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For Josh Shapiro, a run for governor borne of Jewish identity and political ambition
(JTA) — On the day before he was set to be sworn in as Pennsylvania’s governor, Josh Shapiro had somewhere important to be: the Jewish community center in the state capital of Harrisburg.
Shapiro and his family spent Monday volunteering at the Alexander Grass Campus for Jewish Life, which was hosting a Martin Luther King Day celebration for the region.
It was an erev-inauguration stop that made sense for Shapiro, elected in November over a Republican whose campaign was continually mired in antisemitism allegations. From his stint as Pennsylvania’s attorney general to his gubernatorial campaign ads to his victory speech, Shapiro has long woven his Jewish identity into his politics — making him an archetype for a new breed of Jewish politician.
“They seem above politics because they exude pride,” said Scott Lasensky, a professor of American Jewish studies at the University of Maryland, about Shapiro and other Jewish politicians who demonstrate comfort with their identity. “It offers a much-needed respite from the reactive, defense posture that has seized the community.”
As Shapiro is sworn in Tuesday on a stack of three Hebrew Bibles — including the one that was on the bimah when a gunman massacred 11 Jewish worshipers in a Pittsburgh synagogue in 2018 — the novelty becomes reality: A Jewish day school grad and dad is now one of the most influential elected officials in the United States.
“You’ve heard me quote my scripture before, that no one is required to complete the task, but neither are we free to refrain from it, meaning each of us has a responsibility to get off the sidelines, to get in the game and to do our part,” Shapiro said in his victory speech in November, referring to the famous passage in Pirkei Avot, the compilation of ethical teachings excerpted from early Jewish writings.
It’s a speech that Shapiro’s friends, teachers and associates could have envisioned decades ago. In interviews with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, nearly a dozen of them said Shapiro, 49, has openly melded Jewishness and activism since his early teens, practicing a politics of bringing together disparate communities with his Jewish identity at the core.
“He gets done what he needs to get done, what he wants to get done,” said Robin Schatz, the director of government affairs at the Jewish Federations of Greater Philadelphia. “And it is always in that framework of Jewish values.”
Schatz contrasted Shapiro’s openness about his Jewish identity with one of his Jewish predecessors as governor, Ed Rendell, for whom Schatz worked when Rendell was mayor of Philadelphia.
“Josh shows up for us just by being so proudly Jewish and that is really something because Rendell, who I worked for and who I love, I mean, he never hid his Jewishness, but he didn’t wear it on his sleeve,” she said.
Perhaps Shapiro’s most direct antecedent is Joe Lieberman, the Orthodox former Connecticut senator who was Al Gore’s vice presidential running mate in 2000. Lieberman, the first Jew on a major-party presidential ticket, recalled being ridiculed and questioned by Jewish groups for expressing his faith at campaign events.
That hasn’t happened for Shapiro, who is part of a relatively younger generation including congresspersons Elaine Luria of Virginia and Becca Balint of Vermont who express unabashed Jewish identities when campaigning among the broader public. Luria and two others just left Congress: Andy Levin of Michigan, who was defeated in last year’s primary after redistricting, and Ted Deutch, a Florida Democrat who last year made the transition this year to leading the American Jewish Committee. None of them wears a kippah on the campaign trail or strictly observes Shabbat, as Lieberman did, but all infuse Jewishness in their public comments and personas.
What separates Shapiro is his outsized success in a competitive race in a swing state — a record that has insiders bandying about his name as a potential presidential candidate one day.
Shapiro’s political orientation was apparent early on. Fresh out of his bar mitzvah, a 13-year-old Shapiro looked forward to his chats with Mark Aronchick, who was a leader with Josh’s parents, Steven and Judi, in the movement for Soviet Jewry in the Philadelphia area.
Shapiro centered his bar mitzvah on a letter-writing campaign to free a refusenik, a Jew whose intended emigration was blocked by the USSR’s cruel bureaucracy, and he liked to ask Aronchick about the movement, about organizing activism. But then the conversations took a turn Aronchick didn’t expect. Josh wanted to know about running a big city.
