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I am a single rabbi without children. I shouldn’t be made to feel I am not ‘doing my part.’
(JTA) — I recently attended a bris in my community where the mohel announced to the new parents and the whole room, “Raising this child is the most important and impactful thing you will ever do.”
These words were offered to anchor the already exhausted and overwhelmed couple in the sanctity of the job they are embarking upon; the holiness of shaping a person into adulthood; the pride in doing something meaningful and lasting.
At the same time, these are the sentiments that form the foundation of parents’ guilt when they have to work or when they choose to be with friends and not their children. They create the basis of self-recrimination when a child struggles and the parent is made to feel they are to blame. They foment anxiety over not enjoying aspects of parenthood or feeling lonely or isolated in the endless exhaustion of rearing children.
These are also the words that shame those of us who have no children.
The year I turned 30, I was not on any identifiable path to parenthood. I was, however, in rabbinical school and deeply committed to the ways I could and would serve the Jewish people as a rabbi. Until rabbinical school, I experienced my own private grief about not having a partner or kids, but no one had ever imposed those feelings on me or pressured me on my timeline.
As part of a counseling course in rabbinical school, I was assigned a reading where I learned that 13.9% of married women ages 30-34 experience infertility (a percentage that only increases after 35). Thirty years later, the author who shared this data did so again at an all-school gathering, reminding us that women pursuing education were largely responsible for the decline in Jewish population, since the ideal age for a woman to get pregnant is 22. He added, in essence, “Don’t come crying to me when you finish your education and realize you missed your window.”
I was shocked by his callousness and also by the overt implication that delaying parenthood for the sake of education was damaging to the Jewish people — an assertion, overt and implied, reached by many Jewish social scientists, as others have pointed out. Apparently, nothing I could do as a rabbi would ever have the same impact on Jewish peoplehood and the Jewish future as producing babies above “replacement level.”
While the presentation surprised me, the idea that the ideal role of anyone with a uterus is to bear children is embedded in our scripture and liturgy. Even the way many of us have chosen to add women into the daily amidah prayer to make it more egalitarian attests to this role: Three times a day we chant, “magen Avraham u’foked Sarah,” that God is the one who shields Abraham and remembers Sarah. This line about remembering Sarah refers to the moment when God undid Sarah’s barrenness, giving her a child (Genesis 21:1). Every time we recite these prayers we are reifying the idea that a woman’s relationship with God is directly linked to her fertility.
According to the medieval sage Maimonides, “Whoever adds even one Jewish soul it is considered as creating an entire world.” How many times do I have to sit on a beit din, or rabbinical court, before the number of conversions I witness adds up to a child? How many weddings and b’nei mitzvah and tot Shabbats and hospital visits and adult education classes? This is math I should not have to do as a rabbi or as a woman. It is not math we should ask of anyone.
I know I am not alone among my peers in expressing frustration around such rhetoric. If we truly believe that a person’s value is derived from being created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of the Divine, then we need to demonstrate this in the ways we speak and teach about parenthood and fertility, celebrating the role and value of an individual within a community with no correlation to the number of children they raise, how they parent, or how those children connect to Judaism.
While there are plenty of sources in Jewish literature and a range of sociological data that offer all kinds of reasons that Jews should “be fruitful and multiply” — often expressed with urgency after the devastation of the Holocaust — the Torah, our most ancient and sacred text, also presents a model for what it means to be a person without a child who makes a tremendous impact on the Jewish future.
According to the most straightforward reading of the Torah, Miriam, the daughter of Yocheved, sister of Aaron and Moses, does not marry and does not bear children. And yet, Miriam played a crucial role in ensuring the possibility of a Jewish future. She was the sister who watched over Moses as he floated in a basket, the girl who connected Moses’ adoptive mother with his birth mother, and the prophet who led the women in joyous dancing when the Israelites finally attained freedom.
In a recent conversation, Rabbi Rachel Zerin of Beth El Temple in West Hartford, Connecticut, pointed out that what is powerful about Miriam is that she appears content with her life. Unlike most of the women we encounter in the Hebrew Bible who do not have children, we never see Miriam praying for a child; she is never described as barren or unfulfilled and yet she is instrumental in securing the Israelites’ — our — freedom.
Through this lens, we can understand that the Torah offers us many models of a relationship to parenthood: Some of us may yearn for it and ultimately find joy in it, some of us may experience ambivalence around bringing children into the world, some of us may encounter endless obstacles to conceive or adopt, some of us may struggle with parenting the children we have, some of us many not want to be parents at all, and some of us may experience all of these at different times.
Like Miriam who fearlessly added her voice to the public conversation, we, too, can add more voices to the conversation about Jewish continuity that counteract the relentless messaging that raising children into Jewish adulthood is the most consequential thing we might do.
