Uncategorized
In fighting antisemitism, Jews can be our own worst enemies. We shouldn’t be.
(JTA) — Unless you have been living under a rock for the past few weeks, and even if you’re not Jewish, you can’t miss the fact that antisemitism is back in the news again: Kanye West, Kyrie Irving, Nick Fuentes; extremists returning in droves to Twitter; President Donald Trump kowtowing to antisemites over dinner at Mar-A-Lago; “Saturday Night Live” opening with a monologue trafficking in antisemitic tropes; members of the Black Hebrew Israelites intimidating Jewish fans coming to Barclays Center, and an endless feedback loop of antisemitism coursing across social media.
Coming at a time when antisemitic incidents already had reached the highest point in recent memory, this is the kind of mainstreaming of antisemitism that we haven’t seen since the 1930s.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as CEO of the Anti-Defamation League, it is that when it comes to the Jewish people, hatred doesn’t discriminate. When Kanye says Jews control the music industry, he’s not talking about rich Jews or conservative Jews. He’s not singling those who may support Likud or those who back Meretz, two Israeli political parties. He’s not calling out Orthodox Jews versus Reform Jews. He’s talking about us all.
Same with the white supremacists who are circulating Great Replacement conspiracy theories about Jews conspiring to bring more people of color and immigrants into America to “replace” white people. They don’t care if you are a die-hard MAGA voter or a card-carrying member of Democratic Socialists of America. It doesn’t matter: If you’re Jewish, you are in their crosshairs.
Another unfortunate example is the Mapping Project, an insidious campaign that ostensibly accused pro-Israel Jews of conspiring together in Boston. However, it didn’t target only Zionist organizations. They targeted all Jewish organizations, from a nonprofit helping the disabled to a Jewish high school.
And yet, while our enemies see us as one, the Jewish community too often seems riven by discord and infighting.
We are divided around religious practices and beliefs. We are deeply riven by politics. We do not see eye to eye when it comes to the State of Israel, and at times we can’t even agree on the definition of antisemitism itself. At times, absurdly, some Jewish leaders seek to tear down other Jewish leaders even as it tears apart the community, as Steven Windmuller, a retired professor at Hebrew Union College in Los Angeles, recently documented.
I point this out not to diminish the value of debate and dissent — these are fundamental to our tradition. But we need to be mindful of when debate descends into division.
Indeed, when viewed by those on the outside, these internecine divisions within our community can lead to misunderstandings and confusion. Why can’t Jews agree on anything? At best, hostility makes us look petty, mean and foolish. At worst, it allows antisemites to see within us whatever it is that they hate the most.
Usually in the aftermath of antisemitic attacks such as we saw after the Tree of Life shooting or the hostage situation in Colleyville, Texas, Jews from across the political spectrum set aside our differences and come together in a show of unity. We lock arms, proclaim we are one, call on our policymakers to do more, put up our defensive shields and hope for the best.
But at a time when a celebrity with a cult-like following, Kanye West, or Ye as he now calls himself, is using his platform of 38 million-plus social media followers to spread hateful tropes about Jews — the kinds of unhinged and hateful canards, such as Jewish control and power, that have led to antisemitic attacks throughout history — I would argue that the locking-arms response, while effective in the moment, does not have the staying power that we could achieve if we had a more unified and close-knit Jewish community.
What does have staying power? In this uniquely fragile moment, we must choose to embrace our differences, or at least accept them and lean into Ahavat Yisrael, the love for our fellow Jews. We ferociously can disagree internally while standing completely united to external hate.
We are our brother’s keeper, and any Jew suffering from antisemitism is ultimately our responsibility. We must come together, despite our differences, and fight those who hate our people.
How can Jews stand together against antisemitism while respecting our ideological divides?
First, this isn’t a moment to try to win each other over. This is a moment to declare that every Jew matters and is worth protecting. We may disagree on many things, but we can appreciate that difference doesn’t have to equal division. We cannot allow the toxic partisanship that has seeped into so much of our society to poison our communal spaces. There are no “Tikkun Olam” Jews. There are no “Trump” Jews. There are only Jews, and we need to remember the dictum — you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Second, we should recognize that self-defense starts with self-love and self-knowledge. Jewish literacy is essential to our long-term survival. Many like to remark how Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel prayed with his feet — but he did so in part because he wrapped tefillin with his hands. This is not to say that we all need to observe our faith in the same manner. There are plenty of Jewish people who opt out of ritual entirely, and yet their connection to our peoplehood is as strong and as valid as those who daven, or pray, every day. But shared values that emanate from Torah still bind us as a people — we need to redouble, not just our efforts to pass on these values to our children in ways that relate to the next generation, but we also must relearn these values ourselves.
