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Deeply Jewish comedy is having a moment, even as antisemitism rocks pop culture
(JTA) — Two weeks after a Trump-supporting heckler threw a beer can at Ariel Elias at a club in New Jersey over her politics, the Jewish comedian’s fortunes took a turn for the better. A video of the incident went viral and she made her network television debut on Jimmy Kimmel’s late-night talk show.
She spent most of her five-minute set talking about her Jewish identity and how it clashed with parts of her upbringing in Kentucky.
“I’m Jewish from Kentucky, which is insane, it’s an insane origin story,” she said last month before getting to jokes about how Southerners mispronounce her name and how badly her parents want her to date Jews.
Even though the crowd found it funny, Elias’ tight five wasn’t particularly groundbreaking. In the world of standup comedy, discussing one’s Jewish identity in a deep way has become increasingly common on the mainstream stage over the past several years. Jewish comedians are going beyond the bagel and anxiety jokes, discussing everything from religiosity and traditions (and breaking with those traditions) to how their Jewishness has left them prone to awkward situations and even antisemitism.
Ari Shaffir calls his most recent special, which was released earlier this month and titled “Jew” — and racked up close to four million views on YouTube in two weeks — “a love letter to the culture and religion that raised [him].” In his recent one man show “Just For Us” — which drew widespread acclaim and a slew of celebrity audience members, from Jerry Seinfeld to Stephen Colbert to Drew Barrymore — Alex Edelman discussed the details of growing up Modern Orthodox (and infiltrating a group of white nationalists). In 2019, Tiffany Haddish released a Netflix special called “Black Mitzvah,” in which she talks about learning about her Jewish heritage.
At the same time, the current uptick in public displays of antisemitism — punctuated by a series of celebrity antisemitism scandals and comedian Dave Chappelle’s controversial response to them — is complicating the moment for comedians who get into Jewish topics. Jewish comics are even debating what kinds of jokes about Jews are acceptable and which cross a line.
“I find it ironic that at a time where more Jewish comedians feel comfortable expressing their Judaism (i.e. wearing a yarmulke, making Jewish-oriented content) and not hiding it (by changing their name for example), we also see an up-swelling of outright antisemitism,” said Jacob Scheer, a New York-based comedian. “I don’t think — and hope — those two things are not related, but I find it really interesting and sad.”
The two phenomena could be related. Antisemitic incidents nationwide reached an all-time high in 2021, with a total of 2,717 incidents, according to an April 2022 audit from the Anti-Defamation League. Those incidents range from vandalism of buildings to harassment and assault against individuals.
“Now that [antisemitism is] a headline, it actually helps me to do what I need to do, which is just be extra out and loud and proud,” said Dinah Leffert, a comic based in Los Angeles. “I was hiding who I am just so I can survive in this environment. But this environment is not worth it if I have to hide.”
Scheer said that “people who are Jewish with an emphasis on the ‘Jew’ are having a moment.”
“[The] ‘Jew-ish’ world I wouldn’t say is dead, but I don’t think the ‘Jew-ish’ world is producing that much,” he said.
By “Jew-ish,” Scheer clarified that he means comics like Seinfeld and Larry David, who often infuse secular, culturally Jewish material into their comedy. Their apex of fame came during a time when Jewish comedy was not nearly as mainstreamed — the “Seinfeld” sitcom team was famously told that their idea was “too New York, too Jewish.”
Some of Seinfeld and David’s Jewish comedic successors, such as Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen, sprinkled in more explicitly Jewish jokes before 2010. But today, “you see more Alex Edelmans coming out,” Scheer said, referencing the increase in visibility for comedians with more observant upbringings.
Things have progressed to the level of “Jews doing comedy for other Jews about Jewish things,” Scheer added. In August, the first-ever Chosen Comedy Festival at the Coney Island Amphitheater in Brooklyn featured a lineup of mostly Jewish comics whose repertoires ranged from impressions of old Jewish women (who sound like bees) to breakdowns of the differences between how Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews say “Shabbat shalom.” Leah Forster, who also performed at the festival, uses her Hasidic upbringing as source material for her standup routines, creating characters and using accents and impressions. (In her early days as a comedian, Forster performed for women-only audiences while she was a teacher at a Bais Yaakov Orthodox school in Brooklyn.)
