarchy in ways I couldn’t before. I see both its deep significance and history, its connection to our own tradition (sometimes through appropriation), and its negatives. As a rabbi and a Jew, I will always be of the opinion that there is only one Sovereign who truly rules, but there is something to be said for having a king as well as a King.
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The Spanish Sabotage: How NATO’s Weakest Link Endangers the War Effort
Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez speaks during a press conference after attending a special summit of European Union leaders to discuss transatlantic relations, in Brussels, Belgium, Jan. 23, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Yves Herman
As the Western alliance entered the second month of its existential struggle against the Iranian regime, the southern anchor of NATO officially buckled.
In a calculated move that serves as a strategic windfall for Tehran, the Spanish government — led by Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez — closed its national airspace and sovereign military bases to United States forces engaged in “Operation Epic Fury.”
By branding the mission to dismantle Iran’s nuclear infrastructure as “illegal and reckless,” Madrid has transitioned from a passive free-rider to an active obstructionist, prioritizing a radical domestic agenda over the survival of the trans-Atlantic security architecture.
This is not merely a tactical disagreement; it is a textbook manifestation of “lawful Islamism” and the erosion of Western resolve. While American and Israeli pilots risk their lives to prevent a nuclear-armed mullahcracy from finalizing its breakout, Spain has opted for a “Neutrality of the Grave” that threatens to lengthen the conflict and embolden the Axis of Resistance.
The immediate impact of Spain’s decision is felt at the fuel pump and the flight line.
By denying the US the use of Naval Station Rota and Morón Air Base — historical gatekeepers of the Mediterranean — Sánchez has severed the primary logistical “air bridge” for Operation Epic Fury. US refueling tankers, including KC-135s and KC-46s, have been forced to relocate to more distant hubs in Germany and the United Kingdom, creating a congested bottleneck in Northern Europe.
Rerouting around the Iberian Peninsula adds between 300 and 800 nautical miles to every mission, a “strategic tax” that adds up to two hours of flight time for time-sensitive strikes.
On a typical widebody military aircraft, this delay consumes an additional 13,000 pounds of fuel per sortie. In a theater where seconds determine whether a mobile Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) missile launcher is neutralized or fired at an Israeli city, Spain’s “neutrality” is measured in the blood of its allies.
Spain’s sabotage is driven by the internal mechanics of the Sánchez government — a fragile minority coalition captured by radical left and Islamist-aligned forces. The influence of parties like Sumar and EH Bildu — a group with historical ties to Basque terrorism — has effectively outsourced Madrid’s foreign policy to a “Red-Green Alliance” that views the US and Israel as greater enemies than the IRGC.
This ideological subversion was punctuated by the unfiltered rebuke of Spain’s Transport Minister, Óscar Puente, who directed a statement at the Israeli leadership that has since reverberated across the globe: “We are not going with you even around the corner, you genocidal bastard.”
This is the language of rupture, signaling that Spain no longer considers itself a partner in the defense of Western values.
The hollow morality of the government’s stance was dismantled on March 29 by General Fernando Alejandre, the former Chief of the Spanish Defense Staff (JEMAD).
In an interview with ABC Spain, Alejandre warned that the “No to War” slogans used by the cabinet are merely “simplistic advertisements” that ignore the topographical reality of modern threats. Alejandre noted that Spain has “sublimated the word peace,” mistakenly believing that an “unjust peace” is preferable to a necessary defense, a path that inevitably leads to total indefension.
Alejandre’s most haunting warning concerned Spain’s own sovereignty. He identified Morocco as a “certain and clear threat” that is closely watching Spain’s lack of a solid defense culture. By alienating the United States in its hour of conflict, Spain is gambling with the security of the Canary Islands, Ceuta, and Melilla. As US strategic interest shifts toward Rabat — a pro-Western partner and Abraham Accords signatory that has seen a 17.6% increase in its 2026 defense budget — Spain risks being left alone on its own southern flank.
The economic repercussions are already beginning to bite. President Donald Trump has characterized Spain as a “terrible” ally, and instructed US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent to prepare a total trade embargo against Madrid. Furthermore, by complicating the mission to reopen the Strait of Hormuz, Spain is directly contributing to the global energy shock that has sent Brent crude toward $110 per barrel.
The Spanish sabotage is a case study in the danger of allowing domestic extremism to dictate international security. When a NATO member chooses to facilitate the survival of the Iranian regime by weaponizing its geography against its allies, the alliance must react. The “habit of consultation” that has defined NATO since 1949 is broken. For the mission to deny Iran nuclear weapons to succeed, the West must recognize its weakest links and forge new partnerships with those who demonstrate a genuine commitment to victory.
The cost of Madrid’s betrayal is a grave that the Iranian regime is currently digging for the entire West; Sánchez is merely making sure the US has a harder time stopping them.
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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From Spain to Passover: The Problem of Inherited Guilt
Soccer Football – Champions League – Paris St Germain v Atletico Madrid – Parc des Princes, Paris, France – November 6, 2024 A banner on support of Palestine is displayed in the stands before the match. Photo: Reuters/Stephanie Lecocq
In 2019, former Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador formally asked Spain to apologize for abuses committed during his country’s conquest of Mexico. At the center of that request is Spain’s role in the destruction of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan, in 1521—an event that marked the beginning of Spanish colonial rule on the site of what is now Mexico City.