“I had been the chief lawyer for the city of Philadelphia in the early 80s,” recalled Aronchick, who became a mentor to Shapiro. “He was fascinated when we talked about that.”
In an interview last year with the Forward, after a campaign event with union organizers, Shapiro said he understood organizing as an effective tool when he was 6 and he joined his parents in campaigning for the release of Jews in the Soviet Union. (The refusenik who was the focus of Shapiro’s bar mitzvah activism, made it out in time to attend Shapiro’s bar mitzvah, which earned Shapiro Philadelphia news coverage.) Shapiro’s parents “set a very good example for me to live a life of faith and service,” he said.
From left: Then-Democratic candidate for U.S. Senator John Fetterman, former President Barack Obama, Josh Shapiro and President Joe Biden at a rally at the Liacouras Center in Philadelphia, Nov. 5, 2022. (Mark Makela/Getty Images)
Sharon Levin taught Shapiro government at Akiba Hebrew Academy (now called Jack M. Barrack Hebrew Academy) and said he stood apart at an age when boys interested in politics tend to flex their intellectual muscles through outspoken opinions and grandstanding.
“This was a pretty difficult group of kids, I don’t mean problematic, but kids who like to argue, to debate every point,” she said. “And Josh believes in cooperation, I think of him in those days as a team-builder.”
Todd Eisenberg, now a Montgomery County judge, recalled playing basketball with Shapiro for the high school team.
“He was the point guard so he was always the leader of everything,” Eisenberg said. “And he would always try to get everybody involved and make everybody feel like they’re a part of the process.”
Eisenberg was impressed by Shapiro’s leadership but not surprised — Shapiro had been pulling together kids from across the playground since first grade, when they first met.
“You know how kids are in cliques or they’re picking on other kids, he was never like that,” he said. “He was always nice to everybody involved in everything.”
In high school, Eisenberg said, Shapiro organized a chapter of Students Against Drunk Driving. “I remember him standing up for everybody and being a part of everything,” he said.
Shapiro ran for student president and lost, to classmate Ami Eden (who is now CEO of the Jewish Telegraphic Agency’s parent company, 70 Faces Media). Shapiro has for decades told people it was the only race he lost.
Levin, his government teacher at Akiba, said Shapiro had a realistic assessment of his skills and what he needed to do to succeed. He went to the University of Rochester, qualifying for the Division III basketball team, but soon realized that excellence on the Akiba court was mediocrity in an NCAA setting, she recalled.
“So he said, ‘my fallback from school was government,’ and he was the first sophomore ever to be student president at the University of Rochester,” she said. “I knocked on every door,” Shapiro recalled to Philadelphia Magazine in 2007.
From Rochester, he moved to a series of legislative aide positions in the 1990s on Capitol Hill, working for Pennsylvania Rep. Joe Hoeffel and New Jersey Sen. Robert Torricelli. His bosses remember a guy in his early 20s who was soon supervising staffers, and his colleagues recall not minding. Shapiro was pleasant, they say, but clearly on a track for greater things.
“No one ever worked for me who was as bright and focused, with such steely determination,” Torricelli told The Philadelphia Inquirer last year.
By the time he was 31, in 2004, Shapiro was running for his first elected position as a Pennsylvania state representative. He ran against Jon Fox, a Jewish Republican who had been a congressman. Shapiro impressed people in the district with his lowkey straightforwardness, said Betsy Sheerr, a Jewish lay leader and a Democrat who was friendly with both candidates, and that provided a contrast with Fox, who would shift his positions depending on the listener.
“We used to joke that John Fox was multiple choice, you know that one day he was pro-choice and the next day he wasn’t,” Sheerr recalled. “With Josh, there never has been any confusion about where he stands on things.”