The festival, which was hosted by Stand Up NY (an Upper West Side club that Scheer says is known for being “the Jewish one”) welcomed a packed audience of about 4,000 guests, many of whom were Orthodox. A second Chosen Comedy Festival will take place in downtown Miami in December.
(The New York Jewish Week, a 70 Faces Media brand, was the media partner for the Chosen Comedy Festival but had no say in its lineup.)
The festival’s co-hosts, Modi Rosenfeld and Elon Gold, who frequently collaborate, both grew their audiences in the early days of the pandemic: Rosenfeld with his camera-facing comedic characters, like the esoteric Yoely who delivers news updates with a Hasidic Yiddish twist; and Gold with his Instagram Live show “My Funny Quarantine,” which featured guest appearances from other comedians. Both Gold and Rosenfeld work antisemitism into their material.
Some are finding the moment difficult to navigate. In late October, at the standup show she runs in Los Angeles, the comic two slots ahead of Dinah Leffert asked the room, “Is anyone still even supporting Kanye at this point?” The crowd responded with resounding whoops, claps and cheers, leading Leffert to feel like they did support Kanye West, the rapper who spent much of last month in the news for his multiple antisemitic rants.
Just a few jokes into her own 10-minute set, Leffert walked offstage.
“My body wouldn’t let me keep being inauthentic about what I was really feeling,” she said. “I don’t want to give laughter to people who are anti-Jewish.”
Leffert, who is openly Zionist, said she also observes a level of anti-Zionism in comedy clubs these days that feels to her like antisemitism.
“They’re not criticizing Israel,” she said. “It slips into antisemitism very quickly. And it’s just a really hostile environment.”
During the last large-scale military flare-up of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in May 2021, she felt inundated with Palestinian flag comments on posts about Jewish holidays, not Israel.
“You just get Palestinian flags underneath your Hanukkah posts,” she said.
In October, at a club in Omaha, comedian Sam Morril told a joke about how he hopes Jeffrey Epstein won’t be honored during Jewish Awareness Month.
“Can I ask why you chose to yell out ‘free Palestine’ after a Jeffrey Epstein joke?” he responded. When the heckler said she was making a “public statement” and was looking for “justice,” Morril answered: “A public statement? At the Omaha Funny Bone?”
Eitan Levine, a New York-based comedian known for his TikTok show “Jewish or Antisemitic” — on which he asks people to vote on whether objects like ketchup and mayonnaise, for example, are Jewish or antisemitic (in a loose comic version of the word) — said he receives similar comments online.
“This is a TikTok video about bagels,” Levine said. “What do you mean, you want me to take a stance?”
Though the response to his show has been largely positive and he has gone viral several times, Levine still receives all kinds of white supremacist comments on his videos — with backwards swastika, money bag or mustachioed man emojis evocative of Hitler, along with comments that say “jas the gews” as a spoonerism for “gas the Jews,” as a way to avoid TikTok censorship. Levine said he manually deletes these kinds of comments, but sometimes that’s not enough; one of the guests on his show had to cancel an in-person show due to online threats made against her.
“This stuff is clearly happening and it is dangerous and it is scary,” Levine told JTA.
Writer and comedian Jon Savitt, whose writing has been featured on College Humor and Funny or Die, and says he has often been “the first Jew that people have ever met,” recently launched an experimental web page called Meet A Jew, where users can connect with a Jewish person, much like a pen pal. His 2016-2018 standup show “Carrot Cake & Other Things That Don’t Make Sense” largely dealt with antisemitism — and its audience, he was surprised to see, was largely non-Jewish.
“Not only did I have people come up to me after the show, but I had non-Jews come up to me months later when they saw me and say ‘tikkun olam‘ [Hebrew for the Jewish principle of repairing the world] to me, or recite Hebrew,” Savitt said. “And to me that was the coolest use case because not only were they there, but they kind of retained something.”
