RSS
If you’re trying to connect to God on Yom Kippur, here’s a prayer for you

This story was originally published on My Jewish Learning.
(JTA) — For those of us who don’t regularly think in theological terms, the High Holiday liturgy can be jarring to read. Some of the messages are relatively easy to relate to, like the reminder of human frailty in Unetaneh Tokef (“Who will live and who will die?”) or the expression of remorse over our shortcomings in the confession litany (“We have sinned; we have been disloyal…”). But the traditional High Holiday prayer book also includes some far more abstruse ideas.
An obvious challenge is the centrality of animal sacrifice to the way the Day of Atonement was observed in the ancient Temple, a ritual we recount in detail during Yom Kippur. But the prayers also repeatedly invoke ideas about God that are far removed from our regular discourse.
Consider the repeated refrain of “And so, place your fear, O Lord our God, on all your creations.” Or this sequence describing God: “Who knows the inclination of all creations/ All believe that He creates them in the womb/ Who can do anything and unifies them together.” Reflecting on God’s exaltedness, pleading for mercy from a deity who knows our thoughts and holds the power of life and death over us — these are notions that are hard to grasp and difficult to come to terms with. How do we conceptualize and relate to God without recourse to a seminar in theology?
Even as it creates this challenge, the liturgy provides a solution by offering a range of different modes of relating to God. Nowhere is this clearer than in Ki Anu Amekha, a short poem (piyyut) recited multiple times on Yom Kippur to introduce the Viddui, the confessional prayer. It reads:
For we are your people, and you are our God.
We are your children, and you are our Father.
We are your servants, and you are our Lord.
We are your congregation, and you are our Portion.
We are your heritage, and you are our Destiny.
We are your flock, and you are our Shepherd.
We are your vineyard, and you are our Keeper.
We are your work, and you are our Maker.
We are your dear ones, and you are our Beloved.
We are your treasure, and you are our God.
We are your people, and you are our King.
We are your chosen ones, and you are our Chosen One.
This piyyut presents a list of relational pairs that characterize the relationship between Israel and God in various ways, all of which draw on comparisons to non-Divine relationships. It appears to be an expansion of a midrash on Song of Songs 2:16 that proposed several of these relational pairs, justifying each with a biblical verse. It is followed in the High Holiday prayer book by an additional stanza that relates more directly to themes of sin and forgiveness that are the leitmotif of the Day of Atonement, contrasting the human penchant for sin with God’s compassion and mercy. Less clear is the function of the section cited above. In what way does delineating this litany of relationships serve as a fitting introduction to a confession ritual?
I would argue that the purpose of listing these various relationships is to invite each of us to find ourselves in the poem as we stand before God and request atonement. People are complex and multi-faceted, and the way we relate to an infinite God is bound to be even more varied and intricate. Some people may relate best to God as a father who loves his children even as he disciplines them. Others may connect better to a political metaphor, seeing God as the king exercising dominion over his nation. Some of us experience God more intimately, as a shepherd tending the flock or a vintner caring for grape vines. Others see the relationship between Israel and God as one of passionate love as described in the Song of Songs. And some may see God primarily through the history of the Jewish people, as having chosen Israel for a particular divine destiny.
Each line of this piyyut depicts a particular quality of relationship between God and Israel, but none of them exhausts it. God simultaneously inhabits all of these modes of relation depending on the person, the point in time and the broader context in which the relationship manifests itself.
The poem, and the High Holy Days liturgy overall, represents God in these various ways not because everyone in synagogue is expected to develop a complex theology that can encompass them all, but because we can all likely connect to at least one mode of relating to God in our prayers. As each of us focuses on and resonates with a particular aspect of the God-Israel relationship, our collective recitation of Ki Anu Amekha serves to express the rich and varied tapestry of God. And hopefully our Father, our King, our Shepherd, our Lover, our Destiny will see fit to grant Israel forgiveness and make 5784 a year filled with blessings.
—
The post If you’re trying to connect to God on Yom Kippur, here’s a prayer for you appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
RSS
A Purim Guide for the Perplexed, 2025

A Hamentashen pastry commonly served during the Jewish holiday of Purim. Photo: Rebecca Siegel via Flickr.