Yes, parenting can be miraculous and beautiful, something we should continue to celebrate. But we each have so many gifts to offer the Jewish people — our communities just need to create space for all of us to contribute in a broad variety of ways, by making fewer assumptions and speaking about parenthood with more nuance, expansiveness and compassion.
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Trump is poised to reinforce Iran’s regime — despite Netanyahu’s pressure
President Donald Trump’s Wednesday meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu took place with an air of urgency around Iran. Yet the men left their three-hour conclave without resolving a fundamental divergence: Israel is deeply suspicious of any agreement with the Islamic Republic, and Trump has a visible preference for keeping diplomacy alive.
So visible, in fact, that Trump announced on Truth Social after the meeting that negotiations with Iran will continue. Where does that leave Israel, which is deeply concerned that Trump, in search of a quick win, will go for a deal that eases sanctions — strengthening the Iranian regime at precisely the time when it seems brittle enough to fall? And what about Iranian critics of the regime, who have good reason to feel betrayed by an American president who encouraged them to protest, and now seems poised to pursue accommodation with the authorities who had protesters killed en masse?
Of course, nothing in the Trump era can be analyzed with absolute certainty. Strategic misdirection is a recognized feature of even normal statecraft, and Trump has elevated unpredictability into something close to doctrine. Yet even allowing for that ambiguity, the meeting made clear that Israel and the United States are not aligned on an absolutely key issue — a potentially perilous state of affairs.
What does Israel want?
Israel does not trust the Iranian regime, for myriad reasons. The Islamic Republic’s missile programs, its sponsorship of proxy militias, and its long record of hostility toward Israel are viewed as elements of a single strategic problem.
Because of that deep and deeply justified mistrust, Israel is wary of any deal that might stabilize or legitimize the regime — a risk raised by Trump’s interest in a new nuclear deal. Israeli leaders are concerned about long-term risk. A renewed agreement focused narrowly on nuclear restrictions would almost inevitably entail sanctions relief or broader economic normalization. Such measures, from Jerusalem’s perspective, would strengthen the very Iranian system that has spent decades spreading havoc across the region.
That doesn’t mean Israel would prefer immediate military confrontation, or that it will speak out against any deal. An agreement that would dismantle Iran’s expanding missile range, including systems capable of reaching Europe, and cut funding from its network of allied armed groups — Hezbollah in Lebanon, Shiite militias in Iraq, the Houthis in Yemen, and the Palestinian factions Hamas and Islamic Jihad — would possibly be of interest. Trump has so far not publicly stressed those demands.
Israel is politically divided, but when it comes to Iran, a broad consensus cuts across political lines. The regime must fall or radically change, for the sake of human rights within Iran’s borders, and that of a healthy regional future outside them.
What does Trump want?
The American position is less straightforward, largely because it is filtered through Trump’s distinctive political style, and his limited regional knowledge. Trump often appears unbothered by expert and public opinion; he seeks drama, through visible wins, deals, and dramatic reversals. He will present any outcome as an amazing achievement that no predecessor could have hoped for — even if he ends up signing an agreement that looks quite a lot like former President Barack Obama’s 2015 nuclear deal, which he walked away from in 2018.
Trump’s broader worldview might provide insight. Unlike earlier American administrations that explicitly championed democracy promotion, with mixed results, Trump’s national security posture has consistently downplayed ideological missions. His rhetoric and policy frameworks have reflected skepticism toward efforts to reshape other societies’ political systems, instead emphasizing transactional relationships and the avoidance of prolonged entanglements.
This orientation is reinforced by his political base. A significant segment of MAGA-aligned voters wants a more isolationist foreign policy. Within that framework, negotiations that promise de-escalation and risk reduction are politically attractive. Military confrontation, by contrast, carries unpredictable costs.
Trump’s posture, oscillating between threats of force and enthusiasm for negotiation, reflects the strange truth that American political alignments on Iran defy traditional expectations, with hawkishness losing favor on the right. He has preserved the military option while simultaneously projecting optimism about a deal. Meanwhile, a huge and growing armada is parked in the waters near Iran.
What does Iran want?
Assessing Iranian intentions is notoriously difficult. The regime’s history of opaque decision-making, tactical deception, and disciplined negotiation complicates any definitive reading.
Yet certain baseline assumptions are reasonable. First, the regime seeks survival. Whatever ideological ambitions authorities may harbor, self-preservation remains paramount. Sanctions relief, economic stabilization, and reduced risk of direct confrontation with the U.S. all serve that objective.
Second, Iran is unlikely to accept a permanent prohibition on uranium enrichment, particularly at civilian levels. Tehran has consistently framed demands for “zero enrichment” as infringements on sovereignty — a defensible position under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.