Savitt says he isn’t trying to change any extremists’ minds with Meet A Jew, but he sees it as one step that could engage people who may be ignorant or unaware and give them a place to ask questions.
“Although it shouldn’t be on us to educate everyone or to have to constantly be standing up for ourselves, I think there are ways that we can bring other people into the conversation as well,” he said.
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The post Deeply Jewish comedy is having a moment, even as antisemitism rocks pop culture appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Trump-MBS Dealmaking Shaped Gaza Vote at UN, Empowering Hamas, Israeli Analysts Warn
US President Donald Trump greets Saudi Crown Prince and Prime Minister Mohammed bin Salman, during a dinner at the White House in Washington, DC, US, Nov. 18, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Tom Brenner TPX IMAGES OF THE DAY
This week’s UN Security Council resolution endorsing US President Donald Trump’s 20-point Gaza peace plan was timed to appease Western and Arab governments and deliberately crafted to blur the question of Palestinian statehood in pursuit of broader regional interests, according to Israeli analysts, who warned the move risked empowering Hamas and endangering Israel’s security.
Einat Wilf, a former member of Israel’s parliament, known as the Knesset, said the UN resolution intended to remove the Palestinian question from the headlines but could lay the groundwork for “another Oct. 7,” referring to Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel, by repeating the same policy of ambiguity that allowed the Palestinian terrorist organization to regroup under previous ceasefire agreements.
Dan Diker, president of the Jerusalem Center for Security and Foreign Affairs (JCFA), argued the vote was strategically timed to coincide with Trump’s meeting with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman in Washington. The US president sought to pair international endorsement of his 20-point Gaza plan with Saudi commitments toward normalizing relations with Israel. Bin Salman, also known as MBS, told reporters in the Oval Office on Tuesday that he was open to joining the Abraham Accords, a series of US-brokered Arab-Israel normalization agreements, if credible progress toward Palestinian statehood could be demonstrated.
The Trump administration aimed to show that the “pathway to implementing Stage Two of the Gaza plan — which includes the International Stabilization Force and a framework for Palestinian statehood — is already in place,” Diker told The Algemeiner in a phone call. “The goal was to get international sanction through the UN so the White House could silence naysayers who claim the plan is a Trump-Israel conspiracy.”
A new poll conducted by the JCFA ahead of the Security Council vote found that 70% percent of Israelis opposed the creation of a Palestinian state under current conditions, with opposition rising to just under 80% among Jewish Israelis. Even when linked to Saudi normalization, the overwhelming majority (62%) remained opposed.
According to Diker, the UN resolution was largely declarative and would not bring the region closer to a Palestinian state. The real agenda rested with Saudi-US ties, with MBS telling Trump that Saudi investments in the United States would increase to nearly $1 trillion. Palestinian statehood figured mostly as lip service, and while Israel signed on, the Palestinian leadership in the form of the Fatah-led Palestinian Authority has proven incapable of governing its own public, with polling consistently showing Hamas as the preferred choice among Palestinians — both in Gaza and the West Bank.
“It’s an ironic development that the great Western powers pushing for a Palestinian state are essentially strengthening Hamas’s hand as the effective leadership of the Palestinian people following the Oct. 7 massacres,” he said.
Wilf, who recently announced her return to politics with her newly formed Oz party, argued that Washington’s goal is to push the Palestinian issue “off the headlines” long enough to advance its broader Middle East agenda.
“The Abraham Accords are no longer about normalizing relations with Israel,” she said in a briefing with reporters on Wednesday. “It’s basically American shorthand for bringing the Islamic and Arab world into the Western orbit in a more structured way and pulling them as much as possible away from China.”
Wilf warned that while Washington’s approach of “constructive ambiguity — the vague language now anchoring the resolution — may serve its short-term strategic goals for the conflict, it puts Israel at risk. By avoiding clear definitions of what a reformed Palestinian Authority or a de-radicalized Gaza would mean, she argued, the resolution leaves the same loopholes that allowed Hamas to rebuild in the past.