Ahead of this year’s Purim celebrations on Thursday night, here are seven facts you should know about the holiday:
1. Purim is a Jewish national liberation holiday — just like Passover and Hanukkah — which highlights the transition of the Jewish people from subjugation to liberty. It is celebrated seven days following the birth and death date of Moses — a role model of liberty, leadership, and humility.
2. Here is some information on Purim’s historical background:
A Jewish exile to Babylon and Persia was triggered by the 586 BCE destruction of the First Jewish Temple and the expulsion of Jews from Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria by the Babylonian Emperor, Nebuchadnezzar. Persia then replaced Babylon as the leading regional power.
In 538 BCE, Xerxes the Great, proclaimed his support for the reconstruction of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, the resurrection of national Jewish life in the Land of Israel, and the recognition of Jerusalem as the exclusive capital of the Jewish people. In 499-449 BCE, King Ahasuerus established a coalition of countries — from India to Ethiopia — which launched the Greco-Persian Wars, aiming to expand the Persian Empire westward. Persia was resoundingly defeated (e.g., the 490 BCE and 480 BCE battles of Marathon and Salamis), and Ahasuerus’ authority in Persia was gravely eroded.
3. “Purimfest 1946” yelled Julius Streicher, the Nazi propaganda chief, as he approached the hanging gallows in Nuremberg. On October 16, 1946, ten convicted Nazi war criminals were hanged, similar to Haman’s ten sons, who were hanged in ancient Persia. An 11th Nazi criminal, Hermann Goering, committed suicide in his cell, similar to Haman’s 11th child, who committed suicide following her father’s demise (according to the Talmud’s Megillah tractate 16a).
Julius Streicher’s ranch served as a camp for young Jewish Holocaust survivors on their way to Israel following World War II.
4. Remembrance is at the core of the Purim holiday. The Scroll of Esther — which narrates the Purim saga — is also named The Book of Remembrance. The pre-Purim Sabbath is called The Sabbath of Remembrance (Zachor in Hebrew), commemorating the deadly threat of the Amalekites (the ancestors of Haman), who aimed to annihilate the Jewish people following their deliverance from Egyptian bondage.
Deuteronomy 25:17-19 commands the remembrance of the Amalekite’s attempt to annihilate the Jewish people following the Exodus from Egypt, on the way to the Land of Israel. These verses are read in synagogues/temples on the Sabbath preceding Purim.
5. Queen Esther is Purim’s heroine. The Scroll of Esther is one of the five Biblical scrolls, which are highlighted on Jewish holidays: Song of Songs (Passover), Scroll of Ruth (Pentecost), Lamentations (the 9th day of Av – destruction of the Jewish Temple), Ecclesiastes (Feast of Tabernacles), and The Scroll of Esther (Purim).
Esther symbolized the centrality of women in Judaism, as did Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah (the Matriarchs), Miriam (Moses’ older sister), Batyah (who saved Moses’ life), Deborah (the Prophetess, Judge and military leader), Hannah (Samuel’s mother) and Yael (who killed Sisera, the Canaanite General).
Esther was one of the seven Biblical Jewish Prophetesses: Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Huldah, and Esther. Sarah lived 127 years and Esther was the Queen of 127 countries. The Hebrew name of Esther was Hadassah, whose root is Hadass, which is the Hebrew word for the myrtle tree. The myrtle tree features prominently during the Feast of Tabernacles. It is known for its pleasant scent and humble features, including leaves in the shape of the human eye. Greek mythology identifies the myrtle tree with Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love.
6. Mordechai, the hero of Purim and one of the deputies of Ezra the Scribe, was a role model of principle-driven optimism in defiance of colossal odds.
The first three Hebrew letters of Mordechai (מרדכי) spell the Hebrew word “rebellion” (מרד). Mordechai did not bow to Haman, when the latter was the second most powerful person in the Persian Empire. Mordechai was a member of the tribe of Benjamin, the only son of Jacob who did not bow to Esau.
Mordechai was a descendant of King Saul, who defied a clear commandment to eradicate the Amalekites, sparing the life of Agag, the Amalekite king, thus precipitating further calamities upon the Jewish People. Mordechai learned from Saul’s crucial error and eliminated Haman, a descendant of Agag the Amalekite, thus sparing the Jewish people from a major disaster.