Current President Claudia Sheinbaum has continued to press the issue, and Spain’s King Felipe VI recently said that the conquest “didn’t work out as originally intended and there was a lot of abuse.”
Sheinbaum acknowledged that the remark fell short of a full apology, but nevertheless called it a gesture of reconciliation that would help improve relations between their two countries. For her, this gesture served to validate and dignify Mexico’s indigenous population, and help ensure that history is viewed not only from the perspective of the colonizers but of the colonized as well.
Even though these events occurred centuries ago, the argument for apology rests on the idea that nations, like corporations, have a kind of legal and historical continuity. States endure beyond the lifetimes of their citizens. Laws persist, institutions evolve rather than disappear, and national identity is transmitted across generations. Spain’s monarchy, like the Spanish state itself, presents itself as an institution of deep historical continuity. With that comes responsibility as well.
But this logic raises a fundamental problem. The individuals responsible for the conquest are long dead, and those offering apologies today played no role in those events. If individuals cannot inherit guilt from their parents, on what basis can entire nations inherit moral responsibility for actions taken centuries ago?
This sits uneasily with a core principle of modern human rights: that individuals are born free and equal, responsible for their own actions, and should not be judged based on the deeds of others. Once we depart from that principle, we begin to assign moral status not by what people have done, but by who their ancestors were.
More broadly, an emphasis on inherited guilt encourages us to look backward for solutions to present problems. When we encounter injustice today, should our first question be who to blame in the distant past — or what we can do now to make things better? A politics rooted in historical grievance risks creating an endless cycle of accusation and counter-accusation, with no endpoint.
This dynamic is visible in debates over Israel and the Palestinians. Some Palestinian activists center their narrative of the “Nakba,” arguing that peace requires addressing what they view as historical injustices from 1948. On the other side, many emphasize Jewish historical and indigenous claims stretching back millennia, arguing that recognition of that history is essential to any resolution, as well as Jewish presence in the land before 1948. These competing historical frameworks can be difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile.
It would be more fruitful to focus on what political arrangements would best advance the rights of all people living today, regardless of ethnicity. But we can only do that if we are willing to recognize each person as a new individual, equally worthy of freedoms and protections, regardless of what we believe their ancestors may have done.
If we extend the logic of historical responsibility consistently, it becomes impossible to sustain. For example, at the Passover seder we recount the story of the ten plagues. If modern Spain bears responsibility for destruction five centuries ago, should Israel, by the same logic, be forced to apologize to Egypt for the excess suffering described in that story?
And if Israel must apologize for the plagues, then Egypt should also apologize for its original enslavement of the Israelites. How would such a process begin — and where would it end? Is this really what we want to argue about? Current times present us with enough problems without importing conflicts from the past as well. The question for Spain and Mexico, as well as Israelis and Palestinians, is not how to assign guilt for the distant past, but how to uphold the rights and dignity of people living today.
Shlomo Levin holds a Master’s in International Law and Human Rights from the United Nations University for Peace and uses fiction to examine the tension between human rights theory and practice. Find him at www.shalzed.com.
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A Message of Hope Ahead of Pesach: Israeli Negev Bedouin’s Response to Iranian Rockets
A drone view shows a damage in a residential neighbourhood, following a night of Iranian missile strikes which injured dozens of Israelis, amid the US-Israel conflict with Iran, in Dimona, southern Israel, March 22, 2026. REUTERS/Roei Kastro
The Palestinian Authority (PA) wants Palestinians to believe that Israeli Arabs hate their country — Israel — and the Jews living in it.
The reality, however, is not like that at all.
When commenting on Israeli Arabs, whom they call the Palestinians from “Interior Palestine,” or from the “lands occupied in ’48” (the year Israel was established) they vigorously promote the lie that Israel targets Israeli Arabs.
Commentary by columnist Omar Hilmi Al-Ghoul, in the official PA daily and former advisor to former PA Prime Minister Salam Fayyad on national affairs, is a case in point:
Omar Hilmi Al-Ghoul
The members of the Palestinian people in the Interior [i.e., Palestinian term for Israel] … reject all the actions of falsification and coexistence between the true Arab Palestinian narrative and the fake and false Zionist narrative, because confirming the Zionist narrative … means confirming the legitimacy and eligibility of the Zionist presence on the Arab Palestinian land.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA daily Al-Hayat Al-Jadida, Aug. 28, 2021]
But following recent Iranian missile attacks against the southern Israeli towns of Arad and Dimona, nearby Israeli Bedouin Arab communities posted in “local Facebook groups to offer their homes, food, and messages of solidarity” [The Jerusalem Post, March 24, 2026] to Israelis/Jews harmed by the rockets.
This is the exact opposite response of what you would expect from a “hostile” population:
Israeli Arab Bedouin school principal Sager Abu Srehan: “I think the real reality is what matters. We live together with the Jewish society as brothers, on the same land and under the same sky.
We study together, work together, and this country belongs to all of us. We are people who belong here and who love our country … The partnership between us as a society, with many examples of cooperation, is what creates the beautiful colors in the mosaic of Israeli society.” [emphasis added]
[Israeli school principal Sager Abu Srehan, The Jerusalem Post, March 24, 2026]
The dystopian image that the PA promotes of Israeli society tumbles like a deck of cards when confronted with the Israeli reality as a democratic country where all citizens — Jews and Arabs — are treated equally according to law. It is a level of freedom that, ironically, the PA does not come close to bestowing upon its own population.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.