The deeper problem, Wilf argued, is a pervasive Palestinian ideology built on rejecting Jewish sovereignty. Until that changes, efforts toward statehood will remain hollow, a dynamic she summed up as “Schrödinger’s Palestine” — a state when it comes to attacking Israel in international forums but not a state when it comes to taking responsibility for its own actions.
Diker said the tension Wilf described has already become a “built-in collision” between Western diplomacy and Palestinian realities.
“The West is acting in a rather colonialist manner by refusing to note the democratic choice of the Palestinian people,” he said. “Oct. 7 was Hamas’s crowning achievement to ultimately uproot and replace the Fatah-led leadership of the Palestinian street.”
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Iran ‘Has No Choice’ but to Move Capital as Water Crisis Deepens, Says President
People shop water storage tanks following a drought crisis in Tehran, Iran, Nov. 10, 2025. Photo: Majid Asgaripour/WANA (West Asia News Agency) via REUTERS
Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian affirmed on Thursday that the country “has no choice” but to relocate its capital, warning that severe ecological strain has made Tehran impossible to sustain — even as the regime spends billions of dollars rebuilding its military and nuclear infrastructure and backing its terrorist proxies.
In a televised national address, the Iranian leader renewed his call to relocate the capital, asserting that the deepening crisis has “rendered the city uninhabitable.”
Pezeshkian said Iran’s water, land, and infrastructure systems are under such extreme pressure that relocating the capital is now unavoidable, adding that when the move was first proposed, the government lacked even a minimal budget to pursue it.
“The truth is, we have no choice left — relocating the capital is now a necessity,” he said during his speech.
With parts of the city sinking up to 30 centimeters a year and water supplies dwindling, Pezeshkian described Tehran’s current situation as a “catastrophe.”
He urged government ministries and public officials to coordinate their efforts to avert a grim future for the country.
“Protecting the environment is not a game,” the Iranian leader said.
“Ignoring it is signing our own destruction,” he continued, explaining that Tehran can no longer cope with population growth or the city’s expanding construction.
Among the solutions considered to tackle the crisis, one has been importing water from the Gulf of Oman. However, Pezeshkian noted that such an approach is extremely costly, with each cubic meter costing millions to deliver to Tehran.
Earlier this year, the Iranian regime announced it was considering relocating the capital to the Makran coast in the country’s south, a remote region overlooking the Gulf of Oman, in a bid to ease Tehran’s congestion and alleviate its water and energy shortages.
Advocates of this initiative emphasize its strategic benefits, including direct access to the Indian Ocean and significant economic potential through maritime trade, centered on the port of Chabahar, Iran’s crucial gateway to Central Asia.
However, critics argue that the region is still underdeveloped, fraught with security risks, and unprepared to function as a capital, warning that the move could cost tens of billions of dollars — an amount the country cannot bear amid economic turmoil, soaring inflation, and renewed United Nations sanctions.
Notably, the Iranian regime has focused its resources on bolstering its military and nuclear programs rather than addressing the country’s water crisis, a choice that has left citizens’ needs unmet while advancing its agenda against Israel.
The regime has also spent billions of dollars supporting its terrorist proxies across the region and operations abroad, with the Quds Force, Iran’s elite paramilitary unit, funneling funds to the Lebanese group Hezbollah, in defiance of international sanctions.
According to the US Treasury Department, Iran has provided more than $100 million per month to Hezbollah so far this year alone, with $1 billion representing only a portion of Tehran’s overall support for the terrorist group, using a “shadow financial system” to transfer funds to Lebanon.
Iran also provides weapons, training, logistical support, and political backing to the group along with other proxies, including Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen, various militias in Iraq and Syria, and other Islamist entities.
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A shocking true story of Mexico’s Jewish community comes to Netflix
Growing up in Paris, an Italian castle, South Africa at the dawn of its civil rights movement and a kibbutz in the then-new state of Israel sounds like it would be enriching, the project of idealistic parents who wanted their children to see the world and witness history. But that wasn’t exactly how it unfolded for Tamara Trottner, née Salzberg, and her brother Isaac.