Third, we must never allow our ideological blinders to gloss over or ignore antisemitism from those who are generally our political allies. We must be morally firm and call out antisemitism where we see it, and not just when it is convenient politically. We must be equally fierce in the political circles where we belong, where we ultimately have more influence and clout, as in simply calling out hatred by pointing to those on the other side.
During his lifetime, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson shared his wisdom about the fact that while every Jewish person is a unique individual, as a people we share a “basic commonality that joins us into a single collective entity.” The Lubavitcher Rebbe understood that this unity has sustained the Jewish people throughout history.
If we look to our ancestors, we can see examples of how holding together at times of strife has made our community stronger. It’s quite possible that we may be living in one of those difficult periods again. I hope we can meet the moment.
—
The post In fighting antisemitism, Jews can be our own worst enemies. We shouldn’t be. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
How a wedding in Oklahoma taught a group of police officers and SWAT team members to care about Judaism and Israel
I told the rabbi who was about to officiate at my daughter’s wedding that the guests would be an unusual mix — about 100 law enforcement officers, EMT’s, dispatchers, sheriffs and SWAT team members, many of whom had never met a Jew other than my daughter.
“In fact, they may not know that she is Jewish,” I said, “The other 50 guests will be our family from London, New York, Canada, Israel, a very different crowd.”
My daughter and Zac are both police officers in Oklahoma. Zac isn’t Jewish, but they both had wanted a Jewish wedding. It wasn’t easy finding a rabbi they actually liked who would officiate an interfaith marriage. The wedding was held Sept. 2, 2023. There was an outdoor garden and a bridge that led to the ceremony. The chuppah was constructed from an Amazon set of interlocking wooden bricks that the groom and his father assembled proudly. We decorated it with flowers but it looked like it could tilt over at any moment. The bride was bride-beautiful, a tiny 5’1″ with her handsome groom, a very tall 6’6″.
They were exquisitely happy and stood together as Rabbi Michael conducted the service, making sure to explain everything including the Hebrew parts. At the end of the ceremony, Zac even stepped on the glass and crushed it. The police officers, EMTs, firefighters, and SWAT teams were all riveted.
The party was held in the nearby barn, which was decorated with chandeliers and flowers and a DJ playing a mix of music. We danced the hora and the SWAT team managed to lift Zac and Martine high in the air as is tradition — a novel experience for most of our guests.
Then Oct. 7 happened in Israel.

I got a call from my daughter: “Mom, my phone is ringing with many of the law enforcement people who were at our wedding. They want to know how they can help Israel.”
I was touched; they were responding because of the wedding they had attended.
Later that day my daughter called again: “Mom, I’m at the military supply store downtown, and the owner says she has 27 IFAK emergency medical kits. She wants to help Israel and will give the kits to me at cost. What should I do?”
By now I had heard from my friends in Israel that the government had been unprepared for the attacks and supplies were lacking.
“How much do they cost?” I asked. “Buy them all. While you’re at it, buy a bunch of tourniquets.”
From that moment on we tried to get these professional emergency medical IFAK kits to the IDF. The problem was that there was a backlog at the airport in Tel Aviv; donations were piling up because the IDF hadn’t been able to authorize them yet.
Because I had lived in Israel and had experienced another surprise October war in 1973, I had many Israeli contacts. I spoke to an IDF representative.
“We’re desperate for IFAKs. Yes, we need them,” he said.
“How do we get them to you?” He had no answer.
After a day of trying, I ran out of contacts and let my daughter continue. After all, she’s an excellent police officer and investigator.
Another day passed before I talked to my daughter again.
“Martine, how are you doing with the IFAKs?” I asked.
“Mom, they’re in Israel with a paratrooper unit,” she said.
I was shocked. “How did you get them there?” I asked.
Apparently, she had managed to track down a man who runs a volunteer retired military airlift organization. He wanted to help but said that his planes were flying medical supplies to Ukraine. Understanding the urgency, he gave her the name and contact information for his neighbor Moshe in Texas. Moshe was a retired Israeli commander of paratroopers.
“Take all of your IFAKSs out of their wrappings. Put them in a duffle bag and ship them to this address in Greenwich Village in New York City. Someone there will receive it and get it to a unit in the field in Israel,” Moshe told Martine.
Two months later at Christmas time, my daughter visited me in New York and we had family over for dinner. I urged her to tell the story.
“Well, Mom,” she said, “I have the video of the soldiers that they sent to me as a thank you.” She queued up her cell phone so we could see it.
