(JTA) — After Amer Ghalib became the most prominent Muslim politician in the country to endorse Donald Trump for president last year, he did so on pro-Palestinian grounds. And he was rewarded with a plum position: the administration’s ambassadorship to Kuwait.

But the mayor of Hamtramck, Michigan, had to get through Senate approval first. And at Thursday’s confirmation hearing before the foreign relations committee, multiple Republicans broke rank and took Ghalib to task for his past social media posts and actions about Jews and Israel.

“It appears you have a deep-felt and passionate view about the Middle East,” Texas Sen. Ted Cruz told Ghalib. “But it is a view that is in direct conflict with the policy positions of President Trump and this administration.”

Cruz grilled the Yemen-born mayor on Hamtramck becoming the first American city to adopt a boycott, divestment and sanctions policy against Israel; on his previous “liking” of Facebook posts comparing Jews to monkeys; and on his past stances opposing the Abraham Accords.

He wasn’t the only Republican to take issue with Ghalib. Sens. David McCormick of Pennsylvania and Pete Ricketts of Nebraska also harshly questioned the mayor on his views on Jews and Israel.

Ghalib did not disavow any of his past stances or posts. The BDS resolution, he said, had been drafted by the anti-Zionist group Jewish Voice for Peace and approved unanimously by the city council. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said. “We don’t have any companies that deal with Israel in our city.” He said he had no power to remove a city council official who had said the Holocaust was advance punishment for Israel.

He “liked” the Facebook post about monkeys, he said, because he used to “like” every post on his feed before becoming mayor. “The person who wrote it is mentally challenged in our community,” he said of the post, later adding, “It’s definitely antisemitism, but clicking on it doesn’t mean I endorse that.”

“Actually, ‘like’ means exactly that,” Cruz retorted.

In response to a question from McCormick about whether he would “accept President Trump’s view that Israel is and should be the national home of the Jewish people,” Ghalib dodged. “I think we can coexist in the region and that’s the answer, that everybody has the right to exist now,” he said. “I trust the president’s policies and I will support his policies.”

At the end of the hearing, Cruz said he would vote no on confirming Ghalib, putting the mayor’s appointment on shaky ground.

Ghalib had endorsed Trump after previously siding with the “Uncommitted” movement that had targeted President Joe Biden’s support for Israel. In a meeting with Trump prior to his endorsement, the mayor said the two had discussed the possibility of a ceasefire in Gaza. Michigan, which has a large Arab population, wound up swinging to Trump.

A separate nominee at the same hearing, South Africa ambassador hopeful Leo Bozell, pledged to push the country to end its genocide charge against Israel in front of the International Court of Justice.

The post Trump nominee for Kuwait ambassador, grilled at confirmation hearing, loses support over Israel views appeared first on The Forward.

This time a year ago, with Sukkot ending and the World Series upon us, I and many other Shabbat-observant Jews were coming apart at the spiritual seams.

Naturally, I wrote about it: The New York Yankees and the Los Angeles (formerly Brooklyn) Dodgers were facing off in the Fall Classic for the 12th time in their storied rivalry and the first time in 43 years. But because the first two games overlapped with Shabbat — falling on Friday and Saturday evenings — thousands of diehards in the two biggest Jewish communities in the U.S. couldn’t watch.

Or could we?

When I asked those fans about the quandary, a few of them told me they’d found ways to watch: A friend’s apartment, the in-laws downstairs, little loopholes with which I was well-versed. (When I was a kid, the dry cleaner’s flatscreen usually sufficed.) Others who couldn’t or wouldn’t watch planned to learn the outcome through the grapevine the next day.

No one I spoke to, however, planned to record the game and watch it after Shabbat ended. Sure, starting a replay of Game 1 on Saturday night meant you couldn’t join Game 2 in progress. But the bigger reason was also kind of funny: In a community that insists on unplugging for 25 hours, finding out a sports score — even inadvertently — was generally seen as inevitable. The only person who believed it was possible to avoid World Series spoilers and watch the whole thing, start-to-finish, 24 hours after the fact, was me.

I also just wanted my precious Shabbat left alone. On the job, I am regularly contending with a firehose of information — much of it discouraging — and the intensity hardly lessens when I’m off the clock. When people ask me whether it’s hard to turn off my phone on Friday afternoon, my answer is that it’s really not. The challenge — the imperative — is protecting the feeling of rest that comes with it. So: No sports fandom, either.

Now, the problem of spoilers is close to my heart. I once wrote an article for this publication about a Harry Potter spoiler that became the most devastating Camp Ramah prank of all time. I now believe that Jewish law actually regards ruining an ending without consent as an act of theft — one called g’neivat da’at (literally, “theft of knowledge”). Of course, the harder a person works to avoid spoilers, the more easily something is spoiled; friends know not to text me asking if I watched the game because that means it ended!!!