Within two years, Shapiro rose to statewide prominence when he brokered a deal to break a deadlock in the state house, where Democrats had a one-seat majority. Under Shapiro’s plan, Democrats would back a moderate Republican, Denny O’Brien, to keep the scandal-plagued incumbent speaker, Republican John Perzel, from reelection. As soon as he got the job, O’Brien named Shapiro deputy speaker.
Shapiro’s backers cite the now-legendary episode as a sign of Shapiro’s leadership; his detractors say it is a signal of his self-promotion and gamesmanship. In 2008, Shapiro turned on a one-time mentor, Democratic state Rep. Bill DeWeese, saying he should step down from the party leadership because of corruption investigations. (DeWeese and Perzel both ended up serving time in prison.)
Schatz said Shapiro remained sensitive to the issues affecting the Jewish community, helping expand Medicare assistance for the elderly, instituting Holocaust education and targeting terrorist-backing countries like Iran for sanctions.
A moderate Democrat, he also stood out for breaking with the establishment. Aronchick recalled Shapiro in 2004 seeking the endorsement of Howard Dean, the former Vermont governor who was then a standard bearer for progressives.
“Josh is a consensus builder,” he said. “Others might think, ‘Do I look too progressive?’ It wasn’t a thought on Josh’s mind.”
In 2008, Shapiro was among just a handful of establishment Democrats who endorsed Barack Obama for president in a state that Hillary Clinton won in the primaries. Shapiro defended Obama when his former pastor Jeremiah Wright, came under fire for antisemitic comments.
Obama did well enough in the state, Shapiro told JTA at the time, that he believed he would do well nationally. “I think that demonstrates that the hype that Senator Obama had a problem with the Jewish community was just that — it was hype. It was not reality.” He would be proved right.
The Democratic machine killed off the “deputy speaker” title in 2009, leading the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent to muse, “The Once-Lofty Shapiro; Has He Been Brought Down a Few Pegs?”
But Matt Handel, a onetime Republican activist who left the party after Donald Trump was elected president, said that while Shapiro made enemies in the statehouse, he never let it get to him.
“He can be angry about things, you know, he can find them offensive. But if you watch him speak, he maintains control of what he says and how he responds,” said Handel, who interacted with Shapiro when Handel chaired the Pennsylvania Jewish Coalition, a statewide advocacy body.
Shapiro soon was looking elsewhere: He ran for and won a spot on the three-member Montgomery County Board of Commissioners, where he was elected chairman, effectively the mayor of the populous and prosperous suburban Philadelphia area.
Levin, his high school teacher, recalled a call Shapiro made when he was considering a run for the U.S. Senate.
“What he said was, if, if I end up going to Washington, I’m gonna do a Biden, you know, back and forth on the train, because it’s so important for my kids to remain at the school where I went to school.” A while later he called back.
He said, “You know, I’m not a legislator. I’m an executive.” (Levin remains close to Shapiro and his family; last fall, she ran into Shapiro and his daughter Sophia, who led student outreach during his campaign, at an airport in San Antonio. “Look who I saw!” she said in an email, photos of hugs attached.)
In 2016, Shapiro was elected Pennsylvania attorney general. He led battles against Trump’s efforts to limit entry to the United States of people from a number of Muslim-majority countries, and to keep Trump acolytes from overturning his 2020 loss in the state. He also led a widely publicized investigation of child abuse in the Roman Catholic church.
Shapiro’s gubernatorial campaign launch last April was an ad in which he declared, “I make it home Friday nights for Sabbath dinner,” while the camera closed on challahs. (It also stars his four kids and his wife, Lori, whom he refers to as his “high school sweetheart.”)
Josh Shapiro embraces his wife, Lori Shapiro, on stage after giving a victory speech to supporters at the Greater Philadelphia Expo Center in Oaks, Penn., Nov. 8 2022. (Mark Makela/Getty Images)
Shapiro’s ultimate victory was especially sweet to many Jews because he defeated a Republican, Doug Mastriano, who had centered Shapiro’s Jewishness, but not in a positive way. Mastriano had allied with an outspoken antisemite, Andrew Torba, the founder of the far-right social media site, Gab, paying for promotion on Gab and accepting a donation from Torba. (Mastriano renounced antisemitism, but pointedly, not Torba.) Mastriano also mocked the Jewish school Shapiro attended and where he sends his four children.