Instead, they lived in these locations for three years because they were on the run with their father Leo (Emiliano Zurita), who was being hunted by Interpol for kidnapping his own children. He had taken them to retaliate against his wife, Valeria (Tessa Ia), after she had an affair with his brother-in-law.
Trottner wrote a memoir about the experience and it has been adapted into a gripping and sumptuously-filmed Spanish-language miniseries, No One Saw Us Leave, which recently arrived on Netflix.
In the opening episode, we see a stylish wedding between a young Valeria and Leo, both children of leaders of Mexico City’s small Ashkenazi Jewish community. As she prepares to walk down the aisle, Valeria’s mother tells her she is destined to have “a sheyne lebn” — a beautiful life, in Yiddish — and the crowd dances to “Hava Negila.”

But even at their wedding, there’s little warmth between the two; their marriage is closer to a merger between their two families, and while they don’t hate each other, there’s little mutual understanding — Leo believes Valeria should be the woman of the house, but she is tapped into the burgeoning feminism of the 1960s and wants to get a Master’s degree.
We switch between flashbacks of the pair’s marriage — we see the beginnings of Valeria’s affair, as she dances with her brother-in-law Carlos — and Leo’s international run with his children, Tamara and Leo. Though the children, who begin the voyage aged 5 and 7, constantly ask about their mother, he alternates between telling them that she is coming to join them soon and that she did “something bad” and doesn’t want to see them anymore. In fact, Valeria is searching desperately, and has hired an ex-Mossad agent (Ari Brickman) to aid her in the international hunt.
It’s an emotional and suspenseful story as Leo routinely manages to evade the international police. But the subtle story driving all of the drama is that of the tight-knit Jewish community in Mexico City — even today, only 3% of Mexican Jews marry outside the community — and the interplay of respectability and influence within it.
As part of his retribution against Valeria — and to protect his own reputation as he flees Mexico — Leo spreads a story that his wife was unstable and an unfit mother, even alleging that she had been committed to a psychiatric facility. For at least the first episode of the show, the audience, too, is unsure why Leo has really taken the children, and the story about Valeria seems plausible; we’re not sure who to stand with.
The rest of the Jewish community, too, is unsure; at first, people ice out Valeria and her family as they try to gain information about the children’s whereabouts. The push and pull between two powerful families leaves the community confused and caught in the middle. And after Valeria launches a publicity campaign to clear her name and solicit clues, many of the other leaders worry about the damage to the community’s public image in Mexico, alluding to the European antisemitism they fled from. Leo’s father, meanwhile, is a domineering figure who asserts that his daughter-in-law’s affair is just as bad a blow to the community’s reputation as the kidnapping.

The confusion is helped by the fact that Leo is not presented as a villain; he’s a well-developed character, with his own issues with his marriage and with his overbearing father. An ardent socialist, we see him join an activist group against apartheid while hiding in South Africa, and later, when he flees to Israel, he joins the kibbutz he’d dreamed of, and is embraced for his politics and architectural talents.
(Leo’s time in Israel also gives the audience a window into the kibbutzim of the 1960s, which were still practicing an almost militant form of socialism they have since left behind — children were raised communally and told to call their parents by their first names.)
Eventually, Valeria finds her husband and the children, after checking nearly every kibbutz in the country — we see Kfar Aza, one of the towns destroyed on Oct. 7, get crossed off a list — and Israeli courts order Leo and the children back to Mexico. An end note summarizes the rest of the history: Valeria and Carlos, her affair partner, won and raised the children together, who didn’t see Leo again for 20 years.
Of course, much of the show’s drama is in the obvious: Leo’s flight, the children’s growing realization that their father has been lying to them, Valeria’s desperation. But the quiet conflict between families, the power of reputation — both within the small Jewish community and between that community’s relationship and the broader world — undergird every moment of the story. The power of Jewish community is, ultimately, inescapable.
The post A shocking true story of Mexico’s Jewish community comes to Netflix appeared first on The Forward.