Third, the regime has strong incentives to resist constraints on its missiles and militias, even though the militias are completely indefensible. But the regime exists, essentially, to export jihad, and those groups have been a central pillar of Iran’s project for decades.
Could the Iranian regime be brought down?
This question lurks behind every discussion of Iran, though policymakers rarely address it directly. Regime change, while rhetorically invoked at times, presents immense practical challenges. Many observers doubt that aerial strikes alone could produce political collapse. Modern regimes, particularly those with entrenched security apparatuses, rarely disintegrate solely under external bombardment. Iran’s leadership has demonstrated resilience under severe economic and military pressure, maintaining internal control despite periodic unrest.
That means meaningful regime destabilization would almost certainly require fractures within the state’s military, intelligence, and security forces, or coordinated ground dynamics that external actors can neither easily predict nor control. Such scenarios introduce enormous risks, including civil conflict, regional spillover and severe disruptions to global energy markets.
The regime’s brutality may reinforce its durability. A leadership willing to impose extreme domestic repression is less vulnerable to popular pressure than one constrained by public accountability. Last month Trump suggested the U.S. would support the protesters; that pledge appears to no longer be on his radar. The protesters were not seeking a better nuclear deal — which is now his apparent sole focus — but better lives.
So what happens now?
All of this suggests that Israel will be unhappy with any outcome to this period of tensions. It is much less likely that pressure from Trump will bring real reform to the Iranian regime is than that Trump will sign off on a deal that seems counter to Israel’s long-term interests.
In the coming days, it may become clearer whether Netanyahu persuaded Trump to expand the scope of negotiations to include Iran’s missile program and its network of proxy militias. It is also possible that talks will collapse, and that military action will follow.
But this much is clear: If the regime survives intact and is strengthened in the process, that would be a profound tragedy. For 47 years, the Islamic Republic has oppressed its own people while exporting instability across the Middle East. That is roughly the same span of time that communism endured in Eastern Europe before popular unrest finally brought it down.
Only a month ago, there was a palpable sense that the Iranian people were courageously pressing for a similar reckoning. To reward a weakened and discredited regime at such a moment by helping it stabilize itself — in exchange for promises about uranium enrichment alone — would be a historic missed opportunity.
The post Trump is poised to reinforce Iran’s regime — despite Netanyahu’s pressure appeared first on The Forward.
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Jewish congresswoman storms out of Epstein hearing after Pam Bondi raises her record on antisemitism
(JTA) — Rep. Becca Balint stormed out of Attorney General Pam Bondi’s House Judiciary Committee hearing Wednesday after Bondi deflected questions about the late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein and instead criticized Balint’s record on antisemitism.
Lawmakers called the hearing to press Bondi on a range of issues, including Epstein and the Trump administration’s immigration enforcement efforts.
Balint, a Vermont progressive, asked Bondi during her questioning whether Trump had been aware of billionaire financier Howard Lutnick’s ties to Epstein when he was appointed as commerce secretary. The most recent files released last month showed that Lutnick had visited Epstein’s private island and dined with him years after he said he had cut off ties — and after Epstein pled guilty to sex crimes.
After Bondi refused to answer Balint’s question, the congresswoman replied, “I’m going to conclude that the president, in fact, did know about his ties.”
At the end of Balint’s questioning, which devolved into shouting as Bondi consistently interrupted Balint, Bondi then raised Balint’s record on antisemitism.
“With this antisemitic culture right now, she voted against a resolution condemning ‘from the river to the sea,’” said Bondi, appearing to refer to Balint’s April 2024 vote against a House resolution condemning the common pro-Palestinian slogan. (At the time, Balint said the resolution was “yet another way to sow division and demonize Palestinians.”)
Balint quickly shot back at Bondi’s remarks.
“Oh, do you want to go there, attorney general? Do you want to go there? Are you serious? Talking about antisemitism to a woman who lost her grandfather in the Holocaust? Really? Really?” said Balint, before rising from her seat and exiting the chambers.
During her 2022 campaign for Vermont’s single seat in the U.S. House of Representatives, Balint, who describes her family as “Jew-ish,” frequently invoked the story of her Jewish grandfather’s murder during the Holocaust.
“My grandfather was murdered in the Holocaust,” Balint said in a campaign video at the time. “My whole life I’ve known that beating the forces set on dividing us takes showing up every chance you get.”
Balint’s grandfather, Leopold Bálint, was killed by the Nazis on a forced march from Mauthausen Concentration Camp in 1945 after he stopped to assist a prisoner.
The hearing Wednesday featured scathing criticism from Democratic lawmakers of Bondi’s handling of the Epstein case, with Maryland Democratic Rep. Jamie Raskin accusing her of “siding with the perpetrators” and “ignoring the victims.”