It is a source of delight to Shapiro and his backers that his open Jewish identity did not alienate Pennsylvanians; indeed, he fared well in the conservative center of the state, a fact that his campaign boasted about in an email sent to the media a week after the election, when most campaigns are wrapping up business.
“Josh Shapiro won Beaver, Berks, Cumberland, and Luzerne counties — significantly outperforming Joe Biden’s margins in 2020 and flipping those counties blue,” the campaign said, attaching a chart showing the flips. “From the very beginning of his campaign, Josh vowed to go everywhere. That meant campaigning heavily where other Democrats don’t often win and investing in communities across the state.”
Jill Zipin, a longtime Shapiro backer who leads Democratic Jewish Outreach Pennsylvania, said Mastriano’s Christian nationalism did not play well in a state that was founded on religious freedoms. “Pennsylvania was founded on religious pluralism, it was founded by Quakers,” she said. “Anyone of any religious stripe was welcome.”
Mastriano’s team, toward the end of the campaign, appeared to notice the resonance Shapiro’s beliefs had among Pennsylvanians. His surrogates pivoted to claiming Shapiro was not a genuine Jew, with one consultant saying Shapiro’s defense of abortion rights made him inauthentic, and Mastriano’s wife claiming she and her husband loved Israel more than Jews did.
The moves may have backfired, said Schatz. Shapiro’s Jewish expression, she said, “was a way of actually relating to religious conservatives. They say that ‘maybe he doesn’t follow our religion, but because he does have a belief, he’s a religious person.’”
In a sign of his polish with Pennsylvanians, Shapiro’s margin of victory was substantially wider than that of John Fetterman, the Democrat elected to the state’s open Senate spot.
“While we won this race — and by the way, we won it pretty convincingly — I want you to know, the job is not done, the task is not complete,” Shapiro said during his victory speech, prompting 15 seconds of cheers and applause.
Shapiro has stayed largely out of the public eye since his election, instead focusing on putting together a transition team and preparing for his inauguration on Tuesday. He did not respond to JTA’s requests for an interview.
That transition team bears signs of Shapiro’s long and deep Jewish ties. Marcel Groen, a retired attorney on the economic development advisory committee, first met the new governor because he attended synagogue with Shapiro’s father. He became a mentor to the inchoate politician, who several years ago recruited Groen’s mother, a Holocaust survivor, to speak to incarcerated teens.
During the encounter, which Groen and Shapiro did not make public at the time, the teens went from standoffish to hugging 93-year-old Sipora Groen after hearing her story. (Sipora died in 2017.) It was, Groen said, typical of Shapiro’s approach to changing hearts and minds: “Josh realized that’s how you reach kids who got in trouble and who needed to understand life in a different manner,” he recalled.
Shapiro’s plans for his inauguration are laced with Jewish significance. In addition to the Tanakh from the Tree of Life synagogue, his swearing-in will reportedly take place on a Bible used by a Jewish soldier from Pennsylvania in World War II.
But asked by CNN’s Dana Bash after the election if he wanted to make history as America’s first Jewish president, Shapiro demurred.
“I have an ambition to get a little bit of sleep, to reintroduce myself to my kids, and then to serve the good people of Pennsylvania as their governor,” he said.
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The post For Josh Shapiro, a run for governor borne of Jewish identity and political ambition appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The Energy Dilemma: Will Washington Let the Iranian Regime Survive?
A fire burns at South Pars gas field, in Tonbak, Bushehr Province, Iran, in this screen grab from a handout video released on June 14, 2025. Photo: Social Media/via REUTERS
For the first time since the “Second Iran War” began its lightning-fast escalation across the Persian Gulf, a palpable chill has settled over the direct line between the Prime Minister’s Office in Jerusalem and the White House.