Staying out of the loop would be difficult, but I’d spent half a lifetime watching Saturday games on tape delay. In case you weren’t aware, streaming apps are all apparently hell-bent on revealing the outcome of a game that’s just happened before you watch it, by, to take one infuriating example, making the thumbnail image a picture of one of the teams celebrating. In the face of this adversity, I’ve developed the specific muscle of keeping my eyes just focused enough to find the game I want and put it on. These ocular reps would surely prepare me for the World Series.

The Saturday morning after Game 1, I walked to shul with my sister. Well, I was headed to shul; she was headed first to the shul security guard, that singular oracle of contemporary American Orthodox Judaism, who would have the scoop. I escaped that spoiler by skipping ahead as we approached, but my plan faced some resistance in the pews. Everyone else knew what had happened and wanted to discuss it. And I’ll never forget the look of sheer annoyance one in-the-know friend had when I explained my choice. “You’re just gonna go the whole day not knowing?” Sir, that was the whole point.

Several hours later, I was pacing in front of the television in my apartment. There were two outs, bases loaded, bottom of the 10th inning, Dodgers down one. All of it had already happened, and yet none of it had, when I watched Freddie Freeman limp to the plate. You don’t need me to tell you what happened next.

A walk-off grand slam. Reader, I was screaming. I started a replay of Game 2 a few minutes later.

Now, I titled this column “the best Shabbat I ever kept,” but the truth is I don’t really remember too much about that Shabbat. I probably spent it like most others — whiling away a few hours in shul, seeing family and friends, nodding off on the couch. I’m sure only that it wasn’t spoiled. Dodgers history awaited me after Havdalah.

The post The best Shabbat I ever kept, or how to dodge the biggest World Series spoiler ever appeared first on The Forward.

When I was a little girl, I played Witch all the time. I was The Grande Madame — the Queen of all the Witches. I even wrote spooky musicals for the neighborhood kids. We set up lawn chairs in my friend Susie’s backyard in Queens, and made our parents watch. If I had been more business minded, I would have sold tickets.

Now I teach music and something must have stayed with me, because October is my favorite month — Witchy Music Month. This week, I put on my pointy hat, plugged in my spooky orange lights, and played some scenes from The Wizard of Oz and Snow White for the kiddos.

Then I noticed something.

Both witches had big, hooked noses. What they used to call “Jewish Noses.” The noses that kept New York surgeons busy when we hit 18. Many of us got nose jobs. It wasn’t a secret. It was expected.

My mother said no, so I couldn’t get one, but it didn’t stop me from kvetching. (I also asked to be sent to a Swiss Finishing School — again, no.)

I looked it up. A big study in 1914 debunked the theory that Jews actually had big noses — 14% aquiline, compared with 10% of the regular population. Considering that Jews are a people sometimes “bottlenecked from geographic diversity” in a more modern study in 2022, meaning that we weren’t allowed to live anywhere we wanted, and definitely meaning that we inbred, it doesn’t sound like we owned Big Nose.

Tell everybody.

Still, the “hook-nosed” Jewish stereotype remains. Hard to get rid of stereotypes, and harder to get rid of what most people find conventionally attractive. Especially when Disney adds to the Big Hooked Nose in Snow White’s witch — with some well-placed warts.

The most famous Jewish Witch story was when King Saul wanted to go to battle with the Philistines and consulted the Witch of Endor. She summoned Prophet Samuel’s Spirit for the King. Alas Samuel prophesied Doom, and King Saul and his son Jonathan were killed the next day.

The irony was that King Saul had banned all witches, until he needed one himself.

And do you remember what TV writer Sol Sacks named Samantha’s mother in the TV series, Bewitched? Yes, Endora. I bet Sacks’ Hebrew School teacher was proud.

My son, Aaron, is most like me, and I guess most susceptible to my witchiness. He really believed when he was little, and I remember once picking him up from his second grade class. As I bent down to tie Aaron’s shoe, I felt 100 little eyes on me. When I straightened up, I was surrounded by a solemn crowd.  A little girl pointed and said, “Aaron, she doesn’t look like a witch.”

I have to admit, I was a little insulted.

I also have to admit that I did use my powers on Aaron and I am a little ashamed. When he was six, he hated Shabbos because of its restrictions. No TV, no piano, no trips in the car to the 7-Eleven for Slurpees; and endless synagogue.

But this happened on a Wednesday night. He was in a mood and was smashing all her plastic swords and yelling, and I was on the phone trying to accept a music gig with a bride and groom. I told the couple I’d call them right back.

“Aaron,” I looked at him. “If you don’t stop right now — I’m gonna make it SHABBOS!”

He dropped his swords in petrified horror. “C-c-can you really DO that?”

And then I did something I’m even more ashamed of. I smiled.

The post Are you a Good Witch or a Bad Witch? Or a Jewitch? appeared first on The Forward.