“If AG Bondi claims to care about Epstein survivors, why did she reveal their identities but redact the names of the rich pedophiles and sex abusers who hurt them?” Balint wrote in a post on X Wednesday. “She must take accountability for this cover-up and finally deliver the justice these victims deserve.”
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What Carrie Prejean Boller tells us about Christian Zionism in the U.S.
Carrie Prejean Boller, a former Miss California and a recent Catholic convert, was removed Wednesday from the Religious Liberties Commission after she made some controversial remarks about Jews and Israel in a hearing on antisemitism.
“Catholics do not embrace Zionism,” she said. “So are all Catholics antisemites?”
Prejean Boller was responding to the idea, presented by a staunchly pro-Israel set of Jewish witnesses testifying at the hearing, that anti-Zionism is antisemitism.
This is a complex debate that has divided the Jewish community over the past several years, even before Oct. 7 shot the issue into the spotlight, with numerous debates over how antisemitism should be defined. But Prejean Boller was not, beyond a few mentions of Palestinian lives in Gaza, engaging with the usual questions that divide Jews on the question of whether anti-Zionism is antisemitism. Her issue was with whether or not Zionism is part of Christian biblical prophecy.
“As a Catholic, I don’t agree that the new, modern state of Israel has any biblical prophecy meaning at all,” she said in the hearing. Later, she doubled down on X. “I’m a proud Catholic. I, in no way will be forced to embrace Zionism as a fulfillment of biblical prophesy,” she wrote.
What she was referring to was the idea of Christian Zionism — the theological belief among some Christians that the Bible supports the existence of the modern state of Israel. Some forms of Christian Zionism support the Jewish state as a necessary, prophesied precursor to Jesus’ return; all Jews must return to Israel before the end of days. Others may simply support Israel because they believe it shares their “Judeo-Christian” biblical foundations. But whatever the reasons, there has historically been widespread political support for Israel among American Christians. And that support has been core to Israel’s relationship with the U.S.
The lobbying group Christians United for Israel boasts a membership of 10 million, not only larger than any Jewish pro-Israel group but larger than the population of Jews in the U.S.; its influence has been key to passing measures such as moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem. The power of this support from evangelicals is perhaps why Dani Dayan, Israel’s former consul general in New York, said in 2021 that Israel “invested most of its energy in the relationship with conservatives, Republicans, evangelicals, and a certain type of Jews only.”
Prejean Boller’s comments are representative of a recent shift among American Christians, away from Christian Zionism.
“Where does my support for Israel come from? Number one, because biblically we are commanded to support Israel,” said Ted Cruz on Tucker Carlson’s show last year. “Hold on, hold on!” Carlson responded, acting as though he had never heard of this crazy idea that Christians support Israel based on the Bible.
That Carlson, an influential leader on the right and a devout Christian, would act as though Christian support for Israel was not only unbiblical but absurd, was a bellwether.
According to a survey commissioned by the University of North Carolina, support for Israel among young evangelicals, ages 18 to 29, fell from 75% to 34% between 2018 and 2021 — in fact, support for Israel dropped more precipitously among this evangelical group than it did in the general American population. And a 2024 version of the same survey found that Christians were less likely to consider their support for Israel on biblical grounds.
Prejean Boller, who converted to Catholicism from evangelical Christianity in April, called out these evangelical beliefs specifically in a post on X, saying that her conversion to Catholicism was predicated in part on repudiating evangelical Christian Zionism.
“My conversion to the fullness of the Catholic faith exposed what I was taught in American evangelicalism, a version of Christianity that fused Jesus with a political agenda and called it ‘God’s prophecy being fulfilled,’” she wrote. “It isn’t.”
Prejean Boller’s statements join those of Carlson, as well as more openly conspiratorial and antisemitic influencers like Nick Fuentes and Candace Owens — who Prejean Boller defended in the hearing as a Christian leader, saying she listens to the podcaster regularly and does not believe she is antisemitic.
These influencers and political leaders spread antisemitic conspiracy theories alongside sharp criticism of Israel, often on Christian grounds. All repudiate biblical justifications for Christian Zionism, and often frame antisemitic beliefs as core parts of Christianity.
Marjorie Taylor Greene, a right-wing congresswoman from Georgia and a devout Christian, voted against an antisemitism bill in Congress on the grounds that it would persecute Christians for their religious belief that Jews killed Jesus; she has also invoked her Christianity when rejecting U.S. support for Israel. Greene tweeted her support for Prejean after the hearing on antisemitism.
To be clear, the vast majority of American Christians and particularly American evangelicals continue to support Zionism as part of their religious beliefs. But other forms of Christianity are gaining visibility and political power, shifting the dominant Christian views on Israel. If the current trends continue, support for Christian Zionism may continue to decline, whether or not Prejean Boller is on the Religious Liberties Council.
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