While the last 24 hours have seen the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) systematically dismantle the command-and-control structures of the Islamic Republic, a new “Red Line” has emerged — not from Tehran, but from Washington.
Reports circulating early Wednesday suggest that the Trump administration has signaled a sharp hesitation regarding Israel’s planned strikes on Iran’s vital energy infrastructure, specifically the massive South Pars gas field.
As the IDF pushes for total “de-regimification,” the geopolitical friction between two of the world’s closest allies is reaching a boiling point. The question now haunts the halls of the Knesset: Will the American desire for global energy stability stop Israel from achieving a permanent victory?
The South Pars field is more than just a cluster of offshore platforms; it is the respiratory system of the Iranian regime. Holding an estimated 8% of the world’s natural gas reserves, it provides the hard currency that funds the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC)’s regional proxies and its domestic oppression apparatus. For Israel, the logic is simple: you cannot kill the beast while you are still allowing it to breathe.
However, the global markets have reacted with predictable tremors. With the “Second Iran War” already pushing Brent crude toward historic highs, Washington’s reluctance is rooted in the fear of a global “energy shock” that could destabilize the US and world economy. The reported message from the White House to Israel has been one of containment– urging the IDF to “finish the job” on the military leadership. while leaving the energy faucets intact.
But for those who have spent decades analyzing the Middle East, this “half-measure” approach is a recipe for disaster.
Letting the Iranian Regime Survive to Fight Another Day
If the South Pars field remains operational, the regime retains the ability to re-arm, regroup, and wait out the current political storm. History is littered with “half-finished” wars that sowed the seeds of the next generation’s bloodshed. By drawing a red line at Iran’s energy assets, Washington is effectively offering the IRGC a lifeline just as it is gasping for air.
The strategic divergence is clear: Washington is playing a game of global economic management, while Jerusalem is fighting an existential war for the survival of the Jewish State.
The tension comes at a delicate moment. The elimination of Ali Larijani and Intelligence Minister Esmail Khatib signaled that the regime’s political “mask” had been shattered. The “Axis of Resistance” is crumbling, with even longtime “bridge-builders” like Qatar expelling Iranian diplomats in the wake of the latest missile skirmishes.
In the streets of Tel Aviv and the Jewish diaspora, the sentiment is one of “never again.” There is a deep-seated realization that if the Islamic Republic is allowed to survive this conflict with its economic engine intact, the cycle of terror — from Hamas to Hezbollah — will inevitably restart.
“We are not interested in ‘de-escalation’ for the sake of a cheaper gallon of gas,” one senior Israeli defense official reportedly said under the condition of anonymity. “We are interested in a Middle East where our children do not have to run to bomb shelters every six months. That requires the total neutralization of the threat.”
The Geopolitics of Victory
Peace only occurs when the enemy is convinced they have lost. By shielding Iran’s energy sector, the United States is signaling to the remnants of the mullahs that they still have cards to play. It reinforces the regime’s belief that they are “too big to fail” because of their grip on the world’s thermostat.
Moreover, the “Energy Red Line” risks alienating regional allies who have finally begun to pivot away from Tehran.
If the US appears to be protecting the regime’s assets, the incentive for Gulf states to fully align with the Abraham Accords framework diminishes. Why risk everything for a “new Middle East” if the old one is being kept on life support by Washington?
The Choice Ahead
President Trump, who has frequently touted his role as a “disruptor,” now faces his own paradox. He can choose the short-term stability of the global energy markets, or he can support the long-term stability of a world without a nuclear-armed, terror-funding Islamic Republic.
The stakes couldn’t be higher. We have seen what happens when the world chooses “management” over “victory.” It results in Oct. 7, 2023; it results in 1979; it results in a perpetual state of siege.
Israel is ready to finish the war. The only question remains: Will Washington let them win?
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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Can James Talarico’s faith-forward politics invigorate the Jewish religious left?