Two soldiers stood alone in the dark — one held a machine gun and stood guard; the other held a sheaf of papers. “Martine, thank you for sending us the medical kits. We really need them,” he said. “Thanks also for the letters you sent with them. Yes, we will take you and your husband to the club you mentioned in your letter when you come to visit next time.”
Letters?
Martine had sent a long letter in the duffle bag, with others that had been written by police officers who had been at her wedding. They had been in the military before joining the police force. Their letters were short: “We have your backs. We support you and know what you’re going through. We were in Iraq, Afghanistan, and wish you the best.” They had heard about the duffel bag as word spread among the wedding guests and they wanted to do something. They did.
Recently, with antisemitism running rampant, a few of Martine’s police officer friends have quietly approached her. “We’ve been discussing where we would hide you, and protect you if our country turns against its Jews like they did in Germany,” they’ve told her. “You’ll be safe with us.”
One Jewish wedding educated a group of people. At one ceremony. At one party. In one night.
The post How a wedding in Oklahoma taught a group of police officers and SWAT team members to care about Judaism and Israel appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Germany’s antisemitism czar says slogans like ‘From the river to the sea’ should be illegal
(JTA) — Germany’s antisemitism czar has urged a law to ban pro-Palestinian slogans such as “From the river to the sea,” renewing a fraught debate over the country’s historic allegiance to Israel and freedom of speech.
Felix Klein’s initiative would ban chants that could be interpreted as calling for Israel’s destruction. His proposal has the support of German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt and is now being reviewed by the Justice Ministry, he told Haaretz on Wednesday.
“Before Oct. 7, you could have said that ‘From the river to the sea’ doesn’t necessarily mean kicking Israelis off the land, and I could accept that,” said Klein. “But since then, Israel has really been facing existential threats, and unfortunately, it has become necessary here to limit freedom of speech in this regard.”
Klein, the first holder of an office titled “Federal Government Commissioner for Jewish Life in Germany and the Fight against Antisemitism” since 2018, added that he believed the law must be passed even if it is challenged in court for violating free speech.
Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attacks and the subsequent and devastating Israel-Hamas war in Gaza tore at the seams of Germany’s national doctrines. The war triggered a sharp rise in antisemitic and Isalmophobic incidents across the country. It also exposed charged questions about when Germany prioritizes its responsibility toward the Jewish state, which became central to German national identity after the Holocaust, and when it upholds democratic principles.
The legal boundaries of pro-Palestinian speech are already far from clear-cut. Currently, courts decide whether a person chanted “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” in support of peacefully liberating Palestinians or in endorsement of terrorism. In August 2024, the German-Iranian activist Ava Moayeri was convicted of condoning a crime for leading the chant at a Berlin rally on Oct. 11, 2023.
Shortly after the Hamas attacks, local authorities across Germany imposed sweeping bans on pro-Palestinian protests. Berlin officials authorized schools to ban the keffiyeh, a symbol of Palestinian solidarity, along with slogans such as “Free Palestine.”
Jewish and Israeli activists were caught up in the crackdown. In October 2023, a woman was arrested after holding a poster that said, “As a Jew and Israeli: Stop the genocide in Gaza.” And police prohibited a demonstration by a group calling themselves “Jewish Berliners against Violence in the Middle East,” citing the risk of unrest and “inflammatory, antisemitic exclamations.”
Earlier this year, German immigration authorities ordered the deportation of three European nationals and one U.S. citizen over their alleged activity at pro-Palestinian demonstrations. Three of the orders cited Germany’s “Staatsräson,” or “reason of state,” a doctrine enshrining Germany’s defense of Israel as justification for its own existence after the Holocaust.
But that tenet is not used in legal settings, according to Alexander Gorski, who represents the demonstrators threatened with deportation. “Staatsräson is not a legal concept,” Gorski told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in April. “It’s completely irrelevant. It’s not in the German Basic Law, it’s not in the constitution.”
Jewish leaders such as Charlotte Knobloch, a Holocaust survivor and president of the Jewish Community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, have argued that anger toward Israel created a “pretext” for antisemitism. “It is sufficient cause in itself to fuel the hatred,” Knobloch said to Deutsche Welle in September.
In recent months, two German establishments made the news for refusing entry to Jews and Israelis. A shop in Flensburg, which posted a sign saying “Jews are banned here,” is vulnerable to German anti-discrimination law. Not so for the restaurant in Fürth whose sign read, “We no longer accept Israelis in our establishment,” according to anti-discrimination commissioner Ferda Ataman, who said the law does not apply to discrimination on the basis of nationality.