7. Purim’s (פורים) Hebrew root is “fate” as well as “casting lots” (פור), commemorating Haman’s lottery, which determined a designated day for the annihilation of the Jewish People. It also means “to frustrate,” “to annul” (הפר), “to crumble,” and “to shutter” (פורר), reflecting the demise of Haman.
The author is a commentator and former Israeli ambassador.
The post A Purim Guide for the Perplexed, 2025 first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
RSS
Palestinian Authority Used International Women’s Day to Celebrate Terrorists and Their Mothers

Students at the Dalal Mughrabi Elementary Mixed School, which was built with funds from the Belgian government. (Photo: Facebook)
As in previous years, the Palestinian Authority (PA) used International Women’s Day to glorify the memory of female terrorists and the value of mothers who knowingly send their sons to die as “Martyrs.”
Senior Fatah leader Abbas Zaki sang the praises of the mothers who publicly celebrate their sons’ deaths. He also lauded the mothers who give their sons the stones to throw at Israelis with the full knowledge that their children will die.
However, sending their sons to their death is not in vain, according to Zaki: “She [the mother] begins to feel that she has gained respect and high status in society when her son dies as a Martyr.”
Fatah Central Committee member Abbas Zaki: “Allah is witness to the fact that there is no woman in the world like the Palestinian woman. The woman who makes sounds of joy for the Martyr and sings songs of the revolution for the groom [i.e., a Martyr’s funeral is considered his wedding to the 72 Virgins in Paradise in Islam].
This woman is the one who gives up her son as he goes to fight with a rock, and she gives him the rock while knowing what her son’s fate will be. However, this woman is placed on a pedestal because she gave oxygen to this homeland, and she begins to feel that she has gained respect and high status in society when her son dies as a Martyr.”
[Fatah Central Committee member Abbas Zaki, Facebook page, March 10, 2025]
The PA also chose International Women’s Day to specifically glorify mass murderer Dalal Mughrabi, who led the Coastal Road Massacre, which was the most lethal attack in Israel’s history prior to October 7, 2023. Mughrabi, along with other Fatah terrorists, hijacked a bus, murdered 37 people, of which 12 were children, and wounded 70.
PA Ramallah Governor Laila Ghannam wrote on Facebook that “on this day … we pray for our female Martyrs and leaders whose blood paved the path of freedom, from Dalal Mughrabi to … the rest of the icons of the struggle.”
In the PA’s official daily, the Ramallah governor continued to extol the role of all Palestinian women as terrorists — the “Martyr, prisoner, and wounded” — and terrorist supporters — “the Martyr’s mother, the prisoner’s mother, his wife, his sister, and his daughter” [Official PA daily Al-Hayat Al-Jadida, March 9, 2025].
When someone is referred to as a “Martyr,” or Shahid in Arabic, it means that the person died while carrying out an idyllic act for Allah, such as the way Dalal Mughrabi murdered children in cold blood.
In yet another article, the official PA daily honored other female terrorists as “icons”: Zakiya Shammout — who planted a bomb in the Afula market in 1969, murdering one and injuring dozens; Shadia Abu Ghazaleh — who prepared bombs for many attacks as a member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP); and Intisar Al-Wazir — the wife of Abu Jihad. Abu Jihad planned numerous lethal terror attacks from the 1960s to the 1980s, in which a total of 125 Israelis were murdered:
In addition to regularly broadcasting that dying for the sake of Allah is the greatest of acts, the PA exploits International Women’s Day year in and year out to focus on women linked to terror. It does this in order to reiterate that the highest form of feminine hero is the terrorist Martyr, or the mother of the terrorist Martyr.
Ephraim D. Tepler is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch (PMW). Itamar Marcus is PMW’s Founder and Director. A version of this article originally appeared at PMW.
The post Palestinian Authority Used International Women’s Day to Celebrate Terrorists and Their Mothers first appeared on Algemeiner.com.
RSS
A Fascinating Look Into the Rise of Campus Hatred and Antisemitism

Pro-Hamas protesters at Columbia University on April 19, 2024. Photo: Melissa Bender via Reuters Connect
The latest offering from Jewish Quarterly provides a timely and thorough exploration of the state of antisemitism in contemporary universities. It particularly focuses on the rise of campus activism and its implications for academic freedom.
Mindless: What Happened to Universities? features an in-depth essay by Professor Cary Nelson, a respected scholar and former president of the American Association of University Professors. Nelson’s analysis is well-researched and candid, illuminating the ideological shifts within higher education and their consequences for open discourse.