(JTA) — In a recent interview for his New York Times podcast, Ezra Klein asked Texas State Rep. James Talarico why the Christian right puts so much focus on abortion and gay marriage.
“I’m Jewish, but when I read the New Testament, I always come away a little bit amazed that politicized Christianity is so worried about gender and sexuality, and so unconcerned with greed,” said Klein.
Talarico, 36, answered in the religious language that has made him not just a political darling in Texas, where he hopes to do the unthinkable and flip a Senate seat from red to blue, but a national figure.
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Talarico responded with a knowing laugh. “Absolutely. Concern for the poor, concern for the oppressed, is everywhere. Economic justice is mentioned 3,000 times in our Scriptures, both the New Testament and the Hebrew Scriptures. This is such a core part of our tradition, and it’s nowhere to be seen in Christian nationalism or on the religious right.”
His response was what the Texas Tribune has called “archetypal Talarico fare”: a blend of religion and “progressive, populist politics.” It has also made him the standard-bearer for a resurgent religious left, which includes more than a few Jews, in Texas and beyond, who have longed for a liberal politician who can speak from and to the language of faith.
“We need the kind of religious values [that] tell us that we are all made in God’s image,” said Joshua Shanes, a historian at the University of California-Davis, explaining why he’s excited by Talarico’s candidacy. “Religious values tell us that the government should be there to create a social safety net and create a healthcare system that helps everyone, and progressive taxation.”
The majority of Jews have tended to consistently support such positions, and vote accordingly. What Talarico adds to the mix is the faith-first rhetoric of the budding minister – which he is, pursuing a degree in theology at a Presbyterian seminary.
While mainstream Democrats will invoke their religious faith on the campaign trail, they rarely make it a signature. When the late Rabbi Michael Lerner, in the pages of his Tikkun magazine in the 1990s and early 2000s, called for the need of a religious left as an alternative to the Christian right, he found few Jewish allies. Jews were long wary of a Christian right that seeks to erase the line between church and state, and, like many liberals, tended to favor what the writer Cynthia Ozick has called the “unadorned public square” — a politics where religion remains a private matter.
Jewish conservatives, meanwhile, had long made peace with the Christian right, sharing its views on public funding for parochial schools and uncritical support for Israel.
In polling done in 2024, however, the Pew Research Center and other surveys indicated that younger progressives are open to candidates whose religious faith motivates social justice commitments, as long as it doesn’t translate into restrictive policy.
Perhaps noting this trend, Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro, in his recent autobiography, centered his religious Jewish identity in describing his political philosophy. “Now more than ever, we yearn for and need a world defined by faith,” writes Shapiro. “It’s universal, this belief in others to help us through what feels unsettled, uncivil, un-American.”
Shanes, whose specialty is modern Jewish political and cultural history, counts himself among those who were once doctrinaire about a secular public square but who now think Americans crave “the transcendent,” even in their politics. He views Talarico’s political message not just as a novelty, but as a necessity.
“My goal is a humanist morality,” he said, “and I don’t think a secular version of it is going to succeed, not in America.”
Talarico similarly talks about his religion as a source of his political values, but not as a means of coercion. Last year, Talarico opposed legislation requiring the Ten Commandments to be displayed in public school classrooms. “I found it offensive as an educator that we would impose one religious tradition onto all of our students, including students that don’t belong to that particular tradition,” Talarico, who taught language arts at a public school in San Antonio, explained at the time.
“He thinks that protections in the Constitution are good for Christianity, good for Judaism and good for all people and religion, because teaching religion is appropriate in the churches and not in the government,” said Marc Stanley, a Houston attorney, former U.S. ambassador to Argentina and prolific Democratic fundraiser.
Raised in the Austin suburb of Round Rock by a single mother, Talarico grew up attending a Presbyterian church. His grandfather was a Baptist minister. In 2018, he flipped a swing district in Round Rock, becoming the youngest member of the Texas House at 29.