Klein said he has also initiated legislation to expand that law to protect Israelis and other nationalities.
He has a longstanding relationship with Jewish communities in Germany, starting with his Foreign Office appointment as the special liaison to global Jewish organizations. In that role, he helped create a “working definition” of antisemitism for the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance in 2016. That definition has sparked contentious debate, as critics argue it conflates some criticisms of Israel with antisemitism.
Klein believes that anti-Zionism does largely fall in the same bucket as antisemitism. “I think in most cases it is — it’s just a disguised form of antisemitism,” he told Haaretz. “When people say they’re anti-Israel, what they really mean is Jews.”
The post Germany’s antisemitism czar says slogans like ‘From the river to the sea’ should be illegal appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
There’s something missing from John Fetterman’s memoir: Israel
There may be no senator who has committed more fervently to supporting Israel, at a greater personal cost, than Sen. John Fetterman.
In the weeks following the Oct. 7 attacks on Israel, the Pennsylvania Democrat began taping hostage posters to the wall outside his office and wearing a symbolic dogtag necklace. He embraced Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, a pariah to many Democrats. As the civilian death toll in Gaza mounted, he posted constantly on social media to defend the war.
The position has cost him followers, friends, staff and perhaps in the future his seat. But it has also made him a hero in parts of the Jewish community. He received awards from Yeshiva University and the Zionist Organization of America and he was brought onstage as a panelist at the national Jewish Federations of North America convention.
Given the centrality of Israel to his focus in office — he was sworn in only 9 months before Oct. 7 — and how often he posts about it on social media, one might anticipate Fetterman giving it a lengthy treatment in his newly released memoir, Unfettered. The title of the memoir, too, seems to promise candor.
Instead, Fetterman dedicates all of three paragraphs to Israel in a book that largely rehashes lore from before his time in the Senate and discusses his struggles with mental health. These paragraphs — which even pro-Israel readers will read as boilerplate — appear in the book’s penultimate chapter, which is about his declining popularity since taking office.
Some have suggested that the reason some of the media and former staffers turned on me was because of my stance on Israel. Others imply that my support of Israel has to do with impaired mental health, which isn’t true. My support for Israel is not new. I was quoted in the 2022 primary as unequivocally stating that “I will always lean in on Israel.”
There’s a paragraph here about sticking to his morals even if it means defying his party, then:
There was no choice for me but to support Israel. I remembered the country’s history — how it was formed in 1948 in the wake of the murder of six million Jews. Since then, the rest of the Middle East, harboring resentments going back thousands of years, has only looked for ways to eradicate Israel. It took less than a day after the formation of the Jewish state was announced for Egypt to attack it. Every day in Israel is a struggle for existence, just as every day is an homage to the memory of the Jews shot and gassed and tortured.
It’s also clear that war in Gaza [sic] has been a humanitarian disaster. At the time of this writing, roughly sixty thousand people have been killed in Israel’s air and ground campaign, over half of them women, children, and the elderly. I grieve the tragedy, the death, and the misery.
Satisfied with this examination of the hypothesis for his growing unpopularity, Fetterman then moves on to another possible reason: his votes on immigration.
It’s strange to read the Israel passages in light of Fetterman’s full-throated advocacy on any number of issues related or connected to the Israel-Hamas war, including the hostages, campus protests, and rising antisemitism. Even if he did not reckon more deeply with his support for a war that brought about a “humanitarian disaster,” he might have talked about meeting the hostage families, or visiting Israel, or his disappointment that some voices within his party have turned against it.
The production of Unfettered was itself a story earlier this year, and may explain the book’s failure to grapple with a central priority.
Fetterman reportedly received a $1.2 million advance for it, roughly a third of which went to Friday Night Lights author Buzz Bissinger to ghostwrite it. But the two apparently had a falling out at some point, according to the sports blog Defector, which wrote in June that “in the process of having to work with Fetterman, Bissinger went from believing the Pennsylvania senator was a legitimate presidential candidate to believing he should no longer be in office at all.”
Bissinger is not credited anywhere in the book, and does not appear to have contributed. (He refused to discuss the book when a reporter called him earlier this year.)
But the mystifying section about Israel may have nothing to do with a ghostwriter or lack thereof. It may instead be explained by a letter his then-chief of staff wrote in May 2024, in which he said Fetterman “claims to be the most knowledgeable source on Israel and Gaza around but his sources are just what he reads in the news — he declines most briefings and never reads memos.”
The post There’s something missing from John Fetterman’s memoir: Israel appeared first on The Forward.