Nelson’s essay is a critical reflection on how academic institutions have evolved in recent years, particularly in response to anti-Zionist activism, antisemitism, and the broader politicization of campus spaces. He examines how university environments, which should be spaces for debate and critical thinking, have increasingly become arenas for dogmatic activism, often at the expense of intellectual diversity. He argues that the Gaza Solidarity encampments that spread across Western campuses in 2024 were symptomatic of deeper issues in academia — specifically, the growing resistance to debate and the framing of complex geopolitical conflicts in binary terms.
Nelson does not claim that student activism itself is problematic. Rather, he critiques the extent to which some protests have crossed the line into intimidation and exclusion for Jewish students. The essay provides extensive and unsettling evidence of antisemitic rhetoric emerging in protests, alongside surveys indicating that over half of Jewish students in the US felt unsafe on campus in 2024. His argument is not that all activism is inherently harmful, but that in many cases, the principle of free inquiry has been overshadowed by ideological conformity and naked political activism in place of scholarship.
One of the strengths of Nelson’s essay is that it does not rely on alarmism; rather, he builds the case methodically. He traces the historical trajectory of academic institutions, illustrating how certain disciplines have gradually shifted toward ideological uniformity, especially in their framing of Israel and Zionism. He also emphasizes how some faculty members have actively promoted activism that extends beyond protest to include calls for exclusion and censorship.
Nelson’s essay is an important contribution for readers looking for a balanced critique. While he clearly finds much of the current campus climate troubling, he avoids sweeping generalizations. Instead, he focuses on specific examples of how anti-Zionist activism has, in some cases, led to exclusionary practices and threats to the psychological safety essential for learning. The result is an essay that invites reflection rather than simply reinforcing entrenched positions.
A particularly valuable aspect of this work is its examination of the role that faculty and administrators play in shaping campus climates. Nelson provides examples of professors who have actively celebrated extremist rhetoric, as well as administrators who have been hesitant to confront antisemitism under the guise of protecting free speech. He contrasts this with past university responses to other forms of discrimination, questioning why antisemitism is often treated differently, especially within the context of a polarizing broader debate over DEI and identity politics.
At the same time, the issue does not present a one-sided view of faculty involvement. There is an acknowledgment that many academics oppose the radicalization of campus discourse but feel unable to speak out due to professional risks. Whilst highlighting increasingly politicized humanities and social sciences departments, his nuanced approach strengthens the essay’s credibility, as it avoids portraying all faculty as complicit or all students as antagonistic.
The past year has witnessed intense debates over free speech, antisemitism, and academic freedom. Nelson’s essay provides an important perspective on how these discussions are unfolding in higher education. Although it does not purport to offer all the answers to antisemitism, it presents a well-argued assessment of the challenges facing universities and offers possible solutions.
Furthermore, the issue underscores how the internationalization of campus activism has influenced these trends. With protests erupting across North America, Europe, and Australia, Nelson places these developments within a global framework, showing that these issues are not limited to any one country or institution. Nelson’s writing is clear and persuasive, and helps frame the discussion within a broader historical and intellectual tradition.
Mindless is an important read for anyone concerned about the future of academic institutions and the principles of free inquiry. While some readers may disagree with Nelson’s conclusions, his work’s strength lies in its commitment to reasoned debate. It does not demand agreement but encourages deeper reflection, which is increasingly rare in today’s polarized discourse.
This issue is well worth reading for those who follow developments in higher education or are concerned about the growing tensions around academic freedom and antisemitism. Jewish Quarterly continues to demonstrate why it is a respected voice in Jewish intellectual and cultural discussions, and Mindless is a testament to its enduring relevance.
Andrew Fox served for 16 years in the British Army (2005-21). He was a senior lecturer at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, and is currently a research fellow at the Henry Jackson Society. Andrew provides regular commentary on defense and foreign policy across the media including articles in the New York Post, The Telegraph, The Spectator, and Spiked. He has amassed a large following across his digital platforms, including X (formerly Twitter) and Substack, where he writes on disinformation, defense and security.
Mindless is available at www.jewishquarterly.com
The post A Fascinating Look Into the Rise of Campus Hatred and Antisemitism first appeared on Algemeiner.com.