Even before last month’s Democratic primary, he attracted an enormous online following (for a politician) for videos explaining his religious, liberal worldview. On TikTok, where he posts clips with titles like “Love can win” and “There is nothing more un-Christian than stealing from the poor to give to the rich,” he has 1.6 million followers.
But it was his conversation last month with Stephen Colbert that brought him national attention, and arguably led to his victory over U.S. Rep. Jasmine Crockett in the Democratic primary for the Senate seat. When CBS told Colbert that broadcasting the interview on “The Late Show” would violate “equal time rules,” it ran instead on YouTube, where the controversy drove over 7.5 million views.
That interview also suggests another aspect of his appeal to a religious Jewish left: He disdains Christian nationalism, a movement to codify in law and culture that the United States is a Christian nation. “There is nothing Christian about Christian nationalism,” he told Colbert. “It is the worship of power in the name of Christ and it is a betrayal of Jesus of Nazareth.”
“His entire appeal to a lot of people is that he is using scripture to come at the right-wing Christian fundamentalist element in the state of Texas,” said Art Pronin, president of Meyerland Area Democrats in a heavily Jewish part of Houston.
Talarico’s language has won over even Jewish liberals who don’t regard themselves as religious, but see in his message a necessary corrective to the politics of the Texas Statehouse and the Trump White House.
“He has succeeded in reviving a certain kind of humanism which was, going back to the Renaissance, tied to religious belief, tied to Christian values, tied to Jewish values,” said Robert Zaretzky, a historian at the University of Houston and a self-described “cultural” Jew. “And when I talk about Jewish values, what I have in mind is menschlichkeit … a kind of decency for one’s fellow man. And that is just so evident in Talarico’s words, in his actions, and in the way that he has voted in the Texas State Legislature.”
Zaretzky also sees in Talarico a connection to Jewish tradition, whether it is the prophet Micah — “Act justly and love mercy” — or the Talmudic sage Hillel: “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. All the rest is commentary.”
“That is the essence of Talarico’s message, and something that drives Texas Republicans absolutely crazy,” said Zaretzky. Indeed, many conservative Christians regard Talarico’s views as heretical, because he uses church vocabulary to promote liberal views. Angry evangelicals often refer to him as a “wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Of course, even a politician in such heady company as Micah and Hillel has liabilities. In December, the Jewish news site JNS reported that some Jewish leaders in Texas were “alarmed” by Talarico’s views on Israel. Among other things, he had decried “the atrocities in Palestine,” and pledged that he wouldn’t “fund these war crimes” and will vote “to ban offensive weapons to Israel.”
Talarico also said he wouldn’t accept support from AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobby that has become radioactive on both the left and far right.
Pronin remembers a town hall back in December, when Talarico repeated his criticisms of Israel.
“It has set up a lot of conflicted feelings in the Jewish community on his candidacy,” he said. “On the one hand, he is a very appealing candidate on many other key issues that we would care about, like health care and the economy. Israel? Not as much.”
Stanley, a Talarico supporter, isn’t troubled by the candidate’s views on Israel, which are becoming increasingly common in the Democratic Party.
“I think that we as a Jewish community make a mistake vilifying people or casting people as anti-Israel or antisemitic because they have the nerve to criticize somebody like Netanyahu,” said Stanley.
In January, in an email to Jewish supporters in Texas, Talarico promised that if he is elected to the Senate he will vote for arming Israel with defensive weapons. He wrote that he supports a two-state solution and removing Hamas from power, and referred to Oct. 7 as “the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust.”
“I think it is a very balanced and very bold position,” said Stanley.
And for pro-Israel Jews inclined toward progressive domestic politics, it may be a position that they will have to tolerate, or cede elections to Republicans who don’t criticize Israel, but disagree with them on nearly everything else.
Rabbi Nancy Kasten, the chief relationship officer at Faith Commons, an interfaith organization in Dallas, says there is “a lot of enthusiasm” for Talarico in the Jewish community. Still, she acknowledges that some of the things he has said about Israel have given critics the opportunity to pounce.
Kasten also said that some of his religious language is “jarring” for Jews, especially in invoking certain New Testament tropes.
She was looking forward to an upcoming meeting with the candidate, and hopes that he will be open to a conversation about how his language on Israel and religion lands in the Jewish community.
“Personally, I want a voice for separation of church and state, which we don’t have anymore,” she said. That said, she added, “I’m happy that there’s a different religious voice in the public square. Ceding that voice to the white, Christian, nationalist voice is harmful, and so I’m grateful that there’s somebody who seems to have the ear of people who speak that language and desire that language in politics and I’m grateful to have someone like that under the circumstances.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post Can James Talarico’s faith-forward politics invigorate the Jewish religious left? appeared first on The Forward.
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JB Pritzker once sat on AIPAC’s national board. Now he says he wants nothing to do with it.
(JTA) — Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker blasted AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobbying group, and other special interest groups that poured money into Illinois’ House and U.S. Senate races this week.
A Jewish Democrat who was once an AIPAC donor, Pritzker called the $70 million in outside spending “interference,” and said AIPAC in particular had lost its way as a truly bipartisan group.
“It became an organization that was supporting Donald Trump and people who follow Donald Trump,” Pritzker told the Associated Press. “AIPAC really is not an organization that I think today I would want any part of.”
AIPAC’s spending in a handful of Illinois congressional primaries was often at the center of the races’ coverage. The pro-Israel group claimed victory after none of the “Squad”-type, anti-Israel progressives won the nomination, though two of its four preferred House candidates lost.
Critics panned AIPAC for spending mostly through “shell PACs,” with innocuous-sounding names like “Elect Chicago Women” and “Affordable Chicago Now,” and said that was an indicator of AIPAC’s rapidly diminishing popularity among Democrats.
Pritzker, who is from one of Illinois’ wealthiest and most philanthropic families with a record of giving to Jewish causes, has a long record of supporting Israel. In 2013, he was honored at a fundraiser for Friends of the Israeli Defense Forces. He was once on the national board of AIPAC, and he spoke at a pro-Israel rally in the days following the Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel.
He is also a possible presidential candidate in party where a poll this week found that only 13% of members say they have a “positive” view of Israel, and where refusal of AIPAC support has become something of a litmus test.
California Gov. Gavin Newsom, also seen as likely to run in 2028, proudly said last month that he never has and “never will” accept any money from AIPAC.
While many Democrats’ positions on Israel have shifted over the course of the Gaza war, AIPAC has remained steadfast in drawing a red line against candidates who are open to conditioning military aid to Israel. Pritzker would be one of those candidates.
Though governors do not vote on matters of foreign policy, Pritzker came out in support of Sen. Bernie Sanders’ resolutions limiting weapons sales to Israel in 2025, saying it would send “the right kind of message.”
His comments on Wednesday were not his first public criticism of the group that he was once a donor to.
“I abandoned AIPAC more than a dozen years ago,” he said in a New York Times interview earlier this month. “It was an organization that had at one time been bipartisan in nature and really all about preserving a strong relationship between the United States and Israel. But about a dozen years ago, the organization began to lean much more to the right and much more pro-Trump, who had then become a candidate for president, and that disturbed me greatly.”
Pritzker noted that AIPAC was purely a public affairs council, and not a PAC at the time, meaning that it did not give money to candidates. It began donating directly to candidates only after forming a PAC in 2021.
“But the organization became political,” he said. “They created a super PAC. They began to get involved in elections directly and choosing to support candidates who were MAGA and right-wing and Trumpy.”
AIPAC, which prides itself on supporting candidates on both sides of the aisle, has faced criticism for endorsing more than 100 lawmakers who’d voted to overturn the election results after Trump’s loss on Jan. 6, 2021.
“I just didn’t want anything to do with that,” Pritzker said.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post JB Pritzker once sat on AIPAC’s national board. Now he says he wants nothing to do with it. appeared first on The Forward.
